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prodbymaui · 2 years ago

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Chasing Stars, Losing You

I'll be damned, cupid's demanding back his arrow

PAIRING: jung jaehyun x reader

GENRE: exes to lovers, slow burn, angst, slice of life, fluff, eventual smut, ceo!jaehyun (yes, we love him), model!reader, mentions of Taeyong, Yuta, Mark and Johnny

WORD COUNT: 14k+ words

WARNINGS: mentions of eating disorder, smoking, usage of drugs, self-harming, toxic relationship (?)

SYPNOSIS: When your relationship got announced, it made noises louder that anyone could've imagined. Of course it will, a pair containing a supermodel and a CEO of one of the most successful enterprise that made a name in both the fashion and business industry. But soon enough, everyone witnessed how the perfect relationship they had been envying crumbled down into tiny pieces until there's nothing left to pick up.

TAGS: @lovingvoidgoatee @jaessunflower214 @fluffyjaes @hopefulchick @clblnz @jaehyunsprincess @haebragi @lorenakaspersen @joepomonerof @sadstuffonthestreet @carelessshootanonymous-blog @iraa567 @ethelia

A/N: aaaand it's finally out! it took me forever to finish this fic as this was the longest one I've written after taking a break from writing so bare with me if some scenes seemed to be missing something. and also, this isn't beta read so excuse the grammatical errors, typos and such. anyways, enjoy reading! like and reblogs with comments are highly appreciated! <3

Walking on soft clouds, that's what you felt every second you were with Jung Jaehyun.

The industry itself had told you to fuck off and go back to little hole you used to hide at. Stomping over you and shouting you shits to make you realize that you're not fucking worthy of everything they had to offer. The modelling industry, despite you being a supermodel, had broke you into pieces more than one could've ever imagined.

But Jaehyun was there to fix you up, every damn time it happened. Jaehyun who was always there to gather you in his loving arms, whispering praises and assurance. Jaehyun who showered you with nothing but affection. Jaehyun who made you a hot chocolate with snow man marshmallows even though it's summer because he knew it was your favorite.

Jaehyun who cancelled an important meeting with a client because you called him, expressing how much you wanted to watch this movie and that day was your only free time. Jaehyun who, despite having a tight schedule, managed to come to all of your fashion shows to support you. Jaehyun who displayed your magazines in his office proudly.

Everytime he's beside you, everyone disappears together with your worries about the world. With all those giggles, cuddles and just overall having him around-- you couldn't ask for more. Jung Jaehyun was the man that you decided you wanted to be with for the rest of your life.

Jaehyun was your own heart.

Your relationship consisted of right balance of public and private. You don't reveal as much on your social medias but also didn't deprived everyone on getting a glimpse of your life. Any special events that happened, they already expected either of you to post a picture of the other.

Jaehyun and you made sure that you still have the privacy you should own while also happily sharing moments with the fans. It was a decision made by the both of you.

Though it was hard to attain a free time, you two always made sure spend it to the fullest. Not by travelling from country to country, no. You spent it by being in each other's arms, feeling the warmth of one another. Bonding over watching movies or cooking together. Because for you, having the other around was enough.

Your manager even suggested that you should make a youtube channel and upload your vlogs with Jaehyun. She was so sure that everyone would be more than happy to see those videos. You shrugged and said that you'll ask Jaehyun about it.

He agreed, actually. And your first vlog was about one of your cooking slash baking chronicles. Jaehyun, much to everyone's surprise, was very good at baking while you, at the other hand, enjoyed watching him and tasting his products.

''How's the mixing going, chef?'' You giggled beside him, pointing the camera at his handsome face. Blush was evident on his cheeks, still not used to having someone take a video of him if not for business purposes.

''Hey, you have to answer my question,'' You poked his crimson cheeks and squished it with one hand lightly.

Jaehyun smiled, ''It's going fine, they're going smooth now.''

Satisfied, you diverted the camera to the mixing bowl in front of your boyfriend. It didn't took him long before finishing it up and moving to the next part which was chilling the dough.

You propped the lenses so it could face both of you and looked at Jaehyun through the screen. ''So, what're we gonna do while waiting for the dough to rise?'' You asked him with a raise of an eyebrow.

''Stare at it 'til it's done,'' Jaehyun replied with a small snicker. You jokingly shook your head and sighed in disbelief of his humor, in which he whined at. He circled his arms around your waist and buried his face on your neck, muttering something about you now have to give him kisses because you hurt his feelings.

You only chuckled at him, ''Fine, I'll give you kisses later.''

You figured that you'll just put a timelapse of you and Jaehyun watching a movie as you waited for the dough to rise. When the time came, you decided to offer rolling down the dough and shaping it to the shapes you like. It varies from simple circles to stars and clouds. After doing so, you popped to the oven and before you knew it, you and Jaehyun were already packing it to share to your friends and kids at the orphanage.

Arriving at the orphanage, you were met by kids rushing towards the both of you as if you were parents who came from work. ''Oh! careful there, Taehee,'' You softly reminded the little girl, catching her just in time.

Jaehyun sat at the floor and you settled beside him, you don't want to risk breaking the little chairs trying to fit your grown asses to them. ''Mister Jaehyun, what is that?'' The 4 year old boy, looked at the packet with shining eyes.

''This is a cookie, Taeho. You told me last time that you like them right?'' Jaehyun smiled widely with his eyes that only a fool could say that it wasn't genuine. Taeho gasped and fell to the floor dramatically, a hand over his mouth as he processed what Jaehyun said before.

''Hey, everyone, listen! Mister Jaehyun brought us cookies!'' Taeho shouted in excitement, jumping up and down. The children went from being scattered around the room to running towards Jaehyun, tackling him to a hug. Some were even kissing his face to express gratitude.

''I brought cookies too,'' You pouted at the lack of attention given, raising your little packets as well to show them. Taehee and some of the others ran to you, ''Don't be sad, I'll try yours!'' Taehee grinned at you while reaching to the cookies.

The staffs wanted to take a picture and video of both of you to show the world how genuine and kind you were to the kids. But refrained themselves because they knew you weren't doing this for publicity. So they just enjoyed watching you taking care of them, giving each child the same attention.

''Wow, who's that beautiful princess I am seeing?'' Jaehyun exaggeratedly said, rubbing his eyes with his fists to take 'double-look' to Taehee who was twirling around in front of him with a crown on her head. ''You look so pretty, Taehee!'' He complimented, even clapping his hands as if he just finished watching some high-quality theater show.

You snorted at Jaehyun's actions, finding it cute how he tried so hard to praise Taehee in every possible way. Your heart was warm watching the interactions exchanged between them. Admit or not, you had imagine how Jaehyun would be such a good father to your own children.

Snapping out of your little bubble, you turned around when you felt a little tap on your shoulder. Taeho was standing behind you, holding a piece of paper. ''Hey, what's that, buddy?'' You pointed at the bond paper in his hands. He sat on your lap and showed you a drawing, one look from it and you could tell it's a vision of a 'perfect' family.

At first, you though Taeho drew what seemed to be his desire. His want to meet his parents again and be with them. But you were wrong. Taeho took a few inhales and exhales, catching his breath.

He first pointed at the two kids, ''This is me and Taehee,'' You nodded at the mention of his twin. ''This is Mister Jaehyun,'' His finger moved to the male adult. ''And this is you!'' Lastly, at the female adult. ''I drew us!'' Taeho cheered happily.

You paused for a moment before grinning widely, ''Oh that's so cool, Taeho! You did so great!''

''Our teacher at school told us to drew our family but I don't have mommy and daddy so I drew you and Mister Jaehyun,'' He explained. You told him how you were thankful that he considered you as a family and complimented his drawing, telling him he have a future for it.

The visit ended with you bringing home the precious masterpiece of Taeho and a kiss from all the kids. It was already night when you and Jaehyun reached your apartment. Once you finished showering, Jaehyun came next.

''I saved some cookies for you at the fridge,'' Jaehyun muttered, giving you a sweet kiss before entering the shower. You only hummed at him. Minutes went by and Jaehyun went on his way to get his pajamas at the living room inside his small luggage-- getting a peak of the kitchen.

And when Jaehyun saw you throwing out the cookies he made, he said nothing.

Weeks had past by, fashion week were coming quicker that you had expected. You're booked to the brim and that was what Jaehyun was worrying about. You rarely responded to his texts, not answering his calls most of the time. He couldn't even get the chance to visit you himself as he's busy as well so he made sure to send flowers and letters everyday to your apartment.

''Oh lord, you're gaining weight, dear,'' The designer, seemingly horrified, whispered to your ears as he stared at you through the mirror, tightening the laces of your top with a struggle. You pursed your lips, of course you noticed this as well. It was the lack of exercise, you thought.

The fitting had come to an end with a sound of disappointed 'tsk's was heard from the designer beside you, a few shakes of his head and a sigh. You remained standing in front of your reflection, staring and observing your body. The man came up to your side again, holding your shoulders and smiled softly.

''Listen, dear. You already look pretty, angelic even,'' That pricked out a single thorn of your throat but what he said next poured a ton of thorns right after the relief. ''But you would suit my designs more-- no, you would be more beautiful if you lose weight. Remember what I told you before? Beauty equals to skinny. You're not beautiful if you're not skin and bones.''

And you agreed. Models who doesn't have their ribs showing through their skin have no place in the fashion industry. The clothes wouldn't hang pretty on you if there were fat getting on the way. He was right. You should lose weight.

Travelling around the city, going from places to another. It was safe to say that you were emotionally and physically tired. Even with all of those you still have to keep a good physical appearance for the paparazzis who were hungry for a snap of you at any given time.

You were done for the day and could finally sleep in your own apartment instead of sleeping on a mattress and sharing a hotel room with your manager. Sighing, you took off your shoes and hang your coat behind the door. Making your way to the kitchen to grab some water.

What surprised you was being met by the back of a man, cooking at your kitchen while humming and whistling to the music being played. You knew that back so well. ''Jae?'' You murmured under your breath but he turned around any way, with that smile of his that you love so much.

''Surprise?'' Jaehyun quirked an eyebrow, smirking at you for a second before placing down the pan at the table, which you didn't noticed was already set. ''Have a seat,'' He gestured and you did.

Seeing all the foods that he prepared, you appreciate it, truly. But you can't deny the nervousness bubbling up inside you, all those comments from countless designers and other models flashing your mind. You gulped as you remembered what they said,

''Lose some weight, will you?''

''You're getting fat, dear.''

''Skin and bones are the only acceptable thing here.''

''Fashion show or laying in your bed with all those fats inside of you?''

''God, you look awful!''

Not being able to take those thoughts anymore, you pushed the plate off the table-- the one Jaehyun was serving you his food. The plate shattered on the floor as your hands shook violently, heavy breaths to accompany your shaky eyes.

Jaehyun rushed to your side, hugging you and whispering comforting things at you like he always did. He caressed your hair while continuously planting kisses on your head, hugging you even tighter. He wanted you to feel nothing but absolute protection in his arms.

A few minutes passed and you still haven't calmed down yet. Jaehyun didn't know what else to do as you haven't panicked this long before. As you tried to control your breath, you felt something coming up to your throat when your eyes glanced at the food in front of you.

Thrashing in Jaehyun's embrace, you ran to the bathroom and threw up whatever you can. It wasn't long when you felt Jaehyun holding up your hair, helping you.

You thought about nothing but the fear of eating the food that has so many calories. Fear of gaining weight and losing validation in your field of work.

The next time you saw Jaehyun was when you came home from visiting another brand, preparing for the nearing show. ''Hi, love,'' Jaehyun greeted you with a hug, ready to smell the scent of vanilla on you but was met with a unpleasant one. ''Why do you,'' You pulled away from him in confusion. ''Are you smoking?'' He questioned with his face scrunched up, not liking the smell one bit.

You chuckled, ''What? Of course not, babe. Why would I smoke?'' You shrugged off his questions just like that, kissing his cheek before walking away to take a bath and get ready for bed.

The next morning, Jaehyun woke up without you beside him and he figured out you've already woken up. He made his way out of the room, stretching and yawning but glad that you two finally have a free time to spend with each other. What happened last night was long forgotten, maybe you were telling the truth. There's no reason for you to even lie to him, right?

Wrong, because the moment Jaehyun stepped a foot to the living room, he saw your figure sitting at the balcony with smoke surrounding you. Clearly, there was an ash tray at the table by your side and clearly, you've finished quite a few already.

He stomped towards you way, opening the door harshly before getting the cig out of your mouth and threw them on the ground. ''What the fu-- Jae!'' You stood up from your chair, shocked and eyes widened. ''Not smoking, huh? Then what is this?'' Jaehyun glared at the remains of your cigarettes that was displayed at the table.

He didn't shouted at you. He didn't forced you to say why and how you've to this point. Only accepting the fact that this was something you used as a coping mechanism.

What he can't accept was he couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't bring himself to help you get out of that addictive nicotine because slowly, he was afraid to admit that he was getting deprived of time to spend with you.

Hours to days, days became weeks and weeks turned into months. It has been so long since Jaehyun last talked to you. Scrolling to your conversations only made his friends give him a pat of pity on his shoulder because of how many messages of his was left unread by you.

His father had told him that the Jung Enterprise was already nearing its peak and as the CEO, it was Jaehyun's job to reach and maintain it. But it wouldn't work if Jaehyun kept cancelling meetings just to stay at your apartment. Waiting like a puppy for you to come home, which you never did.

It must be the exhaustion in him because he supposed, if you're not gonna reply, might as well drown himself in work, right? And so, Jaehyun decided that it'll be better for him to just divert his attention.

His schedules became packed, meetings after meetings. Signing and approving papers. Moving places from one another. Jaehyun forgot what the words; 'eat' and 'sleep' meant.

Slowly, Jaehyun was able to get a taste of power. It was like he was getting suffocated by the amount of glory and yet he's enjoying that said suffocation. The pleasure he got whenever everyone praised how Jung Enterprise kept climbing up to the top, never failing even once along the way.

This was something he had been dreaming since he was introduced to their business.

And you bet, Jung Jaehyun would exchange this for anything else.

You weren't exactly sure whether to be happy now that you're once again driving back to your apartment. The apartment where you lived all alone, cold even though you're inside your blankets.

While might say otherwise, you would prefer staying a hotel rather than your 'home'. You're just too caught up with all these castings and fittings that you found your apartment a little too 'unfamiliar'. You didn't know how it started but you surely knew where this was leading to.

Because you've been here before, and you knew exactly how to deal with these. But Jaehyun doesn't.

''Oh now, what-- you're into drugs?'' A scoff behind you was heard. You knew you had to explain yourself but you can't afford. Not you've finally got your stomach to stop grumbling about hunger. You got filled without even actually consuming food inside your body. Bonus points for the euphoria you're in, making you feel like on cloud nine.

You hissed but made no effort to face him, continuing to inhale it as the smell of burning leaves infiltrate Jaehyun's nostrils. He pinched the bridge of him nose before walking to your front and throwing the blunt away. Just like what he did with your cigar.

Seeing your blunt being thrown away clicked something inside of you. Standing up, you pushed Jaehyun away. ''What the fuck is wrong with you?!'' Scrambling to search for the thrown weeds with your bloodshot eyes.

''What the fuck is wrong with me? No, what the fuck is wrong with you! Look at yourself! Are you even sleeping?! Are you even eating?!'' Jaehyun spewed out, looking at you as if you're some ridiculous human being.

You glared at him by the mention of eating, ''Why do you fucking care? Just go play in your little office or something..'' You whispered the last sentence harshly before pushing him and made your way out, immediately going to the bathroom.

There you puked even though you hadn't eaten anything for days, bunch of slimy liquids were the only ones that made it out. Just the thought of consuming those calories and gaining weight was something you couldn't bear.

Jaehyun wouldn't understand the pressure of having to stay skinny. He would never. He was born with 2 loving parents and a company for him to inherit the moment he was born. Jaehyun was surrounded by people who loves him while you only have him. Jaehyun would never understand that you don't want to gain weight.

You can't. You need to stay light. You HAVE to stay skinny in order for you to stay relevant in the model industry. You've done a lot to work your way on the top. You've already had a grip of your dream, and you would never let it slip out of your hands.

''I don't know, man. That sounds tough,'' Mark, a friend of his, tilted his head with the emphasize of 'tough'. Jaehyun had told him about the state of your relationship. Days wouldn't pass by without his mind boggling him about it.

Playing with a pen on his fingers, Jaehyun chewed on his bottom lips. ''Do you think it'll be better if we cool off?'' he said lowly and it made Mark froze. The younger took a breath and ran his hand on his face, ''Dude, I mean- it's fine to take a break once in a while and you obviously need it, yes.''

Mark looked down, ''If you think that it'll mend the crack then go for it, but if you think it'll do otherwise, might as well just- you know?''

Jaehyun's eyebrows furrowed, confused, ''Well?''

The younger sighed, feeling himself get older much faster just by having a talk with the CEO, ''What I'm trying to say is that, talk to her first. She could be going through something right now, and she might need someone to be at her side.''

Mark shook his head, giving him a dismissive gesture as he stood up to leave. The door opened at the same time, revealing Jaehyun's secretary, ''Sir? Meeting at 3 minutes,'' He reminded Jaehyun.

Jaehyun nodded, getting a few of his papers before walking towards the door with Mark following behind him.

Thinking about what the younger said, the CEO could feel himself question his worth for you. He can't give help to someone who doesn't want help, Jaehyun thought. Maybe his efforts weren't enough for you to trust him?

Jaehyun wouldn't admit it any time soon but he knew that the cool off suggestion was just something that covers what he truly had in mind.

It had been a week since you last contacted Jaehyun, ever since then, you hadn't been replying to his texts and calls. It was the epitome of unexpected but welcomed, though. Cutting him like that wasn't intentional but it sure has brought you some fresh air to breath.

Being with Jaehyun these past few weeks was very suffocating for you even when you've only spent the littlest time together. You felt your every move being watched and you actions being limited. Like a child with her parent.

You inhaled and exhaled the smoke, feeling lighter with every hit of the addictive leaves. Smiling to yourself, you felt at ease like this, no one to look at you as if judging every single step you take.

Your attention was diverted when your front door busted open and clear traces of footsteps were heard coming towards you. It was long before it revealed a fuming Jaehyun.

No words were said as he opened his phone and threw it to you without care.

''A week without having any contact with you and this is the first news that'll greet me? What the fuck are you doing to yourself?'' Jaehyun's voice was calm but his tone can be considered as harsher than the last time he talked to you.

Confusion displayed on your face as you stride towards the thrown cellphone that landed at the table, it showed an article. Without even reading the contents of it, you already knew what is was about, looking by the picture below the headlines. Big bold letters accompanied by photos taken as a proof.

Everyone aren't as innocent as they portrayed to be.

And there you are, looking shit as ever. Beside you was someone you know that held a syringe, injecting morphine to your body.

You scoffed at it, ''It's just morphine, why the fuck are they acting like nobody else used drugs?'' Jaehyun couldn't believe what he was hearing, he can feel his ears stinging with every words you say. ''Are you hearing yourself right now? Just because you've seen someone used it, doesn't mean that you gotta do it as well. Be fucking mature for once and think of your health.''

''Ah, you're done with playing as the perfect boyfriend so now you're moving to act as if you're a fucking advisor or something? like a father who 'knows the best for his daughter', huh? Is that it? Or you have an important meeting in about 5 minutes so you're getting rid of me because you couldn't fucking prioritize your girlfriend before you company!''

Every word felt like a thorn stabbing at your heart as you let Jaehyun know what he had put you through when he started to change. That you still have feeling and emotions. That you were hurting as well, just like other normal human being.

Jaehyun let out a sound of disbelief, ''That only happened when you decided it's better to focus on getting high, smoking different shits everyday than to solve things out with your boyfriend like other normal human being. So yes, maybe I did prioritized my company before my girlfriend. 'Cause even drowning myself in work gives me more assurance that I- for the least -worth something than being with my girlfriend who doesn't even wanna fucking talk to me,''

''Oh my god, stop being so fucking far up your ass!'' Screams filled the room as you threw your coat at the man in front you. He was breathing heavily like you are, gripping his hands to a fist.

The way he worded everything, it was like all of these were your fault. It was as if you took the happiness and love away from the relationship who used to be full of it. It was like you've dragged this relationship down with you, ruining both at the same time until they were impossible to fix.

''All these past months, I've been trying to understand all your shenanigans with your modelling! I even cancelled a fucking meeting with a big client for you! And now you're telling me that all I think about is myself?'' It was like venom dripped out of his mouth as he spit out the words. It hurts but you couldn't care less. You're done pretending as if you're still in a happy and healthy relationship.

As weeks passed by, you were falling deep into a hellhole. You, yourself, doesn't even know if you can trust Jaehyun to save you from it. Considering how he was more determined to bring his company to the top rather than helping you out of your cave, you presume that being with Jaehyun further brought you nothing but more pain and suffering.

Yet Jaehyun doesn't know how you both had come to this. Was it so bad for him to want the best for his company? Was it so bad for him to work on his dreams? Ever since you and him became official, his focus was only on you. So how come he became the selfish one here?

''God, that company again-- then go! The door is fucking open for you to leave anytime! I can't deal with this shit anymore. If you continue acting like a fucking God who had done everything to save his people everytime you cancel a fucking meeting, then you find someone else to roleplay with you!''

''Fine then! I can't also deal with someone so narcissistic. So narcissistic that she can't see the efforts of her man to help her because all she sees is herself and how fucking great she is-- fine! I'll fucking leave. Anywhere is better than being here with someone who can't fucking see the value of other people.'' That was the last thing Jaehyun said before walking away, closing the door behind him harshly as remains of him stayed at your condo.

Jaehyun was no longer your own heart. Instead, he was a walking hammer that smashed your heart into pieces.

Social Elite Modelling Agency had announced the break up of the infamous 'perfect relationship' involving Jung Jaehyun and their model, Y/N.

she deserves it

if I was in Jung's place, I would leave her too

she looks like she hadn't eaten for days, hope she's doing okay

Jaehyun seemed like a very good guy, what happened?

first her career and now her relationship, she always ruins everything good.

-> true, I wouldn't be surprised if she was the reason of their break up, she's the epitome of problem.

the guy was like perfect, the problem was her.

the pictures of Y/N are concerning, hope she's gonna be alright someday.

You scoffed as you slammed the newest Vogue Magazine on the table in front of you, diverting your eyes to the screen in front, followed by a small laugh of mocking, earning a look from your friend. ''THIS is what they call news? This was 2 years ago for goodness' sake!'' Your rants echoed across the room eyes burning a hole through the news casted on your computer's monitor.

''You know media. If they can't find something from the present, they'll dig up the past.'' The deep voice replied to you. Looking at the couch not far from your place, you could see the figure of the man being covered by the same magazine you've been looking at for the past hour.

Shaking your head, you expressed disagreement. ''I just don't understand why it has to be me, Taeyong.'' The said man stood up and walked towards you, sighing as he sat at the chair in front.

''It's because you're still relevant, you're still famous. Media wouldn't care about you and he who must not be named if you both aren't known up 'till to this day.'' A smile appeared on his adonis face, crossing his legs while he leaned to your table.

''Besides, you're not still in love with your ex, aren't you?'' His smile turned into a teasing smirk, eyebrows going up and down as his fingers gestured a heart. You rolled your eyes at his actions, ''Ha ha real funny, yong.''

''Kidding aside, don't pay too much attention with it. It's not worth it. People will eventually get tired of hearing the same news over and over,'' With a tilt of his head, he pointed out.

You sighed and nodded, ''You're right, not worth my time.''

Years had passed since your lowest point of life and you could say that you've learned a lot, including how to manage your own schedules and know what's better for yourself, the real and actually better this time.

After the break up, everyone witnessed how you turned into the worst version of yourself, getting off everyone's radar and suddenly being seen, looking as if you're homeless and had nothing to eat.

Everyone can't almost recognize you whenever they see the photos during that era, except Taeyong, a fellow model. The man was an acquaintance, appeared in your life way before you got into a relationship but with a busy life of both, it's rare that you two contacted.

Not until the news broke out and Taeyong happened to stumble upon it at a website. He didn't hesitated to contact you, though he failed a lot, eventually, he succeeded through a friend who knew you as well. Taeyong refused to tell you who.

It was quite a ride when the red-haired model became your best friend and help you to get through. Starting from stabling your mental health to getting your life back together. You never forget to thank him but he refused it everytime you do. According to him, your recovery was all on you and all he did was support your decisions, therefore, the credits should be given to yourself.

There was even a time where you thought of quitting modelling and start your own fashion business, he didn't even had a second thought before agreeing, gifting you art pencils and a sketchbook. That certain pad was used ever since it was bought, containing an adequate amount of your first sketches.

Taeyong, being great as ever, had become your advisor and best friend despite having a busy schedule that required travelling from one places to another.

His appearance in your life was unexpected but very welcomed and appreciated.

''Have you checked your new project?'' Taeyong asked you as he lazily laid on his back, reaching for the painted stars and moon on the ceiling even though he knew he couldn't touch it. ''I haven't, what's up?'' You don't remember checking it yet, more over remembering to plan checking it as you have quite a lot on your to-do works.

The older man let out a bored groan, ''I think it was a skincare brand,'' You hummed to acknowledge what he was saying, a gesture to say that he can continue. ''I didn't know they are putting you on commercial films nowadays, you tryna' act or something?'' There wasn't any hint of mocking, it was pure and genuine curiosity.

Shaking your head, ''Nah, agency said the company's head was a friend of our CEO, said they were asking for someone that made noises.'' Taeyong scrunched his nose and smiled widely, ''Making noises, huh? Told you, you're still famous as ever. You've always been making noises but hearing it now, I feel like a proud dad.''

Reciprocating his smile, you threw your extra lollipop at him, his favorite. ''And I will always thank you for helping me get back on my feet.''

''Stop,'' The man giggled, disagreeing. He got on his feet and grabbed your hands, dragging you with him to the door. ''Let's go, get some ice cream.''

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you went out of the bathroom, rubbing your hair gently with a microfiber towel to dry it as soon as possible. Rummaging through your drawer, you chose the comfortable yet still presentable looking clothes, deciding with a white crop top and sweat pants, topping it with a black cropped cardigan.

