#We're still in the beginning of year 1 and like two chapters before the time skips
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bolbianddolanhouse · 1 year ago
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BNHA self insert AU [Book 4]
Catch up here! 1 2 3
Chapter 8: That’s Not How You Eat a Banana
Hanaka’s freak out caused a whole lot of hassle for her and Tensei. The staff had to go all hands-on deck to keep things peaceful to appease the mother of the twins (aka the school’s biggest donor and contributor). It’s not looking too good for the twins.
-Lunchtime, at school-
“Hey, you girls go ahead” said Hanaka to her friends “I’m just gonna-”
“What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?” asked Petti “You always want to have lunch.”
“Yeah! I even brought those strawberry Koalas Nya!” Kyanka presented the colorful box of snacks in her paws “Your favorite!”
Hanaka eyed the snacks “Thanks but I’m just not feeling myself today.”
Twinkle gasped “What did that school counselor tell you?!” she furrowed her brow “Because if he said something bad, I’m going to-”
“Guys it’s not what the school counselor said” Hanaka waved her arms to dismiss any escalation of anger “I’ve just doing too much talking to people this week. I need some quiet time with no talking.”
The girls looked at each other with worry, Hanaka was usually the high energy one and seeing her so worn down like this was concerning.
“Okay, you go have your alone time” assured Petti “We’ll see you later.”
The other two nodded, making Hanaka feel a little better.
“Thanks guys” sighed Hanaka in relief “see you later.”
The girls waited for Hanaka to turn the corner that led to the stairs for them to scurry off to the roof top. They sorta had the same idea to spy from afar to make sure their friend was okay. The girls have been worried about Hanaka since the freak out a few days ago and wished they could do more to help. 
“Nya! Good thing I got my multi-use googles today!” Kyanka said as they pulled out her support tool out of her bag “Could use the practice before the license exam.”
“Girl isn’t that after the training camp?” Twinkle asked as she tried to scope out Hanaka in the courtyard.
“Wait, didn’t sensei say that was pushed for after the licensing?” Petti was trying to recall “No wait, that doesn’t make sense.”
The girls were trying to remember meanwhile Hanaka strolled near the mindfulness garden. She really hasn’t had the chance to see what it was all about other than that her mom got this built when she made her first big donation many years before she had kids. 
“Mindfulness Garden, built to give students a place to reflect and heal mentally. Bulit in honor of Intelligence alumni Agent 19, CEO of Robodog Inc and Inner Circle agent of the Emperor’s Coup.” Hanaka read the plaque at the entrance of the garden “Huh, I forget that mom is an agent. What a girlboss!”
She makes her way into the garden and sits under the willow tree that’s tucked in a more secluded part of the garden. Bringing her knees up to her chest, lunch bag set next to them, they give a large inhale and exhale into a heaving sob. God, they were so mentally exhausted! They didn’t want to talk about their feelings or performance in school to teachers or counselors anymore! And they don’t want to burden their friends with their feelings. With things at home being limited to basically talking to their dad that doesn’t know the meaning of being so mentally tired, Hanaka feels so alone. She could wait until their mom is done with her company stuff, but she wants her now, not a week from now! Her boiling hot tears flow out of her tired, little eyes. Tears so hot that they sizzle upon contact. 
“What do you see?” asked Petti to Kyanka, trying to toggle the settings
“Nya hold on! I’m trying to find the right setting, but the buttons are too small!”
“Just use your nail Kya” suggested Twinkle.
Kyanka groaned “My daddy made me file them down because I was snagging on everything in the house” she flexed her paw to show the other two “I can’t do shit with just my beans!”
“Yeesh! Here I’ll click through for you” Petti grunted “Tell me when.”
“Okay!.....NYAH!” Kyanka signaled “Where did you lose her Twinkle?”
Twinkle pointed toward the garden “Over there, she went under those trees and I’m not sure where she went after.”
“How are you going to see through the trees?” asked Petti
“These googles come with a heat seeking setting” Kyanka looked toward the area “And since Hanaka radiates high heat, she’ll show up as bright white on my thing.”
“Wow look at you kitty girl! Having the braincell today!” praised Twinkle 
“FOUND HER! Wait, nya?”
“What is it?” asked Petti and Twinkle
“Well I found her but theres another thing I’m picking up, nya” Kyanka was trying to explain “Another, person? Thing? Person shaped thing?”
“What’s got you confused?” Petti was trying to piece what Kyanka was seeing.
