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kathaelipwse · 20 days ago

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The Moment I Saw You || C.San

Pairing: Rookie.Idol!Reader x Idol!San

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 10,495 words ; Reading Time: 40-ish mins

Synopsis: They called you the "guitar rookie" — cool, mysterious, and unforgettable on stage. But for San, it only took one performance to fall completely under your spell. What starts as quiet glances and backstage banter slowly turns into secret texting, emotional confessions, and late-night comfort. But fame is cruel, and love in the spotlight even more so. When the hate gets brutal, San does something no one expects — he fights for you.

Author’s Note: This story’s a love letter to that electric spark between two people who meet in the whirlwind of fame and find peace in each other. I adore writing flustered San, loyal San, "ride-or-die" San — so this fic gave me life. Hope you enjoy the slow burn, tension, and soft chaos.

The air in the practice room always smelled faintly of sweat and ambition, a potent cocktail that you had grown accustomed to. Just six months into your solo debut, the buzz around you was a low hum, a quiet acknowledgment of the raw talent that crackled through your live performances. In a sea of perfectly synchronized dance routines and polished pop anthems, you offered something different: grit. Authenticity. And a damn good electric guitar.

Your company, a smaller label that had taken a gamble on your unique blend of idol charm and rockstar edge, was cautiously optimistic. Your digital single had performed respectably, earning you a small but fiercely loyal fanbase who appreciated your self-composed tracks and the way your fingers danced across the fretboard during live stages – a genuine rarity in the current idol landscape.

You yourself preferred the quiet hum of anticipation to the deafening roar of immediate fame. It gave you space to breathe, to hone your craft, to let the music speak for itself. Your stage presence was a carefully constructed paradox: cool and composed, almost aloof, yet undeniably magnetic. There was a mysterious charm about the way you’d offer a fleeting smirk after a particularly sharp riff, the way your dark eyes would scan the crowd with an unreadable intensity.

Tonight, however, the quiet hum was about to be amplified to a deafening roar. Tonight was the culmination of a year’s worth of relentless work: the prestigious Gayo Daejun. The air backstage thrummed with nervous energy, a chaotic symphony of hurried footsteps, last-minute mic checks, and the hushed excitement of idols from every corner of the industry.

Your own dressing room felt like a small island of calm amidst the storm. Your black custom guitar, affectionately nicknamed 'Shadow', leaned against the wall, its sleek body gleaming under the soft lighting. Your stylist fussed with the subtle silver chains adorning your black leather jacket, while your makeup artist dabbed at your already flawless smoky eye.

“Ready, Y/N-ah?” your manager, a kind but perpetually stressed man named Mr. Kim, poked his head in.

You offered a small, confident nod. Inside, however, a familiar flutter of nerves danced in your stomach. This was the biggest stage you’d ever performed on. The audience wasn’t just your fans; it was the entire Korean entertainment industry, fellow idols you admired, and millions watching at home.

As the minutes ticked by, the tension backstage thickened. Snippets of other performances drifted into your room – the booming bass of a powerful dance track, the soaring vocals of a ballad. Then, Mr. Kim gave you the signal. It was time.

Walking towards the stage felt surreal. The backstage area was a blur of glittering costumes and anxious faces. You took a deep breath, the scent of hairspray and expensive perfume filling your lungs. The roar of the crowd beyond the heavy curtains was a tangible thing, a wave of sound that promised both exhilaration and potential disaster.

Your name flashed on the monitor, and a surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins. This was it.

The lights dimmed, and a single spotlight pierced the darkness, landing squarely on your silhouette as you stood center stage, Shadow slung low across your hips. A hush fell over the arena, a pregnant silence that amplified the frantic beating of your own heart.

Then, you raised your hand, your fingers hovering over the strings. A single, clean note rang out, cutting through the silence. It was the opening of your self-composed track, a raw and edgy anthem about breaking free. The crowd responded with a wave of cheers, but you barely registered it. Your focus narrowed, your world shrinking to the six strings beneath your fingertips.

The first chord hit like a punch to the gut – a gritty, distorted power chord that reverberated through the stadium. The stage lights pulsed in time with the music, casting sharp shadows that danced around you. Your cool composure settled over you like a second skin. Head tilted slightly, you launched into the opening riff, your fingers a blur of practiced precision.

From the side of the stage, hidden in the shadows after the explosive finale of his own group’s performance, Choi San stood catching his breath. Ateez had just delivered a high-octane set, leaving the crowd in a frenzy. He was about to grab a water bottle when a lone figure walked onto the stage. He barely glanced up, expecting another flashy dance number.

But then, the first chord struck.

San froze. The plastic water bottle slipped from his suddenly numb fingers, clattering unnoticed on the floor. His jaw went slack, his breath catching in his throat. It wasn’t just the sound – though the raw, live tone of the electric guitar was a shock in itself – it was the sheer confidence emanating from the figure bathed in the spotlight.

His heart, which had been pounding from Ateez’s intense performance, now seemed to have vanished entirely, replaced by a strange, hollow ache.

He watched, unblinking, as you moved with a fluid grace that belied the aggressive energy of your music and your soft voice blending well. The way your head would snap back with a flick of your dark hair during a particularly powerful strum, the fleeting smirk that would play on your lips as you effortlessly shredded a solo – it was captivating.

The music surged, a tidal wave of sound washing over the arena. San was oblivious to the cheers of the crowd, the flashing lights, the murmurs of his own members nearby. His entire world had narrowed to the figure on stage, the girl with the guitar, the raw talent that seemed to bleed from her fingertips.

He watched as you stepped closer to the edge of the stage during a particularly intricate solo, your eyes locking with unseen members of the audience. There was a fire in them, a fierce passion that resonated deep within him.

The final chord crashed, echoing through the stadium before fading into a sudden, profound silence. Then, the arena erupted. The cheers were deafening, a testament to the captivating performance they had just witnessed.

You offered a small bow, the corner of your lips tilting into that enigmatic smirk one last time before you turned and walked off stage, disappearing behind the curtain.

San remained rooted to the spot, his mind a complete blank. The echoes of the music still vibrated in his chest. It wasn't just that you were talented; there was something else, something that had resonated with him on a visceral level.

Finally, as his members started to nudge him, concern etched on their faces, San managed a single, breathless utterance, his voice barely a whisper amidst the lingering roar of the crowd.

“…who is she?”

The adrenaline from Ateez’s performance had long since faded, replaced by a persistent, almost unsettling hum within San. Back in their dorm, the usual boisterous energy of the members felt muted, a backdrop to the insistent replay echoing in his mind. He’d excused himself shortly after they’d arrived, claiming exhaustion, but instead, he’d retreated to his bunk, phone clutched tightly in his hand.

The YouTube video title glowed on the screen: “Y/N - Iconic Solo Debut Stage @ Gayo Daejun” He’d found it within minutes of searching, the algorithm already attuned to the sudden spike in interest surrounding the mysterious guitarist.

He pressed play.

The opening chord of ‘[Your Song Title]’ reverberated through his earbuds, sending a familiar jolt through him. He watched, his eyes glued to the screen, as you stepped into the spotlight. Every subtle movement, every confident strum, every flick of your hair was magnified, imbued with a significance he couldn’t quite articulate.

He watched the entire performance again, and then again. A strange tension coiled in his stomach, a feeling he hadn’t experienced before. It wasn’t just admiration for your talent; it was something deeper, something that felt intensely personal.

On the fourth viewing, he paused the video. It was a fleeting moment, almost imperceptible – a small, genuine smile that flickered across your lips after nailing a particularly challenging riff. It wasn’t a practiced idol smile for the cameras; it was a flash of pure, unadulterated joy, a glimpse behind the cool facade. San’s thumb hovered over the screen, tracing the curve of your smile as if he could somehow capture the feeling it evoked within him. His chest tightened.

He replayed the solo, the intricate melody and the raw energy of your playing sending shivers down his spine. He’d always appreciated good musicianship, but this… this was different. It wasn't just skill; it was soul. It was like the music was an extension of you, a direct line to something honest and captivating.

A restless energy began to build within him. He needed to know more.

He exited YouTube and opened his browser, typing in your stage name. Information flooded the screen: your full name, your company, the name of your debut single, even a few interviews where you spoke shyly about your music and your unconventional path as a guitar-playing idol. He clicked on every link, devouring every piece of information, piecing together a fragmented image of the person behind the captivating performer.

He learned you were a soloist, which surprised him. Your stage presence felt like it could command an entire band. He scrolled through fan forums, reading comments that echoed his own fascination: “Who is this girl?”, “That guitar solo was insane!”, “Her vibe is so cool.”

Later, when a few of the members had gathered in the common room, their post-show buzz slowly dissipating into comfortable exhaustion, San couldn’t contain it any longer. He wandered in, his phone still clutched in his hand.

“Do you guys know the rookie guitarist from tonight?” he asked, his voice a little too eager.

Wooyoung, sprawled on the couch scrolling through his own phone, looked up, a playful smirk already forming on his lips. “You mean the one you haven’t stopped watching on your phone?”

San flushed slightly, trying to appear nonchalant. “I was just… impressed. Her live playing was really something.”

Jongho, ever the straightforward one, nodded. “She was good. Definitely stood out.”

Hongjoong, who had been quietly sketching in a notebook, looked up, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Bro. You’ve watched that clip six times since we got back.”

San’s ears burned. He hadn’t realized he’d been that obvious. He mumbled something about needing to analyze different performance styles.

Hongjoong leaned back, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. “Analyzing, huh? Or maybe… admiring?” He tapped his pen against his chin thoughtfully. “She did have a certain… je ne sais quoi.”

San avoided his leader’s gaze, suddenly finding the pattern on the rug intensely interesting.

“Just ask her out already, Romeo,” Hongjoong added, his voice laced with playful teasing.

San’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “Hyung! What? No! I just… I was curious about her music.”

The other members exchanged knowing glances, a chorus of suppressed chuckles filling the room. San knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. The image of you on stage, bathed in that single spotlight, the raw sound of your guitar echoing in his ears, was firmly imprinted in his mind. The quiet hum of curiosity had morphed into something far more insistent, a burgeoning fascination that felt dangerously close to… obsession. And he had a feeling this was just the beginning.

The fluorescent lights of the music show backstage buzzed with a familiar, almost sterile energy. A few days had passed since the Gayo Daejun, and the memory of your performance still lingered in San’s mind like a favorite song he couldn’t stop humming. He’d tried to play it cool around his members, deflecting their teasing with awkward jokes and feigned disinterest. But the truth was, he’d spent a significant amount of his downtime rewatching your stage and scrolling through any new information he could find about you. He even found a few fan-made compilation videos of your live guitar moments, each one further solidifying his initial captivated impression.

Fate, or perhaps his own carefully orchestrated movements, had brought them both to the same music show today. Ateez had an early performance slot, and San had been surprisingly subdued throughout their pre-show preparations, his usual playful energy noticeably absent. His mind was elsewhere, a nervous anticipation thrumming beneath his skin. He kept replaying Hongjoong’s teasing words – “Just ask her out already, Romeo” – and a ridiculous scenario where he tripped over his own feet while trying to introduce himself.

He’d subtly inquired about your schedule from one of the staff members he knew, feigning general interest in the lineup. When he learned your dressing room was on the same floor, a few doors down from Ateez’s, a plan began to form – a flimsy, transparent excuse to be in your vicinity. He’d even rehearsed a few potential opening lines in his head, ranging from a simple “Hello” to a more elaborate (and probably disastrous) compliment about your guitar tone.

Now, his heart hammered against his ribs as he stood outside your dressing room, a half-empty water bottle clutched in his hand. He’d “coincidentally” run out of water just as Ateez’s segment wrapped up, and this hallway, he’d reasoned, was the most logical place to find a water dispenser. He leaned against the cool wall, trying to project an air of casual nonchalance, taking slow, deliberate sips. Every distant footstep echoing down the corridor sent a jolt of nervous energy through him. He silently berated himself for his lack of composure. He was Choi San, for crying out loud. He commanded stages filled with roaring fans. Why was this one potential interaction turning him into a stammering mess?

Then, the door to your dressing room opened.

San’s breath hitched. You stepped out, your manager, a slightly harried-looking man in a crisp suit, a few paces behind you, both seemingly engrossed in a quiet conversation. You were dressed in a stylishly understated outfit for your post-performance interviews – dark wash jeans, a slightly oversized band tee, and a delicate silver necklace peeking out from beneath the collar. Your dark hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail that accentuated the sharp angles of your jawline and the delicate curve of your neck. San’s gaze lingered for a fraction too long.

For a split second, your eyes met his. Your expression was neutral, a polite acknowledgment of a familiar face in the industry. But for San, it felt like a spotlight had suddenly illuminated him. He froze, his carefully constructed facade of nonchalance crumbling into a jumbled mess of nerves and a sudden, intense awareness of his own slightly sweaty post-performance state.

He hadn’t planned what to say, hadn’t rehearsed any smooth lines that could possibly convey the impact your performance had had on him. All the witty remarks and carefully crafted compliments he’d mentally conjured vanished from his brain, leaving him with a single, overwhelming thought: it’s really her. Up close, the intensity he’d witnessed on stage was somehow both amplified and softened.

As you drew closer, his throat suddenly felt incredibly dry. He pushed himself off the wall, his legs feeling strangely unsteady, like he’d just finished a particularly grueling choreography session. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but all that came out was a strangled, almost bird-like sound. He winced internally.

“You were…” he finally managed, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, the sound echoing awkwardly in the relatively quiet hallway, and tried again, his gaze fixed somewhere around your shoulder, unable to meet your eyes directly. “You were… amazing. At the Gayo… the guitar part? Insane.” He cringed internally at his utterly inadequate delivery. Insane? Really, San? That’s the best you could come up with?

You stopped walking, a genuine hint of surprise flickering in your dark eyes. You shyly tucked a loose strand of hair that had escaped your ponytail behind your ear, a delicate, almost unconscious gesture that San found inexplicably endearing. A faint blush, barely perceptible, dusted your cheeks. You lowered your gaze slightly.

“Thank you,” you replied softly, your voice even more melodic and nuanced than he’d expected from your powerful yet soft singing voice. “I… I didn’t think anyone noticed. It felt a little… out of place, maybe, amidst all the other amazing performances.” You offered a small, self-deprecating smile.

San’s internal monologue was a chaotic scream of flailing limbs and incoherent noises. She doesn’t think anyone noticed?! It was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen! Tell her! Tell her how it made you feel! Tell her you haven’t stopped thinking about it!

But outwardly, he could only manage a slightly wider, albeit still awkward, smile and a more emphatic nod. “Noticed? Are you kidding? It was… captivating. The way you played, the energy… it was completely different. In a really, really good way.” He finally managed to meet your eyes, and the intensity he felt seemed to momentarily surprise you. He quickly looked away again, suddenly feeling like he was staring.

He wanted to say so much more – to tell you how the rawness of your sound had cut through the usual polished perfection, how your confidence with the guitar had been incredibly inspiring, how he’d rewatched your solo countless times. But the words seemed trapped in his throat, choked by a sudden wave of self-consciousness and the unexpected reality of you standing right in front of him.

He offered another small, slightly less awkward smile, hoping it conveyed at least a fraction of the genuine admiration and burgeoning fascination he felt. You returned the smile, a brief, shy curve of your lips that sent another unexpected jolt through him, settling somewhere warm and unfamiliar in his chest.

Then, your manager, who had been patiently observing the exchange, gently placed a hand on your arm. “We should probably get going, Y/N-ah. The interview with Star News is starting soon, and they’re waiting.”

“Right,” you said, nodding apologetically. You offered San another quick, polite nod, your eyes briefly meeting his again with a hint of something he couldn’t quite decipher before continuing down the hallway with your manager.

San watched you walk away, your ponytail swaying gently with each step, his mind still reeling from the brief but impactful interaction. He’d actually spoken to you. He’d sounded like a complete idiot, but he’d spoken to you. He replayed the exchange in his head, dissecting every word, every glance, the shy tuck of your hair, the soft melody of your voice.

He took a long, shaky gulp of water, the coolness doing little to quell the heat rising in his cheeks. He leaned back against the wall again, a goofy, starstruck grin slowly spreading across his face. Choi San, the charismatic performer known for his powerful stage presence and confident charm, was officially a flustered mess. And he had a distinct feeling that this brief backstage run-in was just the beginning of a much more complicated – and potentially exhilarating – chapter.

The weeks that followed the music show took on a surreal quality for both you and San. For you, the unexpected compliment from a senior idol, especially one as charismatic as San of Ateez, had been a pleasant surprise. You’d replayed the brief interaction in your mind a few times, a faint warmth spreading through you at the memory of his earnest, if slightly stammering, praise. You’d even found yourself looking up Ateez’s performances afterwards, a newfound curiosity piqued by his intense stage presence and the powerful dynamic of his group.

Then, the “bump-ins” began.

It started subtly. At the company cafeteria, you’d be mid-bite into your kimbap when you’d glance up to find Ateez at a nearby table, their usual boisterous energy filling the space. More often than not, your eyes would meet San’s, and he’d offer a quick, friendly smile, sometimes accompanied by a small wave. You’d offer a shy nod in return, a blush creeping up your neck.

At music show waiting rooms, their paths seemed to intersect with increasing frequency. He’d always find a reason to approach – a casual “Hey, Y/N-ssi, your performance today was great,” or a lighthearted comment about the chaos backstage. Once, he’d even complimented the unique design on your guitar strap, sparking a brief, slightly awkward but undeniably pleasant conversation about your musical influences.

You tried to rationalize it as coincidence, the inevitable overlap of schedules in the relatively small and interconnected idol world. But a persistent feeling, a delicate dance of anticipation and nervousness, began to bloom in your chest. Every time his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at you, a little spark ignited within you.

You found yourself paying more attention to your appearance on days you knew Ateez would be at the same events, and a nervous flutter would erupt in your stomach whenever you heard their distinct laughter echoing down the hallway.

San, on his end, was far from relying on mere chance. He’d become a surprisingly adept strategist, his internal radar constantly pinging for any sign of your presence. He’d casually inquire about your schedule from friendly staff members, linger a little longer near common areas he knew you sometimes frequented, like the practice room hallways or the studio lounges, and even subtly enlist the help of Wooyoung and Seonghwa to “casually” scout ahead.

His members, initially amused by his sudden, laser-like focus, were now exchanging knowing glances and offering increasingly unsubtle teases. “Looking for your sunshine again, San-ah?” Hongjoong had quipped one afternoon, earning him a playful shove.

Then came the official announcement that sent a genuine tremor of excitement through the industry: a special collaboration stage for the upcoming Golden Disc Awards. And your name was listed alongside Ateez. Specifically, the press release detailed a duet and a joint performance piece that would culminate in a powerful instrumental break featuring your guitar playing alongside Ateez’s signature dynamic energy. And the duet partner? Choi San.

A wave of surprise, quickly followed by a surge of nervous excitement that made your palms sweat, washed over you when your manager relayed the news. A collaboration with a group as globally recognized and incredibly talented as Ateez was a monumental opportunity, a chance to reach a wider audience. But the thought of working so intimately with San, the idol who had sparked this unexpected and rather persistent flutter in your heart, sent a different kind of thrill, a more personal and slightly dizzying sensation, through you.

Rehearsals began a week later, a whirlwind of choreography practices with Ateez’s formidable dance line, vocal run-throughs where your voices surprisingly blended with a unique harmony, and meticulous stage blocking sessions. The song was a powerful, emotionally charged ballad that built to an explosive instrumental bridge, perfectly designed to showcase both Ateez’s dramatic performance skills and your raw, emotive guitar prowess.

During these rehearsals, San’s attention was often, though not always overtly, fixed on you. It wasn’t the intense, unwavering gaze from the Gayo stage, but a softer, more curious observation. When you were carefully tuning Shadow before a run-through, the delicate movements of your fingers across the fretboard seemed to captivate him.

He’d lean against the wall, his usual playful banter momentarily silenced, his eyes following your every adjustment. Once, he’d even asked, his voice genuinely curious, “What tuning are you using for this song? It sounds… different.” You’d explained the drop-D tuning and how it lent a heavier feel to the lower register, and he’d listened intently, nodding thoughtfully.

Between takes, as you’d often hum the melody to yourself, lost in the intricacies of the arrangement, his gaze would linger on you, a soft, almost fond smile playing on his lips. Sometimes, he’d even hum along quietly, and you’d catch his eye, a shared moment of musical connection passing between you.

From his perspective, every small detail about you seemed to be etching itself into his memory. The way your brow would furrow in intense concentration as you worked out a particularly complex chord progression, the way you’d tap your foot rhythmically even when you weren’t playing, the small, almost imperceptible sigh you’d let out after a particularly demanding vocal section.

Even the subtle scent that seemed to perpetually surround you – a delicate blend of warm vanilla and a bright, refreshing citrus – became a comforting and uniquely yours sensory detail that he’d subconsciously started to associate with moments of quiet focus and unexpected smiles.

He started calling you “sunshine.” It began innocently enough, a casual remark during a particularly grueling rehearsal when you’d offered a quiet but encouraging word to a visibly tired Wooyoung. “You’re like sunshine, Y/N -ssi,” he’d said with a genuine smile, and the nickname had stuck.

He used it sparingly, mostly during lighter moments or when he wanted to offer encouragement. But the way your cheeks would instantly flush a delicate pink every time the nickname escaped his lips, the way your gaze would momentarily soften and then quickly dart away, told him it had a deeper, more personal impact.

You tried your best to maintain your professional composure, focusing intently on the intricate vocal harmonies you shared with San and the precise timing required for your guitar solo within Ateez’s powerful choreography. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the warmth that spread through you every time San’s gaze lingered a little too long, or the way your heart did a little flip-flop whenever he offered you a genuine, encouraging smile, often accompanied by that endearing nickname.

His presence was a constant, gentle distraction, a warm current that made it harder to maintain your focus but also made the often-stressful rehearsal process feel surprisingly lighter, filled with stolen glances and unspoken understandings.

The tension between you was building, an invisible thread stretching taut with each shared rehearsal and fleeting interaction. It wasn’t just the pressure of the highly anticipated Golden Disc performance; it was the undeniable pull of mutual attraction, a silent conversation conducted through lingering glances, shy smiles, and the shared language of music.

You both knew something was subtly shifting, a delicate connection forming beneath the surface of polite professional interactions. The Golden Disc stage was looming, and with it, the tantalizing promise of a closer collaboration, and perhaps, something significantly more.

The exchange of phone numbers had been a purely practical affair, orchestrated with the efficiency of a military operation by your respective managers under the guise of “seamless rehearsal coordination” for the Golden Disc collaboration. Your contact list now held a new, somewhat official-sounding entry: “San (Ateez) 🎤.” You’d sent a polite introductory text confirming your number, a brief “Hi San-ssi, it’s Y/N. Got your number,” and he’d replied with a simple but friendly, “Got it! Looking forward to working with you, Y/N-ssi :)”. The initial exchange felt formal, almost anticlimactic, leaving you wondering if that would be the extent of your direct communication outside of rehearsals.

However, as the intense rehearsal schedule for the Golden Disc Awards kicked into high gear, the need for direct communication occasionally and organically arose. A last-minute change in the choreography blocking that affected your stage positioning, a question from San about the specific tone you were aiming for during the instrumental break, a quick confirmation needed on shared wardrobe elements to ensure visual harmony on stage.

These exchanges were usually brief and strictly professional, yet each notification that popped up on your screen displaying San’s name still elicited a subtle, almost involuntary quickening of your pulse, a tiny flutter of anticipation that you tried to suppress.

Then came the night after a particularly grueling full dress rehearsal that had stretched late into the evening. You were finally back in the quiet solitude of your dorm room, the distant hum of the city lights painting faint, blurry streaks across your ceiling.

Your body ached in places you didn’t even know existed, your mind still buzzing with the complex choreography, the intricate vocal harmonies you shared with San, and the soaring melody of the collaboration song that had been looping in your head for hours. You’d changed into comfortable pajamas and were mindlessly scrolling through social media on your phone, a familiar and usually effective way to unwind before sleep claimed you, when your phone vibrated with a new message.

The contact name displayed brightly on your screen read “San (Ateez) 🎤.” Your thumb hovered over the notification for a long moment, a strange and unfamiliar mix of anticipation, nervousness, and a touch of something akin to excitement swirling within you. It was late; you hadn’t expected to hear from him.

San (1:03 am): Were you nervous that night? At the Gayo. You didn’t look it at all. Like you owned that stage from the moment you stepped on it.

A small, genuine smile touched your lips. He was thinking about your debut stage again. It felt like a lifetime ago in the whirlwind of the past few months, yet the memory of the intense spotlight, the roar of the crowd, and the raw, unfiltered energy of your music was still incredibly vivid. You hesitated for a moment before replying, carefully considering your words, unsure of how much vulnerability to reveal.

You (1:04 am): Terrified. Honestly. My palms were sweating so much I thought I might drop Shadow. I just didn’t want to screw up on such a big stage, especially as a relatively new face.

Your reply felt honest, stripped of the cool, composed confidence you consciously projected on stage. You wondered if he’d find it surprising, perhaps even disappointing, that the seemingly fearless guitarist had been battling a storm of nerves underneath.

His response came almost immediately, the speed of it making you smile again.

San (1:04 am): Seriously? You were incredible. You commanded that stage like it was your own. The way you moved, the way you connected with the music… and that guitar solo… still gives me chills every time I watch it. You have such a unique energy.

A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through your chest at his words. It was different from the polite, often generic compliments you usually received from industry colleagues. There was a genuine enthusiasm and a keen observation in his message that felt… real and deeply validating.

San (1:05 am): Next time you’re on a big stage like that, I’m cheering for you from the front row. Promise. I’ll even bring a giant banner with your name on it!! :}

Your heart did a little unexpected flutter at that playful promise. A promise from Choi San, delivered in the quiet intimacy of a late-night text message. You typed out a simple “Thank you :]” but deleted it, feeling it was far too inadequate to express the warmth that was blossoming within you.

You (1:06 am): That means a lot, San-ssi. Really. It’s… reassuring to hear that.

The late-night texts slowly but surely became a more regular, almost anticipated occurrence. They were often initiated by San, usually after both of your demanding schedules had finally wound down for the day, when the rest of the bustling idol world seemed to have finally fallen silent.

They talked about everything and nothing – the unique pressures and unexpected joys of being an idol, their individual musical tastes and surprising shared interests in obscure indie artists, funny and sometimes slightly embarrassing anecdotes from their respective days.

You found yourself genuinely looking forward to these digital exchanges, the quiet intimacy of sharing your thoughts and feelings with someone who seemed to genuinely understand the unique and often isolating pressures you faced in the industry.

San was surprisingly easy to talk to, his digital persona mirroring the warm and playful energy he exuded in person, but with an added layer of thoughtful curiosity. His texts were often punctuated with a liberal use of playful emojis and genuine, insightful questions.

He’d delve into your songwriting process, asking about your lyrical inspirations and the emotions you aimed to convey through your music. He even remembered the name of your guitar, Shadow, and would occasionally ask about it, curious about its history and your connection to it.

You found yourself opening up to him in a way you hadn’t with many others in the industry, the relative anonymity and unspoken understanding of the late-night messages creating a safe and comfortable space for vulnerability.

One particularly hectic afternoon, in the midst of a chaotic day of back-to-back schedules that included a radio interview and a photoshoot, your phone buzzed with a picture message from San. Your initial thought was that it was probably another funny meme his members had sent him.

But when you opened it, your breath hitched slightly. It was a selfie of him, looking slightly tired but grinning broadly, his dark hair a little tousled, holding up a piece of slightly crumpled white paper. Scrawled on it in playful, slightly uneven lettering, adorned with a few charmingly crooked doodles, were the words: “Team Y/N”. He’d even drawn a little stick figure playing a guitar next to your name, its shape endearingly lopsided.

A genuine, unguarded smile bloomed on your face, chasing away some of the day’s accumulated stress. You quickly saved the picture to a private album in your gallery, tucking it away amongst your personal photos, a secret little treasure.

Every now and then, when the relentless pressures of the industry felt particularly overwhelming or isolating, you’d find yourself subconsciously scrolling through your gallery and stumbling upon that silly, heartfelt selfie, and a wave of unexpected warmth and quiet support would wash over you, a tangible reminder of the connection you were slowly building. The late-night whispers in the digital darkness were undeniably weaving a delicate but strengthening thread of something special and undeniably personal between you and Choi San.

The Golden Disc Awards ceremony was a blur of flashing lights, roaring applause, and the nervous energy that permeated every corner of the massive venue. Your collaboration stage with Ateez had been a resounding success.

The ballad, initially a gentle blend of your vocals and San’s, had built in intensity, culminating in the powerful instrumental break where your guitar solo intertwined seamlessly with Ateez’s dynamic performance. The crowd had been captivated, a sea of glowing lightsticks swaying in unison.

Backstage, the atmosphere was electric with post-performance adrenaline. You exchanged exhausted but exhilarated smiles with the Ateez members, a sense of shared accomplishment hanging in the air. San’s eyes had met yours a few times amidst the congratulatory chaos, a soft, knowing smile passing between you that spoke volumes without uttering a single word.

As the evening progressed, and the awards ceremony moved onto other performances and announcements, the opportunity for a private moment felt increasingly elusive. Yet, a silent understanding seemed to exist between you and San, a shared desire to acknowledge the unspoken feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface of rehearsals and late-night texts.

Finally, during a brief intermission, amidst the flurry of idols heading to the refreshment areas or making quick phone calls, San caught your eye from across the bustling backstage corridor. He offered a subtle nod towards a less-trafficked hallway leading towards the emergency exits, a silent invitation.