Just as you were putting on a simple and light makeup, your attention was caught by the knock on your front. The arch of your eyebrows furrowed as you didn't expect any visitors nor any deliveries today, a thought of someone finding out about your address crossed your mind but quickly vanished when you saw the newly dyed blonde hair of the one and only, Lee Taeyong, at the peephole.

''What're you doing here?'' Asked by you the moment the door was opened. Taeyong's small smile changed into a jokingly annoyed face, ''Hello to you too, Taeyong. How are you, Taeyong? Are you doing fine, Taeyong? That's really good, Taeyong! I'm glad that you're okay, Taeyong!'' You laughed at his reaction, giving him a light push inside the apartment, the older immediately jumping to lay down on your couch lazily.

''I was bored, I had nothing to do today,'' Grumbling, he answered your question earlier. You snickered getting your makeup and brought to the living room to finish it there, sitting at the floor, in front of Taeyong as you placed the products on the coffee table. ''Shouldn't you be sleeping, then? You always rant about not having enough time to get a proper sleep or something,'' You mumbled, touching up a few areas here and there.

''Do you think I haven't done that yet? Dude, I was asleep for 15 hours straight,'' Taeyong announced to you, emphasizing the word fifteen. You scoffed, ''So you decided to crash at my place and make a mess?'' Pointing at the messy arrangements of his socks and shoes, plus his cap which was thrown carelessly. He appeared slightly abashed with his smile, sending a peace sign and a flying kiss, earning a grimace from you.

Finally done with the makeup, you groaned in slight pain as you stood up, cleaning your things before putting them back to your room and making your way to get your shoulder bag.

''You've already made a mess but don't make more, alright?'' Warning him while you picked the shoes that matches your outfit but not that eye-catching to blend in, tying your shoes for safety. Taeyong quickly shot up, ''Wait- you're going somewhere?'' His eyes followed you as you walked around to check if you had forgotten something, going towards the door to leave.

''Obviously,'' Muttering while fixing the your face mask and cap hid your face, Taeyong scurry to wear his shoes and cap as well, jogging towards you. ''I'll come with you,'' Silence filled the air along with your stare at him, waiting for him to say that he's joking. But none was said, so you presume that he was indeed serious.

Giving you a nod with a bounce, he gestured a hand to tell you to go ahead and lead the way. So you did, closing the door, making sure it was safely locked before making your way to the parking lot of the building to use your car. You didn't hear anything from Taeyong, only following you and sitting at the passenger seat with a jolly vibe.

The only time he talked was when he asked you to play some music and where were you going. Again, you answered with a 'something', gaining a whine from you in which you laughed.

Arriving at the place, Taeyong made a face that showed a disappointment, clearly looking forward to a 'trip', not even a single thought of visiting a grocery store. You chuckled at his expression, ''What? Dude, I need to eat,'' Pointing with your lips, you told him to get a cart while you went ahead of him to start roaming around.

The blonde male would be lying if he said he didn't enjoyed the peaceful shopping-- always being surrounded with crowds and bodyguards, you two doesn't often experience this kind of comfortable vibe, so it's safe to say that this was a breather for the both of you.

It was not until your peripheral caught a sight of someone hiding in plain sight with a camera obviously angled towards you and Taeyong. You hummed, naturally showing back to it as you tugged your best friend's shirt, ''Dude,'' He furrowed his eyebrows at you, questioning your actions.

A brief widening of your eyes was all it took for Taeyong to realize what you were trying to convey, lowering his cap as he pushed the cart away from the lenses. ''Can't have a peaceful grocery shopping, huh?'' Hearing him tsked, holding you by your waist to guide you at a cashier with an empty line and quickly punched your items. Paying for the foods and drinks mindlessly with his card before carrying the bags and ushering you outside the store.

''Let's go, Yuta needs to know about this,'' The car's engine created a sound and before you knew it, you reached your agency's building and you were heading towards your manager's office.

''This is not a big deal but we're definitely gonna have a hard time shutting down the dating rumors,'' Said by Yuta while he scrolled through the news of the spotting of your apparently-- ''grocery date'' with Taeyong.

Yuta had became your manager through, again, your best friend. He was someone Taeyong trusted and knew for the longest of time so the man decided to recommend the japanese. And now, it was not only Taeyong who trusted Yuta with their whole life, but you as well. The japanese had proven many times that he was worthy of your trust plus friendship by how he protected you from further issues and how he supported you with any decisions, not without talking you down about the consequences, of course.

Yuta never pressured you about your body, never been strict about your diet and never limited you with going out with your friends and doing what you wanted. Yuta was a coworker turned into friend in no time.

Playing with your lower lip, you looked up to him, ''So, what do we do?'' A small snort was picked up by your ears beside, ''Let them think that way, it's not like dating me is bad, isn't it?'' Taeyong suggested with a smirk, earning a smack from you that made him let out a sound of pain.

Your manager only sighed at the childish sight of you and your best friend, shaking his head as he relaxed in his chair, ''Denying it immediately would only cause further suspicions, let it die down for a day or two.''

Taeyong shrugged his shoulders while you nodded. Both neither agreeing nor disagreeing with the plan.

''Can you cover up for me? The appointment?'' Rustling and a sound of engine came from the other line, Yuta's voice filled with anxiousness and worry. Nodding even if he can't see you, you agreed to do as he requested-- telling him not to worry.

You were hanging out at Taeyong's apartment when your manager called, saying something urgent came up which was why he couldn't attend the supposed meeting the the CEO of the skincare brand you were going to model for. Handling your own schedules and attending meetings weren't new to you as you've done them for a while after firing your last handler. So you were no way near of fearing to meet the clients, right?

Wrong. When something in you rang bells of warnings, you didn't hesitate to drag Taeyong with you, not even bothering to tell him where you were going. He could only thank the universe for his fashion taste and good looks that whatever he wore made him look presentable and elegant.

Reaching the building of the address Yuta had sent you, you stride confidently inside, making your way to the reception as you informed about the meeting involving your manager and the CEO. Fortunately, the lady confirmed it with no issues, proceeding to lead you and Taeyong to the elevator, you weren't sure if the employees were gawking at you or the man beside you, stifling their giggles as they stole glances.

''Damn, wonder if this is soundproof or something,'' Taeyong whispered to himself as you both stood in front of what seemed to be a door made out of acoustic plywood. Giving him a look, he almost instantly showed a smirk, knowing well that the look you were giving him meant that he should behave and be formal.

It wasn't long before the doors were pulled open, revealing a huge room with high ceiling and minimalistic designs. There were no picture frames of whatsoever, all of it were office related and some were for aesthetic purposes. The lady in charge of assisting you ushered you inside, staying by your side until the man sitting on the chair right at the center of the room turned around.

You held a breath unconsciously when the man with black jet hair faced you, confusion taking over your emotions as your brain processed the image of Mark Lee sitting in front of you, smirking as if he's in some kind of action movie.

''Mark?'' Looking at him up and down with confusion as you observed his stance. Snapping out of your bubble when you heard a snort beside you, you didn't know whether to greet him formally or informally, considering the fact that he was seated on the very chair that clearly was stated to be for the CEO. His lean body doesn't seem to quiet fit the said chair as it radiated massive intimidating vibes, something that you don't get that much from the young man.

Mark's smirk turned into a friendly smile, standing up before walking towards where you stood, offering his hand for a shake. ''Are you the CEO?'' Taeyong questioned with a quirk of an eyebrow, hands on his pockets like some gangster. You nudged him by your arm, sending him another look of warning, pursing your lips as you made a fist with your hand-- hidden from Mark's sight.

''No, he's not,'' A familiar deep voice coming from the entrance of the room rang your ears, it was so familiar that you could feel yourself froze, eyes widening with size where nervous, shock and a lot of mixed emotions were evident.

Soon, a figure of a man taller than the 3 of you made an appearance, pushing Mark lightly out of the way before sitting on where the younger was earlier. Seeing him take the chair, you've now realized why Mark didn't fit it. It was as clear as the clouds outside the building.

His tall and muscular body bent down, settling down as he relaxed against the chair. Just like what other people might say, it fit him like a puzzle. The way he sat with his arms placed on each side, legs open in a comfortable yet formal way and his eyes burning holes through your soul, making you give out answers without him, even asking the questions.

It explained why the chair seemed to have such a dominating and intimidating aura, it fitted its owner. To say the least, it was like the king was finally placed on his rightful throne.

''Take a seat,'' With a nod and a motion of his hand, the three of you sat in silence, as if puppies that had gotten tamed. ''I apologize if I didn't get to greet you when you walked through my door, but I assume, my friend here already did,'' You could feel yourself gulping, you don't even know why this was so nerve wrecking.

You don't know if it was because of the suffocating atmosphere inside the room. Maybe it was the way his piercing eyes panned at you. Maybe it was because of the memories from before started flooding your mind the moment your eyes met his. Maybe it was the longing feeling inside you as you stared at him, not sued to being so distant.

You're not sure which was the reason but you're hoping it wasn't the last. You couldn't afford to regain the longing and despair that kept you tied to darkness in a lot of months. You wouldn't want to experience being so vulnerable and weak that even a small needle would break you apart. You don't want to lose yourself to Jung Jaehyun once again.

The following days consisted of meetings about the contract you'll have with the brand. During those days, you've learned that Jaehyun was able to extend his company to multiple industries and you just can't deny the proudness inside you. By how the employees and staffs around you talked about him, Jaehyun appeared to be so hardworking that many deemed him to spending all of his time working. Comments about his good looks and body image was greatly spread out as well, earning praises here and there with men and women expressing envy and admiration.

''Dude, can you close your mouth? You're literally drooling,'' Taeyong poked to the side, you jerked and pinched him lightly as a revenge. Rolling your eyes, you leaned to him to whisper, ''I'm not drooling, dumbass.'' But your best friend only gave you a mocking smile, ''Sure, jan. Sure,'' Nodding his head as he made an 'okay' sign with his fingers under the table.

Irritated, you slap his hands lightly, making him laugh a little at your pissed facial expression. ''Taeyong, I swear to God, stop--''

''-- important so I hope everyone is paying attention rather than playing games under the table.'' You turned to look at Jaehyun who was talking in front, his eyes boring to you as he gave you an eyebrow flash, clarifying the fact that he was talking to you. He tilted his head when you didn't answered, putting his hands in his pockets, ''Isn't that right, Miss?''

The stares you received from the employees produced a clearing of your throat, nodding and sitting properly, ''Yes, that's right,'' You swear you could feel Taeyong sniffling a laugh beside you. You couldn't believe he just scolded you for not listening like some teacher.

Once the meeting about the plan for the photoshoot was adjourned, everyone proceeded to spend their small break by having coffee, going back to their respective floors and visitors like you and Taeyong, went out to go back to your agency.

You reached for the door handle when you've heard Mark calling you, turning around, you saw him still settled beside his boss slash friend who appeared to be busy reading something. ''Are you busy? Do you have anything to do after this?'' Though a bit puzzled, you shook your head no, curious as to why he was asking you. ''No, I don't have any schedule after this,'' You cleared up, making Mark smile.

''Would you want to eat meat with us?'' He suggested, looking at you like a younger brother asking for a candy to his older sibling. Facing Taeyong, you gave him the same question as you figured out you don't want to join them unless you have Taeyong by your side, ''Would you?''

''Oh, not him!'' The both of you immediately swirled to see Mark seemingly surprised with what he said as well, ''I mean-- it's not like Taeyong would reject a meat treat, right?'' Anyone could sense the awkwardness at the young man's voice but only a few can see how a certain someone shot him a look.

Taeyong hummed, ''I do have something after this,'' You prayed for him to reject the offer, believing that your best friend knew you well that he knew you wouldn't want to join the two. ''But sure, at dinner?'' Your jaw dropped at his request, in contrast to Mark and Taeyong's questionable grin.

''Sounds great! You two have a safe journey to wherever you're going!'' At least the excitement in Mark's voice made you smile.

Dinner came and the four of you were now seated in a rectangle shaped table with Mark at Jaehyun's side, and Taeyong at yours. It actually surprised you that you-know-who agreed to come, considering that his face doesn't seem impressed when Mark suggested it.

Thanks to Mark and Taeyong for the constant chatting about random things that helped breaking the silence, because if it weren't for them, the awkwardness surrounding your and Jaehyun's side would kill you.

Taking a bite of the fillet mignon, you joined the conversation, ''Since when did you two got this close?'' It was pure and genuine curiosity, not laced with any bits of malice nor mocking so you're not really sure why they seemed to be frozen, taken aback by your comment.

''Since we met him? We bumped into each other a lot after that, so we got close, you know?'' Taeyong nonchalantly replied, hand gestures and all to support his claim. You could only hum, accepting the reason as you don't really have the choice to do so.

''I see,'' Nodding, you didn't pay any attention to them again, munching on your food with hopes of brushing off the uncomfortableness. Minutes had passed by and Mark excused himself for a smoke break, pulling Taeyong with him as according to the young man, he still have a lot to share.

While the two departed from the table, you were left with Jaehyun who was busy typing away on his phone. Which was honestly, something that you're thankful for, because ''God, this is so boring-- I felt like dying.''

''Talk to me, then,'' You swivel around, surprised by Jaehyun's mumble, only to see him still focusing on his screen with his eyebrows scrunched to the middle. Tilting your head a little, you convinced yourself that maybe you've heard him wrong.

Continuing to finish your food, you wondered why the two were taking so long, Taeyong doesn't even smoke, he already quited a long time ago. Thoughts kept running through your head as you chewed, and maybe, you should've kept them to yourself. It was too late before you realized that you've voiced out what you were thinking, ''Super awkward,'' Even prolonging that letter 'a' with the urge to express it passionately.

You, then swore, heard Jaehyun mumbling under his breath again, ''Maybe if you didn't bring your little boyfriend with you,'' But when you gave him a brief glance, he was talking to his phone, the speaker directly at his mouth as if to emphasized that he was on a call.

Feeling like he was targeting you, though knowing it was immature, you still replied without even having the sureness that his comments were to specifically attack you. ''Oh who wouldn't love to bring my boyfriend everywhere? He's just so sweet,'' Hiding your smirk behind the napkin being pat to your lips, looking down a second before peeking at his reaction.

Your smirk widened when you saw how his eyebrow raised in question and his facial expression seemed to be irritated. What made you laugh was the way he so subtly scoffed, whispering ''Sweet, my ass.''

A clearing of throat was heard as the two men sat beside you again. The little test of yours wasn't done but it was enough for you to know that Jung Jaehyun was still affected by you.

The night had come after a very long day and you were unfortunate to not bringing your own car, so you were stuck with waiting for a car that you booked online. Yuta had warned you not to use these kind of apps as it will increase the possibilities of having your address leaked and of course, a stalker. But you don't really have a choice right now, given that it's very dark outside and you've got no one to ask help, Taeyong who was your one call away was currently at the other end of the earth.

Almost pass 20 minutes, you've gotten impatient and near to disturb Yuta to come pick you up when a black BMW car pulled up in front of you. Preventing yourself to squeal in glee, you tiptoe to steal a peek through the passenger side's rolling down windows, expecting a driver looking guy but instead was greeted by a CEO with a stern face, looking ahead and not moving at all.

You blinked the confusion away, not believing what you were seeing, only snapping out of your trance when Jaehyun turned to you, ''Does your manager know you're still here?''

Putting up a facade, you replied with your chin up, ''Yes, he does.''

''Is he picking you up?'' You hated how that eyebrow of his was so intimidating.

''Yes.. Of course, he will,'' You almost pinched yourself when you felt your voice almost shaking, wondering you felt so nervous around him.

Hearing him let out a short scoff, you saw him rolled his eyes a bit before settling his left hand on the window he just rolled down, playing with his lips as he looked ahead. His right hand whose fingers were tapping stopped after a minute. Jaehyun faced you again, his arms remaining where they were, ''I'm only gonna ask this twice, is he picking you up?''

You pondered a bit, thinking of the consequences of whatever decision you might follow. Whilst doing that, it appeared that you were taking quiet a long time when Jaehyun thought your silence meant no so he slowly drove away from where you stood.

''It's okay, I still have a booked car,'' Breathing out, you opened your phone with ease inside you, just to be greeted by the word cancelled at the bottom part in massive bold red text, as if mocking you for making the wrong decision.

It was as though you were cursed with bad luck because of how everything doesn't go to your way today. Before you could even wish that someone you know will pull up in front of you and pick you up, the same BMW car showed again, honking once, rolling down his window.

''Get in,'' was all he said, not even giving a glance. You don't want to risk the chances of getting left alone again despite the urge to reject the offer so you climbed up and settled beside the person whom you didn't expect to have this kind of interaction one more time after those years.

You felt his stare, judging and observing you. Gulping, you didn't know how to react, your eyes shaking as you tried to figure out why Jaehyun was staring at you.

Answers were given yet multiple questions appeared when he slowly leaned towards you, getting closer and closer as seconds passed by until you could feel his breath panning against your cheeks. You turned to face him in confusion, reaching out to put a barrier between the both of you using your palms when you heard a click you, followed by Jaehyun settling back to his own seat, placing his arm on the open window again while the other was on the handle.

It was only then when you realized that he was buckling the seatbelt for you, the realization made you clear your throat out of nowhere, ''You should've just told me,'' You declared, wanting to convey that you didn't liked what he did one bit.

''I would if you weren't too busy inspecting my car,'' He said nonchalantly, spinning the handle with his right hand, looking side by side to make sure he wasn't gonna hit something. You might hit him though by how the way he replied to you, it irritated you for no reason.

A pregnant silence filled the car as you watched through the window, it was only broken when Jaehyun suddenly spoke, ''Do you want something?'' Your eyes diverted to him full of accusations and hits of malice.

He raised an eyebrow at your expression, ''Don't be so full of yourself, I'm just hungry. It would be disrespectful of me if I didn't asked you,'' God, why was he acting like this? It was like you're dealing with a teenager going through puberty, hence the annoyance and the endless comebacks.

Rolling your eyes, you were about to shake your head to reject the offer when your stomach grumbled loudly, announcing how you haven't eaten anything since morning. Glancing at Jaehyun, you don't know if your eyes were just playing with you but you might've seen him stifling a smile behind the fingers that was playing with his lips.

''Mcdonald's?''

''Yes, thank you.''

Embarrassment took over you to the point where you just wanted the floor to swallow you and never spit you out. Fronting as something or someone was harder than you thought, especially in front of someone who knew you well. Maybe even more than yourself.

You were definitely more than glad to have reached your building, you've tried to lessen your interaction with that man after the 'grabbing some food' scene but you couldn't avoid it as you had to tell him where you lived.

Mumbling a simple 'thanks' was all you did before getting out of the car and rushing inside the building, sighing in relief when you've entered your apartment. The day was tiring enough for you to immediately washing up and going straight to bed.

Morning came and what had greeted you was multiple calls and texts from your surely angry manager, accompanied by Taeyong's consistent knocks on your door. ''Bro, I swear to God-- if you don't fucking wake up--'' Shooting up, you quickly opened it, scared of what he may do as the last time he said that, he threw a bucket of an ice cold water at your peaceful sleeping figure.

You did your routine much quicker, even skipping a few of them that wasn't crucial to your hygiene before dragging Taeyong out of the couch to your car. Thankfully, you arrived at the photoshoot earlier than you expected, you were still late though. ''You owe me a coffee,'' Whispered by Taeyong before he left you for another schedule.

Bringing Yuta with you to the coffee shop might be a wrong decision as you always ended up paying for the drinks, him reasoning that it was your payment for making him do those extra works, which you agreed to. Zipping your bag open, you rummage through it to look for your wallet but it wasn't where you've always put it.

Tsking, you explored the other parts of your bag, yet no signs of your wallet was seen nor felt. Yuta might've sensed it as he walked towards you to ask what's wrong, you told him about it, resulting in him asking where you've last put it.

''I promise, it was just right here,'' You said with panic, still searching.

''Inside your bag? Where did you put it last night, then?'' Recalling, you've put in on your bedside, given that you were too tired. You still had it when you and Jaehyun brought food-- bells rang inside you as a light bulb seemed to lit up above your head. Jaehyun! You could recall a small tud sound when he buckled your belt, that should be your missing purse.

''I.. I might've left it in my apartment, I'll wire it to you once I get home,'' Giving him a sheepish smile, you received a look full of suspicion from Yuta, nodding at him to assure. With your manager paying for the drinks, you were now left with the problem you didn't want to face.

How were you gonna contact Jaehyun and ask for your purse back?

The sound of a couch rustling barely passed through your ears, getting your attention from the focus of posing in front of the camera to the corner of the room, you slightly caught a sight of someone in a suit with his legs crossed. It was no brainier of who it was sitting with such overpowering aura, there was only one man who you knew could do it.

His were boring to you as you followed the instructions of the director, acting all lovey dovey with your co-model, showing the products through placing them on your partner's face lovingly. ''Can we do more?'' The director requested in which you two followed. Your coworker's, Haechan, arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer as he rubbed his nose with the product with yours, creating a soft and domestic moment.

The staffs cooed at the actions, absolutely satisfied by the chemistry you're radiating. From your peripheral, you saw the way Jaehyun's jaw tightened, his hands tapping his knee continuously before he made the decision of standing up and leaving the scene.

As if on cue, only a few scenes were took before the director announced the end of the photoshoot, thanking and praising everyone for the job. You made your way to change clothes as the sando and denim shorts were too thin for your liking, the cold breeze of the air condition seeping through the fabric.

Reaching for the hem of your top, you stopped your motions when you heard the door opened, a certain CEO entered. His eyes fell on you, he didn't hesitated nor had second thoughts as he stride to your way slowly, hands caressing his wrist before fixing his cuffs.

Wanting to avoid him, you stepped backwards but was unfortunately met with the edge of the counter where the makeups were placed. Not getting any time to walk away as boh of his hands were settled at either side of your body, caging you in, cornering you as his eyes searched for yours.

The silence thickened, your gulp and breathing were heard along with the buzzing of the AC. Gripping the edge with your hands, you failed to lean backwards as the CEO lowered his head, making you face him directly.

The time slowed down like some disney movie when your brain processed how Jaehyun moved closer and closer, his fingers brushing your waist that electrified your body, pursing your lips as you placed a hand to his chest to stop him.

Not really knowing why, you felt humiliated by how he chuckled lowly at your action, biting his lower lip before bringing his face close enough that you could feel his breath fanning your nose. Your own voice got caught in your throat when you tried to grumble a protest, only producing a squeak.

His lips hovered above yours, forming a smirk, decreasing the distance little by little until there was a centimeter gap left. You gulped for the nth time, it was so close yet still so far. With your hand forming a fist, you scrunched a part of his dress shirt along with it.

Jaehyun's lips moved upwards a bit, stopping once he decided the movement was enough. He observed your face a little, detecting any uncomfortableness. All be damned when he didn't detect anything. Proceeding to place his lips at the tip of your nose lightly and softly, pulling away as the door opened just in time.

''Sir? Have you found your watch?'' Jaehyun hummed at his employee's question, stretching his hand to reach for something behind you, putting it on his wrist and wearing it again.

You heard him whisper before walking out of the room, ''Should've never left something so important,'' It was only you who could sense that he wasn't only talking about the watch.

You left the venue with a lot of thoughts floating in your mind, one of them being what will happen next?

Taeyong's sharp gasp pierced your ears, hand over his mouth as if he couldn't believe what his screen had projected, ''What's up with you?'' You asked him, giving him a glare mixed with wonder. ''Did you just denied our lovely, perfect and healthy relationship?!'' He pointed at you with so much accusations, mouth wide open, it was as if you've been convicted to a capital crime.

''What relationship?'' Eyebrows scrunched to the middle, you reached to peek what he was looking at, there you saw the big bold letters about how the dating issue between you and Taeyong weren't true. ''Dude, I did not deny nothing,'' It was the truth, you're too caught up with your current projects that you even forgot about the said 'scandal'.

You shushed Taeyong when your phone rang, displaying Yuta's name, sliding the answer button and placing the speaker on your ear. ''The photos came out,'' He announced.

With your eyebrows creased to the middle, you responded, ''And so?'' Not sure as to why he was telling you this. ''Well..'' By the tone, your eyes already rolled to the back of your head, knowing that this meant his usual request. Already detecting your reaction, he urged you to listen first, ''Wait wait! To be fair, this is for your another project, okay? Plus, It's a really really good one. If you want proof, I'm currently with Taeyong!''

''He's right beside me, what're you talking about?'' Screaming at your ear enabled his voice to be heard even without being on speaker, ''Dumbass,'' Taeyong muttered under his breath.

You heard him pause, you could almost hear his reasons being picked, ''I mean-- Taeyong's with me in this project, he was the one who told me about this certain someone wanting you on the runway,'' Shaking your head in disbelief, you don't have any clue as why he was lying to you but having so much trust with the man, you couldn't care less.

''Whatever, what favor would you want me to do this time?'' Yuta let out a small giggle, wondering if he asked favors this frequently that you already knew what was about to come.

''Can you pick up the hard copies?''

''Why do we need the hard ones? Can't you just like-- send it through emails or something, it's 2023.''

''Nah, the company wanted a hard copy.''

''Is it necessary? Really?''

''Yes, it is.''

''Fine, where will I pick it?''

That's how you ended up in front of the oak wood door with the word Chief Executive Officer plastered in it, gripping the sling of your shoulder bag as you changed weight from one leg to another in an attempt to brush off the nervousness bubbling inside of you.

Knocking against it, you saw the light on the door handle turned green, indicating that it was unlocked and you can freely enter. Twisting the handle, you slowly stepped a foot after foot inside the huge room, the same placement of things met your eyes, not even one being moved.

Except for the atmosphere surrounding the space, it was more of one where you could focus on your work and one that could tell anyone not to disturb the person inside. You expected him to be surprised as he looked but it seemed like the opposite when his eyes met yours as you took a seat in front of him placing his pen down as he greeted you formally and you greeting him back. Awkward, to say the least. Yet you're certain, he anticipated your arrival.