Kyanka pursed her lips in concentration “Like, why is this thing pitch black? Like it’s made out of the coldest ice ever. And it’s...moving around? So it’s not an ice sculpture, nya.”
Twinkle gasped “Hanaka’s direct opposite?! What are the chances!”
Meanwhile, Hanaka wasn’t aware that she wasn’t alone until she hears a very soft but close by “Damn!”
That startled her out of her thoughts, looking around to see who was there. But she didn’t see anyone next to her, maybe somebody was behind the tree? She crawled to peer behind the trunk of the tree, at first there was nobody there but in a blink of an eye, suddenly appeared a male uniform with a presumably invisible person in it. Hanaka flinched in fear but didn’t want to look away out of curiosity, she’s never met an invisible person before! Even though she couldn’t see their face, she felt their eyes on them.
“I- um, I-I-I” the invisible person stammered, like they just got caught.
Hanaka wasn’t sure why they were acting like that but then noticed the spilt soy sauce on the knee of their pants.
“Ah! Here, I have a detergent stick” Hanaka reached into her bag to pull out a pen detergent stick “I eat really messy too, don’t worry.”
The person was hesitant to reach for the pen she offered but slowly leaned over to grab it “Th-thank you” they said in the same soft voice.
Hanaka looked on as they removed their stain “Oh uhhh, I’m-”
“You’re Hanaka R. Iida, Hero course student in 1A” the person finished her sentence “I know who you are.”
“Whoa, how do you know my name and class?”
“I um, I studied you closely- NOT IN A PERVY WAY!” they clarified in a panic “I mean, I’m a business student here. I’m Tenten Chuubei, class 1A. The business course has us predict trends on things like top students or who’s more likely to be a top hero or sidekick.”
“Oh, cool! I didn’t know the business course did that” Hanaka was even more intrigued now “Say, I’ve never met anyone with your quirk! How does it work?”
“Huh? You’re curious about me?”
Hanaka nodded eagerly.
“Well, I have three quirks, according to the registry here” the person explained “I have invisibility, clairvoyance and sheer cold.”
Hanaka gasped “Cold?! I’m a fire user!”
“I was kind of hoping we’d never cross paths for you to see me like this” Tenten sighed as they recapped the pen “Don’t think you can-”
“Can I shake your hand with my hand at max heat?”
“Huh?” Tenten was confused as hell
“I’ve never experienced the cold before, and it doesn’t snow where I’ve lived my entire life” Hanaka stuck her hand out “I’d love to see how it feels.”
Tenten looked Hanaka’s hand and gulped hard “Now that I think about it, I’ve never felt warmth” he reached out his hand slowly “I’m curious too.”
Even though Hanaka can’t see his hand, she certainly felt it when his fingertips touched her palm. Their hands fell into the handshake position, but they didn’t do the shaking part because they were too focused on the new sensation. They didn’t know how long they were holding hands or how the other was feeling, all that Hanaka could do is give a big dumb grin and wide eyes. 
“Why the hell are they just holding hands?” Petti squawked “I just know she convinced them to hold hands, Hanaka always wants to touch things with they’re quirk related.”
“Hm? I didn’t take Hanaka for the curious type” commented Twinkle as they munched on the abandoned Koala snacks “How do you know?”
“Nya, she asked me what I was hiding my mittens when I was the new kid in preschool” Kyanka clapped her paws “She said my paws were cool and would poke my beans. And we were friends since!”
Petti groaned “When we were babies, Hanaka would collect my feathers when I was preening or molted” she lifted the back of her feathers on the base of her neck “She burned me on the neck when we were toddlers when she tried to put my feathers back on when I molted. I like to say she branded me as her friend at that point.”
“Nya, I have mine too on my wrist!”
Twinkle gasped excitedly “Wow! When will I get my friendship branding?!”
The two branded friends looked at each other, then at their unbranded friend.
“You don’t wanna, those burns were painful as hell!”
“Humph! I just want a friendship thing!” whined Twinkle, crossing their arms “Bracelets are so cliche! I want to get branded!”
Back to Hanaka, only 5 minutes has passed in the hand holding position, but the boy was starting to feel a bit weirded out.
“Alright, erm” he spoke as he loosened his grip.
“Hm? OH!” Hanaka quickly let go at his hint “That was nice! So that’s how being cold feels like.”
The boy was looking at his hand “Yea, nice...Like I was going to, melt? Turn into water?”
“Do you have lunch here every day?” blurted Hanaka “Can I join you again?”