Your heart skipped a beat. You made a quick excuse to your manager about needing some fresh air and followed him, your steps light with a mixture of anticipation and nervous excitement.

The hallway was dimly lit and blessedly quiet, a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos you’d just escaped. San was leaning against the cool wall, his hands tucked into the pockets of his stylish stage jacket. He looked up as you approached, his usual playful energy replaced by a soft, almost vulnerable expression.

A comfortable silence settled between you for a moment, the unspoken tension thick in the air. You fiddled with the hem of your dress, your gaze fixed on the patterned carpet.

“That was… incredible,” you murmured, breaking the silence, the adrenaline of the performance still coursing through you. “Thank you for… for everything during rehearsals. It was amazing working with you all.”

San pushed himself off the wall, taking a step closer. His gaze was intense, focused solely on you. “The pleasure was all ours, Y/N-ah. Your playing… it added a whole other dimension to the song.” He paused, then his voice softened. “But you know… tonight… when we were performing…”

You finally lifted your gaze to meet his, a question in your eyes.

You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, the words feeling both inevitable and terrifying to voice, “You weren’t looking at the audience tonight, San-ssi. Not really. You were looking at me.”

A soft, almost shy smile spread across his face, a smile that reached his eyes and made your heart do that familiar little flip. He took another step closer, closing the remaining distance between you.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice low and husky, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yeah, I was. And you’re right.” He took a deep breath, as if gathering his courage. “That’s… that’s when I knew I was in trouble.”

He reached out, his fingers gently brushing against your hand, sending a jolt of electricity through you. He didn’t take your hand fully, but the light touch was enough.

“From the moment I saw you on that Gayo stage,” he continued, his voice earnest and sincere, “there was something… I don’t know. Something about your passion, your talent… it just… it hit me. Hard.” He chuckled softly, a nervous sound. “And then getting to know you during rehearsals, those late-night texts… it just confirmed what I was already starting to feel.”

He finally met your gaze fully, his eyes filled with a vulnerability that mirrored your own. “I… I really like you, [Your Stage Name]-ah. A lot. And I know this is probably crazy, especially with our careers and everything… but I wanted to be honest with you. I want to give this a real shot. If… if you’re okay with it.”

The sincerity in his voice, the gentle touch of his fingers, the vulnerability in his eyes – it all washed over you, confirming the feelings that had been quietly blossoming in your own heart. The late-night conversations, the stolen glances during rehearsals, the unexpected warmth of his attention – it had all pointed to this moment.

A soft smile bloomed on your own lips, mirroring his. You finally laced your fingers through his, your touch tentative but firm.

“San-ssi,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly, “I… I like you too. A lot more than I probably should.” You took a deep breath, your gaze locked with his. “I was… I was falling too.”

A wave of relief washed over his face, his grip on your hand tightening gently. The quiet hallway suddenly felt like the only place in the world, the hushed silence amplifying the unspoken emotions that hung between you. In that dimly lit space, amidst the whirlwind of the idol world, a new chapter had quietly begun.

The initial secrecy of your relationship with San was a fragile, precious thing. It thrived in the quiet moments, in the stolen glances across crowded rooms, and the coded language of late-night texts. Small, tangible tokens of affection became your secret communication.

Notes, folded into impossibly small squares, would appear nestled amongst the strings of Shadow, San’s playful handwriting a stark contrast to the serious intent of his sweet messages. Bubble teas, delivered with a knowing smile by a staff member who’d clearly been briefed, were a small, sweet rebellion against the demands of your schedules. You, in turn, would leave little gifts in Ateez’s studio, a silent acknowledgment of the connection that was growing stronger with each passing day.

But the digital world offered no true sanctuary. The leaked photo, blurry and taken from a distance, was enough to shatter the illusion of privacy. Two figures, walking hand-in-hand under the dim glow of a streetlamp – San’s unmistakable silhouette, your smaller frame – were all it took to ignite the internet.

The explosion was immediate and brutal. Comment sections became battlegrounds, initial curiosity quickly morphing into a torrent of negativity. Accusations of using San for fame were rampant, your talent dismissed, your worth questioned. “She’s just a leech!” one comment screamed. “Riding on Ateez’s success!”

The rigid expectations of idol life fueled the fire. “A rookie dating? Unbelievable!” another user fumed. “She should be focused on her career, not boys!” The attacks grew increasingly personal, descending into cruel insults about your appearance and unfounded rumors about your character. “She’s so plain,” one anonymous commenter sneered. “No wonder she has to cling to someone famous.”

Yet, in the face of this online onslaught, your fans stood firm. They defended your talent, your hard work, your right to a private life. “Leave her alone! She’s an amazing artist!” their voices echoed across the digital space. Surprisingly, a significant number of ATINYs joined their ranks, their support for San extending to his personal happiness. “If San is happy, we should be happy for him,” one ATINY wrote, a sentiment that resonated with many.

Despite this unwavering support, the sheer volume of hate was overwhelming. The negativity seeped into the real world. Your company’s social media was flooded with abusive messages. Your manager’s phone rang non-stop with angry calls.

Then came the chilling delivery. A stark white box. Inside, funeral flowers – white chrysanthemums. A typed note, its words a venomous threat, a stark warning to stay away from San.

The sight of those flowers, a tangible manifestation of such intense hatred, sent a cold wave of fear through you. The joy of your new relationship was instantly poisoned.

San, who had been watching the online storm with growing fury, finally snapped when he learned about the funeral flowers. The image of those stark white blooms, the direct threat against you, ignited a protective rage. He couldn't stand by while you were subjected to such vicious malice.

The playful, loving man you were falling for was momentarily consumed by a fierce, unwavering determination to shield you from the darkness that had descended upon you.

The notification popped up on countless screens simultaneously: “ATEEZ San is live.” Within seconds, the number of viewers skyrocketed. Fans, still reeling from the leaked photo and the ensuing chaos, flooded the chat with questions and worried emojis. San’s lives were usually energetic, filled with playful banter and updates on Ateez’s activities. This felt different.

The camera focused on San’s face, his expression uncharacteristically serious, his eyes holding a raw intensity that made viewers instantly fall silent. He was in what looked like a quiet corner of their dorm, the usual playful clutter noticeably absent. He took a deep breath, his gaze steady and direct.

“Atinys,” he began, his voice lower than usual, carrying a weight that commanded attention. “And… everyone else who is watching.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the unseen viewers. “Over the past few days, there has been a lot of… speculation and negativity online. Regarding the recent photos that were circulated.”

He didn’t name you directly, but everyone knew who he was talking about. The chat, which had been a torrent of messages moments before, slowed to a crawl, a collective holding of breath.

“I usually try to keep my personal life private,” San continued, his voice firm. “But the level of hate and maliciousness that has been directed towards… someone I care deeply about… it cannot be ignored.”

His jaw tightened. “So, I want to be clear about a few things. Firstly, the hateful comments, the personal attacks, the threats… they have gone too far. My company, KQ Entertainment, is already collecting evidence, and if this does not stop immediately, we will be taking strict legal action against those responsible. This is not a request; it is a warning.”

A hush fell over the internet. The mention of legal action, especially from a company known for its protective stance towards its artists, was a serious deterrent.

San’s gaze softened slightly, a hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. “Secondly,” he continued, his voice dropping a notch, becoming more personal. “I have seen a lot of unfair accusations being thrown around. Especially towards… her.”

He paused again, taking another deep breath. “So, let me be absolutely clear on this. She did not pursue me. She did not initiate anything. If anyone is to blame for… for us… it is me. I was the one who was captivated from the moment I saw her on stage. I was the one who sought her out. She didn’t confess; I did.”

The impact of his words was palpable. The narrative that had been so viciously constructed online, painting you as an opportunistic rookie, crumbled in an instant.

San’s expression hardened again, his eyes blazing with a fierce protectiveness. “Finally,” he said, his voice ringing with conviction. “The person you are all attacking… she is not some fantasy you have created in your minds. She is not some character in a story. She is a real person. She has feelings, she has dreams, she has worked incredibly hard to get where she is.”

He looked directly into the camera, his gaze unwavering. “And yes,” he stated, his voice firm and resolute, each word carrying weight. “She is mine.”

The internet seemed to hold its breath. The usual rapid-fire commentary in the live chat was replaced by a stunned silence. San’s raw honesty, his direct address of the hate, and his unequivocal declaration had landed like a shockwave.

Slowly, tentatively, the tide began to turn. The sheer force of his statement, coupled with the explicit threat of legal action, had a chilling effect. The most vicious hate comments began to subside, replaced by more cautious and uncertain messages. The fear of facing legal repercussions started to outweigh the anonymity and perceived impunity of online hate.

The narrative had shifted, propelled by San’s unwavering defense of the person he loved. The silence on the internet was heavy, pregnant with the aftermath of his words, and the dawning realization that they had crossed a line they might now have to answer for.

The moment San ended the live stream, the adrenaline that had coursed through him began to recede, leaving behind a raw ache of anxiety. Had he said too much? Had he made things worse for you? The uncertainty gnawed at him as he practically sprinted out of the dorm, his members watching with a mixture of concern and understanding. He didn't offer any explanations, his only focus was getting to you.

The drive to your dorm felt like an eternity. Every red light, every slow-moving car, amplified his fear. He imagined you alone, facing the fallout of the scandal, the weight of the hate, and now, the potential repercussions of his public declaration. He cursed himself for not being there sooner, for not being able to shield you from any of it.

Finally, he reached your building, his heart pounding in his chest. He practically flew up the stairs to your floor, his knuckles rapping urgently against your door. Every second felt like a lifetime.

The door creaked open, and there you stood. Your eyes were red-rimmed, and your face was pale, but the sight of him seemed to bring a flicker of relief. Before either of you could speak, he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a fierce protectiveness. He held you so close he could feel the tremor that ran through your body.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so, so sorry for all of this.”

You clung to him, burying your face in his chest, the familiar scent of his cologne a small anchor in the storm of your emotions. Your own voice was muffled against his jacket as you finally spoke.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, San-ah,” you whispered, your words catching on a sob. “You… you didn’t cause this.”

The dam of your carefully held emotions finally broke. Tears streamed down your face, hot and heavy against his shirt. The fear, the anger, the exhaustion of the past few days – it all poured out in a torrent of silent weeping.

He held you tighter, his hand stroking your hair soothingly. He didn’t try to stop your tears; he simply held you, offering a silent reassurance, a solid presence in your moment of vulnerability. He knew words were inadequate. What you needed was comfort, understanding, and the knowledge that you weren't alone.

He held you like that for a long time, until your sobs gradually subsided, leaving behind a quiet hiccuping. He gently pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own filled with a deep tenderness. He brushed a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“Are you… are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.

You managed a small, shaky nod. “Just… scared.”

“I know,” he whispered, pulling you back into his embrace. “I know. But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He stayed with you that night. You didn’t talk much, the silence filled with a comfortable understanding, a shared exhaustion. He held you close on your small couch, his presence a warm and reassuring weight. Sleep eventually claimed you both, a fragile peace found in each other’s arms amidst the wreckage of the scandal.

The aftermath of San’s live stream was a strange mix of relief and lingering tension. The most vitriolic hate comments online did indeed slow down, replaced by a hesitant uncertainty. The fear of legal action had cast a pall over the most aggressive antis. However, the underlying prejudice and negativity hadn’t vanished entirely.

In the days and weeks that followed, healing became a slow, deliberate process. You leaned on each other, finding strength in your shared experience. San was a constant source of support, his presence a quiet reassurance that helped to soothe your frayed nerves. You talked, tentatively at first, then more openly, sharing your fears and anxieties. He listened without judgment, offering comfort and unwavering support.

Your company, emboldened by San’s public stance and the threat of legal action, stepped up their efforts to protect you, increasing security and actively pursuing legal avenues against the most egregious offenders. The storm hadn't completely passed, but the intensity had lessened, a fragile calm beginning to settle in its wake. The healing had begun, nurtured by the quiet strength of your connection.

Eleven months. The memory of the scandal’s harsh glare had begun to soften around the edges, like a photograph left in the sun. In its place bloomed a quiet resilience, a steadfast focus on the music that truly defined you. The songs you’d poured your heart into during those months of healing, each note and lyric a testament to your journey, were finally seeing the light.

Your new album, a collection of melodies that whispered of romance and longing, resonated with a global audience in a way that surpassed all expectations. The vulnerability and emotions in your voice, the delicate arrangements, the raw honesty of your lyrics – they spoke a universal language of the heart. Fans, who had witnessed the subtle shifts in your music and your demeanor, intuitively understood the quiet inspiration woven into each track.

You watched, a profound sense of gratitude washing over you, as your album soared up international charts, your name now synonymous with a unique blend of idol charm and genuine musical artistry. The label of “rookie guitarist” had faded, replaced by the recognition of a rising star, your music captivating hearts across continents.

Throughout this whirlwind of success, San remained your unwavering anchor, your most enthusiastic supporter. His encouragement was a constant, a quiet strength that buoyed you through every demanding schedule and nerve-wracking performance. He’d be the first to text after a show, his messages a flurry of emojis and heartfelt praise. The Ateez dorm often echoed with your new tracks, his members offering good-natured teases while secretly humming along to the catchy melodies.

And when your solo concerts began, San made sure he was there. He’d often slip into the venue unnoticed, a face in the crowd, his gaze never leaving you as you commanded the stage. From the shadows, his phone would capture fleeting moments – the intense concentration etched on your face during a complex guitar solo, the radiant smile that bloomed when the audience sang your lyrics back to you, the sheer joy that radiated from you as you connected with your fans through your music. His phone gallery became a secret testament to your talent and the pride he felt.

One night, after an electrifying concert in Las Vegas, the energy between you and the roaring audience a tangible force, San felt an overwhelming wave of love and admiration. He wanted the world to know the depth of his feelings, the sheer luck he felt in having you in his life.

Back in his hotel room, the glittering cityscape spread out before him, he scrolled through the candid shots he’d taken that night. He selected a few that truly captured your essence – the focused intensity in your eyes as you played, the pure joy in your laughter as you interacted with the crowd, your silhouette a powerful presence against the vibrant stage lights.

He opened his public Instagram account, his thumb hovering over the share button. He wanted to express his feelings honestly, openly, for all to see. Finally, he typed a caption, his heart laid bare:

“Watching you shine so brightly tonight, Y/N, fills me with a happiness I can barely describe. Your talent is breathtaking, your passion is infectious, and the way you connect with everyone who hears your music is truly magical. I feel incredibly lucky, every single day, to have you in my life. You inspire me endlessly. ❤️🎸”

He attached the soft, candid photos, a public declaration of his love and admiration. The post went live, and the internet responded with an outpouring of warmth and support. Fans, who had long sensed the depth of your connection, were touched by his heartfelt words and the genuine pride that shone through.

The image of the charismatic idol so openly celebrating his partner resonated deeply, solidifying their perception of your relationship as a source of strength and inspiration. The rise of your star was no longer just your own triumph; it was a shared journey, a testament to the enduring power of love that had weathered the storm and now shone brightly for the world to witness.

The relentless pace of idol life often blurred into a continuous cycle of performances, recordings, and travel. But tucked away in the quiet corners of their shared apartment, a haven carved out amidst the chaos, existed a different reality – a space where the bright lights faded and the masks came off.

Tonight was one of those nights. You were curled up on the plush couch, a worn paperback novel open in your lap, bathed in the soft glow of a nearby lamp. San’s oversized hoodie swallowed your small frame, the sleeves pulled down over your hands. Your hair was piled messily on top of your head, secured with a stray hair tie, and your glasses rested on the bridge of your nose, your makeup-free skin looking soft and natural. You were completely absorbed in your book, oblivious to the world outside and the adoring gaze fixed upon you.

San, who had been quietly tinkering with some music equipment across the room, paused, his eyes drawn to the picture of domestic bliss you presented. A soft smile touched his lips. He reached for his phone, snapping a quick, candid photo of you, your brow furrowed in concentration as you turned a page.

Without a word, he opened his phone settings and set the photo as his wallpaper, a private reminder of the quiet joy you brought to his life. You remained engrossed in your book, completely unaware of his silent adoration and the new image gracing his phone screen.

A mischievous glint suddenly sparked in San’s eyes. He moved silently towards the couch, a playful grin spreading across his face. In one swift motion, he scooped you up in his arms, lifting you with surprising ease.

“San!” you exclaimed, your eyes widening in surprise as you were suddenly airborne. The book tumbled to the floor, landing with a soft thud.

He carried you the few steps to the bedroom, his grin widening with each flustered protest you made. “Operation: Relocate the Bookworm!” he declared in a mock-heroic voice. With a playful grunt, he gently tossed you onto the soft mattress.

You landed with a soft bounce, your glasses askew, your heart hammering in your chest. You stared up at him, wide-eyed and breathless. “Oh my god, San, I’m a virgin I don’t think you’ll fit—”

San froze mid-chuckle, his playful expression instantly morphing into one of utter shock. He stood there, a statue of bewildered surprise, his mouth slightly agape, his eyebrows practically reaching his hairline.

A beat of stunned silence hung in the air, broken only by your slightly panicked breathing. Then, a slow dawning of realization crossed San’s face, followed by a flicker of something akin to amusement struggling to break through the surprise.

“…I was trying to cuddle?” he finally managed, his voice a hesitant whisper, a bewildered question mark hanging in the air. He even gestured vaguely with his hands, as if demonstrating the concept of a platonic embrace.

Another beat of silence. Your eyes widened further, the color rising in your cheeks as the full implication of your utterly mortifying statement hit you. You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing the floor would swallow you whole.

San’s eyebrows shot up even higher. “…Wait,” he said slowly, his gaze searching yours with a mixture of disbelief and dawning understanding. “You’ve never—?” He trailed off, a slow, knowing smile starting to play on his lips.

Your face flushed a deep, uncontrollable crimson. You became a flustered mess of tangled limbs and stammered denials. “NO! I mean… I’m waiting… I—ugh! This is so unbelievably embarrassing! Can we just… can we just forget I said anything?” You buried your face in the pillows, mortified beyond words.

A soft chuckle rumbled in San’s chest, a sound that held genuine amusement but also a surprising tenderness. He gently sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to carefully pull you into his arms. You kept your face hidden, your cheeks burning like twin embers.

“Hey, sunshine,” he murmured softly, his lips brushing against your temple. “It’s okay. Really. There’s absolutely no pressure, no expectations. You take all the time you need, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” He held you close, his arms a comforting and reassuring embrace. He kissed your temple again, a lingering, tender gesture.

A playful smirk tugged at his lips, and a mischievous glint returned to his eyes. “But,” he whispered, his voice laced with amusement, “I am definitely teasing you about this forever. You know that, right? Like, for the rest of our lives.”

You groaned into his chest, but a small, reluctant smile finally broke through your embarrassment. “Oh, you wouldn’t dare,” you mumbled, though the lack of conviction in your voice betrayed you.

“Oh, I would dare,” he said, his chuckle deepening. “In fact, I’m already planning the anniversary celebrations for ‘The Night Sunshine Thought I Wouldn’t Fit.’” He punctuated his words with a playful squeeze.

You swatted playfully at his arm, your face still buried in his chest. “It’s not funny!”

“It’s a little funny,” he countered, his voice full of mirth. “Especially the look on your face. Priceless. I should have taken a picture.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe I still can? For posterity?” He made a mock attempt to reach for his phone.

You tightened your grip on his hoodie. “Don’t you even think about it, Choi San.”

He laughed, a warm, genuine sound that filled the room. “Alright, alright. My lips are sealed… for now. But just so you know, the next time we’re cuddling, and you look even remotely tense…” He trailed off suggestively, raising a playful eyebrow.

You playfully punched his arm again, a giggle escaping despite your lingering embarrassment. “You are the worst.”

“The worst… but you love me,” he finished, nuzzling his face into your hair.

You sighed contentedly, the warmth of his embrace chasing away the last vestiges of your mortification. “Unfortunately,” you mumbled into his chest.

“See? Admitted it,” he teased triumphantly. “Now, about that book you were reading… maybe we can cuddle and just read?” He emphasized the word “just” with a playful wink that you couldn’t see but could definitely feel in his tone.

You finally lifted your head, a genuine smile gracing your lips. “Maybe,” you said, leaning into him. “But if you even think about bringing up the ‘fitting’ thing again…”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Wouldn’t dream of it… for at least five minutes.”

You rolled your eyes, but the laughter bubbling in your chest was a testament to the comfortable, playful love that defined your quiet moments together, even the hilariously awkward ones. In the safe haven of their shared home, amidst the endless teasing and the deep, unwavering affection, their unique and tender story continued to unfold, one laugh, one cuddle, and one mortifyingly iconic misunderstanding at a time.

-- The end <33

789 notes · View notes

hybbart · 4 months ago

Text

Day 2655: As winter trucks on, everyone hauls up as the snow piles up in the city below...

Short story below the cut

Snow accumulated along the penthouse's enormous balconies, and the many large windows. Beyond was a landscape whited out by the frosty blanket, difficult to discern the shapes of any of the distant buildings through the heavy weather.

Tango's arm quietly ached. These days he could almost ignore it. Jimmy would chastise him if he knew, say it was not healthy, but what was there to do about it? hypocrite that he was, the avian had his own issues, even if it normally was not painful. They'd spent all morning pretending like Tango couldn't hear his unnaturally deep breaths, or that he'd turned his machine up higher. It was already high compared to before they'd been separated.

Today, though, was an okay day for Tango. He could almost ignore it. His prosthetic couldn't, but it was far too cold for it anyways. There was little to do while hauled up, he'd taken to hardly wearing it the past two weeks as the cold settled in. If not for their few chores and Jimmy's returning energy they'd both be hauled up in their room still.

But they still needed to clean and they still needed to eat. So, while he waited for False to return from taking care of the animals for them and the signal from Wels that his brother was still safely locked up, he cleaned. Plucked the dead leaves from the plants, moved muddy clothing to the laundry room, put away the last game they'd played, anything he saw that he could do.

Humming echoed from the hall, riding the same breeze that wafted a lovely smell of spices and meat. The last of a deer False had found. It was easy to mindlessly work with the smells and sounds of Jimmy cooking nearby. Or maybe it was just easier because he knew there was something tasty waiting at the end of it all. His thoughts were quick to get lost imagining the various dishes, unwilling to risk a fork getting thrown at him for interrupting to ask. It couldn't hurt, though, to take a peak..?

The room dimmed as great ruddy wings blocked the whiteout. False's terrifyingly sharp talons seemed like they might crush the railing beneath them, and Tango was silently glad Jimmy's were that of a songbird and not a raptor like their new companions. It wasn't as graceful as Wels' or Grian's landings either, the woman lurching slightly before hopping down to the ground. A few months ago Tango might not have noticed, but he'd seen the three avians come and go so often from that window he couldn't help notice the differences.

"All the chickens are accounted for, and your horse is fed." She announced, giving a salute with her smile that Tango returned.

"Thanks again for this." He said for the fourth time that day. "Jimmy can't even get himself off the ground this week, never mind carrying-"

"I told you it's fine." False waved him off as she slipped off her cap. even just the short flight from ground level to the 40th some-odd floor had it coated in a heavy blanket of snow.

Tango opened his mouth to protest but a yelp escaped instead, accompanied by clattering metal and plastic. It took them both a moment to realize it hadn't been him at all. Both spun towards the hall, a squeaky curse echoing. Tango was the first to rush forward.

Jimmy was leaned over the counter, head in one hand and the other limply stretched over the kitchen island where his leftovers bucket had spilled over the edge. His breaths came heavy and quick, much worse than earlier. Feathered ears twitched, well aware of his new company but unable to pick himself back up to say anything. At least until Tango had his arm around him. Then, he found the ability to give a weak protest, easily ignored as Tango guided him towards the bench-chest on the far wall.

Tango only glanced to False for a second, to check she had followed, "Go turn up the airificator." He directed.

"I'm fine." Jimmy wheezed. It was as though he'd just ran several miles, his hand clutched to his chest to catch a breath of air that would not come to him. "I just got a bit dizzy and dropped my knife."

"Is that all." Tango muttered, running his hands down Jimmy's tubes looking for any knots or breaks. A wing smacked his head until he backed away.

Jimmy huffed, though it wasn't entirely clear if it was frustration or his inability to breathe. "Just give me a minute! It's already high enough. I don't need to get used to it being even higher."

It was pure stubbornness. And if Tango was honest, he wasn't sure what to do with it. Normally it was himself being stubborn about his arm and Jimmy knocking sense into him. Jimmy could be as stubborn as a mule, but it'd never been directed at his health.

Sheepishly, False appeared around the corner. "I turned it up, there's not much room for higher, though."

"See?" Jimmy said pointedly. It was true, that it wasn't good for Jimmy to have it so high for extended time. But if that's what his body needed right now, then what could they do? Suffer and almost drop a knife on himself, apparently. Tango's brows knit together.

"You go lay down, I'll finish the cooking."

Jimmy balked. "You have one hand!"

"That's one more than you right now." He knelt down, allowing the hunched avian to look down on him. "It's not going to get better if you push yourself."

There was a look in his rancher's eyes, one that quickly shifted between several emotions until they were almost glassy, before he dropped his head, his grown out hair curtaining his face out of view. Tango sat there, running his hand up and down Jimmy's arm, until a weak voice escaped between gasps, "What if it doesn't?"

If it didn't? There wasn't much to be done if it didn't. They'd live with it like they did every time things became incrementally worse, and a bad day became a regular day. But if this was a regular day, what would be a bad day? Tango couldn't bring to let himself think about the thought that seemed to be consuming Jimmy at that moment. Not while Revy was still in the back of his mind. So, instead he says, "It will."

There was nothing in Jimmy's expression that conveyed any faith in those words.

"You need to let yourself rest." False interjected, hesitant to step forward when both men's eyes turned to her. She fiddled with the tube in her gloves, still having yet to even remove her coat. "Your lungs, if they're straining you need to let them rest for now, build up strength."

"For how long?" Muttered Jimmy, expression resigned. He'd already spent weeks in bed.

False wasn't one for complicated answers. "As long as it takes. You've been straining them for months, it'll take a while. And there's no better time to do it while we're all cooped up in here anyways."

"But it's just cooking. If I can't even do that-"

"Singing while running back and forth and wielding heavy utensils and pots? Your muscles aren't exactly in great shape either after that, it's probably taking it out of your entire body. And there's a difference between exercise and straining yourself."

She pushed he hand to her chest, "If you rest now I can help you with your breathing."

Both ranchers blinked in shock. "What?" Tango asked.

She ignored them at first, taking her time to pull off her scarf and coat, hanging both up on the back of a chair. Hands went to her clothed ribs, and she took a deep breath as her wings flexed. They stuttered, that same oddity Tango had noticed in her movement. "Look, you've met my sister, right? H?"

"Yeah..."

"Then you must have noticed she has a few less limbs." False nodded, fluttering her wings. "She's basic."

"That's a bit rude." Tango couldn't help joke, earning a shoulder bump from Jimmy to quiet down.

She groaned, and then threw her arms out, "I was born from an alteration of her genetics, I wasn't naturally an avian."

That made sense to Tango, knowing what they could do to Doc when he was already alive. It quickly cascaded, other pieces of the puzzle clicking into place.

"I had to learn things you already know, and make up for things that didn't quite take. This included an obnoxious amount of physical therapy, especially dedicated to lung capacity." She put her hands on her hips, taking in a deep breath as if it were an example of her newfound capabilities before releasing. "I don't exactly know all the doctor-y mumbo jumbo behind how it all works, and we don't have all the big fancy equipment, but I know what helped me and what will probably help you some."

"False..." Jimmy sounded torn, and Tango couldn't blame him. It was hard to have any hope after living with his lung damage for seven years, steadily watching it get worse and worse. Their conditions had been very different, but was there really something False could offer that Scar hadn't already offered them in the past? How much was there that she could realistically do? At some point there had to be nothing at all. But it was tempting, even if just to get back to what it had been before, or at the very least prevent it from getting worse. There wasn't much farther it could fall, after all, any lifeline looks tempting.

"It's worth a shot, innit?" She shrugged, giving a tentative smile. "It's the least I could do, is at least try. At worst it does nothing."

"At worst I get my hopes up." Jimmy sighed, leaning his head against Tango. It seemed his body was beginning to decide for him that it was time to rest.

Tango brought his hand up to his rancher's hair, running his claws through the long strands in comfort. Whatever you want to do, I support it. That was how they always operated, wasn't it? He let his tail curl around Jimmy's talons. "I think either way, for now rest is in order."

That Jimmy found the strength to grumble about. "Fine, all of you can go hungry. I don't care."

"That's the spirit!" Tango chirped, hauling the whining avian to his feet. He couldn't pick him up with only one arm, so he resigned to dragging him down the hall. He stopped as they reached False, giving her a grateful smile before shuffling past her. He hissed as his stump bumped against the wall. Jimmy's head shot up immediately. "It's fine, I'm used to it." Tango strained to say through the jolt of pain. He'd forgotten just how tender it had been that day.

"You shouldn't be used to it." Jimmy chastised. "It's not healthy."

Tango gaped at him then burst out laughing, "Okay, Mister Hypocrite. Time to go to bed."

"Excuse me!"

#solidaritygaming #tango tek #falsesymmetry #team rancher #rancher apocalypse au #fanart #fanfic #biopunk #character #scene #background #art #writing #sketch #colour #Hybbart

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vantetaes · 4 months ago

Text

SPRING FLING🫧🥂

COUNTRY BOY! EREN X CITY GIRL BLACK FEM READER

SUMMARY!!! yn goes back to visit what once was her home 15 years ago, only to meet a new face.