''Yuta had told me I had to get the hard copy of the outcome as my agency requested it, your employees led me here,'' You explained, rapping the words and almost stutter in the middle. Jaehyun made a buzzing sound with his mouth-- a hum, nodding before standing up and making his way to one of the drawers settled by the wall. He took out a folder, walking back to you and stretching his forward. You received the folder with a 'thank you', wanting to leave the room right away.

''I'm surprised you came alone today,'' Out of nowhere, Jaehyun commented that gained a snort from you, recalling his childish tantrum about bringing Taeyong with you everywhere. He placed his palms on the table as he leaned backwards, giving his legs time to relax while he put most of his weight on his arms.

''What? Were you expect my little boyfriend to come with me?'' You diverted your eyes at him with a challenging look, seeing how he hid the way he gulp made you gain confidence.

Shaking his head no, Jaehyun replied, ''You mean your best friend?'' Ah, so he'd seen the news as well, huh? You could've mistaken the glare of his for something near hope and assurance, as if he wanted you to confirm that Taeyong was nothing but a friend to you.

There was no reason not to lie, given the fact that he wasn't someone important in your life no more but you didn't. Instead, you did confirmed his claim, wanting to see what his next love will be. Your lips curving up to a smirk, ''Yeah, my best friend-- slash boyfriend.''

Jaehyun reciprocated your smirk, he got on his feet fully once again, taking steps closer to you. His torso faced your head because of his height, you didn't looked up-- you don't want to. But his fingers ever so gently brushed against your chin, tilting them upwards so he could see the view of your face clearly.

''Still lying, I see,'' The way he towered over you and his fingers holding your chin with care, it was too familiar. So familiar that what was about to come next was inevitable, your body already giving in without any protest.

The fingers moved upwards, expanding the skinship from his fingers to his whole palm settling at the side of your face. He bent down to your level, facing you directly as he kept the eye contact, not blinking in fear that he wouldn't catch a glimpse of what he wanted to see from you.

Sounds became mumbled, feeling the whole world stopped spinning as Jaehyun's pillowy lips pressed slowly and softly against yours after years. Your eyes, as if instinctively, closed, memories rushing back at you with the contact you knew your body was longing for.

He pulled away after what seemed to be an eternity, his eyes full of fondness and hope met your doe ones, thumb caressing your cheek gently as he heaved a sigh. ''Tell me to stop,'' Jaehyun whispered, gulping for the nth time.

''Tell me you don't want this,'' The CEO's brown orbs plead you to do so, wanting everything except invade your privacy and disrespect you. Instead of hearing what he wanted, his mouth that was slightly ajar were once again in contact with yours, pouring all your unsaid feelings to the kiss as you circled your arms on his neck.

You heard him mumbled against your lips, ''Fuck,'' His hands snaked around your waist, pulling you up with him and making you settle on top of his table, a much comfortable height for the both of you.

The kiss deepened with passion, the urge to have each other close even when there's no gap to decrease no more. Your hands reached the hem of Jaehyun's dress shirt, tugging at it causing a fond laugh from the man. Taking off his top, the muscled body made you drool, it was definitely more buffed than the last time you saw it. Your hands traveled from his neck to his waist, placing kisses to his chest while he reached out behind you, locking the door with a single click from the buttons beside his telephone.

You licked a stripe on his nipples, earning a groan from him as his hand went through your hair, hesitating to grip them-- not wanting to hurt you. But Jaehyun, out of all people, should know how you love pain in sex. It seemed like he remembered that, because with just one look from you, his lips curved up at the same time as his hand formed a fist, injecting pain with pleasure to you. Your smile told him everything he needed to know.

He kissed you one more time before moving his kisses to your neck, sucking and licking but careful enough not to leave obvious marks, although you slightly wished he did.

Unbuttoning your cropped cardigan, his eyes were blessed to see the sight of your breasts barely covered by your bra, he slowly slid it off your shoulder, appreciation seeping through his pecking of your skin along the way.

He, next, worked on your square pants, not having any difficulty in taking it off as it slid so effortlessly off of you, presenting a sight he longed for so long. Jaehyun traced every curves of your body with pressing his lips softly against them, taking a deep breath as he pulled away for a moment, staring at you with so much admiration that you felt blush creeping up your cheeks.

''So fucking beautiful,'' The CEO unbuckled your bra and held the waistband of your underwear between his fingers, with you taking the initiative of getting your bra off. He kneeled down, giving your inner thigh a few kisses before reaching to the center of your two legs. Jaehyun ate your pussy out as if he was making out with your lips, his tongue were all over and his face turning sideways multiple times in an attempt to reach further.

Cursing, you spread your legs open to give him space, yet his hands stopped you, grabbing each side, putting them on his shoulder, not letting it get far away from him in any way. You forgot how Jaehyun loved the thigh burned he got everytime he ate you out.

Deprivation can be shown by how he sucked on your clit, middle finger working their way in and out of you with a squelching sound. ''Jaehyun, fuck,'' God, how he loved the way you moaned his name. He had been wanting to hear that since then, only settling for porn actors as he couldn't afford having you in his arms again.

But that changed today, you're here right now. Caged in his arms, moaning in pleasure, screaming for more with no hints of protest, Jaehyun couldn't ask for more.

Placing your hand in his strands, you pulled a little and Jaehyun knew you too well to remember that this was a telltale sign of you coming close, he maybe can't see it but he knew that your back was currently arched as you squeezed his head between your legs, jerking a few times before he felt your salty juices on his tongue.

He groaned in satisfaction, licking and wanting for more, he just couldn't get enough of it. As much as he loved the taste of you though, Jaehyun couldn't ignore the ache and throb of his cock inside his pants, as well as your pleas of having him despite just coming down from your previous high.

Getting on his feet, he picked you up with little to no struggle, bringing you as he laid you down on the couch. You failed to notice how his hand were unbuckling his belt, throwing it far from you two, moving to his button and taking off his whole pants.

When you've realized that his bottom were thrown away, your hand palmed his bulge through his boxer almost right away, head still quiet caught by how Jaehyun were eating your neck, surely having a hard time not placing marks.

''Come on, Jae,'' You urged him, kissing him in tongues as you circled your legs on his waist, grinding up against his clothed cock, gaining a low moan from him. ''Want my cock, babe?'' The cockiness in his tone and the annoyingly smirk on his face matched the size of his cock. It was way beyond the average, bonus points that he knew how to use it well.

Nodding, you grind harder, expressing your want with your actions causing Jaehyun to chuckle lowly. You soon, felt his bare tip on your pussy lips, teasing you as it slid up and down but never entering you just yet.

You grumbled in impatience, wanting to slap off the smirk on Jaehyun's face, ''Bratty, huh?'' Dominance took over his deep voice, his hand went to grip your thigh as the other caressed your cheeks. You couldn't take the intimacy of Jaehyun's stare so you decided to look where you two meet.

Gulping, you used the begging expression you knew he loved so much, ''Please, Jae,''

He cursed at the sight of you begging for him, again, ''Fuck, you just know how to get me, don't you?''

Slowly, Jaehyun pushed inside of you, his length stretching your walls with its width and girth, you ignored the ache taking over you, pleading him to go all in.

Yet the CEO only shook his head, kissing you softly, stroking your sides inna comforting manner. It reminded you of your first sex with him, always distracting you from the pain and only letting go when it was time for pleasure.

That was exactly what he need, starting with slow pace before picking it up bits by bits, letting you adjust to his size as his hips jerked harsher each thrust, reaching deeper into you. You threw your head back, exposing yourself fully to Jaehyun, giving him access to everything, his hands went to hold your throat but retreated, moving to your breasts as he fondled them, licking and nibbling, giving the same amount of attention to each.

Maybe it was because of your last orgasm or maybe it was due to how Jaehyun thrusted feverishly inside you, hitting directly to your sweet spot, sending you to an overwhelming feeling of addicting euphoria that you don't ever want to escape from. You don't know which but surely, one of them was the reason you felt another climax crashing down on you once again.

Screaming and chanting Jaehyun like a mantra, you unconsciously dug your nails in Jaehyun's back, earning a hiss from the man as lines of red was painted on his skin, giving him extra pleasure other than the delicious clenching of your walls around his veiny shaft.

''Oh my god, Jaehyun!'' You shut your eyes tightly, holding Jaehyun close as you locked his hips with your legs, grasping his biceps when you've felt your climax finally breaking, your body shaking from the intensity. Feeling overstimulated when Jaehyun's hips didn't stopped from moving, reaching his own high. He immediately pulled away, jerking his cock, with him whining your name, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his mouth fell open, white strings coming out of his tip, landing on your stomach.

When he came back to his senses, he stood up from the couch, walking around to grab some tissues, wiping the remains of him on you, mumbling, ''Sorry for that.''

It was hard for you to determine if he was talking about the cum on your stomach or the relationship that failed, caused by pride and greed.

''So.. are you two now dating?'' Taeyong asked with confusion evident in his tone, followed by a nod from Mark, Yuta and Johnny. You laughed with Jaehyun, sharing a look before answering, ''I guess? Maybe?''

Mark's eyebrows furrowed, ''What kind of answer is that?'' The man beside you sheepishly smiled, reflecting yours, ''The kind of answer, we will give you everytime you ask us.''

That was the last thing they've received from your pair as you already skipped away from the scene, hands tangled together, wearing smiles brighter as ever. ''They definitely, are back together,'' Johnny declared.

''Congrats to us, and our efforts then!'' Mark cheered, raising his glass of beer for a click in which the others followed. ''Jaehyun owe us a lot,'' Yuta reminded his fellows with a shake of his head.

Getting back together with Jaehyun, it made you realized a lot of things. Such as your faults, his wrongdoings and the areas you two had lacked to fulfill. You decided to try again, the both of you.

But this time, with much understanding and patience for each other. You've figured out the importance of them in a relationship, playing vital roles in keeping it healthy and functioning.

The love now overpowered the pride.

''I'm so sorry, for not giving you a chance, for not letting you in, for belittling your problems, and for pushing you away.''

''I'm sorry, for pressuring you to open up, for making you feel obligated to share even when you're not ready yet, and for giving up with knowing well how you're going through something severe.''

''I'm sorry for everything, because when you left, it was only then when I realized that-- while I was busy chasing the stars, I was losing you.''

You both decided to try again, but this time, without pride and greed. Replacing it with love and understanding, especially now with Taeho and Taehee officially joining your little family.

#jung jaehyun #nct #jaehyun smut #nct smut #jaehyun hard hours #nct hard hours #nct imagines #jaehyun scenarios #nct 127 smut #prodbymaui

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theliteraryarchitect · 8 months ago

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Hi! I wanted to say, I read that you are a professional editor, and think it's amazing! You also give very logical and well explained advice. I was wondering; would you say being an editor is a job you can support yourself with? I actually aspire to become one someday, but I'm not exactly sure if it's a good plan.

Thank you for your time, and I hope you have a good day/night

Hey there. Great question. It's totally possible to support yourself as an editor. I've done it, and so have other editors I know. However there are a few important things to consider before choosing editing as a career path.

Your chances of being a self-employed freelancer are extremely high. The number of in-house editing jobs in publishing are low and getting lower. While being self employed can give you a certain amount of flexibility, it also comes along with a lot of hustle and hassle, namely fluctuating income, a stupid amount of confusing tax paperwork, and the need to constantly promote yourself to clients in order to maintain steady work.

You probably won't make as much money as you'd think. Editing is one of the many skilled jobs that suffers from market saturation, which has sadly driven down the price the average client is willing to pay for editing services. I can't tell you the number of overqualified editors I know charging barely more than minimum wage for their work. Personally I've stuck to my guns about charging what I'm worth, but I've sometimes suffered by not having as much work as my colleagues who charge less.

Robots have already chipped away at the future of editing as a human occupation, and will continue to do so at exponential speed in the years ahead. They will never obliterate the job completely, as there will always be humans who prefer to work with humans instead of machines. But the outlook will become ever bleaker as more humans compete for fewer gigs, which in turn will drive down prices even further.

If you are also a writer, editing may adversely affect your writing. I don't mean that you'll become a worse writer, quite the opposite. My editing work has brought new depths to my writing, and I'm grateful for all I've learned by working with my clients. However, editing takes time, uses creative energy, and requires staring at a screen (or paper), and personally the more I edit, the less time/creativity/screen-staring capabilities I have left for my own writing.

If you mention you're an editor, someone will troll your post for a typo, grammatical error, or misused word, and then triumphantly point it out to you in the comments. This is mostly a joke. But it does happen every single time.

I hope this hasn't been too discouraging. If you feel a true passion for editing and really enjoy the work, none of the above should dissuade you. However, if you think you might be happy in any number of occupations, I'd honestly advise you to explore other options. Choosing a career path at this point in history is a gamble no matter what, but the outlook for editors is especially grim.

If you'd like to work with writers and aren't attached to being an editor, there are a few jobs (still freelance) that I believe will survive the coming robot apocalypse. Do a little Google research about "book coaches," "writing coaches," or "book doulas." These are people who act primarily as emotional supporters and logistical helpers for writers who are trying to get their book published or self published. Some of them do actual editing, but many do not, and due to the therapeutic nature of their work I believe they will flourish longer than editors in the coming robot apocalypse.

If you do explore editing as a path, the further away you can lean from spelling and grammar (e.g. proofreader or copyeditor), the longer your skills will be useful when competing with robots. AI still struggles to offer the same kind of nuanced, story-level feedback that a human can give. (Speaking from experience here--I'm a developmental editor and have yet to see a dent in my workload because of robots.) They'll catch up eventually, but it could be a while, and as long as there are human readers, there will always be humans who are willing to pay for a human perspective on their writing. Human spell checkers maybe not so much.

Hope this helps!

#writeblr #asks #op #editing

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gothcsz · 2 months ago

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𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter XIX.

GIF by azertyrobaz

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: A lot of change in such a short amount of time.

WORD COUNT: ~14.2k

RATING: 18+ Explicit topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: fluff x10 (these two are in love), smut, oral (f), unprotected p in v (try at your own risk), a peek into domesticity, javi wears a cowboy hat, religious content, suicide mention, talks of grief and depression, angst x1000, if there's typos/grammatical errors just pretend that there's not, spoiler tags listed at the end of the chapter.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: okay, not to get all rambly and stuff here but i feel like this chapter best emulates the vision i had in my head when i started writing this fic *cries* it was one of those things that was already thought up before i even had an outline, lmfao. this just fits the song thoroughfare so well (at least the way i've interpreted it for our little story :p) like i kid you not... i was crying writing some of this. this pairing means the world to me and i want to thank everyone who's taken a chance on this like ahhh i was beyond nervous when i started posting my shit publicly, but the support truly has made me a lot more confident and overall improved and left me content in my writing abilities 🖤 anyways, imma stop before this note ends up a million words (nooo kat don't stop yapping, you're so sexy aha 🫦) feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or on ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰ read on ao3. ♰

♰ playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

What follows is nothing short of perfect.

She moves into Javier’s life bit by bit, her presence taking up space in the quiet corners of his trailer home until it feels like she’s always been there. Her clothes begin to mix with his in the closet, her little trinkets are scattered across his dresser, her scent lingers in the sheets.

Her. Her. Her.

Javier can’t deny the comfort it brings. On nights when he works late, he’s greeted by the sight of her asleep on the couch, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, the glow of the TV casting soft shadows across her face.

His heart swells at the sight every time, the weariness of the day evaporating the moment he steps inside. The kitchen always smells faintly of whatever meal she’s cooked, his dinner carefully wrapped and kept warm in the oven.

He’s used to solitude, but now he’s coming home to something more.

It’s not conventional by any means. They’re doing everything backwards, diving headfirst into a relationship that feels like it’s years old rather than what it really is.

Of course, amidst all the domestic bliss, there’s the physical side of things— something neither of them shy away from. Paloma, as it turns out, is even more insatiable than Javier ever imagined. He thought he had a strong sexual appetite; always eager to touch her, kiss her, pull her close, but her? She surpasses him with ease.

There isn’t a surface in his trailer that hasn’t been christened by their bodies tangled together— kitchen counters, the couch, the shower, even the porch steps under the stars.

She attacks him with the same wild eagerness every time, like a kitten who never tires of her favorite toy. Sometimes she waits for him by the door, barely dressed, ready to pounce the moment he walks in.

Other times, she sneaks up on him when he’s doing something mundane— washing dishes, folding laundry, and suddenly her hands are all over his broad body, tugging at his belt, her lips on his neck.

The more she’s around him, the more she craves him.

He’s convinced he’s never been wanted like this in his life, and he can’t help but give in every single time.

He never gets enough of the way her body feels under his hands, the soft, desperate moans she makes when he presses her up against a wall or when her nails dig into his back as she pulls him closer. She pushes him to the edge of control every time, and he loves the way she challenges him— how she matches his fire and fuels it even more.

It’s a storm of passion that neither of them want to temper.

Javier watches her move around the living room, laughing as she dances barefoot in one of his old shirts, and it hits him all over again how deeply he’s fallen. She is more than he ever expected, more than he ever thought he deserved, and the way she’s seamlessly integrated into his life feels almost like fate.

He can’t imagine it any other way.

“Got all of your stuff?” He lounges lazily on the couch, legs stretched out, one arm slung over the backrest. His eyes follow her as she sways to the rhythm of the song.

She holds a glass of wine in one hand, taking slow, deliberate sips.

“All that I need, yes,” she replies with a small smile, turning slightly to face him. The soft glow of the evening light filters through the curtains, casting a warm hue across the room.

“Talk to your dad at all?” he asks, more gently this time, knowing the weight that question carries. He doesn’t push, but it’s there— the reminder that things still need to be resolved, even if they’ve been pretending like the outside world doesn’t exist.

She shakes her head, her lips pressing to the rim of the glass.

The memory of their fight lingers like a bruise that hasn’t quite healed. She knows she’ll have to talk to him eventually, but she just can’t bring herself to reach out. The sting of his accusations, his anger, feels too fresh.

The only time she goes to the house is to grab more of her things, slipping in and out when he’s not there.

Javier doesn’t say anything, letting the country song fill their silence. He understands the complicated knot of emotions she’s carrying, and he knows better than anyone how hard it is to face something like this head-on.

He motions her over with a wave of his hand. Paloma drains the last of her wine, setting the glass on the coffee table with a soft clink before climbing onto his lap. Her fingers thread through his hair the moment she settles.

“When you’re ready, we’ll go together,” he murmurs, in which she gives him a small smile, nodding and leaning in, lips meeting his in a slow, gentle kiss.

Their plan is simple— once the case is officially closed, they’re gone. They’ll head down to the Peña ranch in Laredo while he gets his affairs together before making the big move to California.

Javier has already told his father about it, something that had him feeling more anxious than he cared to admit.

He was worried about Chucho’s reaction, how he would feel about him running off halfway across the country with a girl he’s only been seriously involved with for a handful of months, and officially dating for a shorter amount of time.

But when his pops picked up the phone, Javier didn’t need to explain much. The older man could hear it in his son’s voice— the warmth, the adoration, the way Javi couldn’t talk about Paloma without his tone softening.

It was a feeling Chucho recognized, one that reminded him of how he’d spoken about his own wife all those years ago. So instead of the lecture Javier had been expecting, all he got was a warm chuckle on the other end of the line and a simple request:

“Bring that girl home already.”

She is beyond excited for the trip to his hometown. She’s talked about it more times than he can count, her eyes lighting up whenever she imagines what it’ll be like on the ranch. There’s a spark of curiosity too, a genuine desire to understand where he comes from, to see firsthand what shaped him into the man he is.

He’s been giving her a rundown of all the names, stories, and family dynamics, painting vivid pictures of boisterous holiday celebrations.

It’s everything she never had— being an only child of two only children made growing up feel lonely at times. But now, the thought of being wrapped up in a lively, bustling, large family fills her with a sense of belonging she’s always longed for.

He smiled to himself as he watched her ramble about her plans to help his pops. The enthusiasm she exudes when talking about tending to it all is infectious. “You’re more excited about the horses than meeting my family,” he teased.

She laughed softly. “Maybe a little. I’ve always wanted to be surrounded by animals. It’s like getting to live out a little childhood dream. As you can tell, I had a lot of those.”

“Well, you’re gonna get your fill of horses, cows, chickens— you name it.”

Paloma doesn’t have a concrete plan for California, and Javier doesn’t press her for one.

She’s still figuring it all out, trying to navigate the delicate balance between who she wants to become and the life they’re about to build together. It’s why he’s been searching for a job that not only keeps him grounded but also provides enough stability to take care of her.

He’s determined to carry the weight of their future on his shoulders, even if she resists the idea.

“You don’t need to worry about some part-time job, Paloma. I want you to focus on your music,” he told her one night as they sat across from each other at the dinner table.

She shook her head, her brows furrowing slightly. “I want to pull my own weight, Javi. I don’t want you feelin’ like you gotta take care of me.”

“You are pulling your weight. Your music is your weight,” he countered gently, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “I just don’t want you wasting your time on some job that doesn’t mean anything when you’ve got so much talent. You’re too good for that.”

She bit her lip, still not fully convinced. But there’s something so different about how Javier cares for her. It’s not about control or dominance; it’s about how he wants to see her succeed.

To be taken care of like this isn’t completely foreign to her, but the depth of his desire to protect and provide is different to how her father had approached it.

Javier is solid, dependable, and she knows— without a shred of doubt— that she can fall blindly into his arms, and he’ll always be there to catch her.

His resignation letter is already printed, sitting on his desk at the station, ready to be dated and signed. Yet every time he considers turning it in, he hesitates. He knows the moment he submits it, the wheels are set in motion.

Romeo will likely be relieved that Javier’s leaving, but the fact that he’s taking his daughter with him?

It’ll be worse for them if he acts before she has the chance to speak to him.

Their culprit may be dead, but there’s still evidence to sift through, a case to finalize, press to deal with— and every passing day keeps them busy enough to avoid any serious confrontation. Still, Romeo finds small ways to needle him, little comments here and there that Javier swallows down for Paloma’s sake.

He’s biting his tongue more than he’s used to, and it grates on him. But a promise is a promise.

“Just don’t say anything to him,” Paloma had murmured one night, her voice lazy and sweet as they lay in bed together. She was tracing small, invisible shapes on his chest, her chin resting between his pecs, looking up at him with those half-lidded and dreamy eyes that have him wrapped around her finger.

“I mean it, Javi. No use in stirrin’ the pot just t’ get the last word in.”

He’d been in no shape to argue. Still recovering from the way she’d ridden him into oblivion, leaving him breathless, his body spent, he would have agreed to just about anything she asked at that moment. He nodded, a tired smile tugging at his lips as his fingers trailed down her spine.

“Okay, baby. I won’t.”

Since then, he’s done his best to keep his head down, ignoring the digs.

But it’s not easy. He’s a man of pride, unfortunately. Yet, every time he feels the urge to snap back, he remembers the look in her eyes, the softness of her voice as she asked him to keep the peace.

For her, he would do anything.

“Do we really have to go?” Javier’s voice carries a slight grumble, his eyes trained ahead as they drive toward the church.

“Yes, Javi,” Paloma replies with a playful sigh, barely looking away from the small mirror on the visor where she’s touching up her lipstick. “I promised Tammy. S’been two weeks since I’ve been.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, fingers tapping against the steering wheel.

He’d abandoned all of it— the hymns, the prayers, the rituals— the second he set foot in Colombia, a lifetime ago. He never looked back.

Churches are just places steeped in sorrow.

Now, he’s supposed to sit in those old pews with the stuffy building smelling of musty wood and incense, trying to keep his head straight for over an hour. The thought alone feels suffocating.

But when she casually mentioned she was going, something in him felt the urge to tag along.

He glances over at her and finds her rubbing her lips together. Her hair is soft and brushed out, framing her face like she’s stepped right out of a dream, and that dress— modest, sweet, clinging to her curves just right— shouldn’t have this effect on him.

“You’re gonna get us kicked out lookin’ like that.”

She glances over at him, a knowing smile lighting up her face. “Oh, come on. I’m not even tryin’ to be sexy.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the problem,” he replies, shaking his head. “You don’t have to try.”

She lets out a soft laugh before turning her attention back to the mirror.

“If I combust into flames the moment I cross the threshold, you won’t have anyone to blame but yourself,” He can’t help but comment, eyes narrowing at the looming cathedral as they approach.

“You didn’t have to come, you know?” She counters, tossing him a sideways glance as she puts in her earrings. She knows this isn’t his scene, hell, it’s only hers because it’s all she’s known, but she made a promise to Tammy and she has to make good on it.

“I wouldn’t be a very good boyfriend if I stayed home.” The way he says it, so matter-of-factly, makes her heart swell.

Leaning over, she plants a soft kiss on his stubbly cheek. “You’re the best boyfriend,” she murmurs, trailing her lips over his skin before landing another kiss, this one just at the corner of his mouth. “I promise it won’t be as bad as you think.”

He grunts in response, parking the truck with a resigned sigh. He spits his gum into the wrapper and steps out, circling around to open her door. Because, of course he does, ever the gentleman— and before she slides off the seat, he leans in and kisses her softly.

“You really do look beautiful,” his eyes linger on her, full of that quiet admiration she’s come to adore.

“Thank you.” She scrunches her nose playfully, placing her hand in his much larger one. “Now try ‘n keep your hands to yourself. Please.” she adds, her voice teasing, but she means it. They are about to walk into a church, after all.

As they step through the large doors, the weight of every gaze in the room falls on them immediately. It’s impossible to avoid in a town this size, where everyone knows everyone— and everyone’s business.

Especially with Paloma showing up with a man on her arm. And not just any man, but the ex-DEA agent who’d swooped in like some kind of hero, playing a key role in solving the string of grisly murders that had haunted them for far too long.

The whispers are quick to follow. They ripple through the church like wildfire.

“I heard he knocked her up ‘n Romeo went ballistic.”

“Word is, she’s livin’ with him now. Bet they eloped— got hitched in secret. Do you see a ring on her finger?”

“I think it’s about time she found her a man. Can’t be young ‘n pretty forever.”

She can feel every glance, every sideways look, but it doesn’t rattle her. She’s been on the receiving end of this gossip way too many times, and Javier’s steady presence beside her is all she needs to keep moving forward. Still, it annoys her— how quickly people jump to conclusions, spinning stories based on nothing more than their own imaginations.