“Erm, I come here to hide” said the boy meekly, making himself invisible again “I gotta go.”
“WAIT!” Hanaka bolted up but it was for nothing, he ran off and she couldn’t see him. 
Now Hanaka wants to get to know Tenten and become friends. She was excited to tell her friends that she experienced cold for the first time. But the others already had an idea of what happened.
After School, walking to the nurse’s office
“YOU WHAT?!” yelled Hanaka
The girls winced at the outburst.
“We were concerned for you!” Petti defended “We gave you the space.”
“Nya! I didn’t say that we knew who that was or what was said” Kyanka crossed her arms “It was just predictable and surprising that the one time you want to be alone is the time you find your direct opposite.”
Twinkle was pouty and slowly inching their hand toward Hanaka “If you’re mad, you can take it out on me.”
Petti and Kyanka slowly lowered their friend’s hand away, making them more pouty. 
“ANYWAYS! Who was the person?” asked Petti “are they nice? Bitchy?”
“Are they pretty?! What class are they in?” asked Kyanka “I don’t think there’s an ice user in the B class next to us.”
Hanaka raised an eyebrow and recalled “Hm, actually. They’re an invisible quirk user with 2 other quirks. And they’re a boy in the Business course.”
The three girls gasped and eyes widened.
“A boy?! You held hands with a boy?!” screamed Twinkle before Kyanka shoved a paw in her mouth to silence her.
Hanaka looked at her hand and fully processed what she said to Tenten earlier. Once it clicked she turned red and set the top of her head on fire. 
“Oh my god why did I do that?!” panicked Hanaka, hands on her cheeks “I’ve never talked to a boy that wasn’t my siblings’ friends! I was just curious! Oh geez what if he thinks I was flirting with him?!”
The squak were in hysterics right outside the nurse’s office, thankfully nurse Eri put a stop to it before anything caught on fire. The girls calmed down and got the band aid for Twinkle before leaving. Hanaka was very bothered by this realization but didn’t really know how to express it or explain it. She just went straight to her room once she got home, no words exchanged to her twin or dad. She even forgot to lock her door! That’s how bothered she was.
“Hanaka? You want a snack?” her dad asked carefully before opening her door a bit wider “We just got our shipment of hot chips, mom got your favorites.”
She looked over to her dad in the doorway with a bag of Exxtra Hot Cheetos. No words were spoken, just her holding her hands out with the grabby hands.
Her dad sat at the foot of the bed and waited to see if Hanaka wanted to talk about what’s bothering her as she popped the chip bag open. Hanaka just crunched, unable to find the words but just a singular sigh.
“Ah, so you talked to the opposite sex and your friends/classmates are teasing/shocked about it and you’re not sure how to feel about it because you’ve never talked like that and wonder if they took it the wrong way but you just wanted to make a friend.”
Hanaka stopped mid crunch “What the- how did you?”
Their dad chuckled “That’s what happened to me when I held your mom’s hands for the first time when they told me their secret” he reminisced “I told my brother when I got home and my classmates saw me from the third floor window hold her hands. I was embarrassed and unsure about my feelings, because I wanted to be friends with her. But at the same time I developed feelings that never truly went away.”
Hanaka turned red again, as bright as the cheetos she was snacking on.
“It’s okay to feel like this, you don’t need to figure it out right away” their dad opened his arms for a hug “take your time, you just met this boy right? Who knows! He might make a really good friend.”
Hanaka threw herself into her dad's arms for the hug “Thanks dad.”
He embraced her “Anytime Hanaka. Just take my advice, if you do find yourself that you like this boy: Don’t wait, just tell him you like him. You might regret it if you don’t say anything.”
“Is that what happened to you?”
“Yes and if I wasn’t just a denier of my feelings, I would’ve confessed 2nd year and married the day we were 20 years old.” he sighed and held his daughter tighter “But then you and your siblings wouldn’t exist! And I very much love you all.” 
“Dad, are you crying?”
“....yes” he croaked “I just really love my little family and all my children are growing up so fast! It’s like last week you were crawling for the first time and now you’re talking to boys! I’ll blink and you’ll be married!”
“Dad! I don’t know if I even like this boy!” Hanaka tried to squirm herself out of her dad’s embrace “let me go you big sappy fool!”
“No, because if I let you go” her father didn’t budge “you’ll grow up! Stay little just a bit longer please.”
Hanaka stopped resisting and pondered on what her father said, almost in defeat. 
“Fine, no promises that I won’t be a little taller tomorrow tho!”