WARNINGS!!! 18+!!! high sexual themes! oral (f receiving), penetration, slow burn before smut

a part of you missed it. waking up to the fresh smell of sausage sizzling in hot grease while grits simmered on a burner next to it. feeling the cool summer breeze whip around your sweltering body from playing kickball in the large mowed field with some of the towns kids. drinking freshly squeezed lemonade your grandmother made before tending to her garden.

as the driver slowly approaches your grandparents estate, your heart couldn’t help but to let up a little. the large white house still sat perfectly on their plot of land.

“yn, sweetheart!” the houses screen door flys open with a screech. your grandmother dressed in a flowing white dress, tan beach hat, arm decorated with small gold bangles and her wedding band catching rays of sun.

the driver places his car in park, opening his door to retrieve your suitcase from the trunk. hopping out of the yellow vehicle, the older lady meets you halfway. wrinkled hands caressing your face, she smiles.

“it’s been too long. you’re all grown up on us!”

before anything could leave your lips, a grunt comes from around the bend of the house. your grandfather, covered in motor oil and dirt caked overalls. he removes his gloves, walking towards you and his wife, smile reaching his ears.

“ah i would hug ya honey but im dirtier than the pigs!”

your grandparents liked the life they lived away from the city. the way they could sit on the wrap around porch, grandfather sipping a beer and grandmother some lemonade, their towns newspaper tucked in their palms. watching as the sun ducked their bright red barn, casting a golden glow over the crops and animals grazing on the lush landscape. the stars peeking through transparent clouds, moon creating its atmosphere in the sky.

your grandmother enjoyed picking fresh fruits from her orchard, baking pies and making jams with the delectable fruits. your grandfather loved the lake that sat on the other side of the large property. growing up you’d grown to love these things about them.

as for yourself? you wouldn’t be caught dead doing half the things they do.

your career path led you to pharmaceutical consulting. working for one of the biggest companies in the world. it wasn’t something you enjoyed, but it funded the life you wanted.

living in a penthouse, well off from the city below you. the work was intense, demanding, and you needed to stay on top of it. anyone is replaceable in jobs such as those.

which is why you put in every single pto hour you had into a month long vacation.

to the middle of nowhere.

the wheels of the suitcase clank against the wooden stairs as your grandfather lugs it up the flight. following behind the older lady, excitement bubbles out of your grandmother while she quickens her pace, rushing to the door at the end of the hallway.

when she pushes the door open, it gives way easily, the hinges murmuring softly. the air that greets you is faintly cool, laced with the sweet scent of spring. someone had left the large french windows cracked open, the lace curtains drifting in slow, ghostly ripples.

“just like you left it, darlin’!” the lady says cheerfully.

stepping in feels like stepping back into a memory too fragile to hold in your hands. the room is pale, almost dreamlike. soft white walls, still wearing faint shadows of posters long torn away, frame the space. A canopy bed sits against the far wall, its sheer, pastel pink and ivory drapes spilling down like delicate water, pooled at the floor as if waiting for someone to step through them. the bed itself is made, layered with quilts of faint creams and frilly edges, whispering of afternoons spent sprawled on its surface with a book or diary.

“mary anne, we gotta get back to town to pick up some more feed for the chickens! ‘for the sun go down! i ain’t got my glasses either.” after placing your suitcase inside the threshold, your grandfather gives the back of your head a slight hold before placing a small kiss to the top.

“okay! okay! you ain’t gotta rush, clyde!” the two eventually leave you alone to unpack and do as you need.

to the right, a dresser waits, its porcelain knobs cool and familiar, though you can see chips where small hands must have struck too hard, too often. a vintage vanity mirrors the scene beside it, its surface cluttered with an array of glass perfume bottles, now dulled with dust. the mirror above has started to haze, its edges flecked with age, but you can still catch glimpses of yourself. a cushioned stool still sits beneath, its ruffled seat faded and threadbare.

the light here is alive. golden and warm, it pours through the cracked windows, catching on floating dust motes that swirl like restless fireflies. outside, unseen branches scratch faintly against the frame, their new leaves brushing with the weightlessness of spring. the breeze curls in through the cracks, carrying the faintest hints of magnolia and freshly turned earth, slipping beneath the canopy and rustling the skirts of the curtains.

there’s a rug in the center of the room, its edges frayed, and around it—near bookshelves that haven’t been touched in years—small details stand out like relics: a porcelain music box with its lid still half-open, a stuffed rabbit missing one eye perched on the window seat. all of it feels caught in a quiet kind of waiting.

your footsteps are softened by the wooden floor beneath, the boards groaning faintly under your weight. you look around and inhale deeply. it smells faintly of lavender, of clean linens, freshly cut grass, and mahogany wood.

the hot water washes away the weight of the morning and plane rides, the steam curling in soft, misty clouds that cling to the glass. you stand under the spray longer than you need to, letting it loosen muscles you hadn’t realized were tight, letting it strip the last remnants of dust from your skin. when you finally step out, the room feels cooler, the steam clinging to the mirror and walls in beads of condensation.

lathing your body in cocoa butter and applying a fair amount of lip balm.

you pull on something simple: a soft white tank top and a pair of loose cerulean cotton shorts, light enough to let the sun find your skin. carefully pulling your shower cap off, the water droplets falling down to your shoulders, running off your moisturized skin. you grab a new bottle of sunscreen from your spwarled out suitcase, the book ‘if cats disappeared from the world’, and your black chanel sunglasses.

as you make your way barefoot down the creaking staircase, everything tucked in between your arm. the house warm and bright in a way that feels both lived-in and empty. you’re halfway to the back porch when the front door swings open, and your grandparents call for your attention.

“hey, hold up a minute-” your grandfather says, pausing just inside the doorway, his hat in one hand and the keys to the truck jangling in the other. Your grandmother lingers behind him, hands resting on her hips, her face soft but serious.

“-we’re headed into town for a bit.” she says. “need some supplies for the farm and a few other things.”

you nod, shifting your weight onto one foot as you glance toward the back porch, toward the promise of sun and quiet.

“‘fore you run off-” your grandfather adds, pulling the hat onto his head.

“one of the town boys is ‘posed to be stoppin’ by. hes gone take a look at the barn, see about fixin’ up some of the beams we been neglectin’.”

“you’ll know him when you see him.” she says, a touch warily.

“so just keep an eye out. he’s probably fine, but you know how folks can be.”

something about their tone. half warning, half habit. makes you bristle. you know how quickly people judge someone based on a name, a family, a shadow cast long before them.

“all right.” you say lightly, hoping to end the conversation before it becomes something heavier.

“i’ll be outside if he shows up.”

your grandmother nods, giving you one last lingering look, and then they’re gone—boots on the porch steps, the truck’s engine growling to life and disappearing down the road. you linger by the door for a moment, watching the dust settle in the empty yard. the house feels quieter now, a little too still.

when you turn toward the back porch, the sunlight calls to you again, warm and golden, a balm for whatever comes next.

the back door opens swiftly, letting in gusts of spring air to sweep across the floors. trudging through the plains of grass tickling your thighs, you find yourself at the small floating pond your grandfather built. it sat in front of the large red barn, creating a scene of what farm living actually is.

the pond is fairly quiet, except for the hum of cicadas and the faint lapping of water against its banks. the cows deep moo a little in the distance. the sun hangs high, drenching everything in gold, and the heat wraps around you like a second skin.

you’re stretched out on a reclined lawn chair, a thin towel draped beneath you to catch the sweat. your sunglasses shield your eyes, and a book rests open in your hands, though the words blur a little under the laziness of the afternoon. a half eaten sandwich and a glass of fresh strawberry lemonade sweats beside you, the condensation leaving rings of water on the tiny wooden table. it’s sweet and cold against your tongue, a small relief in the heaviness of the heat.

your top is flung casually over the back of the chair, leaving you in a white bathing suit, comfortable and unbothered as you let the sun soak into your skin. the soft breeze off the water kisses your shoulders every now and then, rustling the pages of your book.

it isn’t until the sharp, uneven sound of boots on gravel carries over the quiet that you lift your sunglasses, brow pinching.

at first, you only catch a shadow moving toward you from the far side of the reservoir. someone tall, broad-shouldered, and clearly not your grandparents.

“hey!” the voice calls, deep but rough, like he hasn’t spoken much today.

you sit up a little straighter, your sunglasses slipping down the bridge of your nose as you look him over. he’s closer now, close enough for you to see the sharp lines of his face, the way dark hair falls a little too messily over his forehead. he’s wearing a plain t-shirt, worn jeans stained at the knees, and scuffed boots that kick up small puffs of dirt as he moves. there’s a toolbox in his hand, which he sets down carelessly at his feet.

“you’re, uh…-” he trails off, scanning you quickly before looking away, his jaw tight. he was issued to seeing old people on this property. but you were a sight for sore eyes. he couldn’t help but fixate his green eyes back onto you. watching as the beads of condensation dripped from the glass to your exposed cleavage, sliding down between your moisturized boobs. that were too big for the swim top your sported. his eyes fed off the way your e/c* eyes shined in the light under the black shields, lips glistening under the rays.

“im here for the barn. your grandparents said someone would be around.” his words are tight and frigid.

you blink, caught between annoyance and curiosity.

“yeah, they mentioned you.” you let your sunglasses slide back into place, leaning back in the chair as if his presence hasn’t disrupted anything.

“didn’t realize you’d be here so soon.”

“you’re welcome.” he mutters, a hint of sarcasm threading through the words as he squats to grab the toolbox.

you raise a brow, bristling.

“didn’t say i was thanking you.”

that makes him pause, glancing up through his lashes like he can’t decide whether to be amused or annoyed. a scoff releases from his lips.

“you sure are a real warm welcome, huh? and you’re reading a book about.. cats?”

“and you’re a little grumpy for someone who just got here. not that it’s any of your concern, i prefer cats over mutts.”

he huffs out a breath, maybe a laugh, but it’s hard to tell, and shakes his head, muttering something you can’t quite hear. you watch as he straightens up again, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead as if to dismiss you entirely.

“look, i’ll stay outta your way. just here to fix the barn, ma’am.” he says, nodding toward the distant structure.

“you can go back to… whatever this is.” his gaze flickers briefly over your lemonade, the book, your sprawled-out figure in the sun, before he turns on his heel and starts walking toward the barn.

you glare after him, irritation bubbling to the surface. the nerve of him, showing up out of nowhere with a chip on his shoulder like you’re the one invading his day.

“you’re welcome.” you call after him pointedly, though he doesn’t stop, just throws a hand up in a half-hearted wave of dismissal.

the barn door groans open in the distance, and you sink back into your chair with a huff, flipping your book shut. for the first time all day, the quiet doesn’t feel so peaceful anymore.

he had been long gone by the time your grandparents arrived back at the house. watching the sun set on the horizon out of the kitchen windows, casting a warm orange and pink hue to the house. you couldn’t help but to think about how strange of an interaction that was today.

“some’ wrong, darlin’?” your grandfather asks, pulling apart a small peice of his dinner roll, slipping it into his mouth.

“nothing papa. just tired i think. not really used to the time difference again.”

the kitchen smells like sugar, butter, and lemon zest. thick and warm in the morning light streaming through the windows. you stand beside your grandmother at the granite counter, your hands dusted in flour as you work a soft, pliable ball of dough, rolling it carefully under her watchful gaze. the little puffs of flour catch the light as they float lazily to the counter, turning the morning into something hazy and dreamlike. outside, the morning doves are already humming, and the breeze carries the faintest whiff of honeysuckle through the cracked window above the sink.

“not too thin now, dear.” your grandmother says gently, leaning over to inspect your work. her hair is pinned back neatly, and there’s a streak of flour on her cheek that she hasn’t noticed.

“these tarts need some structure, or they’ll fall apart ‘fore they make it to the church. we can’t have a lock in with no tarts, honey.”

“yes, ma’am.” you mutter, suppressing a small smile as you focus on the dough, guiding it into perfect little circles for the tart shells.

the table is cluttered with bowls and ingredients. deep red raspberries, bright and glistening, piled in a pale ceramic dish; a glass juicer with lemon pulp still clinging to its grooves; a small jar of sugar, the lid left slightly askew. your grandmother moves around the kitchen like she always has. calm, methodical, humming a hymn under her breath as she fills the air with the scent of baking pastry. you help her spoon the tart mixture into the shells, carefully pressing a few raspberries into each before she slides them into the oven, her hands covered in oven mitts patterned with sunflowers.

while the tarts bake, she chats softly about who will be at the church service, about old friends and new faces, her voice lilting as if trying to bridge the years that you’ve been gone. it’s comforting, her easy way of speaking, and you let it wash over you as you wipe down the counters, the scent of caramelizing sugar growing richer by the minute.

“i really appreciate your help this mornin’.” her sweet voice fills the silence.

your grandfather appears in the doorway just as you’re checking the tarts, a small grin tucked beneath his mustache. hes holding a set of keys. old, scratched, and gleaming faintly in his calloused hand.

“got something for ya.” he says, the words light but carrying a weight that makes you stop mid-step.

your grandmother glances over her shoulder, smiling softly as if she’s been expecting this.

“go on, now. see what he’s got.”

you follow your grandfather outside, the morning sun already high and hot, the light pooling across the gravel driveway. parked just off to the side of the house is a truck—not new by any stretch of the imagination, but clean, its pale blue paint shining faintly in the sunlight. it’s an older model, rounded and boxy in that classic way, and you can see where he’s spent hours tinkering with it. fresh tires, a polished hood, the faint scent of oil and steel lingering in the air.

“you’re givin’ me this?” you ask, a little breathless.

“sure am.” he replies, pressing the keys into your palm with a nod that’s gruff but affectionate.

“i’ve been workin’ on it a few months now. runs smooth s’ever. figured you might want somethin’ to get around while you’re here.”

the gesture hits you harder than you expect, and you swallow against the sudden warmth building in your chest.

“thank you,” you say softly, running your fingers over the keys before looking back at him.

he pats your shoulder in that firm, no-nonsense way of his.

“you go on, take her for a spin. just don’t let it sit idle too long, y’hear?”

you decide you can’t possibly drive your new truck around town in the same pajama bottoms and rumpled tank top you’ve been in since morning. after a quick shower, you stand in front of the mirror in your childhood bedroom, brushing your hair as the sun filters softly through the lace curtains. you choose something easy. a flowy white sundress, the fabric soft against your skin, cinched at the waist, flaring out below. it’s the kind of dress that moves when you walk, catching the breeze and making you feel like youre floating. slipping on tan sandals and grabbing your sunglasses.

sliding into the truck feels surreal, the leather of the driver’s seat warm beneath your legs as you turn the ignition. the engine rumbles to life with a satisfying purr, and you grip the wheel with a grin you can’t quite suppress.

the drive into town is nothing short of idyllic. the windows are rolled down, the warm breeze tugging at your hair and the hem of your dress as you cruise past fields of tall grass and wildflowers. radio crackles softly, static giving way to an old country song you don’t recognize but hum along to anyway. the town comes into view slowly. a handful of streets lined with brick buildings, white picket fences, and storefronts with painted signs. it’s small and familiar, a place where everyone knows everyone, and yet it feels entirely new through your eyes.

you park the truck just off the main street, slipping the keys into your bag before heading toward the square. the town is quiet, but there’s enough movement to remind you that life trickles on here. people chatting on porches, kids weaving through alleys on their bikes, a group of guys sitting on the bed of an old truck parked near the general store.

you don’t notice them at first, too busy taking in the details of the place. but their voices, loud and lazy—drift over as you pass.

“well, well.” one of them drawls, amusement curling through the words.

“ain’t expect to see you all the way out here.”

you glance over sharply, your gaze landing on none other than him. eren jaeger. leaned back against the tailgate of the truck, his arms crossed and a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. his friends exchange looks that border on curious and entertained.

“didn’t expect you to talk to me.” you shoot back without missing a beat, stopping just a few feet away.

eren raises a brow, clearly enjoying this already.

“oh, don’t worry. i’m just surprised you’re not still sunbathing by the pond, princess.”

“princess? it’s yn to you. and all of you.” you repeat, folding your arms across your chest.

“also, big talk for someone who can’t even find full jeans.” your acrylic points to the dirty man-made holes decorating the boys jeans.

that earns you a snort of laughter from one of his friends, but eren just tilts his head slightly, the smirk never faltering.

“guess you’re still mad about yesterday. why you so upset at me, darlin’?”

“mad? please.” you say, rolling your eyes. “nothing even happened.”

“mmh. sure you aren’t.” he says, pushing off the tailgate to stand up fully, his height a little more imposing up close. there’s something sharp about him. his voice, his gaze, but beneath it is something else, something less certain. you get the feeling he’s used to being looked at sideways, just like your grandparents warned you about.

“you always this charming, or is it just for me?” you ask, tipping your chin up slightly. eyes meeting his low green ones.

he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as his friends snicker quietly behind him.

“you’re somethin’ else.” he mutters, more to himself than to you. turning on your heels, you rush to excape the uncomfortable encounter.

“see you around, princess.”

the next day stretches out slow and quiet. the house feels bigger without your grandparents, their absence leaving a stillness that clings to every corner. you’ve taken full advantage of the solitude, padding barefoot through the rooms in an oversized t-shirt and little else. the fabric brushes against your thighs as you move, worn soft with age, like an old friend. the back of the shirt reads something about a fishing derby from a year that predates you, and you’ve rolled the sleeves haphazardly up your shoulders, letting the collar slip wide against your collarbone.

you spend the morning lazing on the couch, your legs sprawled across the cushions as you flip halfheartedly through a book you aren’t really reading. somewhere outside, birds chatter, and the cicadas hum their slow, pulsing chorus.

it’s the kind of day where time feels like it doesn’t exist. you shuffle into the kitchen whenever you’re hungry, toast a bagel you don’t finish, drink lemonade straight from the pitcher, and leave the radio on low just to fill the silence. some soft, crooning voice filters through the speakers, adding to the lazy weight of the afternoon.

you’re perched on the arm of the couch, knees drawn up to your chest, flipping through an old fashion magazine you found tucked in a drawer when the knock comes, sharp and sudden against the door.

it startles you, your head snapping up as the noise echoes through the quiet house. the second knock follows quickly, impatient this time. you glance toward the clock on the wall, but it’s no help, just another reminder that time isn’t real today.

frowning, you slide off the couch, tugging the hem of your t-shirt self-consciously as you head toward the door. the knob feels cool beneath your fingers as you pull it open just far enough to see who it is.

and there he is.

eren, standing on your grandparents’ front porch like he belongs there, though his posture suggests otherwise. hes got one hand braced against the doorframe, his other hooked loosely in the pocket of his jeans. a thin white t-shirt clings to him in the heat, faint smudges of dirt streaked across the fabric like he’s been working outside all day. his dark hair looks even messier than it did before. some tucked into the cowboy hat, other strands falling over his forehead and curling faintly from the humidity.

for a moment, he doesn’t say anything, his gaze catching on your bare legs before he flicks his eyes up to meet yours. his expression shifts, something unreadable dancing just beneath the surface. you realize too late how you must look: hair messy, t-shirt oversized and sliding off your shoulder, a little breathless from having rushed to the door.

“what?” you say finally, crossing your arms over your chest as if that might protect you from the way he’s looking at you.

“nice greeting.” he says dryly, his voice low and a little rough around the edges.

“well, you did show up uninvited.” you shoot back, arching a brow.

“what do you want?”

eren exhales through his nose, almost like he’s amused but trying not to show it.

“your grandparents asked me to stop by. said there’s a busted pipe in the barn and they didn’t want to wait until they got back to fix it.”

you frown, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe.

“and they sent you?”

“clearly.” his lips twitch, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“believe it or not, i know how to do more than just piss you off.”

you roll your eyes, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“well, the barn’s out back. you know where it is. the big. red. building.”

“i do. smartass.” he says, but he doesn’t move, and there’s a spark of something in his eyes. mischief, maybe. that makes you suddenly aware of just how much skin your t-shirt doesn’t cover.

“what?” you ask again, sharper this time.

“nothing.” he shrugs, the movement lazy as he pushes off the doorframe and takes a step back.

“just didn’t peg you for the type to lounge around in your underwear all day. but what do i know? you wore a bikini outside.”

heat flashes across your cheeks instantly, and you grip the edge of the door tighter.

“it’s not underwear, creep. it’s comfortable.”

“sure.” he says, smirk fully formed now as he starts toward the barn, hands tucked into his pockets.

“looks real… comfortable.”

you slam the door before he can say anything else, the wood rattling in the frame.

“asshole.” you mutter under your breath, but your voice is drowned out by the sound of his boots on the gravel, his laughter carrying faintly through the cracked window.

the hum of the radio drifts on, and sunlight still slants through the windows, but something about the space feels restless now. like the air has been disturbed and won’t settle again. you find yourself standing by the door, chewing your lip and staring at nothing in particular.

it’s curiosity, you decide. that’s all it is. you’re just curious about him. about the boy who showed up at your door unannounced, dripping sarcasm like it’s second nature, as though he thrives on pressing your buttons. that’s why, after pacing the kitchen once or twice, you tug on a pair of shoes and head outside.

the barn stands at the back of the property, worn and familiar, its paint faded and roof patched with tin that glints under the afternoon sun. the gravel crunches beneath your feet as you cross the yard, your shadow stretching long ahead of you. you can hear him before you see him. something clattering against metal, followed by a low muttered curse that drifts out through the open barn doors.

you pause just outside, peeking around the corner. eren is crouched low near the base of a wooden post, his toolbox spread out beside him, sleeves shoved up to his elbows. sweat glistens faintly along the line of his neck, dark hair curling slightly against his temple, though he seems too focused on whatever he’s fixing to notice you.

“i hope you don’t talk to the pipes like that.” you say, stepping into the doorway.

eren glances up sharply, his eyes narrowing as soon as he sees you.

“what are you doing in here?”

“just checking on you.” you lean against the frame, arms crossed, the hem of your t-shirt fluttering faintly in the breeze.

“you could be in here stealing, for all I know.”

he snorts, turning back to the pipe.

“yeah, im gonna steal an old tractor and a pile’a hay. that’ll really set me up for life.”

“you’ve got the attitude for it.” you shoot back.

eren doesn’t respond right away, just reaches into his toolbox and pulls out a wrench, testing the pipe with a faint metallic screech. you take the opportunity to wander further into the barn, your bare legs brushing against the dust-speckled air, the smell of earth and old wood thick in your nose.

“don’t distract me.” he mutters after a moment, though there’s no real heat in it.

“distract you from what?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him.

“you seem like you know what you’re doing.”

“i do.” he replies quickly, then pauses to glance up at you again, that familiar edge of sarcasm tugging at his voice.

“but I don’t need you hovering over me like a supervisor.”

“im not hovering.” you say, wandering toward the ladder that leads up to the loft. You trail your fingers along a beam as you go, the wood rough and splintered beneath your touch.

“im just… observing.”

“observing me.” he corrects, the corner of his mouth twitching.

you shrug, tilting your head to look at him.

“maybe. you’re hard to figure out.”

“well… why are ya tryin’ t’figure me out?” he fires back, turning his full attention to you now. his gaze is sharp, but there’s something behind it. something curious, like he’s trying to pick you apart the same way you’re doing to him.

you hesitate, feeling your face heat up despite yourself.

“im just bored.”

“bored ?” eren repeats, his voice dry.

“well, sorry im not here to entertain you, princess.”

you bristle at the nickname, pushing off the beam to face him fully.

“will you quit calling me that?”

“what?” he says, smirking now. “does it bother you?”

“obviously.”

“good.” he huffs a quiet laugh under his breath, shaking his head as he goes back to the pipe, adjusting the wrench with a sharp twist. the muscles in his forearm flex with the movement, beads of sweat dripping from his body.

“you’re insufferable.” you mutter, rolling your eyes as you turn and start to climb the ladder to the loft. the wood creaks faintly under your hands and feet, but you ignore it, needing to put a little distance between you and him.

“where are you going?” he calls from below, sounding more amused than anything.

“away from you!” you shout back, hoisting yourself onto the loft and brushing the dust from your knees. the space is dim, beams of sunlight filtering through the slats in the walls, catching on cobwebs and hay strewn across the floor. you sink down near the edge, letting your legs dangle as you glance back down at him.

“don’t worry. i won’t distract you from all your hard work.”

eren glances up at you with a look that’s half exasperation, half something else. he stands, tossing the wrench back into his toolbox with a faint clatter.

“or you could just gone back in the house. you’re a real piece’a work, you know that?”

“you’re one to talk.” you shoot back, swinging your feet slightly.

“you act like you hate me, but you keep showing up.”

“i don’t hate you and i keep showing up for your folks, not you.” he mutters, scrubbing the back of his hand across his forehead as he looks away.

“you just talk too much.”

“and you’re just cranky.”

he lets out a soft laugh, one that seems to surprise even him. when he looks back at you, his expression is different, though it’s hard to tell in the dappled light of the barn.

“you don’t know anything about me.” he says finally, his voice quieter this time.

you tilt your head, studying the man below you.

“maybe not. but I know you’re not as bad as everyone says you are.”

eren stiffens slightly at that, his jaw ticking as he averts his gaze. for a moment, the only sound is the wind pressing against the barn, rattling the boards, and the distant hum of cicadas.

“you don’t know that either. and what about you, huh? showing’ up outta nowhere. bein’ as bossy as you are?” he says eventually, his tone flat.

“im a pretty good judge of character. and i used to live here. a lot changes in fifteen years.”

he scoffs, but there’s no real bite to it.

“you’re annoying.”

“and yet you’re still here.” you say, letting a smile creep onto your face.

the loft creaks beneath you, but you don’t think much of it at first. it’s old, worn by years of weight and weather, and the barn itself seems to hum with the memory of its age. eren is below, fiddling with his toolbox, muttering curses under his breath as he wrestles with some stubborn pipe or post. you’re perched on the edge of the loft, legs dangling as you watch him, not bothering to hide your smirk.

“you’re taking forever.” you tease, your voice carrying through the barn.

eren pauses, glancing up with an annoyed glare.

“if you think you can do it faster, darlin’ , be my guest.”

“oh, i didn’t say that.” you reply, leaning back with a huff of satisfaction.

“i’m just observing how inefficient you are.”

he mutters something under his breath, shaking his head, and you’re about to push his buttons again when the sharp sound of splintering wood freezes you. the beam beneath you gives a slow, aching groan. erens head shoots up, noticing the lift giving in right where you sat.

you don’t have time to react. the wood cracks loudly, shattering the stillness, and suddenly you’re falling.

it happens in a rush. your stomach lurching, air rushing past you, hands scrambling for anything to grab. you hit something solid but not the ground. the impact knocks the wind out of you, but there are arms around you, holding you tightly.

“jesus christ!” eren’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and alarmed. “are you stupid?”

your brain catches up slowly, heart still slamming against your ribs as you look up to find eren staring down at you. his face is just inches from yours, his arms wrapped firmly around you where he caught you before you could hit the floor.

“i—” you start to say, but the words catch in your throat.

eren lets out a breath, long and shaky, as he lowers you carefully to the barn floor. his hands linger at your sides, steadying you. “are you okay?”

you try to nod, but then you feel it. the sharp, searing pain radiating up your leg. you wince, shifting slightly, and his eyes dart downward.

“you’re hurt.” he says flatly.

“no, i’m fine,” you lie, but as soon as you move your leg, the pain worsens. you look down to see a gash along your shin, blood streaking your skin where the wood must have splintered against you.

eren notices immediately.

“shit-” he mutters, reaching for you before you can protest. “don’t move.”

“eren, i’m fine,” you insist, but your voice wavers when you try to put weight on your leg.

“yeah, sure you are,” he shoots back, already scooping you up before you can argue. his arms slide beneath your knees and back, lifting you effortlessly.

“stop squirming, unless you wanna make this worse.”

you freeze, stunned at the way he carries you, like you weigh nothing at all. his face is set, focused, though you swear you can see a flicker of concern beneath the irritation.

“you don’t have to carry me.” you mumble, feeling heat creep up your neck.

he doesn’t look at you. “and what, let you drag yourself back to the house? don’t be stupid. now imma have to fix up the loft.”

the walk back to the house feels longer than usual, the silence stretching between you save for the crunch of his boots against the dirt. you steal glances at him—at the way his brow furrows in concentration, at the way his arms flex slightly beneath your weight. his grip is careful, like he’s afraid of jostling you too much.

“you’re really dramatic, you know.” you say quietly, trying to lighten the mood.

eren snorts, glancing down at you with a raised brow.

“me? you’re the one who decided to fall through the damn barn.”

“it wasn’t a choice.” you mutter, pouting slightly.

“whatever you say, princess.”

he carries you through the front door like it’s nothing, kicking it open with his boot before setting you down gently on the couch. the shift makes you wince, and he notices, crouching beside you immediately.

“last door on the left, under the sink.”

“stay put.” he says, voice low but firm, before disappearing into the bathroom.

you sigh, leaning your head back against the cushions as the adrenaline starts to wear off, leaving behind nothing but the dull ache in your leg and the embarrassment settling deep in your chest.

when eren comes back, he’s holding the first aid kit and a damp towel. he drops onto the floor in front of you, his knees brushing the edge of the couch as he sets everything down.

“this might sting.” he warns, wetting the towel before carefully pressing it to your shin.

you hiss through your teeth, nails curling into the couch cushion. “you could be a little gentler, you know.”

“i am being gentle.” he says, though his tone lacks its usual bite. he works quickly, cleaning the blood and dirt from the scrape before carefully dabbing it dry.

you watch him quietly as he unwraps a roll of gauze, his movements surprisingly careful, his expression softer than you’ve seen before.