He seems entirely unfazed. His hand is firm in hers, fingers laced together. If he’s heard the whispers, he gives no sign of it, shoulders squared and head held high.

The man’s been through far worse than small-town rumors, and it shows in the way he carries himself, like none of this could ever touch him.

And maybe that’s why she feels so at ease despite the scrutiny. Let them talk, she thinks. They don’t know the half of it— the tenderness, the quiet moments, who they really are.

Her gaze sweeps across the room until she spots Tammy, Kristy, and Lola, already waving them over from a pew near the front. Their excitement is palpable, all big smiles and enthusiastic waves.

“Saved you a seat right next to us, pretty girl! Didn’t know you were gonna bring company,” Lola says with a grin, absolutely shameless as her eyes rake over Javier’s tall, broad frame. She’s practically fanning herself, and Kristy has to tug at her arm, reminding her with a sharp whisper, “We’re in the Lord’s house.”

She can’t blame her, honestly, he is looking extra handsome in his dark jeans, buttoned shirt and cowboy boots. “Last-minute plus one,” she jokes, leaning in to give them each a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Tammy, being the warm, welcoming force that she is, pulls him into a hug without a second thought. “Oh, you two are so good together,” she coos, her voice full of approval as she steps back to admire them. Then, with all the subtlety of a freight train, she adds, “Your babies are goin’ to be the cutest gosh darn things, I swear.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Tammy,” Paloma manages to say, her cheeks heating up at the comment, shooting her friend a pointed look.

The older woman just grins wider, clearly proud of her little proclamation. “What?” she says, feigning innocence. “I’m just sayin’. You both got good genes.”

Javier finds it amusing, chuckling beside her. “Let’s not give Romeo another reason to want to kill me.”

“He can kick rocks, for all I care.”

They settle into the pew after that, Javier’s arm resting comfortably around her shoulders and he pulls her just a little closer, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “She’s not wrong, you know.” His lips brush against her skin, making her shiver. “And with the way you’ve been actin’, won’t be long ‘till we see if she has a point or not.”

She glares up at him playfully, elbowing his side, “Not helping.”

And damn it, the way he’s looking at her, like the idea of a future with her, a family, doesn’t seem so crazy at all… it makes her feel something deep in her chest.

Her eyes move over the now-crowded space, gaze flitting from one familiar face to another.

She doesn’t quite know what she’d even do if she spotted her father sitting among the congregation.

Javier, ever in tune with her, picks up on her subtle tension without missing a beat. “He’s at the station all day.”

“Right…” she echoes, her voice barely a whisper as she shifts in her spot, sitting back against the bench.

Before he can offer her any reassurance, the opening chords of the organ echo through the church, signaling the start of mass. He exhales quietly, already bracing himself for what he knows will feel like the longest hour of his life.

Once mass is dismissed and they say their goodbyes to the sisters, Paloma gently grabs his arm before he can leave. “Gotta go use the ladies’ room. Meet you outside?”

He nods, planting a soft kiss on the top of her head. “Sure, I’ll be waiting.”

With a warm smile, she turns on her heel and heads towards where the restrooms are tucked away. After finishing, she slows to a stop on her way back as something catches her eye.

Through the soft hues of the stained glass windows, she spots a familiar silhouette, unmistakable even from afar. Her breath hitches slightly as she bites her lower lip, hesitation bubbling to the surface. A crossroad.

Her feet decide before her mind does. They guide her to the back door, pushing her out into the small stone patio beyond.

The courtyard is quiet, the sunlight filtering down gently, a rare mercy in the typically unforgiving Texan heat. The large angel fountain at the center casts long shadows, its soft trickling sound almost calming.

There, on a weathered stone bench, her father sits. His head is bowed, a cigarette dangling from his lips, smoke curling lazily in the air. She stands frozen by the doorway for a moment, studying him.

“Hey, Daddy...” Her voice is soft, tentative as she finally steps forward, announcing herself. He doesn’t react immediately, but his head tilts up, and his gaze finds hers.

There’s no anger or bitterness in his eyes— just the same stubbornness she’s always known. He nods, acknowledging her in that quiet, unspeaking way that’s so familiar it hurts.

She walks over slowly and sits down beside him on the bench. For a moment, neither of them speaks, the space between them filled with the soft gurgle of the fountain.

“Didn’t think you’d be here today.” He says, voice gruff from smoking.

“Surprised you weren’t. You never work on Sundays.”

“Yeah, well, needed to do somethin’ to keep my mind occupied.”

A quiet settles and birds chirp in the distance, but even they seem hesitant to break the tension. Paloma picks at the lint on her dress, her fingers twitching to keep herself from fidgeting too obviously.

“Congrats on closin’ the case,” she blurts out awkwardly, still staring at her lap.

“‘Bout time we caught that piece of shit. Did us a favor by offin’ himself,” he grunts, ashing the cigarette. He blows the smoke away from her, their eyes still avoidant. “People can finally stop livin’ in fear... things can go back to the way they were.”

There’s a pointedness to that last part of the sentence she can’t ignore. She finally lifts her gaze to him, heart twisting at the sadness in his eyes that he’s trying so damn hard to bury behind his gruff exterior.

“Sweetheart,” he says, voice softening in a way that almost breaks her. “Please... come back home. It’s so quiet without you there.”

She quickly looks away, focusing on the path that leads to the cemetery just beyond the church. She wants to say something, anything, but the words refuse to come.

“That fight we had… it hurt,” his words drip with so much sincerity, she feels like she could drown in it.

Her father has never been one for grand apologies— he’s more of a man of looks and gestures, the kind of man who expects things to go back to normal after a few quiet, wordless days. But she can tell this time is different.

There’s no easy return from the things they said to each other that night.

“I shouldn’t have talked about momma like that.” She pivots the conversation.

“And I shouldn’t have called you what I did.”

She flinches ever so slightly, still feeling the sting of it.

“We both said things we didn’t mean,” he continues, his voice softer now, like he’s trying to walk back the pain. “And I’m so sorry. I was angry ‘n out of line. Broke your windchime that night… swept up the pieces after, but I couldn’t bear to throw ‘em out.”

Her lips form into a pout at the remembrance of the broken sentimental item.

“… It’s been haunting me— that thing,” he says with a dry laugh, shaking his head. “It’s like she’s standing there, right over my shoulder, reprimanding me for how I treated you.”

Paloma sucks in a breath, not knowing how to react.

How is she to tell him that she appreciates his apology, but that she isn’t coming back home?

“I never should’ve said what I did,” he repeats, tossing the cigarette butt into a nearby ashtray tower. “But I need you to understand, I’ve been sittin’ in that house with nothin’ but my own guilt for company. It’s been eatin’ me up.”

“You’re forgiven, Daddy.” She turns her head, catching the way he’s already watching her. “You’re right, we both said things we didn’t mean. Caught in the heat of the moment. But I meant what I said about not putting my life on hold to stay here.”

His brows knit together, and now it’s his turn to sit in silence. The frown deepens as she continues.

“I’m not doing that anymore. I can’t.”

“What are you saying, Paloma?” His words are thick with something she can’t quite place— anger, sadness, frustration. Maybe all of it.

She swallows hard, her eyes darting between his, attempting to read the emotions building there.

“I’m moving to California.”

At that, he lets out a laugh, but there’s nothing warm or amused about it. It’s sharp, cutting, before his face hardens into a look of disbelief. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means what I said,” she snaps, immediately going on the defensive. “Me and Javier— we’re going to California. We’ve got plans to live there. Together.”

He shakes his head, another condescending laugh escaping his lips. He stands abruptly, his annoyance palpable.

If she wasn’t so worried about ruining her manicure, she’d dig her nails into the stone bench.

“Javier, of course,” he spits the name like it’s something foul, his lip curling in disgust. That’s when her resolve snaps, and she’s on her feet, squaring off with him.

“You know, if you’d set aside your damn pride for just a second, you’d see he’s not doing anything wrong! He treats me right, Daddy. He cares for me. And here you are, acting like he’s some kind of—”

“Some kind of lowlife?” he interrupts, eyes blazing. “You have a thing for those.”

That apology from before has officially been tossed out the window.

“You are so unbelievable!” Her voice trembles, her own frustration boiling over. “I thought we were havin’ a moment and here you go, actin’ like you always do!”

Romeo’s eyes narrow, his jaw tight as he spits back, “It’s hard not to be hurt when your daughter tells you she’s skippin’ town with some guy who slept his way through a whole fuckin’ country, worked alongside murderers— then came into town and seduced her right out of our house!”

She runs her hands down her face, absolutely exasperated.

Hadn’t he been the one who jumped on the welcome wagon first? He was the one who loved Javier right off the bat— talked him up like he was the best thing since sliced bread. But now that they’re together, suddenly Javi’s the enemy.

She can’t believe they’re doing this here, at church, of all places. They haven’t started shouting yet, but she knows it’s only a matter of time. She needs to end this before it gets to that point.

“It was my idea,” she snaps. “He’s skippin’ town ‘cause of me. I want to leave. I’m the one chasin’ the dream. Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

Her voice breaks on the last word, heart cracking open.

He just stares at her, eyes hard, jaw set in that obstinate way she knows all too well. The silence between them stretches painfully until the static of his walkie-talkie breaks it, some garbled voice calling him back to the station.

“We’ll finish this another time,” he mutters, his voice hard, already turning away from her.

Paloma grits her teeth, her whole body shaking with exasperation. Why does it always have to end like this? Why can’t they just have one conversation that doesn’t feel like a war?

“Whatever,” she hisses under her breath, the word bitter in her mouth as she watches him leave.

As soon as he’s out of sight, she sinks back onto the bench, deflating like a balloon that’s lost all its air. She buries her head in her hands, fingers threading through her hair as she attempts to steady her breath.

She needs to recompose herself before she returns to Javier— who, by now, must be wondering what the hell is taking her so long in the restroom.

Just as she’s preparing to leave, a figure emerges from the surrounding greenery. Her eyes widen in surprise.

“Gabriel.”

He nods, tipping his tattered baseball cap, his clothes streaked with dirt, likely from a long day’s work. His usual quiet, rugged demeanor is as familiar as the earthy scent of soil clinging to him.

“Didn’t mean t’ eavesdrop on you,” he motions vaguely towards where she had been sitting moments before with her father. “Was workin’ when y’all started, uh...” He gestures again, not knowing what to say.

She nods, quickly wiping away some of the dampness beneath her eyes, her heart still hammering from the emotional upheaval. “It’s alright. Surprised you’re still workin’ here, though,” she says, trying to steer the conversation into safer waters. “Heard Sloane quit the bar.”

The mention of her ex-best friend sends a flicker of discomfort across her face, her lips twitching with a grimace.

He shrugs, looking down at the dirt under his boots. “Ranch is really kickin’ off. August needed her there more. The hour drive wasn’t worth it no more.”

The sudden openness from him catches her off guard. This was more than she’d heard him say in all the months that she knew him.

“And you? Aren’t you needed there too?”

His throat bobs as he swallows, his eyes flicking around for a brief moment before he answers. “Yeah, just… not in the same way. Plus, I like bein’ here. S’real peaceful.” Away from them, he thinks, the words bitter in his mind, though he doesn’t dare say that out loud. There’s a heaviness to him, like he’s been carrying them for far too long.

“More peaceful than all that beautiful land y’all got?” She presses, tilting her head, genuinely curious.

“Yeah… crazy, right?” He forces a chuckle, but it comes out awkward, like the sound doesn’t belong to him.

She shifts her weight, feeling the unease creeping between them. This conversation is starting to feel weirder by the second, and she’s ready to get out of it.

“Well, I have to get goin’—” She starts, thumbing over her shoulder toward the doors.

“Right, yeah, yeah,” He blurts, stumbling over his words. “I just, uh, overheard you sayin’ you were leavin’?” The statement comes out as a question before he rushes to continue, before she has a chance to respond. “That’s… awesome. California, huh? So far. I can see why you’d wanna ditch this shithole. S’not very fun here. It can feel… stale.”

She narrows her eyes, not sure what to make of his sudden shift in tone. “Yeah. M’real excited.”

A beat of silence passes, yet it feels like it drags. He should say something— warn her— but August’s looming presence, the consequences of stepping out of line, keep him in check. Fear clings to his skin like sweat, holding him back from doing what he knows is right.

“Well,” she breaks the tension, her voice clipped with polite finality. “Have a nice day, Gabe.” She forces a small smile before turning to leave.

“Just—” He almost steps forward, as if to stop her. She halts mid-step, her back stiffening. “Be careful. Stay safe.”

Her heart skips a beat but she keeps her face calm. “Thanks. You too,” she responds, giving him one last look before walking off, her pace quickening.

She feels flustered and unsettled. All she wants now is to find Javi and get the hell out of here.

Javier leans against his truck, chewing on a new stick of gum as his eyes anxiously scan the church’s entrance. His posture tenses every time the door swings open, but when he finally spots her stepping outside, he straightens up.

Pushing off from the hood, he meets her halfway with a worried look already forming on his face.

“Saw your dad was here, and you took a minute comin’ out. I assumed...” His voice trails off as he takes in her expression. His brow furrows, and he cups her jaw, thumbs gently stroking her cheeks. “Hey, everything okay?”

She shrugs, placing her hands on top of his, grounding herself in his touch. “Dunno. Talked to Daddy about us leavin’. It started off strong— apologies, the whole woodworks,” she bites her lip, “Then I mentioned the move, and well, he got like he always does.” She rolls her eyes, still feeling frustrated by it. “Divine timing when his walkie went off. He got called back to the station. Pretty sure the whole damn town would’ve heard us arguin’ if he had stayed.”

He sighs heavily, frustration knotting in his chest. This shit always happens when I’m not around. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he feels partially guilty for being the catalyst to the emotional tug-of-war between her and Romeo.

She shakes her head, her tone resolute. “No need to apologize, honey. I’m not gonna change my mind. I know what I want. He’s either gonna have to suck it up and get with the program, or he can wallow in his sadness. S’not my responsibility no more.” Her voice breaks a little at the end, but she’s firm, determined.

She moves his hands from her face down to her waist, stepping closer, resting her cheek against his chest. The steady beat of his heart soothes her, the rising anxiety easing under the warmth of his embrace and the smell of his cologne. “Just... hug me, please.”

Javier doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his arms around her tightly, pulling her against him, his chin resting atop her head. He rocks them gently, his thumbs brushing the small of her back in slow, comforting circles.

He’s proud of her— proud of the way she’s standing her ground, making choices for herself despite how much it clearly costs her.

It kills him that she’s had to fight for her independence like this, but life is cruel and has a harsh way of teaching lessons. He should know.

The weird interaction with Gabriel fades entirely, forgotten in the feel of being in his arms.

“C’mon,” he murmurs after a while, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Let’s go home.”

She moans sweetly as Javier’s lips ravage her neck, his hands gripping her thighs firmly, hiking her legs around his waist. Her fingers thread through his hair as she tries to steady herself, arching into him. “Javi, we’re gonna be late,” she gasps, though the protest lacks any conviction.

He responds with nothing but a low grunt, lips dragging hotly along her neck, the scrape of his teeth making her shudder. His tongue flicks against her ear, the nibble on her lobe sending a wave of pleasure down her spine.

“I can’t leave without gettin’ a taste first,” he mutters, kissing his way down her body.

Her breath snags in her throat, anticipation building as he drops to his knees before her. She props herself up on her forearms, watching him with dark, lust-filled eyes as he disappears beneath the hem of her new red dress— a gift from him.

Javier had picked it out himself, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw it in the shop window. He knew then he had to see his in girl it.

And she did not disappoint. The way it adorned her body had him nearly losing his mind. His pulse had jumped, and his jeans got tighter within seconds, the sight of her owning the room in those matching red heels making his mouth water.

His hands slide up her thighs, bunching the fabric as he goes, but when he sees the barrier of her underwear, he lets out a dramatic sigh of disappointment. “For once, you’re actually wearin’ these?” he grumbles, teeth nipping the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, his breath hot and teasing.

She shivers under his touch, legs trembling slightly as she smirks down at him. “I’m gonna be up on stage tonight, Javi. You want everyone gettin’ a good look at my snatch or somethin’?”

Javier snorts, lifting his head briefly to meet her gaze with a wicked smile. “Your snatch?” he echoes, amused by her choice of words, his laughter a low rumble that sends a new wave of heat between her legs.

She shrugs playfully. “Well? Do ya?”

It’s this balance of passion and lightheartedness that keeps her craving every second she can spent wrapped up in him.

“As pretty as she is,” he murmurs, returning to his spot, his curved nose trailing along the skin he’s just kissed, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I’d rather keep this beauty for my eyes only.”

He sneaks his fingers up to tug at the band of her underwear and she instinctively lifts her hips, helping him peel them off, the rush of desire pushing any thoughts of being late far from her mind.

His touch is confident, decisive— he doesn’t tease, his impatience evident as he buries his tongue inside her. A sharp gasp escapes her lips, her legs instinctively clamping around his head, and he groans against her, the warmth and pressure of her thighs enveloping him.

They lose themselves in the pleasure, savoring this stolen time, but soon, the insistent ringing of his work phone breaks through their bliss, left forgotten on the dresser in the bedroom.

“Y-Ya gonna get that?” she manages to whimper out between breathy pants, the last thing she wants is for him to leave her on this table without getting her off.

Javier hesitates, half a mind to ignore it completely and continue eating her out, but the sound is persistent, and he knows it must be important. With a reluctant groan, he pulls back, trapping her clit between his lips for a final, wet suck before placing a gentle kiss on it.

“Yeah,” he grunts in displeasure, rising from his kneeling position.

He hovers over her, leaning down to kiss her deeply, his hand moving to grip her jaw, his touch both possessive and tender. “Quédate aquí,” he whispers, their lips brushing.

She nods, still reeling from the intoxicating sensation of his tongue and the musky scent of herself lingering on his mustache, feeling her pussy flutter at his words. “Okay. Hurry,” she breathes, heart racing.

He moves quickly, and she’s left there, feeling utterly boneless, lust thrumming through her veins as she waits for his return. Am I dreaming? she wonders, hardly able to believe that a man like Javier Peña actually exists— and that he’s hers.

She half-expects to hear the annoying sound of her alarm, pulling her back to reality.

The call keeps him longer than he’d like, but when he finally returns to the scene he left behind, the sight takes his breath away. She’s still perched on the table, her dress riding up her thighs, legs partially spread, beckoning him to return.

She looks like a breathtaking piece of art, a masterpiece crafted just for him.

“Hmm,” he hums, the sound coming from deep within his throat, and he can’t help but lean in, kissing her again and again, each peck igniting the air between them.

“Everythin’ okay?” she asks, her voice laced with breathless anticipation as she chases after his lips, not really caring for his answer— at least not right now.

“Yeah,” he responds tersely in a low rumble. His lips are swollen, aching for her as he sinks to his knees again, eager to resume where he left off.

The sultry sounds of her moans and his lewd, wet noises fill the air, creating a symphony of pleasure that dances off the walls.

When she comes, it’s with a sharp cry of his name, and he can’t help but smirk against her cunt, savoring every drop she has to offer. He lingers there, lapping her up before showering her with gentle kisses until he finds his way back to her mouth.

Her lipstick is smeared across his face, and she giggles breathlessly at the sight, brown eyes sparkling with mischief. She brings her thumb up to wipe away a smudge. “The color looks good on you,” she teases.

“Likewise,” he counters, squeezing her hip possessively, a goofy, lovestruck grin spreading across his face.

He gently pulls her panties back up, kissing each knee as he helps her off the table. As they both head into the bathroom to fix their appearances, the mood shifts.

She leans over the sink, fixing her hair, and can’t help but break the silence. “Who called?”

“One of the guys at the station. The girl from the hospital has finally been identified.”

Her heart sinks as she blinks quickly, turning away from the mirror to face him. “And?”

“Runaway reported missing from Louisiana. No wonder we never got any hits from anyone around here,” he continues, brows pulling together in a thoughtful frown.

Something curls in her gut at the news, her proximity to the neighboring state bringing back the god-awful memories of that night at the swamp— the ones she thought she was doing a good job of storing away. “Is she going to be okay?”

“Her grandparents are on their way to be with her. Aside from that, nothing has changed.” His voice lowers as he adds, “She still hasn’t woken up.”

Paloma nods slowly, turning back to the mirror for just a moment. She allows her face to reflect the uncertainty swirling within her, the worry etching lines of concern across her features. Despite her efforts to mask it, Javier’s keen eyes catch her reflection, but he says nothing.

It's much later on in the night and she’s on the last song of her set, nerves gnawing at her insides like it’s her very first performance. The familiar crowd blurs into a haze, her focus narrowing until it lands on him.

Their eyes meet, and an electric smile spreads across her face, an intimate connection amid the sea of faces.

“This last song is new,” she says, her voice trembling just a little. “Came to me in a dream.” This dream, of course, being him. “For a special someone.” Her nose crinkles with a soft laugh, part nerves, but mostly because he has this effect on her— making her feel like she’s drunk on love, intoxicated by the way he looks at her like she’s the only thing that matters.

Javier’s brows shoot up, surprise dancing in his eyes, his heart leaping at her declaration. The flush creeping up his cheeks is hot, and he tilts his head slightly, still planted in the familiar table where he sat all those months ago, always drawn to her.

Front and center, just as he always intends to be.

As she strums the opening chords, the audiences distorts into a gentle blur. These are the chords she agonized over for hours, the lyrics she metaphorically vomited in her notebook, words that only made sense when she thought of him.

Her band is here too, in perfect harmony, amplifying the depth of what she’s trying to convey. They’ve helped her make this moment feel as big as her heart— a reflection of the way he makes her feel.

Music is something that has always just been there, a backdrop in his chaotic life. It’s strange to admit, but he’d given up on enjoying that small pleasure of life a long time ago.

Sitting in this uncomfortable bar stool, watching her sing her heart out about him has a warmth spreading through his entire being like a fucking fever.

She’s using the one thing she’s best at— her music— to tell him, in the clearest way possible, that she loves him.

He’s never felt more alive.

She looks perfect under the stage lights, the guitar pressed against her body, her dress flowing like a cascade of silk.

An angel, sent down from the heavens to alter the course of his life forever.

“‘Cause in your pickup truck with all of your dumb luck is the only place I think I’d ever wanna be.”

Once the song ends, the applause jolts her back to the present, the warmth of the spotlight melting away as she realizes that she’s not alone in this moment.

The crowd cheers, but it’s his gaze she feels most. A soft blush blooms on her cheeks, and she quickly thanks the audience and her band, her voice catching slightly with a shy laugh.

As she steps down from the stage, a few regulars come up to compliment her and she appreciates it, she does, she’s just more focused on getting over to Javi right now.

The moment she’s close, he is out of his seat, sweeping her up into his arms without a care for who’s watching. He kisses her with such fervor that the nearby patrons break into whistles and teasing cheers. But he doesn’t hear any of it.

It’s just her— her lips, her warmth, the soft press of her body against his. His hands are firm on her waist, drawing her closer, like he never wants to let her go.

When he finally pulls back, breathless and dazed, his eyes shine with the depth of his emotions spilling over. “You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever known,” he says, his voice heavy with meaning.

She can’t help but laugh softly against his mouth, her chest swelling with a joy so pure she feels dizzy from it. “So, I’m guessin’ you liked the song?”

“I loved it, Paloma,” he says without hesitation. Before he can stop himself, the words slip from his lips. “I love you.”

She bites her bottom lip, the shimmer in her eyes giving way to the incoming happy tears. “You mean that?”

Javier’s expression softens even more, his hands cupping her face. “I do,” he declares, “I love you, and I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Her heart feels so full— it might burst. “I love you too, Javi. So much.”

He doesn’t know how he got so lucky, doesn’t know what he did to deserve someone like her, but right now it feels like the universe has aligned just for them.

Paloma spots his cruiser as she pulls into their little secluded spot, a thrill of excitement bubbling up inside her.

It’s just a picnic, a simple one before her closing shift at the library. She smiles to herself, glancing at the basket she’s packed with all their favorites.

Javier finally put in his letter of resignation, getting nothing but a scoff out of the sheriff and nothing more. It had surprised him, but he let it go, not wanting to give him an in to continue to berate him.

She tried getting in contact with her dad, to have that final talk like he had said they would that afternoon at church. But he slipped through her fingers like sand, dodging every attempt to communicate.

Every unanswered call, every ignored voicemail— it all piled up until she realized he was resolute on dealing with things by simply not dealing with them at all.

That hurt, more than she let on, especially knowing in just one week she’d be gone, moving on to the next stage of her life without mending that broken piece between them.

She cried in Javier’s arms the night it really hit her, the weight of it all too much. He held her tight, whispering soothing words about letting time heal the wound.

He had faith her father would come around— eventually. “He loves you, Paloma. He just needs to figure his own shit out first,” Javier had said, his hand rubbing slow circles on her back. She nodded, letting herself believe it because she had to. She’d leave him a way to contact her when the time came.

He wouldn’t stay like this forever— he couldn’t.

Now, here she is, walking past her boyfriend’s cruiser, her mood brightening as she catches sight of something unexpected.

There, sitting in the backseat, is a cowboy hat. Her eyebrows shoot up in amusement. She knows it’s part of his work uniform, but he’s never actually worn it.

The image of him in that hat— oh, she just knows he’d look so damn good. A slow grin spreads across her face as she pulls open the door and grabs it, placing it on her own head with a playful flourish. It’s way too big for her, of course, but she likes the way it feels.

She shuts the door with her hip and practically skips toward the familiar clearing. The sun is warm on her skin, and the light breeze carries the scent of wildflowers. She feels light, almost carefree, with the hat bouncing on her head and the picnic basket swinging in her hand.

Javier leans against the towering oak, his back to her, a cigarette perched between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the air. She spots him, her eyes narrowing as she tsks at him with playful disapproval. “Javi,” she shakes her head, though there’s a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

He flicks it to the ground. “Alright, you got me. First one I’ve had in weeks though.” He turns to face her, the sight of her in his cowboy hat making his heart stutter in his chest.

She’s all soft curves and sunshine, the wide-brimmed hat too big on her head but suiting her in the most unexpected way. He removes his aviators, his dark eyes taking her in as if he’s seeing her for the first time all over again.

“You were doin’ so well,” she comments, stepping up to him with a mock scolding tone, though there’s no bite behind it. She’s already on her toes, reaching up to press a soft kiss to his lips, her fingers grazing the stubble on his chin.

“Sorry.” Javier smirks against her mouth, flicking the brim of the hat. “What’s all this?” he grabs the picnic basket from her hand as he begins to set everything up.

“Saw it sittin’ in your car and it got me wonderin’ why the hell you don’t wear it more often,” she says with a grin, bending down to help him fan out the blanket over the grass.

He scoffs, “Because I look stupid in it, that’s why.”

She lets out a sound of bewilderment, her voice raising in mock outrage. “Oh, be so serious, Javi. Ain’t no goddamn lick of truth anywhere in that statement!” She toes her boots off, settling comfortably on the blanket beside him.

Javier rolls his eyes at her in exaggerated exasperation, playing along. “I am so serious,” he mimics her, though a simper dances on his lips as he starts unpacking the lunch she lovingly prepared.

She takes the hat off her head and, without hesitation, places it on his. The moment she sets it on him, she’s breathless, her pulse quickening at the sight.

He grumbles, rolling his eyes again as he reaches up to take it off. “See? Told you— stupid.”

But she’s quicker, biting her lip and halting his hand mid-motion. “No, wait,” she whispers, her voice suddenly more insistent.

He’s confused at first, his brows furrowing slightly as he watches her climb into his lap, her flowy maxi skirt spreading out around them like a blanket of its own.

“What?” he asks, his voice low, hands instinctively resting on her waist as she settles against him, the proximity having his skin tingling.

Her fingers trace his jaw, her voice dropping to a seductive purr as she leans in close. “Tan guapo,” she murmurs, her lips brushing his chin before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

The heat between them flares instantly. He groans softly when her lips meet his, their kiss deepening quickly. She moans into his mouth, grinding down on his hardening bulge.

Javier feels the tug on his belt just before his balance gives way, body tipping back onto the blanket with a muted thud, his brown hat still perched crookedly on his head.

He lets out a breathless laugh, a grin spreading wide as he gazes up at her, catching that mischievous spark in her eyes. “So eager, bella. Thought this was supposed to be a picnic.”

Paloma’s fingers are already deftly working at the belt, tossing it aside as she bites her lip, her cheeks flushed from excitement and the warm sunlight bathing them both. “Yeah, well…” she shrugs, “Gotta work up an appetite first, don’t we, cowboy?”

He licks his lips, dark brown eyes squinting slightly as the sun casts a soft halo around her, making her glow like some ethereal being.

It’s messy but also seamless, like an unspoken dance as they fumble to halfway undress— her camisole straps sliding down her arms, one breast spilling free as his pants get shoved down just enough to release his cock. She nudges her underwear to the side, wasting no time before sinking down onto him with a moan, welcoming the familiar burning stretch.

Javier groans deeply, one hand on her hip the other palming her breast. Her hands press flat against his broad chest, fingers spreading over the fabric of his shirt as she leans into him.

Her long skirt pools around them, and she takes a moment to find her rhythm, bouncing up and down with increasing urgency. Her hair tumbles over her shoulders, wild and untamed, as she rides him with a hunger that makes his blood boil.

Her nails dig into his shirt, leaving faint crescent-shaped marks as she moves faster, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through both of them.

Javier’s hat tilts precariously on his head, but neither of them cares. His hold on her hips tightens, guiding her motions as their bodies sync in perfect, chaotic harmony, every gasp, every moan intertwining like a melody between them.

He can barely tear his eyes away from her— the way she throws her head back, her mouth open in ecstasy, her body arching as she loses herself in the moment. She looks like a goddess, every movement driving him closer to the edge.

“Oh, fuck me, you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he growls through gritted teeth, his hands moving to grip her ass beneath the skirt, guiding her movements.

His knees bend as he fucks up into her, driving deeper, and she mewls loudly into the warm, open air.

“All you, cowboy,” she slurs, feeling every inch of his cock stretching her and she grips his shoulders, using all her strength to pull him upright.

He follows without hesitation, his body adjusting as they shift into a seated position, her still in his lap. Now, she’s no longer bouncing, but rolling her hips in slow, deliberate circles, keeping him buried deep inside her.

Every slow grind makes her toes curl.

She catches sight of him beneath that damn hat, getting her soaking wet, even more than she already is. God, he looks sexy, too sexy. The way it sits slightly crooked on his head, the shadow it casts over his smoldering gaze— it’s driving her crazy.

Their mouths crash together, tongues sliding messily as they kiss with unbridled need, moans escaping between wet, sloppy breaths.

She clings to him like he’s the only thing keeping her in this realm, their bodies pressed so tightly together she can feel every pulse, every twitch. Her hips work him expertly, finding that perfect rhythm that drives them both wild.

It doesn’t take long before they’re unraveling, pleasure building until it crashes entirely.

His hands tighten their grip on her ass and she clenches around him just as he fills her up, both of them gasping each other’s names into their mouths, riding out the peak together. Her body trembles as she takes every spurt, her walls pulsing around him.

When it’s over, they’re a panting, sweaty mess. Javier’s forehead rests between her breasts, and she holds him close, her fingers twisting around the longer curls at the back of his neck, feeling the felt texture of his hat brushing against her damp skin.

Their breathing slows, but neither of them moves just yet.

“Gonna give me a heart attack one of these days riding me like that,” he mutters, his voice muffled against her breasts as he places soft, lazy kisses there. His mouth finds her nipple, drawing it into his mouth with a gentle suck that makes her gasp, her overstimulated body responding instantly. She can’t help but squeeze around his softening cock still nestled inside her, earning a low groan from him.

“Gonna get a heart attack if ya keep smokin’,” she teases, despite the lingering haze of pleasure, and he’s too fucked out to argue with her.

Javi simply chuckles, his breath warm against her skin, and she pushes him back, gently laying him flat against the blanket again.

She presses a soft kiss to his lips before slowly easing off his cock, both of them hissing at the sudden emptiness. Paloma rolls over and grabs her bag, pulling out a baby wipe. She wipes herself down first, then hands him one.

Once they’re cleaned up, the next hour drifts by in peaceful conversation under the shade of the towering tree. They share bites of lunch, talking about anything and everything, letting the simplicity of the moment soak into their bones.

She lies with her head in his lap and Javier wears the cowboy hat, still at her request, and she can’t help but grin every time she glances up at him.

His hand strokes through her hair, lazily tucking a strand behind her ear as he admires the earrings she has on. They glimmer in the sunlight, but it’s her thoughtful expression that holds his attention.

“Baby,” her voice is soft, almost hesitant.

“¿Qué, nena?” he responds as he continues running his fingers through her hair.

She swallows, her lips twitching slightly before she takes a breath. “I think I’m ready to tell you ‘bout my momma.”

His hand pauses mid-stroke, eyes sharpening as he looks down at her, sensing the weight of what she’s about to share. “Yeah? You sure?”

She nods gently, her gaze shifting to the space around them before she sits up, pushing herself off his lap. He moves too, adjusting to give her more room, knowing she needs the space to speak, to let whatever’s been weighing on her heart finally surface.

Clearing her throat, she fidgets with her skirt, her fingers trembling just enough that he notices. “I just figured… since we’re about to leave… it’s kind of like closure to me, you know?” She pauses, her voice a little shakier now. “I don’t ever really talk about her. But she’s on my mind. A lot.”

He watches her closely, his chest tightening with quiet concern. He doesn’t know what to say just yet, so he remains quiet, letting the silence sit between them in support, giving her the floor to spill whatever is locked in her heart.

“Her name was Abeline— well, Calmana… it’s complicated,” Paloma frowns, her voice already tinged with the weight of the memory. “She killed herself when I was thirteen. Daddy found her with her wrists slit in their bathtub.”

Javier feels the words hit him like a punch to the gut, the sudden heaviness wrapping around his chest. He tries not to let his shock show, but the revelation shakes something inside him.

He noticed the lack of photos of her in the Leighton home, never once asking why. The only picture he ever saw on Romeo’s desk was Paloma’s— the man never spoke of his late wife.

Now, everything about her and her relationship with him clicks into place with painful clarity.

“She was everything to me,” she continues, her voice growing quieter. “And she left right when I needed her most. Guess I should be thankful I even had her at all. She pushed me to be better, to raise my expectations, never let anythin’ feel like it was too hard…” She trails off, tone cracking at the edges. The vulnerability in her eyes makes Javier’s heart ache. He takes off his hat, setting it aside gently before reaching for her hand, bringing it to his lips with a sweet peck.

“And then she just went and did… that.” Paloma’s words come out broken, disbelieving. “It made no sense. It still doesn’t.” She looks at him then, and he can feel the depth of her grief, the unresolved pain she’s been carrying for so long. He hates seeing her like this, so hurt, but he knows this is a wound far too great for any of his words to balm.

He grips her hand a little tighter, offering her whatever comfort he can.

“It never makes sense,” he murmurs, careful not to overstep but wanting her to know he understands. “Only the person going through it really knows what it’s like… and that can feel very isolating.”

Paloma nods, even as her brow furrows slightly. She understands the logic, textbook reasoning, but it doesn’t bring her any real comfort. “I know, I know. But Javi… there were no signs before that. She was happy, sure, a little paranoid at times, but she was okay.”

Javier’s expression mirrors the sadness etched in her face, “It might’ve seemed that way,” he says gently, “but you never really know—”

“But I did know!” She cuts him off, her voice rising with frustration, with the raw edge of hurt that has lived inside her for years. “She had no reason to be sad. She had my dad, she had me…” Her voice cracks, and she angrily wipes at a tear that escapes down her cheek, pulling her hand from his grasp.

She sits up straighter, her breathing comes quicker, more uneven. Javier can see the edge she’s teetering on.

“Paloma,” he begins softly, his voice steady yet tender. “It’s okay to be angry. It’s okay to feel like it doesn’t make sense.”

Her shoulders slump a little, her lip trembling. “But it’s not fair,” she whispers, “It’s not fair that she left me…”

Javier reaches for her hand again, this time more slowly, giving her the space to pull away if she needs to.

“Losing her was the worst pain I’ve ever felt,” she admits. “I did everything I could to try and understand it. Read so many books, sat through counseling at the church, but that was a waste of time.” She scoffs, the bitterness of that memory evident. “Can you believe they almost didn’t bury her there? Because of her suicide. It was so fucked up. Only reason they did was through a loophole. Her grave technically isn’t on their grounds. That’s why hers is farther away from the rest.”

The church, something that was supposed to offer comfort, had only added to the pain of her family’s grief.

It just keeps getting more upsetting, “I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for you, mi amor,” he whispers and without thinking, he leans over, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her to him.

His arm around her feels safe and she leans into him, taking comfort in the strength of his embrace. “That’s when Daddy started gettin’ real mean. Our fights escalated, and it laid the groundwork for what our relationship’s like now.” She pauses, her gaze drifting toward the horizon. “He only talks about her when he’s pissed or hurtin’ or drunk. It’s like her memory only exists when he’s breakin’ down, and that feels like a disrespect to who she was.”

He can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to lose the love of his life like that, and as he gazes down at Paloma, the mere thought of her gone sends this dreadful fright up his spine.

The image of her lifeless in a porcelain tub, haunts him for a moment. He hugs her tighter, as if holding her now could protect her from that kind of pain forever. “Finding her like that must have broken him,” he tells her, though he’s not sure how to reconcile that with the bitterness in Romeo.

“From what I’ve seen, he’s not good at dealing with things.” He understands how hypocritical it sounds coming from him, given his own struggles.

She nods slowly. “Yeah, I know. I understand his side of things, I really do, but I don’t think he understands mine.” Her voice wavers, a quiet sadness lingering in her words as she looks out over the field.

The wildflowers sway gently in the breeze, their soft movement a sharp contrast to the weight of the conversation.

He watches her closely, admiring her quiet resilience. Even as she shares the ugliest parts of her past, there’s still an openness he finds beautiful.

They sit together in a pocket of silence, her gathering her thoughts, while he watches, waiting to follow her lead.

She breathes deeply before continuing, her eyes tracing the ground as if searching for the right way to put it. “It wasn’t ‘till recently that I learned more ‘bout her.”

His brow furrows slightly, sensing the shift in her tone. She pulls away from him just enough so they can sit face-to-face again. “What do you mean?” he asks gently, trying to read her.

“Growing up, she was real cagey whenever I asked about her childhood. What it was like when she was a little girl. At first, I didn’t press, you know? I was just a kid. But the older I got, the more confused I became. I couldn’t ask Daddy, and the questions just sat there, gnawin’ at me.” Her gaze finally lifts to meet his.

“And then one day, I got the answers to them,” she adds. There’s an anxious edge to her words, and he leans forward slightly.

“What were these answers?” he’s curious, tilting his head slightly to encourage her.

“She grew up in an orphanage in Argentina. You were right, on that ride up to Dallas, when you picked out my accent.” He remembers it vividly, blinking a few times in surprise.

“Just dropped her off at the doorstep when she was a baby. No identification, no explanation—nothin’. She didn’t have many friends growing up. Kept to herself mostly. It reminded me of how I was when I was little, scared of the girls on the playground.”

Javier raises an eyebrow, trying to ease the tension just a little. “You’re telling me you weren’t the most popular girl in school?” he teases lightly, offering her a playful smile.

Her lips twitch into small but genuine grin, the tension lifting for a moment. “No,” she admits, shaking her head. “I was apprehensive when it came to makin’ friends.”

She pauses, licking her lips as if trying to decide how to move forward. “Anyway,” she continues, “she grew up wanting to be a nun. I guess it made sense, considering who raised her. They were the only family she ever knew.”

This is Paloma’s truth, her connection to her mother, the piece of her heart she’s been keeping to herself.

“She was invited to Europe to join a special convent— a real selective one. The kind that had members handpicked by the Vatican. Real elusive, you know?”

At this, Javier feels a faint pull in his gut, a strange, uneasy sensation settling there. Something about this revelation sends a ripple through him, but he tries not to let his apprehension show. “Sounds intense,” he says, keeping his tone steady, though his mind races.

When she speaks again, it’s like she’s unveiling the most earth-shattering truth. “Turns out, Javi,” she exhales his name softly, “my mom, Calmana, was a direct descendant of Cain and Abel. And I don’t mean in a metaphorical sense. I mean literally— part of her family tree”

He stares at her, biting his tongue to keep his thoughts in check. His gut reaction is skepticism, but he masks it, choosing neutrality. “That’s... a lot,” he says slowly, his voice even, hoping it won’t give him away.

But she doesn’t catch the undercurrent of doubt in his words. She’s too wrapped up in the whirlwind of her story.

“They believed she was meant to bring peace to the world,” she continues, her eyes wide with conviction. “No more wars, no more famine, no more suffering. But before anything could happen, the convent was defunded and disbanded. That’s when she moved to the States, met Daddy, fell in love, and had me.”

Javier’s stomach churns. The story sounds eerily similar to the case they just closed. The killer, the strange ties to Rome, the impossible connections.

There’s no way this could all be related... could it? They caught their guy. The evidence was there. But the motive?

He clears his throat, trying to steady himself. “Paloma, how do you know all of this?” His question comes out sharper than intended, and he immediately regrets the tone when he sees her stiffen.

“I found some things,” she lies, her voice defensive. “Hidden away in her stuff. In the extra bedroom.” She’s careful to keep August’s name out of it, knowing it would lead to a different type of confrontation that, frankly, she’s not prepared for.

“And you... you believe it?” His voice is quieter now, searching her face for any cracks in the story. But she lets out a scoff, her eyes flashing with offense.

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I?”

He presses his lips into a thin line, feeling the conversation slipping out of control. He rubs the back of his neck, trying to choose his next words carefully. “I’m not tryin’ to discredit you, or her, but—”

“But what, Javi?” Her voice sharpens, her heart pounding in her ears. The way he’s looking at her, the disbelief in his eyes— it’s like she can already see where he’s headed, and she hates it.

He winces, knowing there’s no easy way to say what he’s thinking. “She was sketchy about her past, and then she died the way she did. Is it possible that maybe... maybe it’s not all true?”

His words hang heavy in the air, and he immediately regrets them, especially when he sees the way her expression darkens, eyes narrowing like she’s about to rip him apart.

“You think that she just made it up?”

He sighs, trying to stay calm, though he knows he’s already in deep. But the words tumble out anyway, against his better judgment.

“Maybe it was something to help her cope with whatever she was dealing with when she was younger. Something that eventually caught up with her...” His voice trails off, and he flinches at his own clumsy attempt to make sense of it.

And drove her to suicide? Yeah, great job at fucking listening to her, Javier.

Paloma’s laugh rings out, sounding every bit like her father. “You think this is bullshit,” she accuses, her eyes hard.

Javier feels the sting of her laugh. “I didn’t say that.” His voice is low, but he watches as she stands abruptly, brushing herself off with irritation.

He mutters a curse under his breath and rises with her, a sinking feeling in his gut.

“You didn’t have to.” Paloma’s movements are quick and precise, yanking on her boots as she avoids looking at him. “I’m real good at readin’ between the lines.”

“Baby, no—” Javier steps forward, trying to stop her, his hands reaching out in a plea. “Just listen—”

“I gotta get to work, Javi.” Her tone is cold, firm, and it shuts him down before he can say more. “We’ll talk about this when I get home tonight.”

“Don’t do that,” he says, soft but commanding. The tone halts her in her tracks, and she recognizes his frustration.

It’s the same as she felt when her father had pulled this kind of shutdown on her.

Her arms cross over her chest, and the disappointment in her eyes has him regretting running his fucking mouth.

“Your pragmatism wasn’t what I was expectin’ when I opened up to you about something so personal.”

“You’re right,” he admits. “I’m sorry. It’s just that... it sounded so much like some of the stuff from the case, and I couldn’t help but think about it like that.” He can see her stiffen, her glare piercing right through him. “But that doesn’t matter, querida. I know how personal this is for you, and I don’t want to undermine it.”

She nods slightly, appreciating his apology, but her mood has already been soured.

She needs space, wanting to escape to the library, where at least the silence won’t push back. “I just... I need to be alone.” She looks at him, but her eyes are somewhere else. “Or as alone as I can be. Promise we’ll talk about it later, okay?” Her lips brush his cheek in a quick, almost mechanical peck.

Javier stands there, watching her go, knowing full well he just made a mess of things. “Paloma—” he tries again, but her silence stops him cold. There’s nothing more to say. Not now.

She throws a look over her shoulder, wordlessly telling him to clean up their picnic, and he’s left in the clearing with his hands on his hips.

The urge to light a cigarette gnaws at him, but he fights it off. He’s already fucked up twice today— he doesn’t need to make it worse.

Paloma rolls her shoulders back, trying to shake off the weight of the day. She’s down to her last few closing tasks, moving through the motions, though her mind is miles away.

The shift at the library had been fine— routine, even— as she’s been trying to enjoy the last few that she has before she leaves.

However, her thoughts kept circling back to the spat with Javier earlier. It needles at her the way his skepticism had stung.

She just wants to go home, to fix things, to talk it out.

Finally, with her bag slung over her shoulder, she locks up and steps out into the night. Her car is parked across the street since the library’s lot is being repaved— long overdue, the cracks and uneven pavement have made even walking through it a hazard.

The streetlights do little to cut through the shadows of the darker lot, and she glances around, her nerves a little more on edge than usual.

She rifles through her bag as she walks, fingers brushing past lip balm and receipts before finally finding her keys. She fumbles with them in the dim light, the metal cold beneath her fingertips, and just as she’s about to unlock the car door— clang— they slip from her grasp, clattering onto the asphalt.

“Shit,” she curses, bending down quickly to pick them up. But when she stands again, her breath catches in her throat.

Leaning casually against the hood of her car is August, a joint lazily hanging from his lips, the tip glowing red in the darkness.

“August,” she clutches at her chest, trying to calm her racing heart from the scare he’s just given her.

His name feels foreign on her tongue, like something she’s meant to leave behind.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says smoothly, his thick accent curling around each word like smoke. He pushes off the hood, moving with a lazy confidence that makes her stomach turn as he rounds the car to stand at the driver’s side, too close for her comfort.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice trembles, though she works hard to keep it steady. She’s gripping her keys tightly now, her fingers digging into the metal grooves.

“Heard you were leavin’,” he replies, taking another drag of his joint. His eyes gleam with something predatory.

Gabriel must’ve told him, that rat, but she isn’t surprised.

“Yeah. Next week.” She nods curtly, hoping her clipped tone will get her out of this uncomfortable encounter.

“A shame to see you go, little dove,” August says, his gaze sweeping over her with unsettling familiarity, lingering on her chest and hips. It makes her skin crawl, and she shifts uncomfortably beneath his leer.

“It’s late. I really need to get home.” She tries to sidestep him, but his presence is a blockade.

He chuckles, the sound low and arrogant. “So icy, P. Thought we left off on good terms?”

He steps toward her, closing the space between them, and she instinctively takes a step back.

His grin widens, amusement flickering across his face like he’s enjoying this little game. “Why you steppin’ back? I just wanna talk.”

Her heart hammers in her chest, something in his tone setting off alarm bells. She takes another step, desperate to put more distance between them— only to collide with something soft and warm behind her.

“I think she’s scared,” a familiar voice purrs into her ear, and Paloma yelps, spinning around only to face Sloane, her countenance twisted into a smirk.

She glances between them, feeling trapped.

“What do you want?” Her voice trembles despite her best efforts. Their eyes are watching, calculating.

“For you to come back with us.” August’s voice is casual, as if he’s proposing something harmless, and it takes every ounce of restraint she has not to scoff in his face.

Instead, she lets out a sharp, bitter laugh.

“I thought I told you I had no interest in that anymore.”

“Yeah, well, that’s on me for makin’ you feel like you had a choice.” He flicks the filter of his joint to the ground, the ember dying as it rolls away.

With a simple jut of his chin, three more figures emerge from the shadows, closing in like predators. Paloma’s throat tightens as the weight of her situation hits her full force— she’s outnumbered.

Her fingers curl tighter around the keys in her hand. Her mind races, trying to gauge if she could make a break for it— grab one of the weapons stashed inside her car and either fight her way out or get the hell out of here.

“Don’t be stupid, August,” she warns, “You try anythin’ ‘n we both know s’only goin’ to end bad for you.”

He barks out a laugh, shaking his head like she’s just told the funniest joke. “Oh yeah? And who’s gonna stop me? You? That pissy old daddy of yours?” His eyes gleam maliciously. “Or maybe your incompetent, narc boyfriend?”

The mention of Javier makes her jaw clench, her teeth grinding together as anger flares hot inside her. But before she can snap back, Sloane’s voice cuts through, dripping with venom.

“Don’t worry,” she coos, a smug smile playing on her lips as she tilts her head condescendingly, “I’ll make sure to stop by and check on him when he finds out you’re gone. He still likes his women on top, right?”

Before she knows what she’s doing, Paloma lunges at her, fury propelling her forward. But her body slams to a halt, restrained by the large, rough hands of one of August’s men.

Her keys and bag tumble to the ground as she struggles against his iron grip, twisting and kicking, but he’s too strong.

“Let go of me!” she shouts, thrashing in his hold, her boots scraping against the pavement in a futile attempt to break free. The man’s grip only tightens, his fingers digging painfully into her arms, and her chest heaves with frustration and fear.

August steps closer, his face inches from hers, and he wraps his hand around her throat, holding her steady as he leans in. His breath is warm and sickeningly close.

“Can’t do that, little dove,” he murmurs, blue eyes darkened with intent. “Been lettin’ you do as you please for too damn long. S’about time we finally get this over and done with.” His thumb presses lightly against her pulse, and she glares up at him with every ounce of hatred she can muster.

“You dunno know how long I’ve waited for this,” he says softly, his lips curling into a twisted smile. “To finally have you the way you’re meant to be had.”

Her stomach churns, revulsion boiling in her veins. She narrows her eyes, her breath ragged as she gathers every bit of defiance left in her.

Without a second thought, she spits in his face, her saliva hitting him squarely on the cheek. “Fuck you.”

For a second, he stills, disbelief flashing across his face. Slowly, he wipes the spit from his cheek with the back of his hand, his expression darkening.

Then, without warning, his hand swings back, and the sharp crack of his palm colliding with her face echoes through the lot.

Pain explodes across her cheek, and she whimpers involuntarily, her knees buckling beneath her. But the man restraining her keeps her upright, his grip never loosening.

“Don’t make me hurt you, Paloma,” August says coldly, shaking his hand out like the slap had been nothing more than a casual inconvenience. “I don’t like doin’ it.” He turns away from her, his voice indifferent as he gives instructions to the others.

Her breaths come in ragged gasps, the sting of the slap still burning across her face. But adrenaline courses through her now, sharpening her mind.

She needs to act, and fast. She lifts her boot and slams it down hard onto the foot of the man holding her, grinding the heel into the soft flesh. It’s enough for him to loosen his grip and let her go.

Without a second thought, she bolts, heart pounding like a war drum as she sprints away.

Hope flickers in her chest like a fragile flame, but it’s snuffed out just as quickly when she feels a sharp tug on her hair.

“Damn it!” she gasps, the rough pull yanking her off balance. But her father’s voice echoes in her mind, reminding her of the self-defense moves he drilled into her.

Thinking quickly, she drops into a squat, lowering her center of gravity and using the momentum to twist violently. She feels the man’s grip falter as she moves, and then—crack!—the sickening sound of bone breaking reverberates in the air, followed by a pained cry.

She can barely believe the move worked, running as the world blurs past her in a rush of shadows and moonlight.

The sheriff’s department isn’t far, just down the street— if she can make it there, she’ll be safe. She darts down a narrow alleyway, the walls closing in around her, and for a brief moment, she thinks she might make it.

She can hear them shouting behind her, the thud of footsteps chasing after her, but she keeps running.

But then, pain— sharp and blinding— slams into her temple. She crumples to the ground, her body suddenly too heavy to move.

Through the haze, she sees Sloane standing over her, a baseball bat in her hand, the exact one Paloma keeps in the trunk of her car.

“I got her!” Sloane shouts, her voice triumphant.