“you didn’t have to do all this.” you say softly.

eren doesn’t look up, focused on securing the bandage.

“yeah, well. you’re not exactly good at taking care of yourself.”

“is that your way of saying you care?”

he pauses for half a second, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. the look he gives you is unreadable, but there’s something there. something warm.

“just… don’t do anything stupid like that again.” he mutters, his gaze dropping back to the bandage.

you bite back a smile, watching as he finishes and sits back on his heels. his hands linger on your leg for a moment, testing to make sure the gauze is secure before he finally stands.

“thanks.” you say quietly, your voice soft.

eren just shrugs, grabbing the first aid kit and standing to his full height. “don’t mention it.”

you try to mimic his movements, grabbing onto the arm of the couch for support until the pain shoots you right back down. eren wastes no time meeting you at eye level again, frowing a little.

“you need to stay put. stop being so damn hardheaded, yn.”

“finally you use my name.” his eyes burn deep holes into yours, brown chunks of hair framing his face.

“eh. i still like princess.”

he pauses, just for a second, as if he’s considering something. then he turns, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

“both are real pretty though.” he mutters, but his voice is quieter now, softer. there’s an edge of something else there, something that’s hard to place.

you feel your heart pick up, and before you can even process the thought, before you can even think to stop him, he’s closing the space between you. his hand comes to rest gently on the side of your face, and then, with surprising tenderness, he leans in. the kiss is slow, hesitant at first. just a brush of lips against yours. but it deepens quickly, and for a moment, it feels like time itself is holding its breath. maybe you were holding your breath. his hand curls around the back of your neck, and you instinctively lean into him, eyes fluttering shut as the warmth of his lips presses against yours, soft and urgent.

the kiss is over almost as soon as it started, and when he pulls back, his face is so close to yours that you can feel his breath on your skin. his eyes are dark, a little unsure, but there’s something raw there too.

“eren?” you whisper, breathless, unsure of what to say, what to do with the sudden surge of emotions.

he doesn’t speak at first, just looks at you like he’s trying to figure you out. his fingers linger against your skin for a second too long before he pulls away, stepping back.

“um, guess i’ll get going then.” he says, voice low, almost like he’s unsure of himself for the first time.

he basically rushes out the front door, leaving you with a bloody gauze pad wrapped around your shin and a sense of confusion.

the farmer’s market buzzes softly with life. the air smells of ripe peaches and freshly baked bread, and the sunlight filters through the trees, dappled and golden. you weave through the crowd, your basket swinging lightly on your arm, filled with a small loaf of sourdough and a jar of honey. it’s your favorite part of the week, wandering between the stalls, picking out produce and listening to the steady murmur of the townsfolk.

you’ve got a small crumpled list tucked into your hand: oat milk, a jar of honey, maybe some fresh greens, and you’re weaving your way through the market when you spot him. eren. he’s standing with a man you can only assume is his father. the resemblance is impossible to miss: the sharpness of the jawline, the same dark hair, though his father’s is streaked with gray, and the way they both carry themselves. quiet and a little standoffish. they’re posted at a vegetable stand, crates of carrots, onions, and cucumbers spread out before them. eren’s arms are crossed as he listens to something his father says, his brow furrowed like he’s only half paying attention.

something about the way eren glances around, almost restless, makes you hesitate. you watch for a beat longer, tucked slightly behind another booth, debating whether to approach. but then eren looks up, and his gaze lands on you. for a second, he’s still, his face unreadable. then his eyes shift slightly, narrowing, and it almost feels like he’s warning you.

you step forward anyway, hobbling a little on your sore leg.

“eren.” you say, your voice soft but steady. his name feels strangely loud against the background chatter, and both he and his father turn to look at you.

eren’s face tightens slightly, but he doesn’t look away. his father, on the other hand, gives you a long, slow once-over, his sharp green eyes cutting into you with a coolness that makes your chest tighten.

“who’s this?” his father asks, his tone mild but clipped, like the words have edges.

“yn, sir.” you offer quickly, stepping closer and giving him a polite smile.

“i’ve been staying with my grandparents for the spring. i’ve seen eren around, so i thought i’d introduce myself. he helps around a lot.”

you hold out your hand, but his father doesn’t take it. instead, he leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the booth’s counter, his gaze steady and unwavering.

“introducing yr’self, huh?” he says, his voice light, almost amused, but there’s something underneath it, something just sharp enough to make your stomach flip.

“not many of the town folk bother to stop by our booth, let’lone introduce themselves. guess you must be curious.”

you pull your hand back awkwardly, your smile faltering as you glance at eren.

“i just thought it would be nice, sir. i apologize.” you reply, trying to keep your voice even.

“your vegetables do look great.”

his father lets out a soft huff of a laugh, barely more than an exhale.

“yeah, they do, don’t they? we put a lotta work into this land. more than most people around here would know.”

eren shifts beside him, his jaw tightening.

“dad.” he mutters under his breath, but his father doesn’t even glance at him.

“you stayin’ with the wrights?” his father asks, tilting his head slightly.

“figured. they’re good people, always minding their own business. shame not everyone in town does the same.”

you blink, the words settling in your chest like stones. there’s no malice in his tone, not directly, but the weight of them is unmistakable.

eren’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, his shoulders tense.

“she’s just trying to be nice.” he says, his voice low, almost resigned, like he knows it won’t make a difference.

his father finally straightens, dusting his hands off on his jeans.

“nice is fine-” he says, glancing at you again. “-but not everyone ‘round here is friendly as they seem. might be worth ‘membering.”

the air between you feels tight, uncomfortable, and you’re not entirely sure if his words are meant as advice or something closer to a warning. you force another smile, even though your face feels stiff, and take a small step back.

“well, it was nice meeting you.” you say, your voice a little quieter now.

“i’ll let you both get back to work.”

eren looks at you then, his lips pressing together like he wants to say something but can’t. his father, however, just gives you a small, curt nod.

“have a good day, darlin’.” he says, the words clipped and formal.

you turn quickly, your cheeks burning, and make your way back into the flow of the market. the cheerful voices and warm sunlight feel duller now, muted by the lingering tension.

it’s not until you’ve stopped by another stall, pretending to inspect a bunch of lavender, that you feel eren’s presence beside you. you glance up, and there he is, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his face pulled into a scowl.

“sorry about him.” he mutters, his voice low. “he’s… he’s just like that.”

you shrug, trying to act like it didn’t bother you, though the knot in your stomach hasn’t quite eased.

“it’s fine.” you say softly, but the look he gives you says he doesn’t believe you.

for a moment, neither of you speaks. the market swirls around you, full of life and sound, but between you, there’s only a quiet tension. finally, eren sighs, tilting his head toward the edge of the market.

“come on,” he says. “let’s get out of here.”

you’ve learned to move quietly, to slip through the back door of the house when no one’s looking, to meet him at the edge of the woods by the lake when the sun has set and the stars are just beginning to prick the sky. everything feels like it’s wrapped in silence, soft and secretive. even the air between you seems charged with something unspoken, something thrilling. for two weeks.

he was addictive.

soft whispers under your large quilts as his lips traced kisses from your neck to lips. engulfing you in a warm embrace. wind blowing through the windows he snuck into.

he loved seeing you drive past him casually in your truck while picking up groceries for your grandmother. watching your hair whip in the wind and the low hum of the trucks engine passing by.

when you and him sat in his living room, playing with the golden lab he named ‘scout’ when he was four. your fingers comb through his mane, tilting your face upwards to avoid from being licked by the drooling animal.

whenever your grandparents gave him yet another daunting task around the farm, he’d watch as your sprawled out in a bikini. sipping the sweet tea, beach hat shading your face. watching as the droplets of water dripped down your chest. he’d hate to admit how many times he’s almost nailed his hands to the barn.

“you okay over there?” your arm, half up in a wave, drawling his attention from your new position. you lay on your chest, slowly pulling at the strings holding your top up. letting them dangle off the side of the chair, you slide the waistline of your bottoms down a little.

“eren! why don’t you come have some lemonade with me?”

you were driving him nuts.

he loved how lively you would get after spending the afternoons in a tiny, quaint bar located on the outskirts of town.

the drives back usually consisting of you halfway out the passenger window, eyes gazing up at the sky as you took advantage of the open landscape. eren would watch you intensely, eyes bouncing from the road back to you.

pulling into erens dirty path driveway, he pulls your body across the long front seat, carefully tucking his arms under your knees and around your back.

“im not drunkk!” you whine, face buried into the crook of the man’s neck while he places you down softly on the dark leather couch. closing his front door, his hand runs through his brown locs with an exasperated sigh.

“you need to sober up so i can take you home, yn. i ain’t trynna deal with a angry mob of old church people.” his height blinds out everything in your path as he stands over you. his large hands cup your face gently.

“boy im grown, come here.” you whisper, pulling him down by the forearm, eyes never leaving his. green eye flicker from your eyes to your glossed lips. your essence was like a gravitational pull.

lips locked onto one another, you can’t help but to notice he much softer his lips have gotten.

“you been exfoliating?”

“i’on know what that is, shut up and kiss me.”

it was hungry. borderline filthy the way his hands rubbed you down slowly. caressing the dips of your waist, cold jewelry slides across your stomach, hitching your breath. the tank top you wore stood no chance. brown nipples poking through the sheer cotton fabric.

hes smiling. feeling his hands roam you so freely. he couldn’t help but to take his thumbs and pointer fingers, slipping them into his mouth and out with a quick pop! going back under your shirt, he takes your perky buds in between his fingers, rolling them slowly as the rest of his hands cup your breast.

“oh! eren- oh my god.”

his lips pepper kisses all over your exposed skin, nipping at spots before kissing over the pain. hands roam down to your thighs, giving them tight grips before sliding down the couch.

eyes latched onto each other, you can’t help but to whine.

“please eren.”

this was the first time in years you’ve felt this strong of an attraction towards someone else. crazy for it to be eren of all people.

“please, what?” he’s slowly tugging at the drawstrings of the shorts you wore. eyes locked on you with a burning passion. sitting up against the arm of the couch, your shorts make it to the other side of the room.

your jaw is wide , eren hissing when you tug at his long brown locks. the moment he’s sliding his middle fingers into your burning core, stretching you open as his thumb slowly teases your clit. his body proceeding lower, all you can feel is slight gust of air hitting your cunt. his lips wrap gently around the swollen bud, sucking agonizingly slow, saliva and slick stick to the man’s face. he hums into your taste, wrapping his arms around the base of your thighs. he laid fully out on the couch.

instantly, you’re falling apart. moans breaking out in short whimpers and high gasps, grinding into his palm and nose. feeling his tongue slip inside your clenching hole, only to add two of his slender fingers.

his fingers scissor up into your throbbing cunt, hitting your sweet spot.

“babyy” you whimper, barely able to get anything out with the man’s face devouring you below. eyes closed in euphoria and concentration. hands interlocked into his head full of hair, your moans grow louder.

“doin’ such a good fuckin’ job, princess.”

feeling how he used his thumbs to spread open your pussy, using his tongue to penetrate your clenching hole. his tongue dips into you, coating his tongue in your cum, before coming back out and circling your swollen bud. the repetitive sensation sends you into a fit of louder moans, enticing the man to keep going.

“oh! ba- fu,fuck eren! im fucking c-“ the pressure builds, coiling tighter in your abdomen until you can't hold back anymore. not even when you’re cumming all over the man’s face, does he stop. he wants more now. he needs more.

from the first day he saw you out by the water, he knew he wanted you for himself. he watched the way you interacted with the townsfolk and farm animals. how sexy you were effortlessly. walking around your grandparents farm with nothing but a bikini on and practically see through shorts.

he hated to see other men in town look at you. the way the old, decrepit men would sit in the farmers markets and watch you browse around. whispering to each other while you naively chose your fruits and vegetables.

he didn’t want to share you with anyone.

his body jolts to a standing position, with ease he’s dipping down to pick you up off the couch. a large wet spot decorated the leather where you lie. he’s carrying you over his shoulder down the narrow hallway of the house.

“where we goin’?” you ask, eyes low and hazy.

you make it to the well decorated room. posters and band prints scattered on the wall , a radio sat in the corner, humming random songs from the station eren left it on. his bed was royal blue and well kept.

that was until you were being pounded into the bed.

you nails grip for anything they can reach. digging straight into the bed set, while his throbbing cock dips in and out of you. he has your right leg thrown over his shoulder, hands pinned to your waist as he draws out. face twisting in pleasure. his dick coated in the slippery substance, a faint white line forming the base of his cock as he moves in and out of you repeatedly .

“makin’ such a mess on me. pretty fuckin girl.”

he waste no time, throwing your other leg over his shoulder, locking you in as he quickens his pace. shallow breaths escape his mouth, eyes locked in concentration. you’re stuck with your mouth in an -o- shape as the man pounds you relentlessly. with a swift pull out, he taps against your side.

“on your knees, princess.”

on all fours, he wastes no time reinserting himself, bottoming out while his nails dig into the supple skin on your waist. the sound of skin slapping together and the wet squelches of your abused cunt bounce off the walls, filling your ears.

“i’ve wanted you for so long, you’re so good to me- fuck!”

the more your honey coated words fall from your lips, the more the man wants to ruin you. he wants to see you beg for him. he needed to have it.

pulling your arms from under you, he pins them to your back, locking you in an unforgiving arch. he feeds you slow, agonizing pleasing, strokes. loved watching the way your pussy desperately gripped around him as he pulled out.

trying your hardest to escape the abuse of your cervix, you try to pull away, only to receive a fire fueled spank on your ass.

“take this dick, baby. you had all that mouth ‘member? you can do it, i know ya can.”

his pace quickens, yearning for your release. the only thing you can form is small gasps of air as the man shows no mercy on your smaller frame.

“eren! oh shit- im cumming again ple-“

he releases your hands, using his free hand to rub at your clit as he continued fucking into you.

your body goes limp, clear liquid spewing out onto the man’s blankets. he flips you back over, eyes dark and full of hunger still.

“gimme just one more? please, honey. she just so good.”

folded into a middle split off the bed wasn’t something you ever thought you could do. yet here you were, on your back, eren standing in front of you, holding your legs apart.

his hips roll into yours, digging at your inside slowly. head tilted to the side, eyebrows furrowed and eyes low. your hands hold onto his muscular forearm, trying to keep grounded as the man was wearing you out.

with a few more thrust, he pulls out. long white ropes decorate his chest.

“you’re something special, yn.”

after your grandparents had gone into town for their usual errands, you find yourself at the edge of the lake, hidden in the soft embrace of the willow trees. the faint glow of fireflies flickers in the warm spring air, and the world feels still, like it’s holding its breath for what’s to come. eren’s there before you, waiting, leaning against a tree with a smile that always makes your stomach flip.

“thought you’d never show up,” he teases, his voice low and smooth, like it’s a secret only meant for you. his eyes flicker over you, and the corner of his mouth pulls into a crooked grin.

“you just like being dramatic,” you reply, though you can feel the flutter in your chest as you walk closer, the pull between you too strong to ignore.

he steps forward, closing the space between you, and before you can say anything else, his lips are on yours. quick, soft, the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless. it’s always like this, quick, a rush of feeling that neither of you can seem to contain. he pulls away just as quickly, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling with yours in the cool night air.

“you’re insane.” you whisper, though you can’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

he grins, taking your hand and guiding you down the worn path toward the lake. the grass brushes against your bare legs, soft and cool under the fading light. the blanket he’s spread out by the water is a patchwork of colors. faded reds and yellows that look almost too bright against the darkening sky.

you settle down beside him, the scent of wildflowers heavy in the air. the lake reflects the dimming stars, the quiet ripples in the water mirroring the racing of your heart.

“y’know. ive been havin’ a lot of fun with you.” he playfully nudges your body, rocking you to the side.

“i know. imma miss you, country boy.” the fake southern accent rolled off your tongue sarcastically. although the tone was funny, something about erens aura shifted.

“what’s up? why’ve you gone all quiet?” you ask, eyes fixated on the male. the moonlight illuminated his face, exposing every freckle, unshaven parts of his face, and his eyes locked onto yours.

“i jus’ really don’t wanna let you go, princess.”

“don’t go all sappy on me now. i’ll visit when i can, you know that right?” he just nods, taking a drink of the beer he had before your arrival. the air was thick and warm, your knees pressed together, watching the water reflect the bedazzled night sky as eren just shuffles in his spot.

“yn, promise ya wont forget me?”

“eren-“ you try to stop the conversation before it happens. instead ending up in a tight hug from the man. his arms latch around your waist, head resting over your shoulder.

“im serious, yn. i ain’t ever felt this way for nobody.” pulling away, all you can see is his bright green eyes burning into yours.

“how could i ever?”

you lean in, your free hand brushing against his jaw as you kiss him. it’s slow, deliberate, and familiar, yet it feels new in the way it sends warmth flooding through you.

his hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, his touch firm but gentle as he deepens the kiss, like he’s trying to hold onto the moment for as long as he can. the world around you fades. the quiet lap of the water against the shore, the soft hum of the crickets. until there’s nothing but him.

when you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. eren’s thumb brushes over the curve of your jaw, and his lips curl into a small, almost sheepish smile.

“you ever thought about visiting the city?”

random inspo pics at the bottom? yes!

724 notes · View notes

777bae · 28 days ago

Text

BETWEEN THE STARS WILL SMITH

Summary :: You slip away from the noise of the bonfire, seeking peace in a hammock under the stars. As you share quiet moments with Will, his presence grounds you, his touch comforting. The world fades, leaving only the warmth between you, as you both find stillness in the night and in each other. (REQUESTED :: prompt 1)

Word count :: 3.1k

Warnings :: kissing, reader being introverted?

Notes :: Loved this request so much as it gave me an opportunity to nerd out about the stars

The night air had a crisp, almost tangible quality to it, the kind that makes the edges of your thoughts sharper and clearer, cutting through the fog of the day. It was a welcome reprieve from the sun’s lingering warmth that had bathed the earth earlier. Now, the air felt like a secret, a cool embrace from the world around you, steadying your breath as the sounds of life continued on, but with a different rhythm.

From a distance, you could hear the crackling of the bonfire, the flames licking the air in sporadic bursts, sending flashes of orange light darting across the tall, thick trunks of the pine trees surrounding Will’s family’s lakeside cabin. The fire, alive and roaring, cast long shadows on the ground, dancing across the grass in unpredictable patterns. The laughter, the chatter, the clink of bottles, and the occasional hum of music—voices that blended together like a chorus of different lives intersecting in the same moment—felt suddenly louder, almost oppressive. The warmth from the fire was inviting, but with each moment, the noise felt like it was pulling at you, tugging your thoughts in every direction, making the stillness you craved seem further out of reach.

You needed space—needed it in the quiet way a person craves air when the walls of a room are closing in. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy the company, or that you weren’t grateful for the moments of shared laughter with Will and his friends. But the energy of the crowd had started to feel overwhelming, as if the sound of voices was beginning to swallow your own thoughts, drowning out the peaceful rhythm you carried inside. You slipped away without making a fuss, gliding through the shadows toward the far side of the yard, where the night’s cool touch promised quiet refuge.

The walk away from the group felt almost ceremonial, like stepping from one world into another. As the faint light from the fire grew dimmer behind you, the landscape opened up. The trees here seemed older, their trunks thicker, their branches sprawling high above, curling into the sky like the arms of silent giants. The gentle breeze whispered through their needles, a soft sigh against the coolness of the air. The sounds of the yard—the conversation, the music—became muffled, replaced by the soft rustling of leaves, the steady, rhythmic pulse of the world exhaling.

And then, nestled between two towering pines, you found it—a hammock, swinging gently, a forgotten piece of heaven. Its fabric, worn but soft, seemed to be waiting for you, swaying lightly as though in anticipation. You let out a soft sigh, a breath of relief, as you slid into it, your body sinking into its embrace. The moment you settled back, everything around you fell into place. The sway of the hammock was slow, deliberate, like a whisper, and as it rocked gently, it cradled you like a secret. You closed your eyes, feeling the coolness of the breeze kiss your skin, the scent of pine and fresh earth filling your senses. Everything around you felt alive, but at the same time, utterly still.

The sky above was an expanse that seemed to swallow everything. You tilted your head back, eyes tracing the darkness, finding your place in the universe again. The stars stretched out above you like glittering diamonds scattered across a dark velvet canvas, pinpricks of light cutting through the vastness. The constellations you knew by heart were there, waiting, familiar, their outlines etched across the night. You smiled softly, lost in the quiet awe of their endless distance.

The Big Dipper. The stars were so bright tonight, even more so than usual, their clarity cutting through the dark like an old friend reappearing in your life after years of absence. The group of stars pointed the way to the North Star, a steady guide in the night, its quiet brilliance always grounding you in the chaos of the world. You traced the shape in the air with your finger, as though the constellation could feel the weight of your thoughts. You let your mind wander—how many generations had looked up at the same stars? How many people had seen the same patterns, told the same stories, felt the same pull?

Orion, too, was there—his belt a line of three bright stars, his body a silhouette of light in the dark sky. You loved how his form stretched across the heavens, forever hunting in the vast nothingness, forever striding through the fabric of time. Lyra, too, stood out to you, her shape smaller but no less majestic. You could almost hear the whisper of the lyre, the soft music that the stars seemed to hum in your ears. Vega, bright and sharp, sat at the heart of it all, a reminder that even the smallest light can burn the brightest when given the space to shine. You imagined its light reaching you, over six hundred light-years away, so ancient yet so vibrant, like a message that had traveled through time just to find you here, under the same sky.

You didn’t even realize you were tracing the constellations in the air, your fingers sweeping through the space above you, creating invisible lines, connecting the dots. The air was thick with the sound of your own thoughts. It felt like a communion with something much larger than yourself, something that was vast and infinite. And yet, it was intimate—this connection, this understanding that you were a part of it all.

The hammock creaked slightly, and you glanced over, seeing a shadow approach. Will’s silhouette was outlined by the distant light of the fire, his form steady and unhurried, like he was moving through the world with ease, a quiet kind of confidence that had always seemed to draw you in. He paused just at the edge of the hammock, his presence a comforting weight in the cool night air. For a second, he simply watched you, his gaze softening as he noticed the way you seemed to be wrapped in the sky.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low, yet it seemed to carry a warmth that wrapped itself around you, easing the restlessness in your chest. His eyes were searching you in the dim light, as if seeing something beneath the surface. “You alright?”

You looked up at him, offering a small smile, your chest swelling with affection for him. “Yeah, just needed some space. It’s kind of loud over there,” you explained, nodding back toward the group by the fire. You didn’t feel like you had to say much. Will seemed to understand the language of silence better than anyone.

He nodded, his lips quirking into a soft smile. He didn’t push, didn’t try to pull you back into the noise. Instead, he slid down to sit beside the hammock, his broad frame stretching out across the cool grass. He leaned back slightly, tilting his head up toward the stars as if seeking the same peace you had found.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. There was something calming about his quiet presence, like the world had paused, and all that mattered was this moment you were sharing. Then, Will shifted, pulling his legs under him, so that he was sitting beside you, and before you could even think to ask, his arm slid around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side. His warmth, a stark contrast to the night air, was a balm against the cool breeze.

You sank into him, his solid presence grounding you. As you leaned your head against his shoulder, his lips pressed softly against your hair, a light, tender kiss that made your heart stutter. He held you close, the steady rhythm of his breathing anchoring you to the moment, making everything feel safe and still.

“So, what are you looking at?” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, as though he didn’t want to disturb the quiet magic of the moment.

You smiled, grateful for his presence, for the comfort of his arm around you, and for the way he seemed so naturally attuned to your needs. “I was just thinking about the stars.” Your voice, though soft, felt full of warmth, both for the stars above and the man beside you. “See that one?” You pointed toward the Big Dipper, tracing the familiar pattern in the night sky. “It’s part of Ursa Major, and you can use it to find the North Star.”

Will leaned in closer, his eyes tracking your finger as you moved from one constellation to the next. He didn’t just glance at the stars; he watched them with purpose, as if he wanted to see them the way you saw them. “Yeah, I think I see it,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin as his gaze shifted from the sky back to you. “And that one?”

You smiled, heart swelling as you began explaining the next constellation, your voice flowing more freely now, your earlier sense of uncertainty melting away. Will’s presence, the way he held you, made everything feel easy, natural. As you spoke, you noticed him looking down at you often, his eyes filled with admiration, his hand lightly brushing against yours as he tried to keep up with your explanations.

After a few more constellations, you fell silent, content to simply exist in the quiet of the night. But as the silence stretched on, you suddenly became aware of your own voice, wondering if you were talking too much. Maybe he was getting bored, or maybe you were just rambling on.

The self-doubt started to creep in, and for a second, you hesitated, worried that you had gone on for too long.

Will noticed the shift in your energy almost immediately. He turned to you, his brow furrowed slightly, and his hand gently brushed against your shoulder as he fiddled with your hair. “Hey,” he said, his voice soft, as if he could feel the sudden hesitation in you, “why’d you stop?”

You looked up at him, unsure whether to explain the sudden insecurity or simply let the silence stretch between you. But before you could say anything, his eyes locked onto yours, steady and warm. “Keep talking,” he said, his voice low, the words wrapped in affection. “I love your voice.”

It was simple, but in that simplicity, you found a kind of comfort that soothed your nervous heart. His words, gentle and sincere, felt like the warm embrace you hadn’t realized you needed. Each syllable he spoke seemed to wrap itself around you, settling against your shoulders, like a soft blanket keeping the chill of uncertainty at bay. It was as though everything had quieted, the distant voices of the fire and the hum of the crowd fading into the background, leaving just the two of you in this cocoon of stillness. The knot of tension you hadn’t even known you were carrying started to loosen. Your chest, which had been tight with unspoken thoughts, finally exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

His fingers, warm and reassuring, slid gently into yours, his grip a quiet promise. It was simple, but it held meaning—comfort, steadiness. You let the moment settle around you like the cool night air, giving yourself permission to relax into the feeling of being seen, of being understood without the need for words.

You felt his presence beside you, calm and steady, grounding you like the trees towering above the hammock, like the earth beneath you. And when you finally spoke again, your voice no longer carried that hesitant edge. The words came easier this time, flowing like a conversation you had always wanted to have.

“Okay,” you whispered, looking up at the vastness of the sky above, a renewed sense of confidence in your voice. “I think the best part of stargazing is knowing how far those stars really are. Like, Betelgeuse, the one in Orion’s shoulder? It’s over 600 light years away. It blows my mind every time I think about it.”

Will’s eyes were wide with awe, and the wonder in his gaze made your heart swell with something akin to joy. It was a shared moment of discovery, of shared fascination, and in that, it felt like you weren’t just pointing out constellations—you were opening up a piece of yourself to him, something that felt deeply personal. “That’s wild. I never realized just how big the universe really is,” he said, his voice full of a quiet admiration that made you feel like the sky itself was a little more beautiful because he was seeing it with you.

A smile tugged at your lips as you pointed out the constellations you knew by heart, your fingers tracing invisible paths in the air. Each constellation felt like a piece of history, like a story told across generations, woven into the fabric of time. You could see Will leaning in, his eyes not just scanning the sky, but following your movements, soaking in every word you spoke, like each fact you shared was something valuable. His gaze was fixed on you as much as it was on the stars. It was as if the constellations, though beautiful, were secondary to the way you were explaining them—your voice, your passion, your connection to the night sky.

And there it was again—this moment of quiet understanding, where the stars didn’t seem so far away. With Will sitting there beside you, his hand intertwined with yours, the universe felt a little smaller, a little warmer. You weren’t just stargazing. You were sharing something sacred, something that grounded you both in the same place, at the same time. The conversation ebbed and flowed, the words now effortless, now playful, now full of wonder. But eventually, the talking slowed, as if the night itself had gently urged you both into a space where silence could exist just as peacefully.

You found yourself falling into that silence, a calm settling in that was deeper than anything you had experienced before. It wasn’t awkward or empty. It was a kind of quiet that spoke volumes—a quiet that felt full, like the air around you had thickened with unspoken things. Lying side by side in the hammock, the weight of Will’s arm around you was grounding. It was a presence that enveloped you without ever feeling forced. His warmth seeped into you, the heat from his body mingling with the cool night air, until there was no space between you. His breath, steady and deep, moved in sync with yours, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you could just be, without the pull of the world around you demanding more.

And then, without breaking the rhythm, Will shifted, his arm pulling you closer still, his body curling into yours. His lips brushed the top of your head, a soft touch that sent a ripple of warmth through you, before he whispered in a voice that seemed to vibrate with tenderness, “You’re pretty incredible, you know that?”

The words were so simple, so raw in their honesty, but they felt like an anchor. They held you in place, wrapped around you like a promise that neither time nor distance could undo. You looked up at him, heart skipping, caught in the tenderness of his gaze. His eyes were dark, soft with something that left you breathless, something that made you feel as though you had just been seen—not the surface version of you that the world recognized, but the quiet parts, the real parts that only he seemed to know.

And then, without missing a beat, he added, his voice growing softer, more intimate, “You make everything feel special.” His lips curled into that smile, that familiar, genuine warmth that seemed to make the world tilt a little toward the sun. “I don’t know what it is, but with you, everything just feels like it matters.”

Before you could even gather the words to respond, Will closed the space between you, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was slow and soft. It wasn’t hurried, or frantic. It was the kind of kiss that seemed to make time stretch, slow down, until the whole universe paused, just to allow the moment to exist. His lips were warm against yours, tender, and you found yourself melting into it, caught up in the calm that seemed to flow between you. Your hands moved to his face instinctively, tracing the familiar angles of his jaw, feeling the softness of his skin, the warmth that radiated from him, pulling him closer as though there were nothing in the world that mattered more than this.