She tries to crawl, her hands weakly clawing at the pavement. Blood trickles down the side of her face, warm and sticky, and her vision swims as dizziness overtakes her. She feels the bottom of the girl’s shoe press down on her back, keeping her from moving.

“Fuckin’ hell, Slo,” August’s voice sounds distant, like it’s coming from underwater. “Did you have to wack her in the face? Always doin’ too much— just like that girl at the barbecue.”

Paloma hears the words, the memory of that poor girl flashing in her mind. Sloane had dragged her into the woods, and now… now she’s about to meet the same fate. Her heart aches with the thought of what this will do to Javier, to her father. How this will destroy them.

“The bitch shouldn’t have tried to run off.”

They bind her wrists and ankles with thick rope, her body limp as they drag her back to the lot.

She’s thrown into the bed of a truck, her mind slipping in and out of consciousness, her thoughts spiraling back to the people she loves.

Javier’s face swims in her mind, and she clings to it, even as darkness begins to swallow her whole.

“Sadie, you know what you have to do. Dump her car in the lake. Go down with it. Remember that you’re doing this for a good cause— for her. Don’t be scared. You’re brave; you can do this.” August’s voice cuts through the haze of her consciousness, a distant echo tainted with a chilling calmness.

The young girl, Sadie, shifts nervously, her hands trembling as she takes in the weight of the task assigned to her.

The corners of the truck bed feel as if they’re closing in around her like a suffocating shroud.

Time seems to slow, every second stretching into an eternity as she fights to stay conscious.

After a moment of nervous hesitation, Sadie nods, her resolve crumbling.

Her pulse quickens as she feels August’s weight shift beside her.

He hops into the bed of the truck, looming over her frame, and she shrinks back, every instinct screaming at her to fight, to flee. But she’s too weak, her body betraying her with each shaky breath.

“Don’t worry, little dove. Soon enough, this will be nothing but a hiccup, insignificant as you cradle the entire world in your hands.” His words slither into her mind, tainted with a sickening promise.

He leans in closer, and she catches a whiff of his cologne mixed with something rotten. Her stomach churns, and she fights against the gag reflex rising within her as he presses a dirty rag against her mouth, muffling her cries.

The truck’s engine roars to life and begins to move. Tears spill from her eyes, hot and unrelenting, tracing paths down her cheeks.

She glances up at her captor, who is grinning down at her as he wipes away the blood and tears on her face, the moon looking menacing in the night sky behind him.

spoiler tags: slapping, kidnapping, depictions of violence. just a heads up, we are venturing into the more darker content era of this fic. i'll be tagging future chapters accordingly!

#pedro pascal #javier peña fic #javier pena fanfic #javier pena smut #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier peña narcos #javier pena narcos #javier peña x ofc #javier pena x ofc

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rotonalhaitham · 2 years ago

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Alhaitham - Mission Accomplished (NSFW)

Alhaitham x Reader x Kaveh

I love kaveh yall I'm gonna start to sob,, also i tried my best to make reader gn but ehh I guess it didn't work

Warnings: NSFW!!!!!! Threesome, dacryphillia, prn with plot (i think?? Idfk), overstimulation,reader was called a princess, not proof read as usual , the ending was rushed because my eyes hurt from looking at the monitor, I'm very sleepy as I write this so expect grammatical errors and typos (lemme know if i missed a warning) (im fighting myself whether I should post this or not, but tommorow is monday i need to post something or else i wouldn't post at all arghh)

Broken hearted.

You thought confessing to your long time crush was a good idea. Turns out, it wasn't. Before even approaching him you saw a girl in his arms, failing to call out his name. Your heart shattered like broken glass. It took all your courage to have confidence and to confess to your crush, suddenly all of those courage disappeared into thin air.

You go home to your shared apartment. Where your architect and feeble scholar roomates are waiting for you.

They were a bit surprised and disappointed after seeing you on the front door just a few minutes after you left. You we're also sobbing while you stood there, looking down on the floor.

Kaveh and Alhaitham looked at each other with a knowing look. They already knew what happened, and instantly ran towards you to comfort their roommate.

Kaveh opened his arms at you. Slowly, you hug him, sobbing in his arms more. The blonde haired architect tightly embraced you. He gave you a peck on your forehead and ran his long and slender finger through your hair.

"Hush now... I knew that boy wasn't worth your time. Tsk."

Said Kaveh with anger in his voice. Behind him, Alhaitham nodded.

"Don't worry darling, we're here for you."

Alhaitham added.

--------

Now sitting on the bed, you're still sobbing, but not as intense as earlier. Your roommates did a pretty good job calming you, as they embraced you, gave you your favorite tea, cooked your favorite food, they did everything for your comfort.

Kaveh seemed to notice that you calmed down, so he sat beside you and softly smiled.

"Feeling better, princess?"

He whispered and placed one of his hand on your cheeks. You quickly leaned on his warm hand and nodded to answer his question.

You felt the bed dip as Alhaitham sat beside you and heared his voice.

"That's good to know. But we still have something to offer for you."

"Mhm.. Oh, we couldn't handle seeing you weeping about someone not worth your time..."

Kaveh's voice sounded huskier than before.

"You deserve better darling, and we promise to treat you better."

Alhaitham said.

He placed his hands on your hips making you gasp. Kaveh was getting closer to your face, his thumb rubbing your lips gently. Your breathing was getting heavier and heavier as the tension in the air thickened.

"Just relax, and we'll do the rest."

You can feel Kaveh's warm breath as your faces are only inches away. His half-lidded eyes were nothing but full of lust. His soft lips slowly touched yours, and it felt amazing. The kiss was wet and sloppy, but neither of you wanted to stop.

Your head was turning from what is currently happening. You can't deny your stomach feeling butterflies from their touches, and your underwear getting wet.

Meanwhile, Alhaitham started to pepper your neck with light kisses. It made you moan from the kiss and leaned more into Alhaitham. Getting impatient, the grey haired scholar started to devour your skin. He bit, licked, and left marks on your neck. This made you aroused more, causing your sex to throb from their kisses.

The kiss between you and Kaveh ended with a string of saliva between your lips and his. You both needed to breathe, sadly. But you couldn't stop whining because of Alhaitham's kisses.

"Gosh... Your lips are softer than I thought they'd be.. Fuck."

Kaveh's words did nothing but help you feel aroused more.

Alhaitham from behind tugged your shirt upwards, signaling for you to help him take off your shirt. You obliged, revealing your naked top. The grey haired man didn't waste anytime and immediately massaged your breast from behind. Playing with your nipples, he continued to lap your neck and mark them with bites and hickeys. Your head leaned back to Alhaitham's shoulders from the pleasure, a few soft moans escaping your mouth.

Kaveh seeing your state, he didn't want to just watch there, he tugged your pants down, leaving only your underwear. He went down to kiss your legs, making you moan a bit louder. He started to kiss from your leg motioning up to your inner thighs. It made your back arch and your legs trying to close, but Kaveh's hands were stopping them. He licked and bit your thighs, until he reached the real deal.

Still wearing your underwear, yet Kaveh didn't care. He started to lick through the wet piece of cloth and didn't stop. Your moans getting louder ever swipe of his tounge. You moaned his name, eyes rolling back. The pleasure being strong, you instinctively grabbed his hair.

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself darling."

Alhaitham chuckled.

The two can't deny the tightening of their pants and the desire to ruin you. But they couldn't just do that, this moment is for your pleasure. Maybe they'll ruin you next time.

Kaveh removed your underwear after feeling satisfied with his licks. Your hips jolted only by feeling his hot breath on your sex. The blonde gave your throbbing sex a big and long lick. He then sucked your juices dry.

While eating you out, Kaveh inserted two fingersin your hole, going in and out adding more pleasure. He curved his fingers, hitting sweet spots. You couldn't help but moan his name. His dark red eyes gazing deliciously at you, admiring how he's the reason why you're moaning so loudly.

It didn't took long till you release on the blonde's face. He licked his fingers that we're just inside of you, not breaking eye contact.

"Do you feel good?"

Alhaitham asked as he shifted your body to face him, making your back face Kaveh.

You didn't got to answer as Alhaitham slammed his lips onto you. Meanwhile, Kaveh taking out his hard rock cock and giving it a few strokes before placing his tip on your entrance. He rubbed his tip up and down as you and Alhaitham make out.

Finally pulling out of the kiss, the grey haired man kissed and savored your body down, 'till reaching your quivering sex.

Alhaitham started to eat you out just like Kaveh did. But hell did Alhaitham's tounge felt better than Kaveh's, as it is much more longer.

Kaveh suddenly entered your hole slowly while Alhaitham worked in your front. The pleasure is too strong it made you sob continously.

Kaveh's cock fully inside, he started to thrust, his hands on your hips as Alhaitham licked and sucked in the front.

The pleasure is too good your eues we're rolling back and your back arching as you almost drool. You certainly did not expect this turn of events.

Kaveh's thrust started to fastened up but sloppier, and Alhaitham started to jerk his cock as he devoured your sex. You we're close, and so are they. You can feel Kaveh's cock throbbing and Alhaitham whining, the three of you didn't want to stop, getting closer to your own each climaxes.

The room was filled with wet sounds, aswell as moans from the three of you.

A few thrust and suck after, the three of you finally came.

"Did you enjoyed our offer.. Princess?"

Kaveh managed to mumble even after what happend.

Your couldn't comprehend what he was saying from the overstimulation, and felt your body heavier than before. Without being aware, you fell asleep on Kaveh's arms.

"Look, they're already sleeping.. So cute.."

Alhaitham chuckled at your state and caressed your face.

From all the juices that came out from you, they assumed you felt better than before. Mission Accomplished.

#alhaitham #genshin x reader #alhaitham fluff #genshin impact #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham smut #alhaitham x you #genshin smut #kaveh x you #alhaitham x you x kaveh #alhaitham x reader x kaveh #kaveh x reader #kaveh x reader smut

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tomatosoupandpasta · 2 months ago

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INTRO POST (again? yes again because I do as I please)

IMPORTANT STUFF I'M VERY SORRY

Redoing this because I don't like the last one teehee :3c

You can call me either Tomato or Mon (although Tomato is more common), I'm a genderfluid lesbian and use any pronouns without any preference

I use tone indicators both ironically and unironically because I 1: don't want to offend people, and 2: think it's hilarious to see "choke on a lemon /pos"

My reblog tag is "tomato reblog" and my yapping tag is "silly stuff". I vent sometimes, these are usually tagged with "vent post" or "tw vent" and the like

I'm not the brightest when it comes to references and I often make a BUNCH of typos and grammatical errors if I don't double check it (and I only double check it if I remember to)

Also I use the term "freak" affectionately

@g1rasol <- PLATONIC WIFE❗️❗️❗️❗️🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅

Go fucking CRAZY in my askbox. Tell me how that lemon tasted, rant to me, event ven idc. I love interaction.

^ That being said I'm very shy on dms and won't make much sense because I'm nervous. You can yap to me there anyway

I AM A MINOR

INTERESTS?!?! (i will update this as I go along (and the ones capitalized are the ones im most active in)):

VOCALOID

PROJECT SEKAI

mdzs

tgcf

svsss

komi can't communicate

undertale

deltarune

alien stage

legend of zelda

TOILET BOUND HANAKO KUN

sonic the hedgehog

kipo and the age of wonderbeasts

dungeon meshi

gravity falls

doki doki literature club

a hat in time

honkai: star rail

omori

pokemon

adventure time

stardew valley

love bullet

the guy she was interested in wasn't a guy at all

minecraft story mode

villains are destined to die

more to be added...

(userbox by @/vbs-kaitos-big-naturals)

(userbox by @/tazmaboxed)

(userbox by @/sweetpeauserboxes)

(userboxes by @/tazmaboxed)

#pinned intro #blog intro #introduction #intro post

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literallyjustchi · 7 months ago

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Akademiya Chronicles

Chapter 1

Hi! My name is Chi, and I am a seasoned writer. :3 I've written a full novel, 20 chapters, and 44k+ words. I'm here to give you quality writing (fanfics and not) that you don't often see here on Tumblr... without all the grammatical errors and simple typos. I hope you enjoy my first chapter ever posted *here!*

tumblr keeps messing up my formatting and IDK WHY, SEND HELP!!!!!

(MC is female, and characters may or may not be OOC. I tried to keep them as in character as I could.)

______________________________________________________________

Kaveh burst through the Akademiya’s library doors dramatically and collapsed at the nearest table, which coincidentally happened to be mine. My fellow classmates gave him a dirty look but went along with their work, most likely used to–or tired of–Kaveh’s antics.

As for me, I was too busy studying for one of the many upcoming exams. It annoyed me how Alhaitham was at the top of the class without studying or trying, and I wanted to be better than him. I knew I was smarter… I just had to put in the work. Ultimately, it would all pay off, and I would get bragging rights.

Kaveh groaned. “I should just drop out. This whole Kshahrewar thing is hard.”

I rolled my eyes, flipping a page in my book. “Keep going. You’ve already spent so much money getting where you are.”

“Easy for you to say, miss perfect grades. At least you aren’t as dreadful as Alhaitham.”

“Please stop enunciating your words. It’s very annoying.”

He sighed. “I mean, how can someone be as ignorant and… dumb as him? I never knew someone could be as dense and arrogant as him until I met him!”

“Keep your voice down. We’re in a library.” Alhaitham was anything but dumb, but I didn’t feel like arguing.

Kaveh moped. “Nobody understands my woes.”

“I understand, Kaveh.” I just don’t care. Ouch. Is that a little harsh? I closed my book with a defeated sigh. “You wanna go get something to eat for lunch?”

“Together?” He gasped, earning another sharp glare from the others. “Of course! You’re paying, though. Right?”

I put my book into my tote bag and stood up. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

______________________________________________________________

To my luck, Cyno and Tighnari were both at Puspa Café, with Cyno animatedly over-explaining the inner workings of Genius Invokation TCG even though Tighnari already knew all the nitty-gritty details.

Kaveh beamed. “Look, Cy and Ti are here! Let’s go talk to them.”

“I think I’ll pass.” If Alhaitham had one thing right, it would be that socializing was draining. I already finished my quota with the few words I exchanged with Kaveh.

Kaveh linked his arm with mine and dragged me to their table in the far corner next to a window, the sunlight filtering through. “Too bad. You need to get out more–have fun, y’know? Don’t want you to end up like Alhaitham, all moody and gloomy.”

Tighnari set down one of his cards and waved to us. “Look who decided to show up. My second favorite pair.”

“Who’s your first?” Kaveh asked.

Tighnari lowered his voice, “Cyno and Sethos, but you can’t tell them,” he said teasingly.

Cyno grimaced. “Gross. Sethos.”

I stifled a laugh. Cyno, though he’d never admit it, even if you put a musket to his head, had a soft spot for Sethos. It was mildly adorable.

Kaveh plopped on the bench, sitting next to Cyno. I, more gracefully and less rambunctiously, sat next to Tignhari with a small nod of acknowledgment.

Cyno shoved a stack of cards at Kaveh. “You’re playing. Here’s your deck. You know how to play?”

Kaveh took the deck and examined it. “Uh, sorta.”

“Good. Tighnari isn’t that good, so I hope you’re better.”

Tighnari rolled his eyes and slid an iced coffee my way. “I had a feeling you were coming.”

I took the coffee into my hands. I almost always came to the café to de-stress or as a break from my never-ending studies, so it was nice that Tighnari remembered, even though he didn’t often come to this side of Sumeru. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to agree to come with Kaveh.

The boys played a few rounds of TCG, with Kaveh losing to both of them. Tighnari had no idea what he was doing, but he was doing it better than Kaveh. It was funny to watch Cyno oneshot all of Kaveh’s active characters in one fell swoop, and Tighnari accidentally wiping out Kaveh’s supports and draining him of dice.

Tighnari leaned over to me and whispered while the others were too focused on their game to pay attention, “Don’t make this obvious, but Alhaitham just walked in.”

I nonchalantly looked toward the direction of the entrance. There he was, in all his glory. And sweat? Archons, save me.

It got much, much worse because Sethos was with him. Of course, Sethos was with him. He just had to be. This day couldn’t possibly get any better.

I winced, whispering back, “You didn’t tell him you and Cyno were here?”

“I didn’t know Kaveh was coming. Just you,” he replied.

“Well, what do we do?” “Reap what we sow, I guess. What is there to even do?”

“Prepare your shield of indifference and act like you saw or heard nothing.”

“Acting oblivious has never worked…”

“Today it will. Hopefully. Just act normal.”

Sethos was the first to spot us, his gigantic, shining smile vanishing like a smoldered flame once he saw Cyno. I averted my gaze and pretended I saw nothing.

My plan didn’t work because he and Alhaitham immediately made his way towards our table. Cyno and Sethos’s eyes locked in a fierce gaze, and I could’ve sworn that the pair wouldn’t pounce at each other like rishboland tigers if it weren’t for the fact that they had a crowd. I didn’t dare to look at Alhaitham, but I could see Kaveh scowl from the corner of my eye as I looked down at my lap.

After a long, awkward pause of silence, Tighnari spoke, “Hey, guys. Would you like to join us?” Kaveh and Cyno both muttered a “no,” while Alhaitham and Sethos said “sure.” It was almost comedic.

Sadly, Alhaitham was a freaking sadist because he sat next to me, leaving the only spot left for Sethos with Cyno and Kaveh. There was not a single doubt in my mind that he did that on purpose. The benches were supposed to only seat two people, but they could take three. It was a little cramped as Alhaitham’s thigh brushed against mine, and his hand would’ve done the same if it wasn’t wrapped around my coffee cup.

Definitely on purpose. And I hated that he pretended like nothing was happening.

Cyno pushed a deck into Sethos’s hands. “Join us.”

Sethos took the deck, looking at it like a challenge. Because it was.

Then, Cyno gave another to Alhaitham. “You can join, too, if you want. I think you’re a good player.”

Yeah, he was a good player.

Alhaitham took the deck. “Thanks. I’ll play.”

Cyno looked at me. I shook my head, and he shrugged. “You play really well, too. You could probably beat Al if you tried.”

I narrowed my eyes. He was definitely trying to egg me on, and I wasn’t going to take the bait. It was obvious bait–only an idiot would fall for it.

Alhaitham scoffed. “She couldn’t beat me if she tried.”

I snatched the spare deck from Cyno’s hands. “I’m in.”

Tighnari shook his head. “Here we go again…”

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mikiafina · 2 years ago

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“VICARIOUS EMBARRASSMENT”

Message:

I do not own the characters mentioned in story below, I had this idea earlier and thought that it might be fun to imagine if it would really happen.

The reader's pronouns in this oneshot are not mentioned, but female reader is on mind while writing. Do point out my typos if you ever noticed one!

My apologies if this was too short, ‘m not really fan of writing in a long amount of time.

P.S: Read the mentioned stories made by kunichigo first before reading this.

Note:

CRITICISM ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED! IF YOU NOTICED ANY ERRORS IN MY WORK, FEEL FREE TO POINT IT OUT SO I COULD FIX IT!

——————————

I DO NOT POST IN ANY OTHER PLATFORMS EXCEPT HERE ON TUMBLR!

Trigger Warning:

Ooc, grammatical errors, misspellings, typos, possibly curse words, suggestive content (sort of), mature-ish content (is that even a word?), Informal use of language

SUGGESTIVE THEMES ARE GONNA BE MENTIONED SO BE WARNED!

Synopsis:

After reading a oneshot-series of Genshin SAGAU made by one of your adored author, you felt a sudden desire to see your babies, husbandos and waifus. As soon as you logged in, you arrived at the entrance of mondstadt as you greeted your beloved babies and husbandos.

While doing your daily commissions, the topic that your sister were talking about went from another game named ‘Roblox’ to the story that you have previously read. And without your knowledge, my oh my. Your beloved acolytes are seemed to be listening with your conversation, oh sheeshhh.

What a disaster.

Genshin Characters x Reader

Dedicated to & Inspired by:

My favourite and underrated author, Kunichigo!

“[N/n] let's play roblox, I'll let you borrow mama's phone later for you to be able to read, for now play roblox with me.” Your sister tries to persuade you, even going to the lengths of letting your borrow the phone later as a bargain just to quote o' quote, play with her.

"Hm.. Alright, but make sure to let me borrow mama's phone. Or else.." You reluctantly opened the second computer as you placed your mother's phone on the side, while waiting for the desktop to load, you engaged in a conversation with your sister on what games to play.

"We can play Evade or Shoot out if you want, we can also play the games you play, uhh.. Arsenal? Was it?" Your sister habitually tilt her head in an insure manner, you hummed in confirmation at her question.

Despite the talk that you and your sister had made, you both weren't able to play roblox because you noticed the time and remembered that you have yet to finish your commissions and quests. So after setting up your recording software and opening up your preferred browser (Opera GX y'all), you launched Genshin and waited for it to finish loading.

"Oh by the way, have you read kunichigo's latest post? It was so good and underrated, like damn." Your sister squealed in delights as she proceeds on controlling her chosen character, Zhongli.

"Ah, you mean 'Cherry Red Lips?' and 'Terrible, Terrible.' if you mean those two, I did. But on the 'Cherry Red Lips?', she said she's inexperienced with those types but she narrated it sooo good! Like the way Kaeya shamelessly raised his voice to let everyone outside their beloved creator's chamber know that he's being pleasured by her is soooo— Aghhhh! It's so juicy! Like imagine if Aether really is withering and shaking underneath us while we suck on their blood? DAMN! I'd kill to see such sight under me! And don't get me started about Kaeya, that man is a walking menace! But that's one of his hot traits! Like— like just imagineee!" You fangirled while controlling Razor, running and teleporting around mondstadt doing commisions.

"Right?! It's just ashame that the author didn't make a detailed scene about Diluc withering and panting under his beloved creator's touch! But Lisa's scene was so lit, despite being written so short. But man, Aether's really well narrated, the author made it clear that he's a babygirl." Your sister added, fangirling as much as you do. The both of you continued on squealing as you played Genshin together, having fun and making it clear that whatever is the "story" you two were talking about, is what made your day better.

Unbeknownst to the both of you, the oh so said characters are listening to your conversations. My oh my, what in teyvat did they just listen on to?

In the land of teyvat, Zhongli cannot believe what just reached his ears. Did he hear it right, are their ears working right? Did they hear it correct?

Much to Diluc's dismay, the conversation about the story that you both read did not end with just Kaeya and Aether being mentioned cause it seems like he was too, in the story. The mentioned characters can't help but feel blood rushing to their face, ears and neck due to either embarrassment or whatever human emotion you are supposed to feel in such situation, even those who weren't mentioned were flustered at the topic of their creators, despite this, they aren't sure whether to pity the others or to get jealous cause they're the topics of the beloved creators, nonetheless, they still feel the second-hand embarrassment for the others.

Meanwhile back in the Serenitea Pot, Xiao, Tighnari and Ayato looked at Diluc who's face is crimson as his hair, attempting to have the floor of the abode swallow him alive. He doesn't know whether to be thankful for kuni- or whoever the author of the story is for not writing a detailed scenario of him or he'll probably ask the Geo Archon to have the floor swallow him on the spot.

Kaeya who's sitting just right beside Diluc, laughed at his semi-miserable state, and honestly speaking, Kaeya is tad bit embarrassed but he'd be lying if he said that he denied that he's proud of how the author wrote him. Chongyun who has been silent for the whole time, almost choked on his ice cream if it weren't for Heizou and Thoma helping him unclog the small piece of popsicle on his esophagus.

Zhongli, who's being possessed by one of the creator and who's listening on the conversation from the very beginning, did not know how to react. Razor, who's beside the Geo Archon is quite confuse and worried, was the traveler, cavalry captain and librarian of knights of favonius sick or in pain? Poor boy doesn't really understand his creator and their sister is talking about, if the said people are sick then why are his beloved creator, squealing? Is there something he's missing?

Needless to say, it was an eventful day for both the vision holders and the creators. The boys are just thanking the archons that the girls aren't in presence and are having a peaceful picnic somewhere in Sumeru, or else they wouldn't be able to handle the embarrassment, much less, face nor confront them.

® mikiafina

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luvleyk · 5 months ago

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｡.｡:∞♡*♥ You like that, baby?

| ♡𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Bada Lee x F! Reader

| ♡𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 (𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈), fingering, oral, jealous reader, Bada being a sweetheart, I need her to get out of my brain, send help.

| ♡𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k

| ♡𝐀/𝐍: wasn't proofread so there might be some grammatical errors and some typos... this was based on her new reel. brainrotting for her... I need help, atp I need to get locked in the asylum—

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

It's the usual day, your girlfriend inviting you over to her place to hang out and other stuff, when it's her day off. During that hang out, you two would just talk; 'how are you?', 'did something happen while I'm busy?', 'did you miss me?' and other stuff. Or just in a comfortable silence, with you two just cuddling while watching a movie and so-so.. But this time, you two are in your own world. Her, recording some choreo to post and you, just watching her, admiring how sexy she is with that green flannel and baggy jeans that she's wearing. Also that glasses. God you're lucky to have her. You can't help it, her dancing skills is the reason why you fell for her. She's just too good at it that everyone was so head over heels for her, which is making you a bit jealous over her fans. Childish, isn't it?

Though, you feel like everything stop when you watches her from the corner of the room, watching her spins around and lifts her flannel up to show up her toned body, her eyes was focused on her phone while recording it. Fuck. You thought. Your thighs involuntarily squeezed from that. Maybe she's teasing you? For sure, she's just doing it not on purpose to make you flustered.

"Are you gonna post that?" You asked once she's done. She turned her head to the side to look at you.

"Yes, baby. Why?" She asked back which made you bit your lip as shake your head.. "No reason... Just asking." You replied as you stood up from sitting on a armchair. She raised her eyebrows as she walked towards you, her tall figure somewhat makes you feel so small.

"No reason?" she echoed as she slightly tilts her head on the side. You bit your lip... "Uhm... I was just asking... Since that you know... what you did... you... uhm.." You stuttered as you avert your gaze from her.

Your stuttering mess, causes her to chuckles lightly as she held your chin and forces you to look at her.. "Why? Because everyone would see that? Are you jealous, love?" She asked as she leaned closer to you.

You shake her head in denial. "I'm not..." you said in a quiet tone. She sighed. Of course you'll be in denial all today.

"Don't worry, Baby.. I'm only yours, yeah?" she hummed as she plant a kiss from your forehead, your nose to your lips. She quickly pulled away, which she earned a muffled whine from you. "Needy, aren't you?" She asked with a chuckle. You nod.

She hummed in amused, you seemed didn't even deny this time. "Tell me how should I make up to you? You seemed so jealous that I entertain my audience instead of you.." she said in a teasing manner. You didn't respond. She wrapped her arms around your waist as she pulled you closer, when you chose to stay quiet instead of answering her question. "Baby, say something? You know I don't like it when you choose to be quiet instead of telling me what you want" she said.

"Uhm..." You paused. You're too flustered to even say anything.. "Yeah, Baby?" She asked, closing the gap between you two.. "I don't know, Bada... Just.. Just do whatever..." She let out a quiet laugh after you stuttered that sentence to her.

"You don't know what I might do if let me take the lead" She whispered after she leaned closer to your ear.. Her breath, it sent shivers down to your spine. Her voice make your knees weak.. "But.. I'll be gentle with you for now.." She added before lifting you, walking towards the couch, as she puts you down, making you sit on the top of it..

You leaned your back against the couch as her body towers over you.. "Be a good girl for and tell me if I'm making you feel good.." She mumbled as her lips capture yours. Kissing you in a slow passionate motion. Bada want to just take her time with you..

Her hand slowly went underneath your shirt, wanting to feel your soft skin against her cold hand, as you let out muffled moan as a response.. That was it. You sound that only fuels her desire..

Her other hand rested on the headboard of the couch for support as she leaned a little bit closer to you. The other one that once was touching you, slowly went it's way to the button of your shirts.. Slowly unbuttoning and zipping it down, revealing your laced underwear..

You pulled away to catch your breath. "Bada..." You moaned out. She hummed as a response... "Yes, baby..?" she asked with a smirk formed on her face..

You squeeze your thighs together. She hasn't even done anything, and you're already feeling yourself getting wet.. "F... Fuck.." You uttered, which she slightly tilts her head..

"What did you say, baby?" she asked with a hint of amusement in her tone. Of course she's enjoying this. You getting desperate, and her willingness to ruin you.

"F.. Fuck me, Bada... Please.." You plead as your cheeks turned red, feeling embarrassed at your sudden boldness towards her.

Bada chuckled as she grip on the waistband of your short. You took the initiative and lift your hips up to help her pull it down..

She tossed it on the floor along with your underwear before gripping your thigh, giving it a light squeeze, causing you to whined out a moan.. "Fuck.." She uttered as her hand was an inch closer to your dripping cunt.

Soon, you felt her hand cup your pussy causing you buck your hips up for more.. "Bada... Please..." You plead..

She hummed before capturing your lips for a kiss, before her fingers rub your clit, swallowing a erotic moan from you. You feel her smirk between the kiss as she continues to torture your bundle of nerves.

You grip on the sleeve of her flannel when you felt her long slender finger, slowly enter your cunt. You quickly pulled away to as you whine.. "Is it hurt, baby?" you quickly shake your head 'no' before she took the initiative to slowly thrust her finger inside..

Your grind yourself against her fingers once she add another digit. "You like that, baby?" She asked, which you nodded in response... "Use your words, love" She added as she thrusts her fingers in a slow, torturous pace.

"F.. Feels.. Good.. Aah.. Bada.." You moaned out as she chuckles before leaning in and nibbling on your earlobe, adding more pleasure to you..

"Good girl" She praised.. "Fuck you're so beautiful..." She groaned out as her pace starts to go a little bit fast..

Her name is the only thing that you could mutter, chanting it like a mantra. God, she's the only person who could make you forget everything. "Bada... I.. C.. close..." you whined when she pulled away... "Bada... Don't stop.." you begged as she let out a low chuckle..

"I'll let you cum, baby. Don't worry.." She uttered before lowering herself, kneeling in front of you.

Your cheek reddens as she plants a light kisses on your thighs as her eyes was looking directly to you. You feel like you're gonna come, just by her, looking at you with that smirk on her face.

You rest your head on against the board of the couch as you felt her tongue flicked against your clit, moaning as your legs twitched involuntarily.. "Mhm.. That's it, baby" she moaned as she licks your folds, tasting your juices..

Your hand slowly grip her by the head, slowly pulling her closer to your aching cunt. You badly need to cum. You just— "So needy for me" fuck her for saying that as she moans while continuing to devour you. Your hips slowly grind against her mouth as her nose rubbing against your clit.. God, you, grinding on her makes her cunt throb.. But she neglects her own desire just to focus on pleasuring you..

"S.. so close, Bada.." you moaned as she pinned your legs against your chest as insert her two digits in to add more stimulation for your orgasm.. She tortured your clit with her tongue as her fingers continues to hit your g-spot. You start to choked out on your moan as you felt your orgasm starts to build inside you..

"That's it, baby... Cum for me... Let me taste you.." she uttered. And that's it, those word she uttered.. You whined out a moan, as you cum in her face, your legs trembled as she tries to clean you up..

You feel light headed as you watches her get up, licking her lips as she look at you with that lustful eyes.. "Did that make you feel good?" she asked and you nodded in return..

She chuckles before leaning in, capturing your lips, making your taste yourself on her mouth.. "I'm only yours, Y/N...So no need to be so jealous, yeah?" She said once she broke the kiss..

You huffed... "I can't help it.." you uttered as you pout..

"You're cute... But seriously..." She sighs as she shakes her head before planting another kiss on your lips. "God.. You're so beautiful, baby"

#bada lee x reader #bada lee fanfic #bada lee x fem reader #swf2 x reader #bada lee #bada lee swf2 #swf2 #bada lee smut

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hannieluvsyou · 1 year ago

Text

I don't know you, but I like you.

Yoon Jeonghan x Reader

description: Wherein two classmates that don't know each others existence, are forced to work on a project that costs half of their grade. Maybe it will cost their heart as well.

genre: fluff

warnings: none other than playful arguing and banter, oh and some swearing.

note: I apologize in advance for any typos or grammatical errors. (This is also my first post frfr)

'Can this class get any more boring?' I thought as I place my head between my palms. To be honest, I don't even know what the professor is saying like, 90% of the time. Man, I'm a horrible student.

"To end this lesson, I will now discuss your project. It will be done by pair, I already assigned everyone to their partners by the way." He tells the class while everyone groans to the mention of the professor having already assigned everyone.

I tuned out the names of the others' partners. Not until he mentioned my name.

"Ms. (name) (last name), you will work with Mr. Yoon Jeonghan."

'Bitch who?' I thought while looking at every corner of the classroom until I locked eyes with a cute boy with a small ponytail.

He mouthed my name in question while I nodded and mouthed his. Well, atleast he's cute.

Jeonghan smiled and turned his head to the teacher who was giving the rubrics for the project.

And finally the bell rang as our professor dismissed us. It quickly became a noisy environment. Laughter and gossip filled the room.

I start to pack my stuff, making them fit in my bag that is obviously too small for all my stuff. And of course, in the middle of stuffing my things in my bag... The zipper fucking broke.

I stare at the now broken zipper, then back to my bag. How the hell am I supposed to fix this thing.

As I start to rethink my life decisions, I feel a presence behind me.

Before I can turn around, the person took the removed zipper from my hands and attached them to my backpack with ease.

"I think you need a new backpack." The person said while chuckling a bit.

I look up at his face to see my partner. Yoon Jeonghan.

I raise my eyebrow at him. "I think I do." I say while looking back at my fixed zipper.

Jeonghan smiles and reaches his hand out. "I'm Yoon Jeonghan, nice to meet you."

I take his hand and shook it. "I'm (name) (last name), nice to meet you as well."

'Damn his hands are soft.' I say internally.

"So," he started. "Since I fixed your little problem." He paused and smirked at me. "I think you owe me one."

I look at him unmoved, and absentmindedly nodded my head while continuing to try and fit the remaining stuff I have in my bag.

"I didn't even know you existed in the first place." I say.

"I can say the same thing to you!" He said now sitting down on an unoccupied chair. I looked at him then back at my bag.

"Thanks by the way- for fixing my zipper."

"It's fine. But you still owe me one." He sticks out his tongue at me in a childish manner. He then stands up and waits for me to sling my bag on my shoulders.

"Are we getting lunch together or...?" I say while he starts following me to the door. Jeonghan just nods and slings his arm on my shoulder.

This guy is getting real comfy already. I've only ever known him since like, 10 minutes ago. It's a good sign. I think.

We make our way to the schools canteen bumping into his friends on the way.

"Whoa Jeonghan's got a girlfriend!" I hear one of them exclaim. I think his name is.. Seung? Seungchul? Seungcheol? Yeah whatever his name is but GIRLFRIEND?!

"I thought he was allergic to girls..."

"Introduce us to her!"

"She's pretty."

Me and Jeonghan stop as he greets his friends. I stand awkwardly waiting for them to finish, not until he drags me to his side and presents me to his friends.

"Meet (name)! My project buddy." He grins and again wraps his arm around my shoulders.

I wave and smile at them. "I'm (name) (last name)." I say shortly and nudge Jeonghan who is still grinning like a child getting candy. Damn, how many times am I going to introduce myself today.

"Sooooo... You're not dating?" Joshua says while crossing his arms. I only know him since I find him handsome, hehe.

"No! We're not." I say quickly shrugging Jeonghan's arm away as he pouts. Before the others question us any further, I grabbed his hand and quickly excuse the both of us but not before hearing a bunch of whistles coming from the group of boys not noticing the shy smile Jeonghan serves while looking at me.

As we finally approached the canteen, I let his arm go and sit on one of the benches as he mirrors my action.

"We should hang out more, I like you." He suddenly says.

'I kinda like you too.' I wanted to say but kept it to myself.

I look at him "We haven't even known each other for an hour."

'Why HAVE we known each other for less than an hour?' Jeonghan thought.

"Hmph, true. But I don't really care. I don't know you, but I like you." He says then grabs my unlocked phone from the table then quickly types in his number nicknaming it 'jeonghannie 😇' in the process.

"That emoji should be a devil one." I scoffed and saved his number.

"Hey! Excuse me?! You should buy a new bag first!" He says while pouting angrily then shoving my shoulder playfully.

We continue laughing and hitting each other the whole lunch break.

'I like this girl, seriously.'

'Yep. I totally like this guy.'

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albenyx · 1 year ago

Text

Venti and Love

character — venti

warnings — grammatical errors, typos, not proofread, taylor swift references, reincarnation!au, modern!au, historical!au, canon!au

note — literally a super random early birthday (for aug. 14) post dedication to a venti stan friend, happy birthday lods.

— > playlist for more feels.

The whole thing started off simple, seven days with you, a week being your companion. It should've been simple, a platonic harmless idea to accompany you around as you wander mindlessly in this world full of lost souls.

It started off with your honesty, your laughter that he realized is the best sound. The melody he wishes to hear every single time.

It was a bad idea, or so others say. Falling in love with someone, with you, but to Venti… he hears the words and yet all he had thought about was that you should be together.

Every smile is contagious, and when you shine so does he shine for you.

“Don't be afraid, jump then fall.” He uttered to you the first confession. “Jump then fall into me.”

Fall, it was such a scary word, but if you were to fall, fall towards him and Venti promises to catch you ever time. No matter how many times you do so, he will be there to catch you. “I'm never gonna leave you.” He uttered during that night where doubts clouded your mind, when people had said things that bring you to your knees, he was there to catch you.

Venti vows, he will be there when you need him, when you feel like crying, he is sure he will be there throughout the night holding you as he does so, until you smile.

In all honesty? During the first day, that first look, first meet. Venti admits, he couldn't keep his eyes off you. As if a spell was casted upon him, you have bewitched him, both body and soul.

Was it unusual for a bard to fall in love?

Certainly not. But for Venti, it was different. He was known for his ballads, his music, he was not known to be the poet who had love. And yet he knew, from the first note he played, the first time his gaze landed on your figure. He knew he'd be breaking a lot of things, his rules, just to see you.

But of course, he was no one special. He was no one special, just a wide-eyed bard who happens to be desperately in love with you.

And the moment you accepted him as yours, when you no longer rejected him snd his affections. Venti loved and continued on loving you. “You're pretty.” He whispered, “I'm a mess, Venti.” And you'd utter, but despite such words you stated to yourself, you were beautiful, enchanting nonetheless.

He admits, you were and are the best thing that's ever been his.

The second time, when your gaze met, in a classroom, he was in a hurry. With walls of insincerity, shifting eyes around the hall and vacancy yet all of those observations of his vanished when he saw your face right after he opened the wrong room.

Your reincarnation was inside, your face was blue, as if waiting for something or someone. He saw a glimpse of how your eyes had whispered “Have we met?”, a sense of familiarity and yet at the same time, you were unfamiliar of who he was and what he was to you.

He admits, it was enchanting to meet you again, to reunite with you. And compared to the first life, this the first page this time, this wasn't where the story line ends. Although, he hopes, that as much as his thoughts echoed your name throughout the centuries without being by your side, he hopes that you weren't in love with anyone yet, waiting for anyone that wasn't him. (but if it made you smile, he wouldn't mind.)

Even though life makes love look hard, where the stakes are high and the water's rough, but with you, things were different. This love was yours.

It was the kind of love that you only find in one lifetime, the kind you don't put down. And somehow, Venti knew that you and him would've found each other.

In another life, you still would've turned his head even if you'd met.

Because he knows, through busy streets and busy lives, that interesting thing called fate would have you two meet, one way or another.

Even though in every lifetime, you two were or had to be hurt, wounded every single time you meet. It was nothing for Venti, it was viewed as a simple challenge, to him it was a way to prove he was worthy and deserving of your attention and affection.

And trust him when he says, when he accompanied you that day… He never saw you coming. He never expected to be able to be in a love where it is brave and wild, because love is a ruthless game unless you play it good and right.

A worthwhile fight, in his opinion.

He is in love.

Deeply, desperately with you. Without words needed to be stated, you can hear it in the silence. You could feel it on the way home and with the lights out. It was all true, Venti was in love with you, truly.

Even if your reputation wasn't the best in every lifetime, even if you had always been viewed to be the villain, he was always willing for you. Venti wants you. He likes you for you, whether you'd try to push him away and speak to him as if he had ever lied to you, it was a fact.

A truth one cannot lie about.

And although people had been telling him not to rush, to wait until it was his turn to be noticed by the Gods, but it seems as though religion was rather in your lips, even if it's a false God, he'd still worship it with you, even if he was a God himself in his other lives; yet even with that fact, the high status he gets every lifetime which he tries so hard to distance himself from, where he always acted as though no one could ever leave him and hidden the thought that no one could ever stay. You always saw through his facade. And he saw through yours, in all the other ways others couldn't.

He was a companion, a best friend, a lover, all in one. In every life, he has played that role every single time, he has been by your side as promised in your first life, forever and always.

“Here.” He smiles, so out of the blue as you both sit in the cafe, waiting for your orders. “What's this?” “A paper ring.” One where he had quietly promised that the next time he gives you a ring, it'll be the real one.

Venti didn't have much to offer to you, that was a fact. He wasn't as rich as others are, he works as a musician, a florist, simple jobs every life, all he can currently offer is a ring he made with paper. He can only offer so much yet with the littlest things he does, Venti is unaware he slowly became the daylight through your dark nights. If you had once believed love would be black and white, with Venti by your side, it was Golden.

And he never failed to prove it, every single time the invisible string tied to him led him to you.

No matter how long, he was yours and yours only, he was your man. No matter what storms you both have to go through, because long story short, in every lifetime you both survived.

“Hello, my cecilia.” There he stood, in front with a gentle smile as he met you at the beach. The clock ticked and if you were close enough, you would hear one's heart beating quickly. “Hey…” You trail off, senses heightened for you weren't able to see as clearly as others were, so you managed to hear the quick beat.

“Your…?” Venti simply smiled as he approached you, yes. That was right, this time, in this life, it was he who died. And yet not even death could stop his heart from beating once again.

The both of you were silent, only the sound of the waves can be heard and the smell of the ocean breeze. This scene felt like what they once saw on a screen, and the smile on Venti's face seemed like he won a contest and to hide it would be so dishonest.

And everything's fine, the feeling of being wanted felt like a dream and yet here it is, lifetimes passed and he chose you, over and over again. Every intention to become friends become a glitch, suddenly, he doesn't want to be friends, he doesn't want you like a bestfriend.

And that was fine, because either way, you both weren't just bound to become best friends or just friends. You were made for each other, in every way possible, and Venti standing here in front of you proves just that.

Every second that passes, every chance he slowly realizes, he did not fall in love, but he simply walked into it, with you.

“Happy birthday, my dear.”

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filmnoirsbian · 1 year ago

Note

I have a question and lmk if its out of line or if you dont wanna answer it thats fine, but basically im a professional artist in the field of fine arts, and as such i have over time learned what makes art "good". I can like or not like it, but usually, im at least able to come up with a defendable opinion on why it is contextually bad art or good art, or rather, whether or not a given artist is 'good' at what they do. With poetry tho, while i (like everyone i think) journal recreationally, i really have trouble identifying whether either my own poems or other peoples are good. Like. This came to mind esp after your rupi kaur post, bc ur right, i dont like her, but i cannot for the life of me articulatw WHY i think its bad. Anyway tldr i guess how can you tell? What are some markers of good vs bad poetry ? (Especially technically speaking) i think these 2 things are similar bc with art too a lot of ppl will be like "ohhh its all relative" but like there are actual markers ofskill and well executed intent, and for fine arts i tend to know them (stuff like influence/filiation, taking into acct the viewers experience, intentionality of creative choices.....) but with poetry as a field i just like. Dont have that technical knowledge to talk about my feelings about a poem like i do with art ans i was wondering if u could help

This is a very complicated debate that has been ongoing since the birth of art and literature. I think it can be difficult for some people to allow that a piece of art (in this case, this includes poetry) can be technically well-crafted while not effecting them emotionally, and that a piece of art can effect them emotionally while being not technically well-crafted. A words app poem that you see which is filled with typos and accidental grammatical errors but which touches on a topic deeply important to you can make you cry while still needing work in its technical aspects, and that doesn't make it either good or bad as an objective work of art. Likewise, there are plenty of poems I've read which were deftly crafted by talented poets but were ultimately forgettable to me because they did not strike an emotional chord. Their lack of emotional resonance also does not make them good or bad. I think that because art has such a capacity for emotional resonance, it's easy to accept that as the most important criteria for what makes art "good," but I personally don't think that's fair. But to me, good poetry is honest--not autobiographical, but written with intent, some understanding of wordcraft as a medium, and meant to evoke a genuine understanding within the reader. Rupi Kaur is sort of a punching bag at this point, often from people who don't actually write poetry which I'll admit I find frustrating, because most criticism of her works is shallow and dependent on the idea that a poem must make you feel something to be good. That isn't a good basis for art criticism, because what makes you feel something is never guaranteed to make anyone else feel. But to me, what makes Kaur's poetry "bad" (not my preferred term, I'd describe it more as shallow or juvenile) is the lack of honesty. Her work is purposefully scrubbed of any distinction so it can be as widely applicable as possible, and in doing so, her poems become no more genuine or meaningful than the mass-printed fortunes in fortune cookies. And, worst of all, there is no technicality behind her wordcraft to make up for the lack of thematic complexity. Both style and substance are rendered as plain and inoffensive as possible. When an artist creates something, they are putting something of themselves into their work, so the art becomes a contract between the artist and audience. The artist is trusting the audience to genuinely engage with their work, and the audience is trusting that the artist has shared something genuine. Good or bad comes later; that it is something the artist created themselves with intent is the first step. But when art is made only with mass consumption in mind, it becomes stripped down to only the bare ingredients of art; it is art on paper, by definition, but it is not art by intent. It's a tree with no limbs, no leaves, no creatures making a home in it. It's not much better than a telephone pole.

When I judge a poem as good or bad, I look first for complexity, either in narrative or structure. This doesn't mean a poem must be a long-winded sonnet to be good; some of my favorite poems are haikus, and in fact haiku is my favorite poetic form. This is because often I find haikus carry multiple meanings, the poet packing in as much story as they can in such small luggage. Most of all, I just wish would-be critics would use their words; "Rupi Kaur's poetry is bad because it's boring" is not good criticism. Your definition of boring is not someone else's. "Rupi Kaur's poetry is rendered shallow and meaningless by the attention-consumption economy it was bred in and has no intelligent wordplay or articulation to constitute a poem that is at least engaging for the mind to read" is a bit more comprehensive.

#asks #poetry

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uroboros-if · 2 years ago

Note

Whats your advice for other wip ifs on tumblr? Ive got my intro post and everything but it seems like no one is seeing it :(

🥹😭 I'm flattered you think I'm qualified to answer this, especially as I don't consider myself wildly popular or anything! I wouldn't call myself an expert on this, but I'll tell you what I know:

Tumblr's tagging system / Discoverability

Make sure you're searchable! If your blog is too young, or if you have links in your post, or too many pictures, etc. etc. anything can trigger Tumblr's alarm bells. What this means is that your post won't show up in the tags, aka won't be shown when people search it up. Here is a post about actions you can take to prevent it and another one here. Generally you want your blog to be older than 2 weeks, and to be posting a few times on it before it gets any searchability. (This sideblog used to be an old fanfic blog that I've repurposed for the IF for this exact reason!). If you'd like, copy and paste your intro post, and re-post it (if you don't mind losing too many notes on it), or you can just experiment with another post. Tag it with the appropriate tags, and then wait 2-3 minutes before searching Recent posts on the tag (like #interactive fiction). If you don't see it, your posts aren't showing up!

Make sure you're tagging your post. Bigger one of them, I think, is #interactive fiction (since that unifies CS, Twine and visual novels together). You can, however, add things like #twine/#choicescript, #twine fiction, etc... Any tags you personally might use to search posts up. Just make sure people can see your post in the first place with the first bullet above!

Timing. For whatever reason, I get a good amount of traffic around 9PM Pacific time/5-7AM in Europe (UK to Greece)/12-2PM Eastern Asia (Philippines to Sydney, Australia). I have friends from those places, so I memorized the time difference. For reference, this is 4PM UTC time. My guess is that Europeans are waking up a couple of hours around that time, and some Americans and Asians/Australians are active around that time as well. You should experiment with timing with your posts!

Submit your post to Interact-IF. I got more notes when I submitted mine through their blog! They have a page called, "Are you an IF author looking to promote your project?" and they'll put yours through the queue. Here's the link!

Formatting

Make sure your post is eye-catching, and a pleasure to read. I think what catches the eye is

A header and a title. Find a header that conveys your IF's atmosphere/mood/vibes/aesthetic. Then as far as making it a pleasure, make sure the text guides the eye smoothly. This means:

Organizing your post logically. Synopsis->features->characters makes the most sense to me, as these are the top things people look for besides the characters, which you have to contextualize before you introduce them! You can also...

Mix up formatting--synopsis can be a wall of text, then features can be a list format, and then characters can be a list in prose format, etc.

You may also include breaks, like using a header or line with a title to signal a new section, e.g. the start of the Synopsis, the start of Characters, etc.

Just don't make it hard to read for whatever reason! Your goal is to make the process of learning about your IF digestible and smooth.

In fact, I made a point to make this post itself as a teaching lesson! It could have all been a wall of text, in paragraph/prose form, but it isn't. I organized the sections in a logical sequence, titled them and grouped them, and used a generous amount of formatting available to me (but not too much to hurt the eye).

Intro Writing

Just to discuss certain sections you should pay particular attention to, and what you may want to include in them!

Check for errors. Minimize any typos, grammatical errors, etc. It's totally fine if you're a beginner writer! Just make sure it's polished, lest it may disrupt the flow of reading.

Write an interesting synopsis. Your idea could be the best, but you need to put real thought into how you introduce it to other people! For me, I read other people's synopses for inspiration. You generally want to a) describe who your MC is, b) describe the setting, c) "Everything used to be..." d) "... Until the fire nation attacked!" -- meaning, describe how life used to be for the MC, and what threw all that off-balance, hence revealing the conflict of the plot or the disruption in the story. You can make this section show your writing abilities, but I constrained myself to shortening mine as much as possible (digestibility).

Features. Again, look at other intro posts! Outline what can be customized about your MC (appearance, personality, sexuality, etc.), a brief mention of the ROs (without names) that can be romanced if there are any, cool features your IF may have (a codex, a dice rolling system), a sneak peek into what readers may expect to do in the story, and more!

ROs!! You'll want to tap into what personally inclines you to liking an RO right away, and include that. You can make this section as detailed as you want to be or as brief but effective. Some include character appearances, some don't. All of them mention who they are in the story, and a description of what they are like. Maybe you can hint at their deeper, individual character subplot! Hitting upon keywords of certain archetypes as well may make it easier for the reader to go, "Ah, so this is the X character," in the story. Leaning on tropes a little isn't bad, especially to play it up for the audience to know "this is the cold one, this is the flirty one, etc." so long as your characters aren't merely their trope.

Your Story

Did you notice this is the last thing I'm discussing? Before you change your actual story, you want to make sure you've considered every reason why your intro post isn't very public, which may have NOTHING to do with how interesting or appealing your story is. Think of it like chess--the last thing you want to do is move your king. It's also just simply harder and disheartening to change the vision of your story.

In fact, the vast majority of things covered here are only points to consider, rather than things to actually change.

Do you have a demo? People want demos before investing into a story! a) They want to know if they will like your writing at all, b) demos give a good look into what they may expect from the story overall, and c) it's more promising for an IF to have one, as far as actually finishing the story!

And if you do have a demo, is it polished? Is it short? Does it actually introduce the conflict or any of the characters people are interested in? Does it look good?

Who really is your target audience? Your story is probably written for yourself, but you may want to understand what generally appeals to people. You can't please everyone, hence mainly appealing to a certain audience. If your story is high-fantasy, people want you to mention all the fantastical things your MC can do, see or experience in your story! If your IF is a revenge story, make the MC feel dangerous, and capable of exacting their plans. Mention everything people would WANT to know about your brand of story.