The kiss deepened, his hands moving gently to cup your face, as if memorizing the feel of you, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw, as though to imprint the sensation of you into his memory. The quiet continued around you—everything still, everything at peace. For a long while, there was only the kiss, only the rhythm of his breathing matching yours, only the steady pulse of warmth from his body against yours. The hammock swayed lightly, the distant crackle of the fire a soft reminder that the world still existed outside of this space, but for now, it didn’t matter.

Will pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath warm and steady. You stayed there, eyes closed, his presence anchoring you in a way that felt like it could last forever. There was no rush, no sense of time pressing in. Everything was perfect, the night cocooning you both in its stillness, the stars a distant, silent audience to this moment.

Eventually, your breaths slowed, your heart beating a little more quietly in your chest. You shifted just enough to settle into his arms, curling up against him as the cool night air swept around you. His warmth was a comforting contrast, a gentle counterpoint to the chill that hung in the evening air. For a long while, the two of you simply lay there, wrapped in each other’s presence, the stars above casting their quiet glow over you both. The distant lapping of the lake against the shore seemed to fade away, as though the world itself had leaned in closer, listening to the soft symphony of the night.

As the minutes stretched into hours, the warmth of his embrace, the steadiness of his presence, lulled you into a peaceful drowsiness. Your body, tucked safely against his, grew heavier with each passing second, the weight of sleep finally pulling you under. You didn’t fight it. The stars above, the lake, and Will beside you were all you needed. With him, this moment felt like the kind of stillness you could rest in forever, as though time itself had slowed, allowing you to simply exist in the quiet joy of the present.

And as sleep overtook you, wrapped in his arms, you knew without a doubt that this, here, with him, was exactly where you were meant to be.

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lanf1an · 4 months ago

Text

SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister pt.4 - january 7 2025

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 pt.8 pt.9 pt.10

Wordcount: 1936

The group was scattered across the slopes, each pairing off for a morning of skiing or snowboarding. Lando and Dylan had somehow ended up together after riding the lifts, and were carving through the snow in companionable silence. Lando had to admit Dylan was annoyingly good on a board, making it look effortless as he sped down the powdery trails.

At the bottom of the run, they paused to catch their breath. Dylan stretched his arms above his head, grinning. “Man, this is the life. It’s great you guys have been doing this every year.”

“Yeah, it’s the best,” Lando replied, adjusting his goggles. “You’re lucky you got the invite.”

Dylan laughed. “I guess I passed the test with her, huh?”

“Guess so.”

As they lined up for the next lift, Dylan turned to him. “Speaking of passing tests, she told me she’s thinking of taking that job in Japan. Pretty big deal for her, right?”

Lando froze. “Wait—what job in Japan?”

Dylan looked confused. “She didn’t tell you? It’s with her company. Some kind of high-level exchange position for a few months. She’s not sure yet, but we’ve been talking about it.”

Lando forced himself to stay casual, though his chest tightened. “You’ve been talking about it?”

“Well, yeah,” Dylan said. “If she goes, I’d probably go with her for a bit. There’s great boarding in Japan, so it’d be a win-win. But she’s still deciding.”

Lando didn’t respond immediately, pushing off as the lift began to carry them up the mountain.

“She didn’t mention it to me,” he said finally, not wanting to admit it.

Dylan shrugged, oblivious. “She’s probably waiting until she decides for sure. I mean, she’s got you, Max, her parents—it’s a lot of people to think about.”

“Right,” Lando said shortly, staring out over the snowy landscape. — Later that evening, the group was lounging in the cozy living room of the chalet, the fire crackling softly in the background. Dylan was engrossed in a card game with Max and some of the others, leaving you and Lando alone in the corner, sipping your drinks.

Lando leaned closer to you, lowering his voice. “So... Japan?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Dylan mentioned something about you getting a job offer in Japan,” Lando said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing. “You didn’t think that was worth mentioning to me?”

You sighed, swirling your drink. “It’s not set in stone, Lan. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it until I decided.”

“Decided what?” His voice had an edge now. “Whether or not to move halfway across the world?”

You frowned, defensive. “It’s an amazing opportunity, Lando. I’m not saying yes or no yet, but it’s something I have to consider.”

His jaw tightened, and he set his glass down a little too hard on the coffee table. “What about the season? You’ve always been there—well, mostly. I can’t imagine doing it without you around.”

Your expression softened slightly, but your tone remained firm. “Lando, I wasn’t at every race last season, and you were fine. Look at your results!” You gave him a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re a superstar. You don’t need me there holding your hand.”

He stared at you, his lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s not about needing you to hold my hand. It’s...” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “You being there—it just makes things... easier. Part of my routine I’m used to”

Your brow furrowed. ‘’Part of your routine?’’

“I just… It’ll be weird without you around. You’ve always been there.’’

The sentiment was sweet, but there was something about the way he said it that made your chest tighten. “You’ll be fine,” you said, forcing a smile now. “You’ve got Magui, and Max, and the whole team. You’re not exactly lacking in support.”

“It’s not the same,” Lando replied, his voice barely above a murmur.

Your hand froze mid-reach for your drink. You set it down instead, the clink of glass against wood sharper than you intended. “What are you saying, Lando?”

He hesitated, like he hadn’t expected you to call him on it. “I’m just saying… you’ve always been part of this. Part of my life, my career. You get it in a way that—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Try,” you said, your tone sharper than he expected.

His brows furrowed, and for a moment, he looked like the boy you’d known all those years ago—earnest, vulnerable, and completely unaware of how his words could cut. “I guess I just… I need you. You’ve always been there, and I don’t know what it’s going to be like if you’re not.”

“You need me?” you repeated irritated. “Lando, I’m not going to Japan to sit on a beach. This is my career. My chance to do something for me. Do you even realize how that sounds?”

His eyes widened in confusion. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying—”

“You’re just saying you want me to put my life on hold so I can keep holding your hand through yours and be part of your routine?” you snapped, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Lando recoiled slightly. “That’s not what I’m asking.”

“Isn’t it?” you pressed, you voice rising. “You’re asking me to stay, Lando. To stay and make your life easier, while I give up something I’ve worked just as hard for. Do you know how selfish that sounds?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said again, but this time his voice was quieter, tinged with guilt. “I just— It’s not easy, okay? Doing this. And I thought… I thought you understood that.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in her chest. “I do understand. That’s why I’m still here, isn’t it? That’s why I’ve always been here. But you don’t get to ask this of me, Lando.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But instead, he nodded, the weight of her words sinking in. “You’re right,” he said finally. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

The tension in her shoulders eased slightly, but the sting of his words lingered. “I know you didn’t,” you said softly.

— Mexico, 29 november 2023

The shrill sound of tires screeching and the thud of impact echoed through the paddock speakers. Your breath caught in your throat as the screen showed Lando’s car slamming into the barriers, a plume of debris scattering across the track.

“Red flag. That’s Norris in the wall,” the commentator announced, their tone serious but calm.

You were already on your feet in the McLaren garage, staring at the screen with wide eyes. The replay looped, showing his car losing grip on the exit of a corner before careening into the barriers.

“Is he okay?” you blurted, your voice sharp with worry.

One of the engineers turned to reassure you. “We’ve got radio communication. He’s fine, just frustrated.”

The knot in your stomach didn’t ease until you heard his voice crackle through the team radio, muttering, “I’m okay, I’m okay. Sorry, guys.”

You exhaled, hands trembling slightly as you sat back down. He might be physically fine, but you knew how much this would rattle him mentally.

The energy in the hospitality area was buzzing with activity, mechanics and engineers rushing around to prepare for tomorrow. You made your way over to Lando, who was perched on a counter, still in his race suit, a bag of ice pressed against his shoulder. His helmet sat beside him, a little scuffed from the impact.

“You alright?” you asked, leaning against the counter beside him.

He shrugged, wincing slightly as the motion aggravated his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m fine. Car’s a mess, though.”

You shot him a look. “The car can be fixed. I’m asking about you.”

Lando glanced at you, his expression guarded but softening under your gaze. “I’ve had worse.” Then, with a self-deprecating chuckle: “Though I can’t say the engineers are thrilled with me right now.”

“They’ll get over it,” you said firmly. “They know you’re pushing to the limit—that’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“Yeah, well, limits don’t win races if you’re sitting in the wall during quali.” He leaned back against the counter, his jaw tight.

You didn’t let the tension linger. “Oh, c’mon, Lan. You’ve come back from worse. Remember last season? You started at the back of the grid and still finished in the points.”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “That was different. I didn’t stuff it in the barriers first.”

You reached over, grabbing a nearby energy drink can and tapping it lightly against his knee. “Then tomorrow’s your chance to remind everyone what you’re made of. You’ve got the pace, and we both know you love a challenge. Besides,” you added, grinning, “you’ll make the highlight reel if you pull it off.”

That earned a real laugh from him, and he tilted his head toward you. “You think I’ll pull it off?”

“I know you will,” you said, your tone unwavering.

Lando sat there for a beat, then hopped off the counter, dropping the ice pack onto the surface. “Alright, then I guess we will see.” — The garage was absolute chaos. Team members shouted and high-fived, celebrating an incredible recovery drive. Lando had fought his way through the field with surgical precision, finishing in a stunning P5. The relief and joy in the room were palpable.

Lando barged into the garage, his race suit unzipped to his waist, hair a wild mess from pulling off his helmet. He was grinning ear to ear, waving a bottle of champagne in the air.

“P5, baby!” he shouted, and the room erupted in cheers again.

You were standing with Max and a few others when he spotted you. “Oi, don’t act like you’re not impressed,” he called, pointing at you with the neck of the champagne bottle.

You crossed your arms, pretending to look unimpressed. “P5? Meh, could’ve been P4 if you’d overtaken Gasly one lap earlier.”

Lando strode over, uncorking the bottle with a loud pop and spraying it wildly, catching you and a few nearby engineers in the crossfire. You shrieked, laughing as the cold champagne hit your face and jacket.

“Alright, alright!” you yelled, holding up your hands. “You win, Norris! P5 is pretty damn good!”

“Damn right it is,” he said, grinning as he took a swig straight from the bottle, still dripping champagne. “You doubted me for a second, didn’t you?”

“Never,” you replied, swiping the bottle from his hand and taking a sip yourself.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “That’s mine.”

“Not anymore,” you quipped, handing it back to him with a smirk.

The atmosphere was electric, the team chanting and laughing around you both. It wasn’t long before the post-race interviews started pulling people away, but Lando lingered for a moment.

“Hey,” he said, leaning in so you could hear him over the noise. “Thanks for, you know, earlier. Couldn’t have done it without your support.”

You glanced at him, surprised at the sudden sincerity in his voice. “What are you thanking me for? You’re the one who clawed your way back.”

He gave a small shrug, “Yeah, but you’re always there. Even when I’m a proper idiot.”

You rolled your eyes, though your smile betrayed you. “You’re always a proper idiot.”

He laughed, holding up the champagne bottle. “Guess it works for me.”

“I guess it does.”

tl: @ash88-yep @lewishamiltonismybf @harrysdimple05 @lex2205 @il0vereadingstuff @martygraciesversion381 @joannaln4 @obxstiles

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eu-nicola · 5 months ago

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christmas village

summary: a car accident leaves you and Rafe stranded during a snowstorm in a remote cabin in Woodstock.

warnings: nothing

word counter: 9315

author's note: english is not my first language, I LOVE CHRISTMAS

The car moved slowly along the snow covered road, the white landscape stretching out on either side like an endless canvas. Inside the vehicle, the atmosphere was far from calm. You were sitting in the passenger seat, arms crossed and eyes fixed on the window, deliberately ignoring the presence of Rafe Cameron at the wheel. Your parents had insisted you travel with him, arguing it was safer than going alone, but so far, it had only been a test of patience.

Rafe, his hands firmly on the wheel, wore an expression of boredom mixed with irritation. He didn’t seem particularly thrilled about the company, and it was hard to forget that you two had once been something more. The relationship had ended turbulently, and although time had passed, the tension lingered in the air. Every now and then, he broke the silence with some sarcastic remark.

“If you’re going to stay quiet the entire way, at least put on decent music,” he said, rolling his eyes when you didn’t respond.

You didn’t bother to look at him, simply adjusting the volume of the audio system slightly so the playlist you had chosen at the start of the trip kept playing. Of course, you knew he was doing it just to annoy you, but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of reacting.

The snowstorm began as a light drizzle, but soon the gusts grew more intense. The car's windshield was covered with snowflakes that seemed to multiply by the second, and visibility started to decrease.

“This doesn’t look good,” Rafe muttered, adjusting the windshield wipers to their maximum setting.

“Can’t you drive slower?” you asked, your tone sharper than you’d intended.

He gave you a quick glance, his jaw tightening.

“I’m already driving slow. If I go any slower, we’ll finish the trip next year.”

You responded with an exasperated sigh, looking at your phone even though you knew there was no signal. The winding road seemed endless, and the treetops lining the way were starting to bend under the weight of the accumulating snow.

Suddenly, the car skidded. It was a brief moment but intense enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“Rafe!” you exclaimed, gripping the edge of your seat.

He cursed under his breath, turning the wheel sharply to try to regain control. But it was useless. The car swerved to the side, and before you could react, it crashed into a snowbank by the roadside. The engine shut off, and the silence that followed was almost deafening.

Rafe slammed the steering wheel with both hands in frustration.

“Great. Just what we needed.”

“What are we going to do now?” you asked, trying to stay calm.

“First, we’re going to get out of here before the car freezes,” he replied. He opened the door, but the icy wind that rushed in almost made him retreat.

Both of you got out of the vehicle, facing the relentless cold. The storm had worsened, and it was clear you wouldn’t make it to the town on foot. That’s when Rafe pointed at something among the trees.

“Look, there. It looks like a cabin.”

Your eyes followed the direction he was pointing, and sure enough, a small wooden structure could be seen in the distance. It didn’t look like much, but at that moment, it was your only option.

“Let’s go,” he said, not waiting for a response.

You walked silently through the storm, trudging through snow that now reached your knees. When you finally reached the cabin, the door opened slowly, and the warmth inside immediately enveloped you, a stark contrast to the freezing cold you had endured outside. Inside, an elderly woman with gray hair and kind eyes looked at you in surprise, wrapped in a thick shawl. She seemed to have been sitting by the fireplace, as a blanket lay draped over a nearby chair and a cup of tea rested on a small wooden table.

“Heavens! What are you two doing out here in the middle of this storm?” the woman asked, her hands clutching the edge of the door as she scanned your faces for answers.

“Our car went off the road,” Rafe quickly replied, his tone tired but respectful. “The storm caught us, and we saw this cabin from the road.”

Still shivering from the cold, you added, “Sorry if we’re intruding. We didn’t have any other option.”

The woman shook her head and opened the door wider to let you in.

“You’re not intruding at all. Come in, come in! You can’t stay out in this cold.” She extended a hand toward you, as if to help brush the snow off your shoulders.

You stepped inside, grateful for the warmth provided by the small stone fireplace in the corner. The cabin was simply decorated but had a cozy feel. Knitted blankets hung over the backs of chairs, and the walls were adorned with old photographs and handmade Christmas garlands.

“How far is your car?” the woman asked as she grabbed another blanket from a chair and offered it to you.

“Not far,” Rafe said, shaking snow off his boots near the entrance. “It’s stuck in a snowbank by the road.”

The woman sighed deeply and nodded.

“The storm isn’t going to stop tonight. They’re saying on the radio that it could last until tomorrow afternoon. It’s too dangerous to go out now.”

“Is there any way to call someone to come get us?” you asked hopefully.

The woman nodded, her eyes lighting up.

“Luckily, I have a guest cabin just across the road. It has a landline you can use. You’re welcome to stay there tonight.”

“Are you sure it’s not a bother?” you asked, feeling a little guilty for accepting so much kindness.

“Of course not” she replied with a smile. “In fact, I wouldn’t feel right knowing two young people are stuck in this storm without a roof over their heads.”

After making sure both of you were bundled up warmly, the woman guided you to the guest cabin. The snow was still falling heavily, and the path was slippery, but the light from the flashlight she carried illuminated the way. When you arrived, she opened the wooden door, revealing a small but cozy interior with a fire already burning and an atmosphere that seemed straight out of a Christmas postcard.

You stepped inside eagerly, thrilled by the contrast between the cold outside and the warmth within. The first thing that caught your attention was a Christmas tree in the corner, decorated with bright lights and ornaments that looked handmade.

“Look!” you exclaimed, pointing at the tree with a genuine smile. “It has a decorated tree!”

Rafe, who was behind you, let out a mocking laugh.

“What, have you never seen a Christmas tree before?”

You turned to look at him, but instead of arguing, you simply ignored him, letting your enthusiasm speak for itself.

“It’s beautiful” you said, more to yourself than to him, as you walked closer to examine the details.

The woman smiled at your reaction.

“I decorated it a few days ago. I didn’t know if anyone else would see it, but I’m glad you like it.”

“It’s perfect” you said, your eyes still on the twinkling lights.

Rafe, meanwhile, dropped his backpack next to a chair near the fireplace, clearly less impressed by the tree.

“Perfect, sure” he muttered, though this time in a lower tone, as if he knew he wouldn’t succeed in annoying you.

The woman, ignoring the dynamic between you two, made sure you had everything you needed before saying goodbye.

“You can stay as long as you need. The phone is on the table, next to the lamp. If you need anything, my cabin is just across the way.

You thanked her sincerely as she left, closing the door behind her.

Silence settled in the cabin once you were alone, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the sound of the wind outside. As you hung your coat on a hook near the door, you felt Rafe’s gaze on you, but when you looked at him, he had already averted his eyes.

“I guess it’ll be interesting to see if we can survive without killing each other tonight” he said with a half-smile.

You sighed and sank onto the sofa in front of the fireplace, letting the warmth relax you.

“If you don’t talk too much, I think we’ll manage.”

Rafe chuckled softly and took a seat in a nearby chair. Although there was still tension between you, something about the warm, festive atmosphere of the cabin made the situation feel less unbearable than you had imagined.

The heat from the fireplace barely managed to chase away the chill still lingering in your bones as you approached the phone on the table. The oil lamp illuminating the corner cast flickering shadows across the cabin, giving the place an intimate, almost surreal air. But you didn’t have time to admire the details; you were anxious to contact someone, anyone, who could get you out of there.

Rafe stood behind you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching you with a mix of expectancy and exhaustion.

“Do you even know who you’re going to call?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as you picked up the receiver.

“No, but someone has to know what to do” you replied, dialing your parents’ number first.

The line rang, but no one answered. You tried again, pressing your lips together in frustration as the repetitive sound continued without response. Finally, you hung up with a sigh and searched for another number on your phone.

“Any luck?” Rafe asked sarcastically, tilting his head slightly.

“Do you want to try?” you snapped, turning to look at him. “Cause if you’re just going to stand there making useless comments, you might as well help.”

He let out a short laugh and stepped closer, taking the receiver from your hands before you could react.

“Let me show you how it’s done.”

You frowned and crossed your arms, watching as he dialed a number. His confident expression shifted to annoyed when he too got a ringing line with no answer. He tried another number and then another, but the result was the same. Finally, he hung up forcefully, clenching his jaw.

“Great. Looks like no one’s available.”

“And now who’s unsuccessful?” you remarked, unable to resist the opportunity to throw his sarcasm back at him.

He turned to you, his blue eyes shining with something between irritation and defiance.

“Do you have some brilliant plan, or are you just going to stand there being annoying?”

You got up from the sofa, stepping closer to face him.

“Annoying? You’re the one acting like this is all my fault!”

“Because you always have to make things more complicated” he retorted, his tone louder than necessary.

“Complicated?” You laughed humorlessly, gesturing toward the phone. “I was the one trying to come up with solutions while you just stood there criticizing.”

Rafe took a step forward, closing the distance between you.

“Solutions? Like randomly calling people who clearly aren’t coming in the middle of a snowstorm? Great idea.”

“At least I’m trying something, unlike you, who just complains.”

The tension between you was palpable. His height and dominant attitude would normally intimidate you, but in that moment, the heat of the argument and your exhaustion pushed you to stand your ground.

“Look, princess, if you’ve got a magic plan to get us out of here, go ahead. Enlighten me with your wisdom” Rafe said with an exaggerated gesture, as if ready to hear something brilliant.

You glared at him, feeling frustration build in your chest.

“You know what? I’m not going to argue with you. Being stuck here with you is bad enough without having to deal with your crap attitude.”

You turned and went back to the sofa, letting yourself fall onto it with an exasperated sigh. Rafe remained silent for a moment, probably surprised by your reaction. Finally, he ran a hand through his hair and sank into the chair by the fireplace.

“This is ridiculous” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You stared into the fire, trying to calm yourself. The cabin, which had felt warm and inviting before, now seemed much smaller, as if the space was shrinking under the weight of the tension between you.

The silence stretched, broken only by the crackling of the firewood and the howling wind outside.

The quiet in the cabin was almost tangible, broken only by the crackle of the fire in the fireplace and the whisper of the wind rattling the windows. Both of you had fallen silent after your brief argument, each lost in your own thoughts. But you knew you couldn’t keep going like this; being trapped in the middle of a snowstorm was uncomfortable enough without adding the tension of your constant bickering.

You took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the fire soothe your frustration before speaking.

“Look, Rafe” you began, turning toward him. He was sitting across from you in the wooden chair, his head slightly tilted toward the fire as if studying it. His eyes flicked to you, glowing in the firelight, but he said nothing, waiting for you to continue.

“I don’t know how long we’re going to be here” you said in a calmer tone. “Maybe until tomorrow, maybe longer. But what I do know is that we can’t keep this up.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of interest and skepticism.

“Keep what up?”

You sighed, leaning your elbows on your knees as you looked directly at him.

“Fighting over everything, throwing sarcastic comments at each other every five minutes. We’re stuck here, alone, with a snowstorm outside. If we don’t make an effort to get along, this is going to be unbearable.”

He let out a small laugh, though it didn’t seem mocking almost reflective.

“Getting along? You and me? Is that even possible?”

“It will be if we both try” you replied firmly. “And if you stop being so...”

“So what?” he interrupted, leaning forward with a lopsided smile that both annoyed and challenged you at the same time.

“So you” you said, crossing your arms.

He leaned back in his chair, letting out a soft chuckle.

“Fine, I deserve that.”

That took you by surprise. You hadn't expected Rafe to admit something like that so easily. You decided to take advantage of the moment.

“Then let's make a deal” you proposed, keeping your gaze fixed on him.

“A deal?” he repeated, tilting his head with curiosity.

“Yes, a deal” you reiterated. “While we're stuck here, we set our differences aside. No fights, no unnecessary sarcasm, no acting like kids.”

“That last part is directed at you, isn't it?” he teased, but his tone was lighter this time.

“At both of us” you said, rolling your eyes. “What I mean is, let's try to be... I don't know, civil. At least until someone comes to find us.”

Rafe looked at you silently for a moment, his blue eyes studying your face as if trying to read your intentions. Finally, he nodded slowly.

“Alright, deal.”

You extended your hand toward him, hoping to seal the agreement symbolically. Rafe glanced at your hand and, for a second, seemed to hesitate. But then he leaned forward and shook it with his own.

“Although” he added as he released your hand “I can’t promise not to be a little... me. It’s part of the charm, you know?”

“Sure, the charm” you muttered sarcastically, though there was a hint of a smile on your lips.

He leaned back in his chair again, relaxing a little more.

“Alright then, where do we start with this attempt to get along? Got any brilliant ideas, or are we just going to sit here in silence watching the ice melt off our boots?”

You looked at him, crossing your arms in a thoughtful gesture.

“We could start by not insulting each other every time we open our mouths.”

Rafe nodded slowly, as if considering your words with more seriousness than you expected.

“Fair enough.”

For the first time since entering the cabin, the atmosphere felt a little less tense. Despite how irritating Rafe could be, there was something almost amusing about the idea of trying to cooperate with him, even if you knew it wouldn’t be easy.

“Well, let’s see how long our deal lasts” you said finally, settling onto the sofa and gazing at the fire.

“That depends on you, princess” he replied with his typical smug smile, but this time, instead of annoying you, you just shook your head and chuckled softly.

Maybe, just maybe, you’d survive this storm together without going insane.

Night fell quickly, darkening the white landscape surrounding the cabin. The wind continued to lash at the windows, but the warmth of the fireplace created a cozy contrast inside the shelter. Both of you knew you needed to eat something, but neither seemed willing to take the initiative.

Finally, you broke the silence as you looked toward the small makeshift kitchen in the corner.

“Do you know how to cook?” you asked, crossing your arms as you looked at him with a mix of curiosity and challenge.

Rafe, sitting in one of the wooden chairs by the fire, glanced up at you with a teasing smile.

“Would it surprise you if I said yes? I learned after we ended things.”

“Interesting” you admitted, raising an eyebrow.

He stood up from the chair with an exaggerated display of confidence.

“Well, get ready for the best feast this cabin has ever seen.”

You followed him to the kitchen, skeptical. Together, you started rummaging through the shelves and the small pantry, which held only a few supplies: a package of pasta, a couple of cans of soup, some stale bread, and a bottle of olive oil.

"I’m not sure if this counts as a feast, but you can give it a try” you said, leaning on the counter as you watched Rafe examine the ingredients.

“Trust me, princess” he replied with a wink. “I’m about to turn this into culinary art.”

You just rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile a little. Rafe got to work with an energy that seemed almost too much for the humble menu available.

“Can you pass me that pot?” he asked, pointing at an old saucepan on a high shelf.

“What happened to "please"?” you retorted, but you grabbed it and handed it to him anyway.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

He started boiling water for the pasta while you checked what was left in the cupboards. You found a small jar of spices and a can of crushed tomatoes.

“What about this?” you asked, showing them to him.

Rafe looked at them with an expression that tried to be serious.

“Perfect. Let’s call this... frozen cabin pasta.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though you tried to hide it.

As you worked together, there were several awkward but almost amusing moments. When you tried to open the can of tomatoes, the can opener got stuck, and in your attempt to fix it, you ended up splashing yourself with some sauce.

“Impressive” Rafe commented, trying not to laugh too loudly as you shot him a glare.

“If you laugh, you’re cooking alone.”

“I’m already cooking alone.”

“I’m helping!” you replied, exasperated, as you wiped the sauce off your shirt.

“Sure, helping is splashing sauce everywhere” he teased.

Despite the sarcasm, you started noticing that the atmosphere between you was becoming a little more relaxed.

Eventually, you managed to put together something resembling a pasta dish with improvised sauce. You served it on the only two plates you could find in the cabin and sat down at the rustic table by the fire.

“Well, it’s not a feast, but it could be worse” you commented as you tried the first bite.

Rafe watched you closely, as if waiting for your verdict.

“Well?” he asked, leaning in slightly.

“Not bad... for someone like you”

you said, feigning a casual tone.

“Someone like me” he repeated, smiling. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You both ate in a silence that, surprisingly, didn’t feel awkward.

When you were done, Rafe got up to wash the dishes.

“What are you doing?” you asked, surprised.

“Washing the dishes. Or is that too noble for me?”

“I definitely didn’t picture you doing that” you admitted, smiling slightly.

“Well, I’m a man full of surprises.”

As you watched him work, you realized that, for the first time since the storm started, you didn’t feel as tense. Rafe seemed less arrogant, almost... human.

You leaned back in the chair, watching the storm continue to rage outside.

“Maybe this isn’t so terrible after all” you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

“What did you say?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“Nothing” you replied quickly, looking away.

While the storm kept roaring outside, covering the world in a seemingly endless blanket of snow, the warmth of the fireplace remained comforting. But the cabin was still small and a bit cold, so you both knew you’d need more blankets to get through the night.

“Do you know where the blankets are?” you asked, as you checked one of the shelves near the fireplace, trying to find a cabinet or a place where they might be stored.

Rafe was nearby, looking at the makeshift beds, but he didn’t seem to find anything.

“I don’t know, maybe over there” he said, pointing toward the back of the cabin, where there was a door that looked like a small closet.

The two of you headed over without saying much. The space between you was small, but the atmosphere was different, as if something was hanging in the air a soft yet palpable tension that neither of you wanted to acknowledge. As you brushed past him, your shoulders accidentally touched, and a shiver ran through your body a small contact that, despite being insignificant, left a strange feeling behind. It was as if the air between you had become charged with electricity.

You both stopped almost simultaneously, staring ahead, avoiding eye contact.

“Sorry” Rafe said, his tone softer than usual, though there was no need to apologize.

“It’s fine” you replied, not looking at him, but with the feeling that something had shifted between you. The tension, though slight, seemed to linger, more present than before.

The two of you kept searching for the blankets, but every little movement felt strange. As you reached up to grab a blanket from the highest shelf, your fingers brushed against his for a second, and that spark that had been ignited didn’t fade it intensified. This time, neither of you said anything, but the air felt thicker, warmer, even with the storm raging outside.

Rafe was the first to pull away, handing you a blanket with a gesture rougher than he likely intended, and you began to wonder if it was all just a coincidence. But as you glanced at him briefly, you caught him looking away, as if he, too, was wrestling with the same feeling.

And as the storm continued its relentless howling, the two of you stood there, a little closer than before, the tension between you undeniable.

“Thanks for… the blanket,” you said suddenly, breaking the silence, and you realized that your voice had come out a little quieter than it normally would have been.

“You’re welcome,” Rafe replied in a tone that sounded almost sincere, although his face was still hidden in the shadows of the cabin.

A small sigh escaped your lips before you could stop it, and, upon hearing it, Rafe looked at you for a moment, but didn’t say anything. It seemed as if you were both caught in the same confusion, but not knowing how to continue.

The atmosphere was still electric, but neither of you openly acknowledged it. However, there was something different in the way you looked at each other. The space between you was not as full of hostile tensions as before, but something more subtle, more ambiguous, something that neither you nor he could define.

Finally, you both settled down on the floor, leaving the blankets over your bodies to try to get some warmth. No one else spoke, but the proximity was new and felt uncomfortable in an almost pleasurable way. Every time their arms or legs accidentally touched, a prickling sensation in the air seemed to follow them, without them being able to really ignore it.

The silence that followed was so thick that even the crackling of the fire seemed softer. They were both trying to rest, but they knew that the storm outside was not the only thing that kept the cabin in a state of restlessness.

The next day came with the same monotony of the storm that did not seem to let up. The snow continued to fall, covering the landscape with a thick, white layer that made everything even more isolated. The cabin, although cozy in its warmth, was still small, and they both knew that being trapped there with no company but each other was not the ideal situation.

The sun barely filtered through the small windows, making the light dim, almost gloomy. They both tried to distract themselves with simple activities: you walked over to the fireplace to add some more firewood, while he looked out the window, watching the wind push the snow into spirals. No one else had passed by all morning, and the radio, although tuned to different frequencies, brought nothing but static. The heavy silence between them was a constant, interrupted only by the sound of the wind outside or the crackling of wood under the flame in the fireplace.

At first, they tried to call each other on the phone, but the signal was nonexistent. Communication with their families was scarce, and the answer they both received from their respective homes was the same: "We're busy, we'll send help when possible, but we don't know when." That promise would take hours, even days, and frustration slowly grew within the two of them. Without a clear plan and with time at a standstill, all they could do was wait.

The first part of the morning was awkward. They both tried to find tasks that would keep them busy without having to confront each other too much. You sat in the corner reading one of the few books the cabin had, while Rafe checked the electronic devices once more, as if the batteries in his phone could magically fill the void between you. Every time your gazes met, something in the air tensed, and you both quickly looked away, as if you weren’t ready to acknowledge what had changed in the atmosphere between you.

As the day progressed, the atmosphere became slightly less charged. The need for coexistence made them both begin to share the space more naturally, although there was still an invisible barrier that neither of them wanted to completely break down. Lunchtime came without many options, but they tried to make the best of what they had. Together they prepared something simple, a warm soup from a can, and although neither of them felt too much like eating, they both knew they didn't have many alternatives. They ate in silence, sitting near the fireplace, the sound of the ladle against the can and the soft crackle of the fire creating an atmosphere of uncomfortable intimacy.

After lunch, they decided to try to explore the cabin to see if they could find some way to make the wait more bearable. But every corner, every nook and cranny of the place, seemed to be saturated with the feeling that nothing more was going to happen. Time continued to move with an almost unbearable slowness, but the storm remained the same, with no sign that anyone might come to rescue them soon.

Rafe began to move in a more restless manner, pacing back and forth, while you stood still, watching the tension build up in his shoulders. Sometimes he would stop to look out the window, as if he could make the wind and snow stop with a single thought. However, reality was relentless. Neither of you could do anything to change the situation, and that became an unspoken truth that hung in the air. At some point, you both decided to go out onto the small, snow-covered terrace, hoping that the cold air would clear your minds a little. You covered yourself with a coat, and Rafe, although more reluctant, followed you outside.

The snow fell relentlessly, enveloping the world in a blanket of silence and whiteness. The landscape seemed deserted, without footprints, without a trace of life. You stood at the door, watching the storm form patterns of mist in the air, while he leaned on the door frame, looking out at the horizon. Neither of them said anything, but the fact that they were outside, in the storm, with the pressure of the situation, made them feel that at least they were sharing something at that moment.

The rest of the day passed in a back and forth of small efforts to ignore each other and, at the same time, pass the time in the best way possible. At one point, Rafe suggested playing a game, as if they could at least transform the tense calm into something more bearable. They found a deck of cards on a nearby table and sat down to play, their fingers sliding clumsily across the cards, while the sound of the wind slid around the walls. Amidst the jokes and attempts at sarcasm, time began to flow in a more natural way, although there was still that strange spark in the air that they both tried to avoid.

The afternoon faded and night fell quickly again, covering them in an almost complete stillness.

The night had fallen with the same heavy calm as always, but this time, the silence was not so unbearable. As the storm raged on and the hours seemed to drag on endlessly, the cabin was safe in its warm shelter. They decided, after a while, to look for something to do, something that could break the routine and relieve the tension that had been hanging between them all day.

It was Rafe who finally opened an old cupboard in the corner of the living room, and with a slight grunt of disapproval, pulled out a dusty box. Opening it, they found an old board game, with worn wooden pieces and a board that was already showing signs of use. It was one of those classic games, the kind one finds in forgotten country houses, but at that moment, it seemed like a lifeline to both of them.

With a slight smile that barely managed to hide his surprise, Rafe offered the pieces to you, suggesting that you play. The game, though simple, was the beginning of a change in the atmosphere that neither of you expected. The rules didn't matter too much; what really mattered was the space the game took up in the room, and the way that, with each joke and each move, the two of you began to relax, even if only a little.

The first few rounds were clumsy and full of sarcasm. You both sat in front of the board, moving the pieces more roughly than necessary, and joking about how, apparently, neither of you were an expert at that type of game. However, as the game progressed, the jokes became more natural, and the laughs began to come out without either of you meaning to. Rafe even began to let out a few genuine smiles, something that would have been rare to see before.

At one point, during a silly turn where a piece almost fell out, you both burst out laughing, unable to contain yourself. It was a liberating laugh, as if the weight of the day and the situation had lifted a little, if only for an instant. There was something in the way you both looked at each other, as if, for the first time since you were trapped in that place, you felt a little more human, less disconnected.

The night went on, and the laughter continued. It was then that, checking the fireplace again, you realized that it had gone out a little. You tried to adjust the wood, but, as expected, you couldn't manage it alone. Rafe, who had been watching with a mocking look, stood up without saying much and came over to help you.

"Do you need help or would you rather make another mess?" he asked in a sarcastic tone, but without malice.

Without saying a word, you accepted his offer and together you tried to rekindle the fire. You both crouched down near the fireplace, moving the branches and wood with a little more urgency, and as you did, a small burst of ash flew towards you. You both let out a startled cry, and before you knew it, Rafe was covered in ash on his face, while you, equally surprised, also had a light layer of grey dust on your hair and shoulders.

At first, the moment was a chaos of nervous laughter and narrowed gazes, and the tense air was finally broken. The two of you looked at each other for a second, completely covered in dust, and the scene, in its clumsiness and unexpectedness, provoked more laughter. Rafe tried to brush the ash off his face, but only managed to spread it further.

“This is a mess,” he said between laughs, while shaking his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, you don’t look so bad anyway,” you replied between guffaws, trying to brush the ash out of your hair.

The situation was absurd, but for some reason, it was perfect. The sense of bewilderment and tension that had defined the whole situation from the beginning had vanished, and what remained was something lighter, a sort of awkward but sincere camaraderie. They both sat down again near the fireplace, much more relaxed now, and continued playing, with no one talking too much about what had just happened.

The mood in the cabin was changed. The laughter they had shared a few moments before, the accidental brush of hands while playing, all of that had created a different atmosphere between the two of them. The spark that had been left in the air, that unconfessed tension, had become something palpable, almost unbearable. They both knew it, although neither of them was willing to admit it. Silence filled the room again, but it was no longer awkward. It was a silence that vibrated with something else, something nameless.

They were sitting near the fireplace, the flames crackling softly, while shadows played on the walls of the cabin. Rafe was staring into the flames, his fingers drumming against the table, his breathing a little heavier than usual. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but feel like there was something different about him, something that made you not want to look away. But, at the same time, you couldn’t allow yourself to give in to it. Not after everything that had happened between you.

Suddenly, without warning, Rafe leaned forward. The movement was so gentle and so sudden that you didn’t even have time to react. Before you could process it, his lips found yours, with a gentle but determined pressure. The kiss was unexpected, a clash of sensations that left you breathless for a second. It was something neither of you had planned, but at that moment, it seemed inevitable. The warmth of his mouth mixed with the coldness of the air around you, creating a tension in the air that enveloped you.

The kiss wasn’t tender or delicate. It was intense, full of everything that hadn't been said, everything that had been floating between the two of you since you met in the storm. It was like that kiss was trying to express everything that neither of you dared to say out loud. But, at some point, everything stopped. Time seemed to stand still, and in that instant, what had once been a mix of confusion and desire became something much clearer. You couldn't let things happen again. Not again.

Suddenly, a knot in your stomach made you pull away from him abruptly. The distance between you both became instantaneous, as if simply moving away from him could dispel what had just happened. You stood there, breathing heavily, looking at Rafe, who hadn't moved, but whose eyes reflected something you hadn't seen before: vulnerability, surprise, perhaps some regret.

You didn't know what to say, but the feeling in your chest was clear. You couldn't let things go back to the way they were. Not after everything you’d been through with him, everything that had happened before, when unspoken words had left scars. You couldn’t let that history repeat itself, couldn’t risk everything you’d learned to protect crumbling again.

“I don’t want to go through what I went through with you again,” you finally said, your voice shaking a little. The words came out stronger than you’d anticipated, and you were surprised that you could say them so clearly.

Rafe didn’t answer right away. His eyes didn’t leave yours, but there was something about his expression that unnerved you. You could see the conflict in his gaze, the internal struggle he was having, but it didn’t matter. You had been clear. You had stepped away, you had put up a barrier, and you weren’t willing to take a step back.

Silence fell between you again, heavier this time, denser. The fire in the fireplace continued to crackle, but the warmth of the room wasn’t enough to melt the cold distance that now separated you. Rafe finally moved, but only to get up and walk away to the window, looking outside as if that could give him the answers he couldn’t find in you.

The air in the cabin was still heavy with the tension of the unsaid, with the emotions neither of you wanted to face. But in that moment, you knew you had made the right decision, even if your heart was pounding and you felt empty inside. You didn’t want any more of that confusion, of those moments of desire and regret. Not again. And, although you couldn't predict what would happen next, you knew that the barrier you had put up was the only thing that could protect you.

The following days were a mix of awkwardness and uncomfortable silence. Although the snowstorm continued to lash against the cabin's windows, the weather inside was colder than ever. Even though circumstances kept them together, conversations became short, almost forced. The night of the kiss continued to weigh on both of them, like an invisible cloud, and although neither of them mentioned it, the tension was palpable in every small gesture.

They had breakfast together, but the conversation never went beyond what was strictly necessary. During the day, they tried to distract themselves, looking for some way to pass the time, but there was always something in the air that kept them at a distance. Sometimes, one of them would make a casual comment, but what had once been a simple chat now became uncomfortable. The simple act of looking at each other felt like a challenge, as if there was something invisible separating them.

Frustration began to build, and though neither of them would admit it, they both knew there was something they couldn't ignore any longer. The tension was building, like a taut thread about to snap.

It was on one of those afternoons, as they both tried to find something else to do in the cabin, when the bomb went off. They were looking through the few books the cabin had, looking for something to read, when Rafe, with his characteristic dismissive attitude, made a comment.

"You know, I don't understand why you can't just relax and enjoy this. It's like you're expecting everything to be awkward, like..." he paused, looking away, and then, with a sarcastic smile, added, "like you're expecting everything to be a romantic comedy or something."

The comment was the straw that broke the camel's back. There was something in his tone, something in the way he made fun of the situation, that made you lose patience. You couldn't let it go any longer. At that moment, everything you had been holding in, everything you had been trying to ignore, came to the surface.

“You know what? It’s not about that, Rafe,” you replied, your voice tense but determined. “It’s not about me wanting everything to be perfect, it’s about me not being able to stand you trying to make everything harder than it already is.”

The argument quickly began to escalate. The atmosphere in the room became charged with unspoken words, with pent-up resentments. You both knew there was something more, that what was between you was not just the awkwardness of the moment, but something much deeper, something neither of you dared to face.

Rafe, for his part, was not far behind. His face hardened, and suddenly, his mocking tone faded, giving way to a suppressed fury.

“Oh, no? So what do you expect from me? To apologize for everything I’ve done? To tell you that all of this hasn’t affected me too? Because it hasn’t, do you understand?” His voice became rougher, and for a second, the arrogant Rafe that everyone knew disappeared, revealing someone more vulnerable, someone who was also struggling with his own demons.

The impact of his words left you silent for a moment. It was the first time you saw Rafe so... human. That facade of a self-assured boy, of a boy who controls everything, was crumbling, and it was doing so in front of you.

But it wasn't just that. You felt the same too. You couldn't keep hiding what you felt, you couldn't keep pretending that everything was okay when it wasn't. The frustration of the previous days, the tension that had been left hanging in the air, was now almost unbearable.

“I don't understand it, Rafe” you finally answered. “All of this, this situation, you... you've never given me a reason to think that things could be different. Everything that's happened between us has been... a mix of misunderstandings, of things left unsaid. And I'm confused too, I don't know what to expect from you, or from myself.”

For a moment, both stayed silent. The noises from outside the wind hitting the windows and the snowstorm were the only things that could be heard in the cabin, while the weight of the words hung in the air.

Rafe looked down, his hands shaking slightly, not from the cold, but from something deeper. He was fighting with himself, with the part of him that he had never shown to anyone, that part that he feared, that felt vulnerable. After what seemed like an eternity, finally, his words came out.

"I never wanted things between us to be like this," he said in a low, but sincere voice. "I don't know how to handle it, I don't know how... how to deal with this. I've always been... well, I've always closed myself off, and I don't know how to make things different. But it scares me." I’m scared of what I feel, scared that this will all end badly, like it always does. I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

You were surprised to hear Rafe speak with such vulnerability. The boy who was always so sure of himself, so unflappable, now looked so… fragile. And, for a moment, something inside you changed. The wall you had put up, the one you had built to protect yourself, slowly crumbled.

“I’m scared too,” you admitted, feeling the words slipping from your lips, unable to stop them. “I’m scared that this is nothing more than a mistake, that we’ll end up hurting each other. But I’m also scared that if we keep acting like everything is okay, we’ll miss something that could be different. And I don’t want to live with that doubt.”

The air between the two of you changed, it became heavier, but also more real. For the first time, the two of you looked at each other without the barriers of indifference, without the defenses you had kept between you. At that moment, you both knew there were no easy answers, that what you felt was complicated, confusing, and terrifying. But what had just happened, what you had just shared, was the first step toward something more, something neither of you could control.

The tension that had defined the previous days was no longer as present, replaced by a shared vulnerability that connected you in an unexpected way. Though there were no words, there was something much deeper in your gazes, a silent understanding.

Rafe took a step toward you, his eyes still filled with that internal struggle he had just revealed. There was no more sarcasm, no more games. There was just him, without the layers of arrogance that used to define him. He was genuinely there, in that moment, and you couldn’t stand the distance between you, not when you felt so clearly what was between you.

With an almost imperceptible gesture, he took your hands, his fingers cold but soft to the touch. And before you could say anything, he moved closer. On his face, uncertainty was present, but there was also something else: a shared need, a force that was driving him towards you. And when his face leaned towards yours, it wasn't the rushed kiss from before. It was slower, more cautious, as if both of you were measuring every second, every inch.

The contact of your lips was soft at first, a touch that almost felt like a sigh. But that soon changed, as if the fear and doubts from before faded away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of desire and mutual need. Both of you let yourself be carried away by the emotion, by the intensity of what you had just shared. There was no room for anything but that connection.

When the kiss ended, both of you took a deep breath, almost as if you were waking from a dream. But the emotions didn't fade. On the contrary, they intensified. Rafe looked into your eyes, as if searching for something in your expression, something that would give him the answer he already knew, even if he didn't say it. And you felt the same: a mix of nervousness, confusion, but also a certainty. Something had changed between you, and there was no turning back.

Without saying a word, you came closer again, and this time the kiss was deeper, more urgent. The need to be close, to feel complete with each other, was too strong to resist. Rafe's hands began to explore your back, pulling you closer, while you hugged him too, losing yourself in the feeling of his body next to yours.

In the blink of an eye, everything fell apart. The barriers you both had put up fell like sand castles, and you found yourselves in the bed in the cabin, both with your hearts beating hard, your breath shortened by the emotion of the moment.

The cold of the storm outside didn't matter anymore. Inside the cabin, the heat between you grew more and more intense. Every touch, every caress, was an act of shared vulnerability, of desire that had been hidden beneath the surface for so long. And as their bodies met in a slow, emotionally charged dance, the confusion of the previous days faded away completely, leaving them with only what they truly wanted from each other: to be together, without fear, without reservation.

The first contact was timid, as if both were afraid that it would break something, destroy that fragile connection they had just discovered. But soon, the need grew stronger, and the movements became more confident, more intense. Rafe looked at you with eyes filled with something more than desire. There was something deep in his gaze, something that told you that it was not just desire that was driving him, but something deeper. And you, without being able to help it, reciprocated in the same way, with your heart racing, but without the same doubt.

Time seemed to stop. The reasons or the words that were left hanging in the air no longer mattered. The fear was gone, and in its place, there was only the presence of each other, in that bed, in that cabin, surrounded by the storm, but more connected than ever.

The hours passed without the two of them realizing it. The outside world ceased to exist, and only the warmth of the cabin remained, the accelerated beating of their hearts, and the feeling that what they had just shared was not only a physical need, but also an emotional one. The vulnerability they had shown each other, the words they had said and those they had not, were now present in every touch, in every look.

Finally, exhausted but closer than ever, they stayed together, side by side, the silence enveloping them, but without the heaviness that had been there before. The cold no longer mattered. Only the warmth they shared mattered, the space between them that, although charged with complicated emotions, now seemed to be the safest place for both of them.

As you both lay in bed, snuggled under the blankets, the air in the cabin seemed to have calmed down. The storm outside was still raging, but inside, the warmth shared between you was all that mattered. The sound of the rain against the windows and the wind howling outside failed to penetrate the small shelter that had witnessed so many changes between the two of you.

The silence was comfortable, but also fraught with slight awkwardness. Despite what had happened, despite the intensity of the moments before, it was still uncharted territory for both of you. Words didn’t seem enough to describe what you felt, and vulnerability was still hovering between you, never quite fading away.

Rafe was lying on his side, staring up at the ceiling, eyes half-closed and a small sigh escaping his lips. He didn’t say anything, but there was a palpable tension in his posture, as if he was waiting for the next step to come in some way he couldn’t control. Meanwhile, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions. Everything that had happened seemed unreal, but the truth was that the two of them were there, and that changed everything.

Finally, you decided to break the silence. Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, you said something, not quite sure how it would be received.

“I think this is the strangest thing that’s happened to me in a long time,” you said in a soft tone, almost as if you expected him to respond with one of his sarcastic jokes, the usual way he had always handled things between you.

Rafe, without taking his eyes off the ceiling, let out a small laugh, but it wasn’t his usual mocking laugh. This time it was a lower laugh, as if he was acknowledging something he couldn’t ignore. However, the next thing he said was unmistakably sarcastic, one of his classic responses.

“¡Help me, I’m feeling! It’s a lot for me,” he said, his voice heavy with irony, but there was a glint in his eyes that made it sound more like a way to try and lighten the mood rather than a taunt.

Immediately, you couldn’t help it. You laughed, not at him, but with him, because you knew that even though he was trying to hide his own fears and doubts with sarcasm, you decided to act instead.

With a goofy grin on your face, you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him, hugging him tightly. The laughter that came from your chest was warm and genuine, without the barriers that would normally have stopped you.

“Merry Christmas, Rafe,” you said, as you clung to him, the words escaping as if they were an unexpected gift, the first of many.

Rafe tensed for a second, surprised by your gesture, but before he could react the way he normally would, you moved closer, feeling the closeness of his body, the warmth that enveloped you. His expression went from surprise to bewilderment, and in that instant, without thinking too much, you leaned towards him. A soft and quick kiss, but full of meaning, slid between you. It was not an impulsive or hasty kiss, but something tender, a way of responding to what you both felt, without the need for words.

The contact of your lips against his paralyzed him for a moment, and when you separated, you stared at him. You were both breathing heavily, but this time it was not because of the tension. It was because of something much deeper, because of a shared feeling that neither of you had expected, but that was growing between you.

Rafe, for a second, didn't say anything. He was looking into your eyes, as if he were evaluating what had just happened. The softness of that kiss had broken some of the walls you had both tried so hard to put up for so long, but there was still confusion in his gaze.

“You have a way of making everything complicated, you know that?” he finally said, his voice a little lower than usual, but without the sarcasm he usually used to protect himself.

You pulled back a little, shrugging and smiling again.

“You’re an expert at making everything more complicated too,” you replied, but this time there was no harshness in your words, just an acceptance of what was happening between the two of you.

Rafe just stared at you for a moment, before letting out a sigh, his chest slowly rising and falling. And even though he didn’t say anything else, there was something in his gaze that told you he felt the same way too, though maybe he wasn’t ready to fully admit it.

The atmosphere between the two of you had changed once again. Now, without the weight of sarcasm and tension from before, there was something else. A bit awkward, yes, but also deeply human. You leaned against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his breathing, and for a second, everything seemed to make sense, as if the missing pieces of the puzzle of this strange relationship were finally starting to fit together.

#fanfic #oneshot #imagine #x reader #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #obx rafe cameron #obx x reader

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kurogane2512 · 15 days ago

Text

A Night to Remember

18+ CONTENT

Game: Wuthering Waves

Characters: Cantarella x gn!reader with a cock (Rover)

Type: Fluff and smut (long fic, takes place after her companion story)

Completed main story and her companion story and she's officially my favorite wuwa character like- she's so beautiful in every way holy shit 😭 You guys know I have liked her since the drip but seeing her in game just cemented it further, the perfect mix of sexy design and demeanour with amazing story and writing.

I'm only slightly upset she wasn't as femme fatale or morally grey as it appeared from the showcase, they kinda softened her too much tho she is well written in general. I hope she'll appear in more quests and we see different sides of her character. I love the way she flirts and teases ehenfkdkkdk. Oh and the way she practically proposed in the end?! I ACCEPT CNEOUFIHEWOFHI

Some time had passed since your arrival in Rinascita, and your participation in various events that unfolded including the esteemed Carnevale, solving the crisis in the Inverted Tower and even meeting the Sentinel, Imperator. Among the time you spent scaling the luscious landscapes and drifting through endless sea of clouds, there was one place you found yourself visiting more than often- Thessaleo Fells. Many would say it was a forbidden area due to the everchanging presence of Tacet Discords and strange frequencies, but there was one place here that seemed to attract you.

Atop the ravaged lands was a mysterious castle, Porto-Veno Castle, which you eventually found out belonged to the Fisalia Family and was the place where the current head of the Fisalia resided at. Perhaps, the real reason you were attracted to this place, to this castle, was that Matriarch herself. Your first meeting with Cantarella Fisalia was filled with uncertainties, given the kind of rumours you had heard about the family and the actions they had committed. But, Cantarella proved herself to be different and became a trusted ally rather quickly.

It was one of those evenings when you found yourself strolling through Thessaleo Fells once again, simply gazing at the seaside before your eyes fell upon the castle shrouded in mystery. This time, you decided to make a move. You didn't really think about what to say to her, you simply wanted to see her again. You reached Porto-Veno castle and met Cantarella's butler, Sebastian, at the entrance, who then informed you that she was in the backyard and you were welcome to meet her.

That's when it dawned on you that you should have brought something for her as a gift, but it was too late to turn around now. Maybe she'd be happy to just have your company?

Walking through the 'poisonous' garden, planted by none other than Cantarella, was a memorable experience. It somehow suited her perfectly, the plants looked beautiful on surface yet were known to be some of the most lethal in all of Solaris 3, and you knew how well Cantarella embodied this. Your hands brushed past the edges of the petals, a simple caress that didn't linger long enough to poison you and was just enough to feel the softness, until you reached the backyard and witnessed a most stunning sight.

Jellyfishes floated in the sky above the pool, dancing in the air and conjuring different frequencies. Among the jellyfish-studded sky, you saw Cantarella in the middle of the pool with her back towards you. You walked closer to her then stopped in your tracks when you saw her body move gracefully through the water, her soaked dress rippling around as she gleefully danced in the water by herself. Her movements were precise and gentle, hands swaying in different motions to accompany the turns of her body.

You couldn't help but feel starstruck, your gaze fixated on her elegant form. The jellyfishes moved as she did, creating a marvelous scenery that felt no less than a practiced performance. Waves wuthered with her dance, splashes echoing in all directions until she finally turned around and ceased her movements with a simple finishing pose, holding up the hem of her dress and her breath heaving. Her azure eyes met yours, a gentle smile forming on her face.

"Welcome, dear Rover. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?~"

Her words snapped you out of your trance and you cleared your throat then walked closer to her, standing at the edge of the pool.

"I was just passing by, thought I'll drop in to see if everything was okay."

"Oh my, how kind of you. My apologies for not meeting you in a better state."

You shrugged with a smile then lingered your gaze over her body, noticing her translucent clothes.

"Ahem, it's fine. I was the one who came unannounced. Besides, I got to see something quite beautiful."

Cantarella smiled more at your praise and elegantly bowed.

"Well, I'm glad that you enjoyed the show~"

You blushed lightly then spoke, "Why are you dancing here? What if you catch a cold?"

"I appreciate your concern, my dear, but I have a strong immune system. Ever since the Threnodian fell, and you broke the shackles in the Sea of Ghosts, the castle's atmosphere has lightened and become warmer. The frequencies are gentler, creating a pleasant environment around here. Well, how could one resist taking in this moment of respite and calm?"

More jellyfishes floated around her, some even gathering around you and playfully poking your cheek.

"I can understand.... the view here is brilliant as well."

You smiled then extended your hand towards her, offering to help her come out. She seemed shocked for a moment looking at your stretched out hand then smiled and extended her own to grasp it. However, before you could even fully hold her, she tightly held yours and pulled you forward instead. You couldn't balance yourself and were falling into the pool now, more precisely— on Cantarella.

She opened both of her arms in a welcoming embrace and cushioned your fall, both of you falling back with her beneath you. You groaned once you regained your composure and found yourself lying on top of her, your face nestled in her ample breasts as her hands securely held you. The situation finally made sense and you quickly leaned back, looking down at her with concern.

"Are you okay, Cantarella? You are not hurt, are you?!"

Your concerned expression and words caught her off guard for a moment, but she had come to understand this was just in your nature. It was one of the many things she liked about you. She smiled and cupped your face then pulled it down, close to her own.

"You need not worry so much for me, Rover. Besides, I pulled you in deliberately~"

Hearing her words, you finally realized your position. Your gaze lingered to her drenched body, eyes falling on her exposed skin and translucent clothing. Your face heated up and you swiftly pulled away to stand up then helped her stand as well, averting your gaze.

"S-Sorry, I didn't mean to stare....."

Cantarella chuckled at your adorable state then extended her hand forward, "Care to join me?~"

You looked at her held out hand then at her face, a gentle and welcoming expression adorning it. You nodded and stood up straight then held your left hand behind your back and extended the right one to gently grasp hers as you bowed forward.

"It would be my pleasure, my lady~"

An unexpected blush crawled up face for a moment at your poised action, but she remained composed and tightened her grip to accept. Your palms traced as you interlaced your fingers together, your other arm wrapping around her waist while hers over your shoulder. Using her powers to control the frequencies around, Cantarella created a sombre tone to accompany your dance. She stepped forward first, almost catching you off-guard, but you quickly stepped back and synced with her.

Dancing in the water was difficult, something you had never done before. But Cantarella's movements were effortless and graceful as ever, her body treading through the water as if she was part of it. You matched your steps with her, swinging your body around and creating waves. More jellyfishes floated around you both, brightening the surroundings and making her sparkle. Your eyes were fixated on hers, feeling lost in her azure depths as you let your body move automatically.

"I must admit, your dancing skills are admirable, Rover. Who trained you?"

"Ah, I don't know, actually. I don't have memories of my past, just few vague recollections. I suppose my body just knows how to do it."

Her eyes softened at your response for a moment, "I see, that makes it even more impressive~"

You blushed, "I-It's nothing compared to your skills, you are even better than Carlotta—!" the words left your mouth before you knew it. You looked at her expecting her to be shocked but her expression was unchanged, the usual smile adorning her face until she let out a chuckle at your fumble.

"Now now, don't undermine little Carlotta. She's grown up exceptionally, but there's a lot she still requires to match me~"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to compare you both at all...."

She smiled then suddenly pressed her body to yours, wrapping both of her arms around your neck and leaning near your ear to whisper.

"It does intrigue me that you have done this with her as well. Though, I shouldn't really be surprised since I have known about her infatuation with you from the start~"

"We are just friends, trust me....."

She chuckled again then drew away from you, "I'm aware. This brings me to something I have been wondering about....."

"What is it?"

Her hands slid down to your chest until she gently pushed you back, creating some distance between you two. You were startled and tried to question her but saw her lunge forward into the air and float past you, her hand brushing your face and breath caressing your ear in the process as she circled around you. Water droplets fell as your eyes followed her then she came in view again and landed in front of you, your bodies pressed together with her back facing you, your arms around her waist.

"Did you really come here because you were merely passing by?~"

Her left hand cupped your jaw, fingers intricately tracing it as her eyes looked into yours. You then took steps from left to right, swaying her body with yours, her bewitching scent overwhelming your senses.