What's the gender ratio of your ROs? The fact that your story may be exclusively/vastly heterosexual, or your story may specifically be a wlw or nlw/mlm or nlm story may influence how much reach it has. I hate to say it, but IFs with mainly male characters are in abundance compared to female interests. However, this doesn't mean you should change your ROs, especially if you intend the story to be heterosexual/lesbian/gay--this is just a factor to consider.

Consider other factors. Does your story have any actual romance? (People really like romance.) Is it only going to be short? (People like long stories generally.) Are you using Twine or CS? (Most people like both, some may have a preference. I almost exclusively read Twine.) Will it feature very disturbing content? (If it does, it may appeal only to certain people).

Closing Thoughts

I am flattered you asked for advice, so I took the time to exhaust everything I know! Of course, again, I am no authority or expert on the subject, so do with this as you will. Either way, I'm happy you asked ! 🥹💕 Thanks for asking!

P.S. If you want, my messages are open on my personal blog! You can send me a DM if you want feedback or an opinion :)

#uroboros-if #uroboros #asks #anon #interactive fiction #if resources #advice

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theonevoice · 1 year ago

Text

Two halves of the same being

Ok friends, it had to happen sooner or later: I wrote a thing. I was stuck in a train station yesterday evening and this thing was screaming to be put on paper, so I did it. I wrote it all down directly as a post, over 3-4 hours of total estrangement, therefore I don't even know exactly how long it is, and it is probably encrusted with typos and titanic grammatical errors. It is also written in a language that I don't master at all, and it is my first attempt at narration since - I kid you not - the year of our lord 2006. This is really less then a draft, it's a test-drive of the storytelling side of my hyperfixated brain. If someone feels like skimming it and pointing out mistakes and things that sound wrong, I will be very grateful! Anyway, as far as fanfic genres go, I guess this would qualify as historical-minisode one shot: Aziraphale and Crowley are in Rome in 1509 and get more or less accidentally involved in the creation of a certain Renaissance masterpiece.

November 1509, Rome.

The heavy robe swooshed quietly as a white-blonde bishop entered the chapel door with a satisfied smile, like a man who had just escaped boredom for fun.

A man in a leather apron full of pockets and stained all over was standing at a cluttered table by the wall, staring gloomily at the figures sketched on a large sheet of brownish paper.

- Maestro!

The man raised his curly dark-haired head and pointed a pair of firey eyes on the newcomer. The dark circles around his eyes gave out the strange impression of a feverish man on the verge of collapsing mixed with a feral beast ready to jump at its prey. It was freezing in there, but he was wearing a shirt with sleeves rolled all the way up to his elbows, and his hairy forearms were covered in white dust and paint dribbles. He was a rather short man, but well-built and muscular, and even if the bishop was considerably taller and not thin himself, he felt that he could have easily knocked him down in one move.

- Monsignor Fell, back again...

The man didn't sound pleased, but he didn't sound displeased either. Considered his well-known temper and given the circumstances, his reaction was relatively welcoming. One could have even called it encouraging. After all, noone was ever really at ease in Rome. Especially not in that part of Rome.

- I was eager to see your progress. - Aziraphale said with a honest smile. - I hope I'm not disturbing your work. Please don't mind my presence.

They both instinctively looked up.

The enormous vault of the Sistine Chapel was looming over the empty hall as a giant shield, halfway covered in massive figures. Those bodies looked so real and heavy that they felt like they could plummet any second all the way down to the floor and crash the unfortunate bystanders. It was like a threatening storm of colors and shapes slowly covering the old starry sky.

- Not much progress to see. - Growled Michelangelo, turning back to the sketches and tossing a piece of reddish chalk on the table. - I'm bloody stuck.

Aziraphale moved his eyes across the ceiling, down to the farthest end of the vault, where the golden stars were still dimly shining on a deep blue background, on the two sides of the large ugly crack, now filled with bricks, that had scarred the old affresco when the south wall had shifted. It was a sad spectacle. He had liked the starry sky. It was beautiful.

- Stuck? How do you mean?

Aziraphale forced himself to look away from the ceiling and gently stared at the painter, who had turned his back on him and was angrily standing over his desk with his stained hands on his hips, like a severe father in front of a misbehaving child.

- I mean stuck. - The artist repeated drily, throwing an annoyed look at monsignor Fell. The bishop offered him a sympathetic smile, a strangely maternal smile that seemed to be saying that he took his worries very seriously but at the same time he was sure they were not insurmountable.

Michelangelo sighed forlornly. He didn't like priests, but he didn't mind this one. He curiously seemed very little concerned with church matters and a lot more interested in random things like paintings and statues and choir rehearsals. He had even spotted him more than once in a couple of his favourite osterie, and he meant the good ones, those small half-hidden godforsaken places that only the locals knew, ignored by travellers and definitely not visited by clergymen. And he had seen him sitting there in plain sight, amidst the common people of Rome, as if noone could tell that he was a bishop - and God knew if bishops were a hatred species in the streets of the Holy City. It was truly a miracle that he could just walk in there, eat and drink like he were any carter or boatman, and not end up robbed or stabbed or poisoned. He had even seen Teresina at the Gatto morto pour him the good wine once, the one that the innkeeper kept only for himself and his closest friends. Furthermore, he had a nice eye for drawing: in the past few weeks he had been visiting the chapel almost daily, and had dropped some genuinely good remarks. Some of them even brilliant. He relaxed his shoulders and continued with a softer tone:

- This is not working and I'm not putting this up there, con tutta la fatica che costa.

Aziraphale looked up again, this time at the wooden structure that was stretching upwards like a dark solid cobweb. It took indeed a lot of effort, to climb up there, dragging along the large cartoni with the refined lineart to transfer on the plaster, standing hours and hours arched backwards to paint over your head, seventy feet above the ground, with the colors running down the brush and dripping on your face...

- Do you mind me seeing the sketch?

The painter made a vague gesture to let him approach the table and eyed him with a certain curiosity when the bishop let out a little gasp and a peculiar nostalgic expression settled on his face. It was the sketch for the campata of the Original Sin.

Aziraphale felt a warm mix of emotions filling his chest, not all of which he dared to name. He focused on the drawing. Michelangelo was right: it was wrong, even if he could not imagine how wrong.

In the sketch, Adam and Eve were sitting at the center, under the Tree, Eve reaching up for a fruit, Adam following her movement with a concerned look. On the right half of the piece, in a stretch of desert, the confused shape of an angel was roughly outlined: he was standing all straight and rigid with his sword raised above his head and a threatening finger pointing at the first humans. The left side was mostly filled with a generic looking garden, too lush and too earthly at the same time, and the only other presence was a little, ugly dragon-like creature, with a grotesque charcoal snut, sharp teeth and a biforcated tongue sticking out.

Aziraphale at first didn't pay it much attention, but after a second he suddenly realised what he was looking at and his jaw dropped.

- Is that supposed to be the Serpent of Eden!?

He asked in a high pitched voiced, sounding somewhat scandalised.

Michelangelo frowned and pulled out his most intimidating look.

- What else should it be?

- But that's not how it looked at all!

The bishop exclaimed, entirely unfazed. "Here it comes," thought to himself the painter, letting out a huff of resigned annoyance, "another punctilious catechist who wants me to stick to some stupid half line in the Bible." But, much to his surprise, monsignor Fell did not bring up any biblical reference. He looked vaguely offended and at the same time, for some reason, deeply amused.

- And how did it look? - Michelangelo asked sarcastically, posing like someone who is interrogating an eyewitness. But the bishop didn't seem to get the hint, and instead answered with a focused face, as he were actually about to recount him old memories.

- Well, it looked... - Aziraphale paused, searching the right word. He found himself suddenly assaulted by a number of adjectives that he had not anticipated. - He looked... - his tongue ended up picking one before his mind had time to evaluate the implications - ...seductive.

- Seductive. - Michelangelo looked at him with an incredulous face and his eyebrows were all the way up to his hairline.

Aziraphale stumbled.

- I mean... He- he was the original tempter... - He tried to regroup. His thoughts were strangely tumbling in his head. - You see, in order to be effective in his... tempting, he couldn't have look like an ugly little monster. - Yes, that was reasonable, it was a logical explanation, just a sensible thing that nobody could disagree on. - He had to look... - but then again, Aziraphale felt a sense of warmth of unclear origin raising to his face, and his voice cracked in a weird way, - ...beautiful. Charming. He had to be so, so fascinating, that you couldn't help listening to him, considering his reasons... I mean, the poor, naive humans, that is. They couldn't help...

His voice trailed off mid sentence. Michelangelo was still staring at him with a certain look, but the words of the bishop were not completely absurd.

- And he didn't crawl. That was not what he was. - He finished with a sort of fond determination.

- You make it sound quite impressive, for the one who damned humanity.

- Oh but he didn't mean to! - Once again, Aziraphale ignored the astonished expression on the other's face. A deep, obscure feeling of injustice was tugging at his soul. He didn't mean to have them damned. It was an overreaction. His voiced lowered ever so slightly, sounding somewhat sad. - From his point of view, he was... freeing them. He was giving them a choice, he didn't force them. He was letting the door of their cage open to see what they would do.

- Does the Pope know that you go around spreading this sort of ideas?

- Pah, what should he know.

They both startled as that last sentence echoed in all its outrageous blasphemy on the high walls. They looked around in the empty chapel tucking their heads between their shoulders, like two kids who had just inadvertently laughed out loud during the silent bit of the mass.

A moment of embarassed silence fell in the room. But the words of monsignor Fell had already stirred the painter's imagination.

- Beautiful, you say... - He repeated, almost speaking to himself, squinting at the left corner of his sketch as a different version of the scene started emerging in his mind. - Not crawly...

The chapel door opened suddenly and a very alarmed young seminarist run inside.

- Monsignor Fell! - He cried. - I've been looking for you everywhere! The assembly started half an hour ago.

- Did it indeed?

The bishop replied, looking like someone who knew perfectly well when the assembly was scheduled and had deliberately made sure to miss it. Michelangelo found himself wondering once more where on earth had they found such a singular minister of the church, who was now tenderly smiling at the seminarist, visibly moved to pity by his distressed expression.

- Well then, I suppose I will be coming right away. - He gave one last look at the sketch as he stepped away from the table. - Thank you for your time, maestro. And forgive me for... - He hesitated, as if trying to free himself from some last string of thought that was keeping him tied there. - ...for my suggestions.

The painter watched the white-blonde head disappear beyond the door that the alarmed seminarist closed after them, and all of a sudden the vast chapel felt colder than it was moments before. In the silence he could hear that it was raining outside. He took a deep breath, felt the freezing air filling his lungs and a shiver running down his spine, but his mind was on fire: an entirely new image was coming to life, one that the pope would probably not appreciate, and that was the best part.

He decided to take the rest of the day off to work on his idea and run to the Gatto morto, where he knew that Teresina would free the little corner table near the fireplace for him, with a light good enough to draw and a wine good enough to keep himself inspired.

- Now that is quite the progress since the last time I saw it!

The man had approached him so silently that Michelangelo almost spilled his jug over the new sketches.

- What are you doing here, Antonio? Aren't you supposed to stay away from the city after the ban? Se ti prendono gli svizzeri ti fanno la festa.

- Oh come on! Do you really think anyone would notice me? - The man threw himself on the chair on the opposite side of the table and crossed his long legs, unwrapping himself from his large black cloak.

- Yes, I do. - He replied, expressively pointing at the man he knew by the name of Antonio, all clad in black, with his exotic smoked spectacles and his bright red hair brushing his shoulders.

Crowley raised his glass with a bright white smile, like he had just been complimented.

- I thought you were in Florence.

- I've just come back from a lovely visit to your dear friend.

- He's not my friend.

Crowley's smile grew even wider, and the painter suddenly felt ashamed and annoied. He had spent the last several years convincing everyone including himself that he did not consider Leonardo his rival, that he was perfectly indifferent to his achievements and was not at all vexed by people talking about him, and it had took all of ten seconds to this man to make him snap without even naming the other one.

- He is making some formidable machinery, these days. Oh, and some really masterful portraits. - His irritating grin was unbearable. - You should see them.

Draining all his will power, Michelangelo managed to keep his mouth shut and focused all his attention back on his new sketches.

- I'm busy, what do you want?

- I've come to see your progress! - Antonio said cheerfully, grabbing his drawings before he could stop him. - Quite impressive, indeed...

His expression became imperceptibly more serious as he was examining the small piece of paper where the painter had sketched a new version of the Original Sin campata. Michelangelo knew that he had not liked the first version: months before, he had come to his shop all swagger and cockiness as always, and after seeing the initial sketch of the Eden had left without saying a word and somehow had earned himself a ban from Rome. Not that it had stopped him from coming back on a whim just to mock him with news of Leonardo's incredible machinery, apparently. And after all, the swiss guard really seemed to ignore him to an impossible degree, as he were invisible. Michelangelo had a certain suspect that Antonio was having an affair or more than one with someone inside the Curia, earning the protection of a dame or two. Or a monsignore or two. Or both, whatever. Now he seemed struck by the new version of the scene.

The sketch was nothing more than a bunch of thick lines on a small piece of paper, but you could make out that the Serpent was no longer on the ground, but wrapped around the Tree, had no monstruous features but a human-like torso, and his head was towering higher than all the other characters in the scene.

Michelangelo watched him staring intentely at the drawing, with an unreadable expression on his face, until he put down the piece of paper with a careful movement.

- You're good, good job. - He said, trying to make it sound casual, but with a weird note in his voice.

- I know I'm good. - The painter said, grabbing the drawing angrily. - But this change is throwing off the entire composition. Now I have three characters in the middle and this one over here. - He muttered, pointing all disgruntled at what was supposed to be the Angel of Eden, who was sadly standing alone on the right side of the image like a piece of a column that someone had built there by mistake. A tentative detail of his profile, stern and scowling, was sketched sideways on the margin of the sheet.

- Why did you draw him so angry?

Michelangelo raised his head from his composition puzzle, not quite understanding what Antonio was talking about, until he saw his finger tapping over the profile.

- He's the Angel. - He said with a tone indicating that the implication was obvious. But the man sitting in front of him didn't seem to get the point. - He's the Angel who delivers the fucking wrath of God. He has to look angry!

- No he doesn't!

The painter straightened up in disbelief. What was with everyone that day? Why did every last person in that damn city had opinions on his work, all of a sudden?

- Oh sorry, should I make him all cheerful and smiling?

- Why would he be smiling?

- And what would he be?

Antonio took a second, and then aswered, deadly serious.

- Heartbroken.

- Why heartbroken?

- Because! - Crowley was not sure how to explain it, but he felt outraged at the idea that in all those century mankind had assumed the Angel was angry that day. - Because he was the Angel assigned to guard the garden of Eden, the first living bit of the creation! They left him there alone, to watch over the first humans, didn't give him istructions! Didn't tell him what to expect! And then he blinks and bam! they're damned, out of the garden, off you go struggling and suffering, you and all your kind for the rest of time!

Michelangelo was staring at him in utter surprise. He had known him for the kind of man who never loses his cool, and now here he was, losing it over the Book of Genesis.

- You didn't strike me as a man who would get heated over some biblical minutia.

Crowley leaned foreward, gripping his jug of wine so tightly that the painter could have sworn that he heard the glazed ceramic handle made a worrying crackling noise. The painter felt the instinctive urge to pull back on his chair.

- He was there, you see? Watching it happen, struggling to understand wether he had failed them or it was all part of God's blasting ineffable plan.

- He's the Angel of Eden! He would know the will of God!

- How would he know? - Crowley rebutted, now visibly enraged. - He's just an angel! And God doesn't speak to anyone. He's just an angel, he was there alone, scared to death... - he paused for a moment, like he had been struck by his own words, - scared to death because they were punishing the humans and making him deliver the sentence, but maybe they would punish him as well... for letting the Serpent get in.

He ended the sentence on a broken tone, and immediately after draw a small breath and gulped down his wine, all in one go.

Michelangelo wasn't sure what to make of it. Antonio didn't seem drunk, but that had been a wild rant. And yet, it could be interesting to draw an Angel of Eden that was not, for once, the usual severe messanger of death burning with God's divine rage, but a sad, sorrowful pal who had messed up his job. He thought of the merciful expression of monsignor Fell, earlier that day, when he had looked at the poor seminarist knowing that he had possibly gotten both of them into trouble by skipping the assembly.

Now he was starting to resent his composition, leaving that forlorn Angel out there, all on his own, while the others were grouped together under the Tree, as if they were having a pick nick. The humans and the tempter...

- The poor, naive humans... - he muttered, repeating the bishop's words.

- Well, - Crowley objected, apparently back to his usual composure, but still with an indefinible shadow on his brow, - they were naive only at the beginning. But after they became quite quickly aware of how the world runs.

- Well too bad, it has to be one or the other, I don't have two squares for the Eden scene.

But as he was saying that, a new image clicked in his mind, and he stared down at the piece of paper that he had been torturing for the past several hours, trying to solve his composition issue. The Tree was there, dead-center on the campata, dividing the space in two perfectly symmetrical spaces. The Serpent was already up there, in the branches: he could put the Angel there as well, and make the time flow from left to right, from happy but naive humans to desperate but aware ones, the two emissaries of Good and Evil standing in the middle as the two-faced needle on the scales of human destiny... no, not of Good and Evil, rather of Law and Chaos, of Safety and Freedom.

He raised his head with excitement and looked at the man in front of him. He was now sitting inhumanly still, and somehow Michelangelo could feel his eyes piercing through the smoked spectacles. He froze.

- Oh I know that glare. - Antonio said with a voice that he had never heard him before, a ghostly whisper, almost a hiss coming from another world. - That shine that sometimes burns in the human eyes, a spark from the forge of Creation itself...

Michelangelo felt an icey feeling gripping him from the inside, but he could not look away. He was hypnotised by invisible eyes, and even if the physical body of the man in black was still perfectly motionless, for a moment he believed he could see a different body, in a different shape, slowly swinging side to side with only his head fixed in the same spot, yellow pupils cutting through his soul like sharp knives through warm butter.

He wasn't sure how it had stopped. Next thing he knew, he was staring at Antonio who was looking at his drawings again, absorbed in his thought, with a sort of distant nostalgia in the curve of his mouth.

- I shall go. - Michelangelo said with a husky voice, as if he had been asleep for a long time. But he didn't get up.

- You shall. - Crowley repeated, looking back at him, this time with nothing strange happening. - That was a lot of inspiration to process for a human in just one day.

He launched his lanky body out of the chair with a movement that didn't seem possible, draped himself back in his heavy cloak, gave him a quick last look, and strode away, the light of the fireplace caught in his bright red hair. It was still raining outside, but there was a promise of snow in the air.

July 1510, Rome

The two corner doors of the antechamber opened at the exact same time and two hurrying figures rushed in and stopped just a split second away from running into each other.

For a moment they stood there, staring at each other, locked in place, the hem of the white robe and the flap of the black cloack swirling happily together like two puppies eager to meet again despite their owners.

- Good Lord!

Aziraphale gasped, finally stepping away from Crowley.

- Ah! What in Hell are you doing in here, dressed like that? - The demon snorted with a mocking grin, moving his gaze down Aziraphale's episcopal outfit and back up again, lingering on all the lacy bits with the most overtly suggestive motion he could perform. The short black capelet made a rather dashing contrast with the fair curls.

- I am on a diplomatic assignment. - The angel answered primly, ever so slightly blushing at the base of his neck, looking in turn at Crowley's tight fitting black attire under the cloak, all velvet and metalwork and shiny damasque. And then he lowered his voice and added, in a deliciously indignant tone, - What are you doing in here? We are on consecrated ground!

- Not quite yet. This is only an entryway and you should know damn well that nobody here is saint enough to make a single tile sacred outside the chapel.

Aziraphale tried to hoist an outraged expression, but it was hard to pretend that he didn't actually know damn well Crowley was right.

- Anyway, - the demon continued looking at the door on the other side of the entryway, - I was just passing by to take a look at the famous ceiling.

- It's not completed yet. - Aziraphale pointed out, immediately regretting it. He caught himself thinking that he didn't actually want the demon to leave. Not that he wanted his company, of course. But it would have been unpolite, with him being in the hosting party, so to speak, to send him away like that.

- I know, but I hear the last bit has made quite the impression around here.

- It has indeed! - The angel exclaimed, smiling and muffling his excited voice in a goofy way that made something twitch somewhere in the demon's chest. - The cardinals were utterly scandalised! I was going to take a look myself!

The angel moved to the door of the chapel and opened it cautiously, peeking inside.

- There's noone in there! - He whispered visibly thrilled, like the silliest conspirator who ever lived. Crowley stepped closer, thinking to himself that there was no end to the angel's childlike enjoyment of those little innocent transgressions. Not that he enjoied them too, of course. But it would be unworthy of a demon not to appreciate such evil deeds.

They both peeked out from behind the door. The chapel was empty, pleasantly crisp in contrast with the hot roman summer. A choir of cicadas was relentlessly chirping outside. The wooden structure had moved foreward since the last time Aziraphale had been there. A giant curtain was draped between the already completed campate and the ones still in progress.

Crowley managed to chart himself a path across the room, using the spare planks left on the ground as safe spots, holding his arms out to keep his balance, jumping from one board to the next and taking only a couple of quick steps on the floor when the distance was too great. Aziraphale was observing his movements from the corner of his eye and thought the demon looked like one of those large water birds that you could see flying by the river during winter, so big and yet so light and graceful.

The new part of the ceiling was hidden by the curtain. Without saying a word, they both moved to the ladder on the side of the wooden structure and climbed almost all the way up to the top. A strange expectant silence had fallen between them, and neither of the two wanted to break it. They knew exactly what they were about to see, but for some reason they were both pretending that they didn't, and the higher they climbed, the more they were steering their thoughts away from a certain shared memory that now, all of a sudden, was becoming inexplicably significant. A moment that had always been there, tucked away in their minds, but now seemed too bright to look at, too hot to touch, too heavy to handle.

They finally reached the main platform, the last large surface before the precarious scaffolding that brought the painter in reach of the ceiling, all still cluttered with buckets and rags and dried out palettes.

They stood by each other, breathing in the pungent smell of the paint, and with a synchronized movement looked up.

There it was. There they were. Their first meeting on Earth, as Michelangelo had envisioned it, channeling what the angel and the demon, unbeknownst to each other, had unintentionally lead him to imagine. He had turned the Original Sin into a backdrop, Adam and Eve into little more than extras on scene, leaving the center stage to them.

There it was. Their very first meeting as they, a recalcitrant demon who didn't mean to do anything properly bad and a doubtful angel who couldn't figure out what God wanted him to do. They were emerging from the Tree, the Wily Old Serpent stretching his beautiful androginous torso to the left, no man nor woman but both, passing Eve a fruit; the Angel of the Eastern Gate floating next to him, holding his arm out to the right, a disheartened look on his face as he used his sword not so much to threaten the humans as to direct them toward their earthly new existence.

- Look at you! - The angel smiled, - You're...

But the words died on his lips and he couldn't finish the sentence. Something heavy and mournful was tied to that part of his memory, like an iron anchor holding it under the surface of his conscience.

Aziraphale focused on the affresco, trying to distract himself with shapes and contours and brushstrokes... he felt a sudden burst of heat burning the skin of his face as he was studying the Serpent's coils spiraling up the Tree, and was startled when the demon spoke.

- He did make you sad.

The angel examined his supposed representation.

- I was sad.

- Yes, I remember.

- I felt so bad... so guilty...

Aziraphale felt Crowley's gaze settling on his face and lowered his eyes, feeling slightly overwhelmed.

- Guilty? Why? - The demon asked, with a hint of wonder in his voice.

The angels shrugged, twisting his hands and biting his lips with a tormented expression on his face.

- Because they were being punished, but I was the one who had failed them. - He looked up at the picture, but he was looking past it, rewatching a different scene. - And... and... - His eyes started stinging and watering, the effect of all that fresh paint no doubt, - And... had I spoken up for them...

He suddenly turned to look at Crowley, who was staring at him with his golden eyes wide open.

- They were only being curious... - the angel pleaded, and the effect of that paint was really terrible because an entire teardrop rolled down his cheek as he was speaking. - They only wanted to know things. And I let them be cast out and didn't say anything. - He took a short breath and his voice came out thin as a whisper - How will I be forgiven?

Crowley stood there without breathing, transfixed. His brain was struggling to process the angel's discourse, that pain for the humans, for their fault and their fall, and beyond that another pain, older, deeper, bleeding through his words like ink through thin paper. But the pain on the surface was easier to grasp and the other one was tangled in too many frightful thoughts, so the demon pretended that he had only caught the human part of that lament.

- I was the one who tempted them into that. - He said quietly after a moment of silence that could have lasted a second or a century. He felt like he was slightly suffocating. That paint smell truly was unbearable. It was even making his voice crack. - Do you still hate me?

A shocked expression darkened Aziraphale's face, and something behind his blue eyes seemed to crumble. There had to be a cloud hiding the sun, right in that moment, because up there under the vault the air became suddenly darker and colder.

- I never hated you. - He murmured. And then, with a wounded tone, - How could you think that?

The cloud moved away.

- It was my fault.

- I don't think it was.

They stood in silence again, and their confusion was so deep that a moment later none of them was able to tell anymore who had said "It was my fault" and who had replied "I don't think it was".

- We should get down, this smell is making me hazy. - Said the angel, sniffling.

- Yeah, this was enough church attending for me.

- Would you like... - Aziraphale paused, suddenly interested in a dented tin bucket who was draining all his attention, - Would you like to have lunch? I know a place.

Crowley opened his mouth and closed it again without making any sound, then opened it again and let out a couple of stumbling syllables before finally managing: - Well, I don't suppose that would hurt.

They exchanged a hesitant look and turned their eyes up at the two towering figures in the Garden of Eden one last time.

Michelangelo had given them two identical faces, the identical hair color, a shade that had been mixed somewhere in between a pale blonde and a bright red, and had put them up there, looking in opposite way but close to each other, almost hugging - the right arm of the angel almost around the serpent's waist, the right arm of the serpent almost around the angel's neck - as if they were twins, or lovers, or rather the two heads of the same chimerical creature. Two halves of the same being.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens fanfiction #go fanfic #fanfic draft #good omens fic #through the ages #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens in Rome #bishop Aziraphale #canon according to Furfur's guide

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