"What are you expecting?~"

Cantarella hummed then dragged her hips against yours before circling around you, her fingers tracing past your upper back as she stopped behind you and looped her arms around your shoulders. Her warm breath caressed your ear as she rested her face on your shoulder, her soft voice coming in a whisper.

"You tell me, what are you expecting from this meeting, Y/n?~"

Your face heated up for a moment, her hands slowly dragged across your torso and caressed your skin teasingly. She anticipated you to endure as you always do, resisting your urges whenever she did things like this. But you surprised her this time. You grasped both of her hands with yours and swiftly yet gently pulled them away before turning around to face her, twirling her body in your hold then pulling her close.

Her eyes widened as she felt herself being pulled and quickly acted to raise her right leg, giving you the perfect chance to grab her thigh and place it around your hip while you other hand held her waist and pressed her body to yourself. Her arms automatically wrapped around your neck as she braced herself against you, her face lying near your chest. A splash rippled when you embraced, your bodies panting as you breathed heavily. Her gaze finally moved to meet yours, a seductive expression crawling up.

"Must one expect things when seeking out someone they hold dear?~"

Cantarella's eyes visibly widened at your words, so much so that you clearly caught on to her surprise this time. She shifted her expressions rather quickly afterwards, curling her lips into a smirk and hooding her eyes.

"Ah, what a way with words~ It seems you are not as capable of hiding your intentions as you think, dear~"

You smirked back then gently released her thigh, letting her stand on her own and elegantly bowed.

"I have no intentions to hide, if the receiver is willing to accept~"

Another blush came and went on Cantarella's face in a matter of seconds, finding it difficult to maintain her graceful composure now.

"Hehe, the Fisalias expect a great deal of things if you wish to associate with us. Are you willing to comply, dear?~"

"Well.... You already gave me unrestricted access to everything in the castle, and in Fisalia's possession. There's only one thing left that I wish to have now."

She chuckled, "To just waltz in here and state your claim.... you know there are protocols to be followed, don't you, Rover?~"

"I prefer doing things my own way, as long as nobody is hurt."

Her eyes softened and she gracefully returned your bow, "Then, allow me to show you some of the Fisalia hospitality~"

You looked into each other's eyes with a knowing look, until you broke out in laughter followed by her restricted chuckles.

"That was quite enjoyable, thank you for joining, Rover. Come now, stay in the castle for a bit. I'll have your clothes washed up."

You weren't particularly pleased with her taking it all as a simple joke, but you decided to be patient and wait for better opportunities. You accepted her offer and followed her inside Porto-Veno Castle where a few maids immediately gathered around you both to accompany you. She took you to her study room, the place you had your first ever meeting with her. It brought back memories of the meeting, and made you internally chuckle at how far things had come since then.

One of the maids handed you a towel and you began drying your hair then looked at Cantarella also drying her hair, her skin glistening from the water droplets sliding down her body. You didn't realize you were practically staring in awe until she turned towards you and walked closer, then kept her hand on the towel which remained stationary on your head.

"Are you alright, Rover? You seem to be lost in thoughts."

Her hands pushed away yours as she grasped the towel then gently wiped your hair and face.

"A-Ah sorry, I will do it myse—"

"Shh, let me. I was the one to make you do that, allow me to return my gratitude."

"You also have to dry yours...." your eyes trailed down to her clothes and words faded as you noticed she wasn't as drenched as before, even almost completely dry, "Oh, I see.... That's quite convenient."

She chuckled at your surprise then leaned closer to your face, "Don't worry about me, dear. Just relax and let me tend to you~"

You nodded with a blush and let her do as she pleased. She smiled in return and dried off your hair completely then trailed her hands down to your chest, caressing your soaked shirt with a sultry look in her eyes.

"....Do you want to help me undress, Cantarella?" you asked, making her surprised for a moment.

"My apologies, how inappropriate of me. It seems your charm is hard to resist, Rover~"

You blushed again, "It's fine.... I don't mind if it's you."

Warmth brushed Cantarella's face too now, your words shocking her. She kept the towel away and caressed your face for a moment then grasped the lapel of your jacket and pushed it down, followed by clenching the hem of your shirt and pulling it off. Her eyes remained fixated as your body slowly came in view, and you caught her licking her lips once your upper body was fully exposed.

"Hmm, as expected of the mighty Godkiller~" she pondered.

Her fingers teasingly slid down your abs as she smirked, taking in the sight of you. You shivered from her touch once then suddenly felt her hand grab your belt buckle and instinctively gripped her wrist to stop her, feeling embarrassed.

"I'll do the rest myself, Cantarella—!"

She blinked a few times as if to come out of a trance, then swiftly retracted her hands and stepped back defensively.

"My apologies, I got carried away. I'll give you some privacy now, there is a change of clothes behind you. Excuse me, I will be back in a while."

She quickly exited the room before you could reply in any manner. You let out an exasperated sigh and held your head, feeling more embarrassed at the chain of events. On the other hand, Cantarella leaned against a nearby wall, her hands clenching her necklace as she recalled everything that happened so far and felt warmth surging through her once again.

"Seeking out someone you hold dear.... did you truly mean it, Y/n? And if you did then, what should I do? My feelings for you have always been this way...." she deeply pondered, feeling conflicted and regretful.

"Milady? Are you alright?" a familiar voiced called out to Cantarella and she quickly composed herself to see her butler beside her, standing with a trolley in front.

"Ah, I'm fine. Thank you, Sebastian. I'll take it from here."

"As you wish, milady." he bowed then turned around to walk away, leaving her alone with her thoughts, and you.

She took a few deep breaths to calm herself then grabbed the trolley and pushed it towards the room, followed by knocking on it to call out to you.

"Rover, are you done changing? May I come in now?"

"Ah, sure!" you shouted back.

Cantarella opened the door and pushed the trolley forward as she came in, giving you a small smile as you stood wearing the clothes she had arranged- a casual pair of shirt and pants, delicately ironed.

"It fits you perfectly. Is it comfortable to wear?"

"Yes, it feels great. The fabric is really soft and breathable."

She smiled then stopped the trolley near the sofa and walked in front of it, "Please, have a seat. I have prepared some refreshments for your liking."

"O-Oh, you didn't have to...."

"It is my pleasure, especially after the wonderful time you gave me~"

She eyed you with a smirk when she spoke the last part before turning her attention back to the trolley. You sat on one side of the sofa and waited as she poured out some drink in a bowl, followed by pouring a small drop from a potion vial and stirring it. She then took a seat beside you, closely, elegantly draping her dress, and took a spoonful of the drink to blow on it.

"Some freshly prepared soup and a concoction I made, it should be quite tasty. Here, say 'aah'~"

She brought the spoon towards your lips and you instinctively opened your mouth, letting her feed you. You didn't even question what kind of concoction it could possibly be, nor did you have the time to feel embarrassed by her action of feeding you. Somehow, the air around her intoxicated you and made you more relaxed than ever, your body seemingly abiding to any and everything.

"....It's delicious, perfectly seasoned and cooked. And that concoction.... is it some kind of potion to relax you?"

"You could say that. It is not as potent as the blend I made that day to help you sleep, this is simply meant to calm your nerves and muscles."

"Thank you.... I feel really good."

She smiled in satisfaction and continued feeding you a few more scoops, "Hehe, reminds me of the first time we met and I offered you tea which you refused. A shame, that tea was from Jinzhou~"

You recalled the time she was talking about and felt guilty, "I'm sorry about that. I was just trying to be cautious...."

"An astute way of thinking, I hold no grudge against you for that. But, it is quite amusing to see how far we have come~"

You blushed realizing what she meant, it was indeed impressive how things turned out. Who would have guessed the supposed evil and manipulative head of the Fisalias would turn out to be the real Blessed Maiden, a woman who selflessly sacrificed her life to save Imperator, and in turn Ragunna, including many innocent girls from the shackles of the Divine Trials. She was a Defier, a resilient and strong woman who gave up her own freedom for others to live freely.

"Would you mind serving me that tea again some time? I'd really like to try it."

"Why, of course. I will have it prepared the next time you visit. There are many other teas I have acquired from the states of Huanglong, I'm sure you'd be pleased to try those as well."

"I look forward to it."

You smiled at each other and soon finished the soup then she offered some desserts to you- cupcakes, pastries and pudding. You were quite overwhelmed by the variety but were feeling quite hungry, and tempted looking at them, hence accepted delightfully and indulged yourself. Cantarella silently watched you eat, finding it adorable how you enjoyed the simple treats and ate gleefully. It was during one of these moments when she noticed some whipped cream smeared near the corner of your lips, and how you were seemingly oblivious to it.

Smirking to herself, and being the teaser she was, she couldn’t help but lean in to wipe it away with her index finger, playfully grazing your lips in the process. You looked at her in embarrassment and quickly wiped away your own face then were about to thank her but your words, and breath, got caught in your throat as you watched her lick the cream on her fingertip, her engraved tongue sensually lapping it up and a pleasant hum leaving her lips. You instinctively swallowed a lump, your face turning bright red for a second.

“O-Oh, thank you for that, Cantarella. Sorry for being messy....”

She softly chuckled, “It’s not a big deal, Rover. While I do prefer to maintain poise and grace at the table, we are not in a formal place at the moment- nor do I want our relationship to have those formalities, I find it quite endearing to look at you this way~”

You shyly averted your gaze and were about to say something to change the topic but the Tacet Mark on your hand started glowing all of a sudden, followed by your companion conjuring himself from his slumber.

“Oh, I smell delicious food! Hey, why did you not call me if you were having such a treat!” Abby announced as his eyes sparkled looking at the remaining desserts.

You held your head with a sigh while Cantarella smiled to herself. Abby then turned around to face you and was caught by surprise seeing you alone with Cantarella, realizing he interrupted a private moment.

“Oh, sorry.... Am I interrupting something?”

“Abby.... you know I would have called you out if it was a feast.”

Abby scratched his head embarrassingly then flew near you, leaning to whisper something in your ear.

“Oi, are you getting anywhere with her? Why don’t you just confess your feelings alrea-“

“Shh! Abby, not here!” you gasped and waved your hands here and there, making Abby giggle before returning inside your Tacet Mark. You let out a sigh of relief then looked over at Cantarella who was also giggling to herself by your antics.

“Sorry about that, he has a habit of coming out that way whenever there is food, and danger, nearby....”

“Your friendship is adorable, it is a delight to see you both. However, I believe there was something you were going to say before he came out?~”

“Ah, that....” you held back for a moment then looked at her firmly, “....I have been a bit curious about your Tacet Mark. How does it feel? I imagine you must face some uncomfortable situations....”

She seemingly didn’t expect such a question, but was nevertheless pleased to satiate your curiosity.

“Hmm.... it’s not as bad as you think. Many things I have simply gotten used to over the years. Initially, it would get quite irritable since it goes down to my throat, but I learned to live with it. When inactive, it just lays there like no stranger. I... prefer to have simple food with no extravagant seasonings since I cannot taste much of anything so I’m not used to strong flavours.”

Your eyes widened at the surprising revelations, nodding at her while pondering.

“You said it’s not as bad but it sounds pretty troublesome. I never imagined it goes down to your throat and that you cannot taste much....”

Cantarella smirked and leaned close to you, her eyes narrowing with mischief.

“What kind of preconceived notions did you have about it?~”

“W-Well, for one I thought it’s only on your tongue, and that eating anything brings discomfort and perhaps even gets ticklish....”

“Hehe, I can understand. Though, I have never had someone brave enough to ask me about it~”

“Also.... I wonder how it feels to touch.”

Her eyes glinted at your words, seemingly waiting for you to say that.

“Well, would you like to find out?~”

Her hand settled atop your thigh as she leaned even closer, anticipating your reply. Your heartrate fastened once again as you imagined the scene in your head, subconsciously swallowing a lump.

“I-I’m sure it must be like all other Tacet Marks for the most part....”

“I don’t mind letting you feel it, dear~”

She seemed almost eager, continuing to come closer to you and now grasped your hand. You felt defeated looking at her and eventually gave a nod then watched as she guided your right hand up to her face, sticking out her tongue for you. Your face heated up as you slowly extended your hand and finally caressed the tip of her tongue with your thumb.

The sensation was indeed similar as you anticipated, but also different enough to make you more curious to seek further. You traced along the vertical line with your thumb before pulling it aside and letting your index finger touch it, feeling the ebbs and bumps of the waves and the rough sensation of engraving.

At the same time, you were intensely aware of your action and kept note of Cantarella’s reactions, ensuring to not hurt her or do something strange. The situation and sight of her leaning forward with her tongue stuck out and eyes hooded was erotic enough for you, you had to stay in control and not get carried away.

“It’s.... very interesting, similar to others but also different. I can’t pinpoint what feels different but....”

She seemed pleased by your assessment and smiled then stuck out her tongue even more, giving you further access. Her saliva coated your fingertips but you didn’t mind; if anything, it made the situation even more erotic. You also leaned closer to take a better look at it further down her mouth, noticing a familiar pattern that you had only seen on 2 other people so far.

“6 waves just like Jinhsi and Cartethyia.... Is it because she was chosen as the Sentinel’s Resonator? But, does giving up that power not change it? Would be nice if I could get a chance to see the moment a normal Resonator becomes the Sentinel’s Resonator....”

You were lost in your thoughts as you conjured all sorts of theories and explanations. Cantarella was slightly shocked to see you so immersed in thinking, seemingly oblivious to your surroundings. With a small smirk, she took the opportunity to tease you. As you were not paying attention, she sneakily licked your finger then swirled her tongue around it before wrapping her lips on the tip.

“Mmh....~”

You finally snapped out of your thoughts at her constrained voice, darting your eyes to see the shocking sight of her sucking your finger. You’d have normally pulled away instinctively, but something held you back and you almost wished to let it continue further. You looked at Cantarella’s eyes which narrowed once she caught your gaze, clearly indicating her teasing. She then grasped your hand and gently released your finger, still holding your hand near her mouth.

“Why not have a better feel?~”

She whispered and dragged her tongue from the base of your finger up to the tip, the entirety of her Tacet Mark rubbing against it. But she didn’t stop there. She swallowed your finger once again and stroked her tongue over it multiple times, almost licking it like it was a delicious treat. You simply remained motionless at her ministrations, too aroused to stop it and simply too overwhelmed to really act. Her hand caressed and teased the rest of your hand at the same time, fingers running up and down in gentle motions. Her warm breath only added to the sensations.

You had no idea how much time passed when she finally stopped and released your finger, it probably hadn’t been much yet felt like an eternity. Your face was as red as a cherry, eyes widened and breath slightly haphazard. Who would have guessed having your finger licked over would be so arousing? Perhaps the person doing it, and the technique, made a difference. Cantarella smirked more at your speechless form; oh, how she adored seeing you this way and wished to see even more.

“Well, did that give you a good idea of it, dear?~”

Her question brought you back to reality, immediately pulling your hand away from hers and making some distance between you two then clearing your throat to speak.

“A-Ahem, yes that was sufficient. Thank you for the opportunity, I hope you didn’t feel.... uncomfortable.”

She chuckled and grabbed a tissue from the table then wiped your finger with it, “Of course not, I’m more than pleased to indulge you anytime~”

You blushed and simply nodded at her while looking away, feeling embarrassed to face her. She finished cleaning your finger then suddenly laced her hand with yours and closed the distance between you two once again, lips curled into a smirk.

“There is something I have also been curious about for a while. Care to return the favor for me?~”

“....What is it?”

She leaned even closer, her body essentially resting on yours now as you rested against the handrest of the sofa. Her other hand went to cup your face, tracing your jaw before she brought her face near your ear to whisper in a silvery tone.

“Just how sweet do you taste, dear Rover?~”

Shivers went down your body at her seductive tone, and the way she was practically leaning on you now, her breasts pressing against your chest.

"....Y-You already had a taste just now, didn't you?"

She chuckled, making you tremble once again.

"That barely told me anything. I'd like to try in a more.... direct way~"

Your lips twitched, fists clenching as you desperately tried to keep yourself composed.

"....What do you suggest?"

Her eyes narrowed as she traced her hand across your cheek, sliding it down to touch your lips with her fingers now.

"There are quite a few ways, you know...." she shifted her leg closer, her knee grazing your crotch, ".....Would you like me to show you?~"

Your eyes dropped down to her breasts, feeling how they squished on your chest. You felt her lips brush past your ear lobe as she moved in front of your face, your lips lingering over each other's. You opened your mouth to respond but just at that moment, all the sensations you were feeling got lost as Cantarella pulled back and sat up straight with reasonable distance in between. You couldn't descibe what you felt right then, the regret and disappointment.

"My apologies, that was a little too far. It's just hard to resist when you give such adorable reactions~" she stated with a giggle before reaching her hand out towards the table to pour a cup of tea for herself.

You almost glared at her, feeling annoyed by this constant dance of temptation.

"What was too far?" you asked with a flat tone, making her slightly surprised.

"....Doing any further is inappropriate for me. As the head of the Fisalias, I know there is a line to not cross."

You gritted your teeth then moved closer to her and gently gripped her wrist, making her turn to face you with widened eyes.

"So, you do even this with anyone? All the flirting, the looks and touching.... do you dance with just anyone? Do you treat anyone with such care and attention, even giving them your family's assets and secrets?"

You couldn't hold back and spoke your thoughts, desperate to know her true feelings now. Cantarella was even more shocked by your supposed outburst, unsure of how to respond for a moment. She saw the immense feelings in your golden eyes, realizing how she was playing with your heart all this time.

"....You are not just anyone, Rover. The things that you have done for Rinascita, for Jinzhou, for me.... nobody else could."

She extended her arms to cup your face, cradling it in her palms with a gentle smile on her face.

"You are the Sentinel's Arbiter, you fought off the Threnodian invansion in Jinzhou, you made the Carnevale a success this year, you solved the crisis in Avinoleum and freed Cartitheyia, and you saved me and my family from the lifelong torture of being under the Threnodian's whispers....."

She shifted closer and caressed your face.

"And this is simply what I know about. I'm sure there's many more things you have done, and will do, that make you unlike anyone in this world. So, tell me.... is it wrong of me to treat you the way I do? If it is then I will sto—"

"Is that really all the reason for you to treat me this way?"

"....What are you implying, dear?"

"You said it yourself, doing more is inappropriate for you. But, are you sure even this much is appropriate if you simply respect me for all my actions?"

You gripped her hands and pulled them away from your face, averting your gaze from her. Cantarella gazed at you in silence, trying to form words to speak. The answer was known to her all this time, but she refused to face it, fearful of the consequences.

"You know what I'm implying very well, don't you? Just say yes or no, that'll be enough." you added.

Your words tugged her heartstrings all of a sudden, a strange sensation rising in her as her hand subconsciously gripped her necklace while her mind plunged in deep thought. She wasn't sure herself why she was holding back all this time, perhaps she was not used to wanting something for herself?

"....Yes, I know." she finally replied in a low, soft voice.

You were about to look at her when she instead lunged at you and pressed her lips to yours, giving you a small and rushed yet intense kiss.

"My apologies.... I.... all this time I was— mmh!~" she attempted to clarify but you didn't let her as you kissed her back, equally as rushed and intense.

"It's fine, you don't have to say it...."

Light blush formed on her face, her hands coming to grip your shoulders as she shifted even closer and connected your lips again. Her body leaned on yours once again, causing you to rest on the armrest as you let her onto you. You lips moved with intensity, messy and unskilled even, but that only made it feel more passionate. Your right arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer, her body straddling you now.

"Mmh.... aah.... Y-Y/n~" she moaned into the kiss, her hands continuously moving to feel you up in every way before settling to grip your hair and neck.

Buried feelings exchanged through the kiss alone, her burning emotions that she planned to keep locked in forever came gushing out and flowed into the kiss. Her soft lips gave you no chance to part, keeping them pressed as much as possible.

"Mm.... C-Cantarella.... ngh....~" you gasped softly when you felt her bite your lower lip before enveloping it with her lips.

Moans and ragged breaths resounded in the room as you madeout, everything seemed to still and you could only focus on Cantarella. Perhaps that's why neither of you heard the knock on the door, followed by a familiar voice speaking only to be immediately shushed at the scene unfolding.

"Milady, Rover's clothes ar— Oh, my deepest apologies!" Cantarella's maid, Carmilla, stood frozen at the doorway with her head bowed. Cantarella quickly pulled back and sat up normally beside you, her face red and breath uneven, arms folding over her chest as she attempted to compose herself from the embarrassment.

"A-Ahem, it is alright, Carmilla. What were you saying?"

"I-I only came to inform that Rover's clothes are washed and dried now, and to ask whether you required something...."

"I see, you may keep the clothes with others for now. As for whether we require something....." she paused and glanced at you, to which you shook your head sideways and she continued, "....No need, you are dismissed."

"U-Understood, milady! I'm really sorry about this!" she kept bowing and apologizing as she backed away then shut the door close.

Cantarella let out a sigh while holding her head while you couldn't help but giggle at the situation.

"Are they not used to seeing you with lovers?~" you teased.

Cantarella smirked, "What a rude assumption to make, dear. I'm not one to engage in loose affairs, I'll have you know~"

"Ah, then I'm the first and only one to receive a consort proposal from the head of Fisalias?~"

"Well, I cannot speak for the previous heads but for the present one.... You are also her first kiss— and any kind of romantic engagement, for that matter~"

Your eyes widened in slight surprise, "Let me guess, you were always too busy with the family affairs and trying to find a way to save Imperator?"

"Indeed, but that's not all there is to it. With the current reputation of the Fisalia, and mine specifically..... who would really wish to form such a bond with 'The Bane'?"

Her eyes hooded slightly as she spoke, a hint of sadness and loneliness lingering on her azure gaze. You understood what she meant, yet found it upsetting she had to live this way. She seemingly sensed what you were thinking and let out a smile before coming closer to you and grasping your hand.

"Things will gradually shift because of you. I do not regret anything that has happened so far, for I believe it is our choices and will that led us to this situation—not the wishes of fate. Saving Imperator, Ragunna and residing over the family took priority for me, and I'm eternally grateful for the outcome it has brought me~"

She looked deep in your eyes as she spoke, clearly referring to you. Her other hand cupped your face and you were about to lean in to kiss her but she put her index finger on your lips and stopped you with a chuckle.

"Aren't you impatient, dear?~"

You smirked, "Can you blame me?~"

"Hehe, how about we move somewhere more private?~"

"Sure, I have yet to see more of 'our' home anyways~"

Cantarella blushed for a moment then kissed your cheek before standing up to go out. You exited the study room together and were following her down the hallway now, wondering where she'd take you. You reached the staircase and she was about to begin descending when you stopped her as an idea popped in your head. She looked at you with a confused expression then was startled the moment you put your arms under the bend of her knees and around her waist then picked her up bridal style.

Her arms automatically wrapped around your neck but the surprised expression on her face told you enough of how unexpected this was for her. A faint blush formed on her cheeks again and she slightly adjusted herself better, brushing her dress to the side and shifting closer to you. You heard vague sounds of gasps from around and looked to see some of the servants and members staring at you two with shocked faces, mouths agape and eyes blown wide.

You then looked back at Cantarella and she seemed unfazed by the looks, even if slightly embarrassed at first when her maid walked in on you making out. She looked at you as well and gave a gentle smile before cupping your face to peck your lips, causing even more gasps and squeels to erupt from the surroundings. Though, everyone soon cleared the way and acted as if they saw nothing while Cantarella guided you towards her private bedroom.

Porto-Veno Castle already looked grand enough from outside, but it was even better inside with its impressive architecture.

"How big is this castle?"

"Hehe, big enough that it would take you an entire day to see every room and passage~"

"....Doesn't it get lonely being all by yourself? Especially now after those girls went back...."

She softly smiled, "I have ways to keep myself occupied. Now that I'm free from a major responsibility, thanks to you, I finally go out sightseeing. There are still many other duties I have to do as the head, those keep me busy enough."

"I see.... Let's go out together someday, call me when you are up for it."

"Of course, it'd be my pleasure~"

She pecked your lips and you smiled at each other. You then finally reached her private bedroom and placed her down as she opened the door, welcoming you in. There was a queen size bed in the center with transparent purple curtains on its edges, a vanity to the left corner of the room accompanied with various plants and ornaments all around. A sweet, intoxicating fragrance filled the room, making you entranced immediately.

"Your room is beautiful....."

You walked in further as you glanced around, taking in the view. Meanwhile, Cantarella stood at the door with her back pressed to it and silently gazed at you, deep in her own thoughts. Her heart beated faster as each moment passed, your words barely audible to her. She then took a deep breath, clenching her necklace then releasing it and walked up to you.

"Oh, is that yo—?" your words were caught in your throat as she suddenly embraced you from behind, her arms wrapping around your torso and face buried in your shoulder.

"Cantarella, are you okay?" you asked out of concern, finding this unlike her.

She remained silent for a while and simply held you as if feeling your warmth and presence, her deep breathing prominent in your ear and making you shiver.

"....I'm in love with you, Y/n."

The sudden confession caught you off-guard, even if you were technically aware of this.

"Me too, I'm in love with you as well."

Her hold tightened hearing your words, a small smile forming on her lips. She dragged her hand across your chest to grasp your face, gently caressing your jaw while leaning closer to place kisses on your neck. You trembled in place feeling her lips on your skin, soft yet fiery kisses igniting a flame in you, a touch so sweet yet poisonous that you wanted more.

"Y-You didn't have to say it, you know? I have known for a while...."

"No.... I had to say it, for you and for myself, to finally make my heart accept it."

You smiled at her words then slowly turned around to face her, gazing into her fathomless eyes as they sparkled. She then cupped your face and stepped closer before meeting her lips with yours again, hungrily. There was no thought, only need— urgent and wild. Her usual grace and elegance was nowhere to be found, her lips clashing messily as if she's waited too long for this— which you knew you both had. Her hands then slid around your neck before tangling into your hair, pulling you closer and deeper.

Moans and desperate breaths exchanged as the heated kiss continued, your body growing warmer with each motion as your hands went to settle around her waist, slyly dragging up to feel her exposed back. She smirked against your lips and dug one knee between your legs, pushing against your crotch and making you groan into the kiss.

"C-Cantare— mmph~"

"Hush now~"

Her confidence in taking charge was uncanny, despite the fact that it was her first time doing this. You soon felt yourself being pushed backwards, lips still locked, every step unsteady with desire and urgency. The back of your knees hit the bed and you fell down, pulling her along with you. The mere drag of your body further up the bed was heavy as your lips never left hers, hands desperately clawing each other to touch anywhere and everywhere. She moved to straddle you properly, silky lavendar hair cascading over your face.

The kiss shifted, her thumb gently parting your lips and you easily let her, granting deeper access for her tongue to dive in. Your tongues meet, a tingling sensation running through you for a moment due to the Tacet Mark, but quickly changing into a passionate exchange. They moved as if in a frantic dance, sliding over each other impatiently. A low hum resounded from her, sending vibrations through you. Her mouth was warm, soft, and intoxicating— making you seek more of it.

With a swift motion, you wrapped your arms around her and turned over to place her on the bed instead and came on top of her, lips never leaving hers. She gasped into the kiss from the sudden change of positions, yet made no effort to resist and instead pulled you down to kiss deeper. Her right leg slid up around your waist, and you wasted no time to grasp and caress her porcelein skin while pressing yourself deeper. A passionate revelry unfolded with your tongues, bodies intertwining together into one.

It felt like an eternity when you finally stopped, breathless and panting as you slowly retracted from her, her tongue giving a final lick to your lips and relishing the taste. Her eyes were half-lidded, shimmering with the afterglow of the kiss. The deep blue glowed like an ocean, fluid and alive, ripples of light catching the surface like a jellyfish drifting beneath the water. The vibrant blue reminded you of those creatures, pulsating softly, drawing you in with the same quiet, hypnotic pull. Every glance, every flutter, felt like an invitation to sink deeper into her, to never escape.

No words were exchanged as you immediately attached your lips to her neck and placed several lingering kisses while moving down to her chest. Her body arched into you with a soft gasp when your lips touched the valley of her breasts, planting hot and wet kisses on her soft skin. You looked up at her once, asking for permission, which she understood immediately and gave her approval. You quickly removed the clothing covering her breasts, freeing the ample mounds of flesh. Your mouth almost watered at the sight, body moving automatically to take one in your mouth.

Cantarella sighed when she felt your lips around her right breast, while your hand grasped the other to knead it. Your tongue flicked over her erect nipple and fingers dug into the soft flesh, feeling the curviness and bounce. She wrapped her own hands around your head and pushed you deeper, arching herself further into you and letting you have more. You sucked her nipple now, swirling your tongue around the nub and pinching the other one. She gasped softly when your teeth grazed it, fingers treading through your hair. The more you paid attention to the hardened bud, the more her fingers gripped onto your hair.

"Mmh... Y-Y/n.... aahn~"

You could feel her chest rising and falling rapidly as she panted, soft moans leaving her lips. You switched between breasts, giving them equal treatment and attention. Her skin was burning against yours and your own breathing was beginning to become ragged from arousal. Her moans and whimpers of pleasure were music to your ears. When you were done, you pulled back and looked at her, face flushed and her chest glistening with your saliva as she panted.

Somehow, the sight of her this way aroused you to no end. The urge to pleasure her grew stronger, eager to see more of her in this state and just simply make her feel good. She looked at you with such love, eyes glazed with lust and desire. Knowing her situation, you couldn't help but empathize with her deeply and wished to make her happy for once. Your eyes trailed down to her clothed core, noticing a wet patch forming.

"....May I undress you, Cantarella?"

Her eyes widened for a moment, knowing well where this was headed. She gave a nod rather quickly, her own body betraying her thoughts. She sat up and let you do as asked, slowly sliding down her dress and revealing her exquisite body. Her fair skin glistened against the moonlight, lavender hair cascading and enhancing the view. The last to remove were her panties and stockings as you unclasped the suspender first, followed by removing her stockings then finally underwear. A string of arousal clung to the fabric, giving way to her drenched folds.

Her body shivered at the feeling of cool air hitting her exposed parts, reflexively closing her legs. You then leaned in to kiss her and gently laid her back down before parting your lips and trailing kisses down her body, marking a trail straight down until her abdomen. She softly gasped the moment you stopped, eyes focused on her inviting folds that begging to be touched. Her clit throbbed feeling your intense gaze, her usual confident demeanour broken as she laid completely bare for you, allowing you to do whatever you pleased.

The air thickened with the scent of arousal, a potent aphrodisiac that fueled you. One would wonder if it was part of her forte, but you knew this was reality and nothing could change it. You gave a simple lick to her clit, earning a startled gasp from her, her legs instinctively enclosing around your head. You caressed her plush thighs and gently parted them as you went lower, placing kisses on her inner thighs while eyeing her throbbing folds.

Cantarella bit her lower lip when she felt your lips travel to her outer folds, teasing them. Her eyes lowered to see you buried in her folds, eager to please her. Yet, a strange and unknown sensation ran through her. She wasn't used to this. She had never done this before. Not just this act, but the act of having her own desire fulfilled. Since childhood, she had been taught to live only for one purpose, and now she lived for the freedom of others- stripping her own.

"Y-Y/n.... wait...." she husked out, extending her hands towards you.

You leaned back and went closer to her, letting her hold your face, a soft look in her eyes. You cupped her hands with your own, somehow being aware of her thoughts and giving her a reassuring look.

"Just lay back and let me please you." you sincerely stated, kissing the inside of her palm and pulling her hand away before dipping your head between her thighs again.

This time, you were more deliberate, more attentive to her reactions. You traced the sensitive skin with your tongue, teasing and tantalizing, building the anticipation slowly. You hear her breath catch in her throat, and you feel the tightening of her muscles beneath your touch. You can sense her internal struggle, the conflict between her ingrained inhibitions and the raw, primal desire that is beginning to overwhelm her.

You continue your exploration, your focus entirely on her pleasure. You use your hands, your lips, your tongue to create a symphony of sensations, each touch designed to ignite a new spark of pleasure within her. You can feel her trembling now, her body arching towards you in response. Your tongue inserts between her folds now, plunging deep into the sweet abyss and caressing her walls. That's when she cries out, a sound so unlike her.

"Nn.... Y-Y/n.... aaah~"

Cantarella Fisalia, the current Matriarch of the long-standing Fisalia family, famously known as The Bane, a Sea Witch, a woman shrouded in so much mystery that the rumours surrounding her betrayed every single truth about her. The woman known to manipulate any, to torture souls and make poisnous concoctions with the flesh of young girls— that woman laid vulnerable for you, the person who saved her and changed her life.

A loud moan escaped her lips when your thumb circled her clit, her thighs closing around your head and body arching up. She knew what this feeling was, she had read all about it in scientific books, but experiencing it was unlike anything. Her fingers found way in your hair, tangling in the strands and gently grasping, a silent indication for you to do more. You raised her hips and plunged deeper into her sea, into her warmth, your tongue stroking her sensitive spots.

"Aaahn.... yes.... r-right there..... o-oh~"

She cried out more, fingers tightening in your hair and pulling you closer. Her hips rut against your mouth, finally letting her desires spill out as she chased her release. You suck on her bundle of nerves, circling her clit faster at the same time. Her body convulsed, back arching and eyes rolling to her skull as her release approached. You could see it, feel it with the way her walls clenched around your tongue in the end.

You did a final stroke and rubbed her sensitive spots then watched her release unfold. She moaned as the knot in her stomanch snapped, her orgasm coming like a broken dam. You slurped and lapped up everything she offered, relishing her sweet poison and wanting even more. You cleaned up her slick before leaning back to look at her state, sweat trickling down her body and panting intensely as she came down from her high.

"Are you okay, Cantarella?"

"Y-Yes.... aaah.... that was.... good.... r-really good.... thank you."

Her hand covered her face as she spoke before slowly removing it to reveal her flushed face, bright red from such an intimate action. The sight was utterly adorable, seeing someone like her in this state. Once composed enough, she slowly sat up and immediately pressed your lips together. Her arms wrapped around your neck while yours around her body, placing her on you lap and making out together. She was just as intense and passionate as before, impatiently seeking you.

Her hands roamed down your body, a frantic exploration that sent shivers down your spine. They clenched at your shirt, the fine fabric crinkling in her grasp before she swiftly pulled it open, buttons popping and rolling across the floor. The cool air kissed your suddenly exposed chest. She then pushed you down to make you lay on your back and took a moment to enjoy the sight, her hands delicately tracing down your muscles and abs, eyeing the scars adorning your battle-worn skin.

You shivered once as her cold fingers traced across the scars, not being used to having your body touched this way. Cantarella simply smiled at your reaction and leaned down to kiss your neck, deliberately sucking on some spots and leaving imprints of her lips. Her engraved tongue gave a long lick from your throat to your chin before biting down near your collarbone, teeth grazing and marking you.

A gasp escaped your lips, a sound that was both surprised and pleasured. Each deliberate caress sent a jolt of electricity through you, unfamiliar yet serene. Her hold on you was more than physical, perhaps she had pulled you into her Sea of Dreams, a potent enchantment woven with her voice, eyes, and her very presence. Her hands now explored further down and settled on your pants button, eager to undo and unravel more of you.

"I want you inside, Y/n. Would you be willing to....?" she asked in an uncertain tone.

"Of course, why wouldn't I?" you answered with a smile, making her smile back.

She then wasted no time to undo your pants and pull them off along with your underwear, freeing your erect shaft from the constraints. Your length stood upright, showing your prolonged arousal and how desperate you had become. You watched her eyes flicker over your form, a mixture of awe and something akin to shyness flickering within their depths. Her hand reached out to gently grasp it, delicately wrapping her fingers around it and pumping.

You trembled in place feeling her soft, slow yet teasing touch. A part of you just wanted to be inside her already, but another wanted to wait and let her take the reins from here. Cantarella watched the way your length reacted with great interest, finding it quite adorable even if daunting due to the size. She stuck out her tongue and gave a long, slow lick across it, tasting with the entirety of her engraved tongue.

Your hips almost bucked in response but you held back, keeping yourself composed for her. She grinned at you, eyes glowing with mischief, and you knew you were in for a ride. She did say she wanted to taste you, didn't she....

"Bear with me, will you? It's my first time doing this, it may take a while to get used to~"

"I-It's fine, take your time...."

She smiled then planted a kiss on your tip, followed by making wet kisses all over and around the erect length. Your cock twitched at each touch of her lips, almost feeling embarrassed at the attention she was giving it. She then stuck out her tongue again and made a long lick from your sac to the tip, followed by swirling it over the head. You groaned in response, your body heaving at her ministrations.

"Hmm.... mmph~" she sighed as she wrapped her lips around the tip, her warm mouth engulfing it.

You suddenly became pliant in her hold, surrending to her and letting her do anything. You closed your eyes, abandoning yourself to the sensory onslaught that was about to engulf you. Her mouth felt hot and wet around your cock. Your fingers tangled in the sheets, grip tightening the lower she took you, attempting to swallow it completely. Her tongue swirled around your member, lubricating every corner and lapping it up.

A small groan left your lips when your tip hit the back of her throat, your cock laying snug in her mouth and she seemed to have no plans of letting it go. The sight was beyond erotic, and the sensations were indescribable. She breathed in and out to compose herself, the vibrations going straight through your cock making you throw your head back in ecstasy. You could feel her smile at your reactions, satiating her own desire to see you crumble. She then began bobbing her head, sucking you off at a torturously slow pace.

The wet sounds of her slurping and moaning sent shivers down your spine, chasing away the cool composure you were trying to maintain. The sensation was exquisite, agonizing, driving you closer and closer to the edge. She was taking her time, savoring every moment and every second. You knew this was her first time, but she almost made you believe otherwise with her technique. Her tongue wasted no chance to lap around whenever possible, the little bumps and crevices of the Tcaet Mark increasing the pleasure even more.

"H-How are you so-oh.... good at this?~" you asked, breathless.

She smiled at your praise then slowly dragged herself up and released you from her mouth with a wet pop, her tongue teasingly lapping at the tip as she spoke.

"I'm pleased to hear that since I'm just doing what I want to. Do tell me if I should change it up, my dear~" she winked and dragged her tongue against your shaft, her Tacet Mark rubbing across it as she took a deep taste.

A gasp escaped your lips as the mark tingled against your member. You were already dripping with precum, and the sensations of her warm mouth were driving you crazy. She then swallowed your cock once again like before, taking it all the way inside with minimal effort. Your hips bucked up at the feeling, no longer able to restrain yourself.

"F-Fuck.... I can barely hold on...." you groaned, looking down at her with a desperate look.

She giggled, knowing how desperate and close you were. She wanted to prolong your pleasure, but you both were craving release. Her hands went to massage your sac as she kept sucking, feeling the cum stored in them as it begged to be released. That's when she decided to give you even more, as if this wasn't enough. You suddenly felt a warm, soft and bouncy feeling around your base and looked down to see her breasts enveloping your dick.

"W-Wait.... shit....! Aah.... that feels so good....!~"

You sighed, enjoying the feeling of her breasts. She smirked and rubbed them up and down around your length, lubing the skin with your arousal and her own saliva to create a pleasurable sensation.

"I know what you have desired for so long.... my toxins reveal all secrets of others just by being near." she purred, "And for you.... I'm more than happy to indulge in every single one of them~"

She bobbed her head faster now, cheeks hollowing as she sucked harder as if to milk you dry, her moans reverberating in her throat and vibrating around you. The heat in your lower abdomen became almost unbearable.

"Can— Cantarella...!"

You groaned, hands flying to her hair and gripping tightly. All of a sudden, you felt intense vibrations against your tip and looked around to see jellyfishes floating near, realizing she activated her Tacet Mark now. The vibrations made you finally lose it. The heat erupted, and you climaxed into her mouth, a low moan erupting from your throat. She braced herself as you released, keeping your cock inside her mouth and welcoming the warmth.

The release was almost explosive, plentiful amounts pent-up that erupted at once. It was overwhelming, to say the least, and she eagerly took all of it. Her eyes rolled back as she swallowed, drinking every last drop. You were both panting as you finished. Her mouth finally let go and she licked her lips. You looked down, still recovering from your high, and saw her scooping up the cum dripping on her breasts, sensually licking it.

"Mmm, delicious~ Thick, slightly sweet and perfectly healthy.... hehe~" she mumbled, still licking away the cum on your tip.

You couldn't help but blush from her comments, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Hah.... if I didn't know better, I really wouldn't believe this was your first time." you said while panting.

Cantarella chuckled then came up on your body, pushing you down to lay flat on the soft mattress while she straddled you. The air remained thick with tension and lust still, both of you feeling nowhere near satisfied and craved for more. Her hands cupped your face then slid down your bare body as she slowly stood up on her knees, grasping your shaft and aligning it to her core.

"We'll truly be one in mind and body now, dear~" she purred before pushing herself on your length.

You groaned together, her walls slowly parting to accompany you inside. Warm and mushy sensations enveloped you as you went in, your eyes not leaving the sight at all. You grasped her hips and helped her as she slowly sunk down, then let out a small gasp once it was fully inside. Your body almost arched when you felt the tightness, while she moaned out at the stuffy feeling.

"Aaah.... y-you feel wonderful.... Y-Y/n.... mmh~"

"Y-You too.... hah.... so warm and tight....."

Cantarella’s eyes, wide and a little dazed, were fixed on yours, flecks of silver dancing within their deep blue depths. A faint flush crept up her neck and across her cheeks, a beautiful contrast against her creamy skin. You remained still for a moment, just absorbing the sensation, the sheer intimacy of it, letting her adjust. Her body, so regal and composed usually, was trembling slightly above you. You could feel the rapid beat of your heart in your chest, and you could tell she was the same.

"Are you.... hah.... alright?" you asked softly, gently circling your thumbs on her hips.

She blinked, a slow, languid blink, and a soft smile curved her lips.

“Alright? Y/n, I am… beyond alright.” She reached down, her fingers feather-light as they brushed against your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. “This… this is… incredible.”

She leaned down near your face, resting her palms on either side of your head then began to slowly move. Her hips rocked back n forth first, finding the right angle and rhythm, but also enjoying the way your cock scrapped her insides. She softly moaned at the growing pleasure, carefully raising her hips a little to thrust down.

"Aah....! Mmh.... y-you are so deep inside....~"

She began to move faster, finally finding the motion that suited her. Her hips sought yours as she rose and sunk down at a steady pace, sounds of skin slapping of her hips and your thighs echoing in the silent room. You watched her face, fascinated by the play of emotions there– a slight furrow of her brow as she adjusted to the unfamiliar feeling, then a soft sigh as pleasure started to bloom.

The sight of her was marvelous, making you entranced as you watched her breasts bounce with her motions, and the way her walls clenched you to keep you deep inside as if to never let go. You finally dared to move now, giving a little thrust up which made her gasp in pleasure feeling your cock hit her deep spots. She ceased for a moment, a smirk coming on her lips before she leaned down further and embraced you.

You wrapped your arms around her body, her face buried in your neck as she licked and kissed the skin there before moaning in your ear when you started thrusting again. Your bodies stuck closely, a delicious rhythm forming of your hips with hers, and her silky voice moaning in your ear only enhanced the pleasure tenfold. Your hands slid down to grasp her hips, fingers digging in the ample flesh as you bucked up faster, rutting into her.

"O-Oh, yes! More.... w-will you give me more.... aahn.... m-my dear...."

"Y-Yeah.... anything.... this is for you only..... ngh~"

You moved with increasing urgency now, each thrust a testament to the passion that had been simmering between you for so long, finally unleashed in this private haven. Cantarella clung to you, her moans becoming less controlled, more raw, each sound vibrating against your ear and sending shivers down your spine. Just then she sat back up, her palms intertwining with yours, head titled with a sultry look on her face. You braced yourself for the onslaught of her hips, her body bouncing frantically on your cock.

"Aaah.... aah.... R-Rover.... Y/n.... mmh.... more....!~"

You took a deep breath then sat up as well and tightly held her, your face flush in her breasts as you embraced. Her hands threaded through your hair, lacing in the strands while you grasped her hips and thrusted with her.

“Y-Y/n….!” she gasped out, her head thrown back, exposing the elegant curve of her neck. You instinctively leaned in, pressing kisses along the sensitive skin there, tasting the faint salt of her sweat, the intoxicating scent of her perfume now mingled with something wilder, more primal. You felt her walls tighten around you, gripping you fiercely, urging you on. Her breath hitched, and she arched her back, her breasts heaving with each gasped breath.

"I-I'm close... ngh... C-Cantarella....!~" you announced, slapping your hips up.

"G-Go on.... inside.... give it to me..... aahn~!" she urged you, wrapping her legs around your waist and locking you in so you wouldn't pull away.

Normally, you'd have been more cautious. But you couldn't control yourself here, not when you were finally in the arms of the woman you loved, not when you were finally inside her and she wanted you do it inside. You quickened your pace, your own breath coming in ragged gasps now. The world narrowed down to the feel of her body against yours, the sound of her moans in your ear, the taste of her skin as you nuzzled into her neck. The tension coiled tighter and tighter, a spring wound to its breaking point.

You thrust into her one last time, your release crashing over you in a torrent of sensation, hot and blinding and utterly consuming. You cried out her name, a primal sound of completion and adoration, as you emptied yourself into her, your body shuddering with the aftershocks of pleasure. She threw her body back feeling your release filling her up, moaning out at the hot sensations and the way your cum seeped inside her. Her arms and legs completely locked around you, holding you to dear life.

However, you weren't blind to the fact that she didn't have her release, despite her not saying anything about it. You were a little surprised she held on this long and even through your orgasm considering it was her first time, but it also would be unlike the Head of Fisalia to not have a greater willpower and resilience. Not to mention, knowing how she always prioritized others' wellbeing over her own, it was understandable she wanted you to be satisfied first. Too bad for her, you wouldn't be satisfied if she wasn't.

You suddenly turned over and placed her on the bed, her back hitting the soft mattress with a surprised gasp leaving her lips. She watched you come on top of her, spreading her legs open to accommodate yourself. Her eyes flickered when she saw your cock was still hard, brimming with energy as if it didn't just release twice in a span of some minutes. You rubbed it against her slit, grinding over her clit and spreading her arousal.

"You didn't cum, did you?" you asked her, your voice low and soft.

"I-It is alright, I don't want you to exert yourself."

You chuckled, knowing you were indeed right.

"It's not. I told you this is all for you, didn't I? No more suppressing your own desires and wishes. Tell me what you want, I will give it to you no matter what."

Her heart skipped a beat at your words, finding herself unaccustomed to this kind of situation. Her lips parted to say something but she held back for a moment, seemingly thinking over her words. Silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken desires. You continued to tease her clit, circling it with your cock, feeling her hips buck slightly against you. She was holding back, you could feel it in her tense muscles, in the quickening of her breath.

"I...." she began, her voice low like a whisper. "I want that.... again...." she eyed to where your bodies were joined, looking at your cock resting on her folds, "And.... I want what you felt....."

Her eyes hooded and lips formed a smile as she spoke, looking at you tenderly. You smiled back and pecked her lips then guided your shaft to her entrance, pressing the tip against her slick folds. She was so wet, ready for you in a way that words couldn't express. Slowly, deliberately, you began to push inside her, parting her folds once again for your length to fill her up. She gasped, a sharp intake of breath, but this time, there was no surprise, only anticipation, hunger.

"More.... mmh.... give it to me..... just engrave me into you!~"

Her unfiltered words sent a wave of pleasure and surge of energy through you, eager to please her and make her see stars. You bucked forward and hilted inside her in one go, immediately hitting the deepest spots in her. She arched up in pleasure, hips bucking into you with a raw moan leaving her lips. You began to move slowly, deliberately, drawing out the sensations for both of you. You watched her face, her reactions, her breath hitching and catching, her body starting to move with yours, instinctively, beautifully.

Her hands, which had been gripping the sheets tightly loosened to reach up to your shoulders, pulling you down and wrapping around, her painted fingernails clawing down your skin. You groaned in her ear, starting to go faster now, bucking your hips with fervour. You felt her walls tighten around you, clenching your member just like before, making you thrust harder. You felt her starting to lose herself, her breaths becoming ragged gasps, body arching and bucking beneath you.

"Yes.... f-faster.... ohhh....! Hah.... Y/n.... I love you.... I love you so much~"

Her sudden declaration of love caught you off guard, but also made you move harder.

"I love you too.... aah.... s-so much for so long.... fuck!~"

You buried your face in the crook of her neck, her left hand reaching up to entangle in your hair and grasp the strands. Her legs locked around your waist and you felt her walls flutter, tightening and loosening all at once and you knew she was close. You breathed against her, groaning as you thrusted faster, the bed moving from your intense pace.

"Cumming.... Y/n.... I'm about to— !~"

She cried out and embraced you tighter as she finally came, an explosive release washing over her making her walls milk you. You sighed at the tight and warm sensations, feeling her release on your cock still buried deep inside. You halted for a minute as she came down from her high, letting her breathe and compose herself. You raised yourself and watched her, face contorted in pleasure, smiling at you affectionately.

You shared a gentle kiss, enjoying this blissful moment. She perhaps expected you to stop now and not continue for a while, judging by the shocked expression on her face when you suddenly raised up her left leg and shifted her on her side, putting her leg over your shoulder. She had no time to prepare as you immediately thrusted inside, hilting to the base once again and setting a frantic, relentless pace.

"Aaahn! W-Wait.... I'm still— hng!~" she gasped, feeling overwhelmed.

"I know... hah.... that's why...." you said with a grin, kissing the back of her held up leg, caressing her porcelein skin.

Your hips drove forward animalistically, driven by the unfulfilled lust that still burned between you, the world narrowing down to the feel of her body against yours, the sound of your mingled breaths and the soft slapping of flesh against flesh. All of a sudden, you heard a breathy chuckle from her, followed by the usual confident smirk forming on her face.

"I didn't anticipate.... y-you to go on.... aah— I thought I'd have to.... mmh.... g-give you a stamina potion~" she teased, the way you were used to from her.

"Aaahn.... but I should have known.... it's you, after all— Oh, right there! Show me.... Rover.... Y-Y/n.... mm.... show me what you have~" she challenged, being fully aware of just what you could do.

She wanted to rile you up, to make you lose your sense of control and rail her so she wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow. Well, who were you to ever back down from a challenge?

You gritted your teeth and grasped her held-up leg then swiftly flipped her over, making her lay on her stomach. She mewled in pleasure at your rough handling, immediately standing up on all fours and glancing back at you, her eyes half-lidded and beckoning you to carry on. You wasted no time and grabbed her hips to pull her closer then thrust inside her once again, her back arching and a moan coming from her throat in response.

Driven by her challenge, your every thrust becomes a declaration, a raw expression of the desire that has simmered between you for so long. Cantarella’s breath hitches, her nails digging into the plush velvet of the bedsheets beneath her hands. “Y-Yes… like that…” she breathes, the words fragmented and breathless. Her head falls forward, her hands finding it difficult to hold up from your frantic onslaught on her behind.

Your fingers dig in the plush of her ass, kneading it in your palms, feeling her soft and plumpy skin. Her back arches further with each deep thrust, her body a taut string humming with energy. You keep drilling forward, fucking into her as if you wouldn't ever again, giving her what she wanted and more. The sounds of your bodies moving together fill the room— the soft slap of skin against skin, her increasingly louder moans, your own ragged breaths.

"Oh yes...! Just like that.... more.... show me....! G-Give it all to me.... aaahnn!~"

You soon wrap your arms around her waist and lean on her back, your face buried in her silky lavender hair as you keep thrusting, groaning with effort in her ear. She's barely able to hold herself up now from your added weight, but she soon realizes it's your hold that's keeping her in place.

"Ngh.... I think you should be.... mmh.... the o-one to take that stamina potion, hehe~" you tease, increasing the speed and intensity of your hips even more.

She knew what you meant, and you may be right. You then stand back up and suddenly loosen the grip on her, causing her front to lose all strength. Her face gets buried in the sheets with her ass still raised up for you, your cock rutting faster than before. She moaned with your thrusts, a cacaphony of her silvery voice and sounds of skin slapping resounding in the room. She couldn't describe what she felt any longer, her mind clouded by lust and you, just you.

"F-Fuck.... you are so beautiful this way.... aah.... I'm close again....!~"

You grunted then leaned down to rest on her back, pressing her body flat against the bed. Your hips continued seeking hers in this new position, your cock hitting her the deepest than ever. She cried out at how deep you went, the barrage on her sensitive spots never stopping. She looped her arm around your head and raised up slightly then turned her head to kiss you, pulling your head deeper with her looped arm. You exchanged a messy open-mouthed kiss, tongues and breaths mingling before releasing with a gasp as she put her head down to enjoy the pleasurable sensations.

"I-I'm also close.... oh yes.... t-this is amazing.... aahh.... d-don't stop....!~"

You didn't stop. You kept going, as hard and fast as you knew she could take. Controlling your strength at this moment became difficult with how lost you were in lust and the feeling of her— her tight and warm walls clutching around you, her exquisite body pinned beneath yours, her intoxicating scent that overwhelmed your senses, and her angelic voice that continuously moaned for you. You then raised up your body a little, supporting yourself with your arms by keeping them on either side of her, angling your hips in a new way.

You were sure she was completely lost in pleasure now with the way her lolled out, eyes rolled to the back of her head. She knew nothing but the pleasure you were giving her, enjoying the intense thrusts as you drove in and out. You were both reaching your peak now, having held on longer than expected. You pulled her hips into you with your final thrusts, desperately bucking forward to reach your release together. She merely thrusted back into you, feeling powerless to do anything else.

"Together.... are you ready, Cantarella? Mmm.... I'm really close....!"

"Y-Yes.... cum with me.... Y-Y/n.... I'm almost there too~!"

And just like that, the dam broke.

You did a final hard thrust, burying yourself to her depths and released a torrent of hot, unending cum. A guttural cry tore from her throat, not of pain, but of pure, unadulterated sensation. Her body arched beneath you, a wild tremor that rippled through you both. White-hot pleasure erupted from your core, radiating outwards, engulfing your senses. You felt her inner muscles contract around you, milking every last drop of pleasure, and you groaned, a sound lost against her cries.

You fell on her back, panting against her shoulder as your release drew out by the feeling of her walls clencing you, orgasming with you. For a long, drawn-out moment, time ceased to exist. There was only the feeling of her body pressed against yours, the frantic beat of your combined hearts and the slickness of sweat and passion coating your skin. You could feel Cantarella trembling beneath you, her body still radiating heat. You planted kisses on her shoulder and back before embracing her, simply resting together.

Slowly, after some time, you pulled out from her, your cum gushing out with a pop. You helped her turn on her front, her body still heaving from the intense session. She smiled at you and opened her arms in a loving embrace, and you couldn't help but dive forward in her warmness, hugging her back tightly and laying down together. She planted kisses all over your face- starting from your forehead then down to your eyelids, cheeks, nose and finally meeting your lips.

"Are you alright?" you asked, concerned.

The question felt almost ridiculous, given the intensity of what you had just shared. But you needed to hear it from her, needed reassurance that this experience, so new and overwhelming for her, was positive. She pulled back slightly from your embrace, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw, a soft smile playing on her lips. Her eyes, still heavily lidded and shimmering with unshed tears of release and something deeper, met yours.

"Why wouldn't I be? I have found my partner. Exploring the depths of this unknown sea with you was an experience I'll never forget. This night.... is truly a night to remember, and I cannot thank you enough for giving me this, and so much more."

You blushed hearing her words then smiled back, "Me too, it was an unforgettable experience for me as well. And.... I hope from now on you will openly tell your wishes, at least to me. I want to fulfill everything you desire, and give you everything you deserve."

Her azure eyes widened, yours words holding immeasurable weight.

"Y/n, you...." she trailed off in a whisper, cupping your face and gazing into your eyes, "Everything I want, I wish and desire.... is right in front of me~"

You smiled at each other then shared a gentle kiss before drifting into the night, snuggled under the warm blanket. The warmth of her body pressed against yours was a novel sensation, a comforting heat that seeped into you, chasing away the last vestiges of the day’s chill. You could feel the soft rise and fall of her chest against your own, each breath a gentle whisper against your skin. The air in the room, thick moments ago with unspoken desires, now held a quiet, expectant hum.

*~*

Morning light spilled softly into the room, golden and warm, brushing over tangled sheets and quiet corners. It stretched across the bed, falling gently on you both as you lay close, faces peaceful in sleep. Sunlight catches in Cantarella's hair, painting it with a soft, honeyed glow, and kisses her shoulders with warmth. Outside, birds sing sweet, lilting songs that drift through the open window, carried on a fresh breeze that stirs the curtains. Leaves shimmer with dew, the world hushed and still.

Cantarella was first to awaken, opening her azure eyes and to be met by the sight of you entangled with her. Her mind immediately recalled the events of last night, a whirlpool of emotions rising in her yet calming down rather quickly after looking at your peaceful face. She smiled and leaned in to kiss your forehead, slightly rising up to rest on her side and pulled the blanket further up on you, tucking you in while humming a soft tune.

"I wonder what you see in your dreams, Y/n, if not nothing at all...." she mumbled to herself in a low voice, "Hehe, look at you.... so peacefully asleep like a baby. Are you really the one who branded me into the sheets last night?~" she playfully tapped your nose with a chuckle, gazing at you with utmost love.

She raised her eyes to look around her room, watching the pleasant sunlight spill in and hearing the chirping of birds. Porto-Veno Castle had never felt this peaceful and serene, but she knew why this was the case now. This quiet, tranquil morning was a miracle granted by none other than you. She felt grateful to have you beside her this way now. Just like you, she also wised to fulfill all your wishes and desires and hoped for you to lead a peaceful and happy life.

She soon noticed your brows furrowing and a groan escaping your lips as you slowly opened your eyes, the sunlight obscuring your vision. She came in front to shield you, caressing your head to calm you down. You then finally opened your eyes and were met with Cantarella's beautiful face staring at you, a look of surprise coming and going on your face as you quickly recalled what had happened last night.

"Good morning, Y/n~" she stated with a smile, coming close to peck your lips.

"Good morning, Cantarella. Are you feeling alright?"

She chuckled and laid back down beside you, gently cupping your face and tracing her fingers along your jaw.

"Better than ever.... even if slightly drained~"

You smiled awkwardly, "Sorry, I'll be careful from next time...."

"Oh, please don't. I'd rather want you to not hold back from next time~"

You chuckled together before laying down in silence, simply gazing at each other, her hand continuing to caress your face in gentle motions.

"I like the way you look at me. In your eyes, even the darkest depths of the sea are made transparent. With you, I am no longer "The Bane." I am simply..... myself." she whispered, her face mirrored in your eyes.

You smiled softly then cupped her face in return, "And you will always be just you for me, Cantarella."

She smiled in return and joined your foreheads together, relishing the feeling of your touch and presence. The soft sunlight brushed through the room, a refreshing fragrance slowly filling the space as jellyfishes floated around you both. She lifted her azure eyes, the mist long faded, her gaze now like a calm sea, with just the ripple of gentle feelings.

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