-Later that night, before bedtime-
There was a knock on Tensei’s door
“Go away Rosa”
“STUPIDO TENSEI YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT I WANT!”
Tensei sighed and unlocked the door anyways “Que quieres?”
Hanaka barged in and front flipped onto her twin’s bed, almost missing the edge of the mattress. She turns to properly face Tensei.
“I have to tell you many things twin brother.”
“Uh huh? That’s why you come in to stand higher than me?” Tensei smirked as he sat at his desk chair “Pues? What do you need to tell me gemela?”
Hanaka takes a deep breath “Okay, first off! I’m sorry for letting my rage get the best of me at school.” She did a tiny hop on the bed “Secondly, I know I’ve been a shitty twin and dragging you into all my drama but I know it’s because I depend too much on you fixing things.” She did a slightly bigger hop, just enough to get the bounce back of the mattress “Thirdly, but not leastly-”
“Those aren’t words”
“Shut up! I’m trying to made amends with you!” Hanaka huffed as she did another hop “What I mean is that, I need your help with something not school related.”
“Oh? You’ve piqued my interest!” Tensei leaned in with his elbows on his knees, holding his chin “Continue.”
Hanaka carefully sat down on bed, leaning toward her twin “I uhhhh, I need help talking to this person I just met today.”
“Who are they?”
Hanaka gets shy “It’s a boy in the business class. BEFORE YOU TEASE ME! I want your help with talking with boys.”
Tensei gives his twin a look “You need help talking to this boy? Why, you like him or something?”
“I don’t know!” she threw herself back, laying perfectly on Tensei’s freshly fluffed pillow “I talked to him and since the only non-family boys I’ve talked to are your friends and the children of our parents’ friends, I literally don’t know if I said something that sounds like I’m flirting with him or it’s friendly.” 
“Ay Rosa, talking to boys is so simple” sighed Tensei, folding his arms “Boys wear their emotions on their face.”
“Okay but what if he has an invisibility quirk and he doesn’t show his face in the first place?”
Tensei blinked and put a hand on his chin “Damn, I didn’t consider that, what the fuck Rosa?!”
“You see why I’m freaking out?!” Hanaka groaned “Help me Tensei! I promise to help you out with talking to girls!”
“Fine I’ll help, the offer won’t be needed” Tensei gave in “tell me about your interactions and I’ll say if that was friendly or not.”
“Yay! You’re the best twin ever!” Hanaka sat up quickly with her arms out “The offer will be on the table, just in case.”
Before Tensei could say anything, the robo-dog trotted into the room.
“Children, it’s 10:11pm on a school night” the robo-dog displayed a count down “You have T-minus 90 seconds to get to bed with lights off before I alert your mother.”
The timer starts ticking down
“Run Hanaka! Mama is letting dad chose the punishment this time!” cried out Tensei.
“Aw FUCK!” Hanaka ran with no quirk at high speed to her room. Not wanting to fuck around and find out this time.
The robo turns to Tensei, making him yelp and jump into bed “Goodnight doggy!”
“Goodnight Tensei” The robo starts trotting out the room, turning off the light “Sweet dreams, your mother returns tomorrow in the afternoon.”
Tensei waited until the door closed to breathe out “God that thing scares me! Why the fuck is that thing the reason for my family’s wealth?”
-Chapter 8 End-
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barnacles34 · 6 days ago
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Professional Hazard (And Blue Tongues)
Karina x Male Reader
9k words
18+ smut
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'I expected you to have...'
'Grey hair? Glasses thick as tank armor?' You lean back. 'Let me guess—ancient and decrepit?'
'Something like that.' She toys with her iced americano, ice cubes clinking.
'Get that more than you'd think.'
'Can't imagine why.'
'Sure you can't.'
She straightens in her chair. 'Well? Are you going to ask your questions or what?'
'Did you have something specific in mind?'
'I thought you'd at least come prepared.' The sharp edge in her voice softens, adapting. 'After that email you sent.'
'I am prepared.'
'Do you know who I am?'
'I know you're Karina. I know you agreed to fund my little Italian vacation.' You keep your voice flat, unimpressed.
She laughs, short and sharp. 'They really sent someone who knows nothing.'
'Biographers aren't exactly growing on trees these days. Most of them are busy dying off.' [1]
'That's comforting.'
'About as comforting as your enthusiastic response to my email.'
'Ah.' She smirks. 'My monument to hubris?'
'Your words, not mine.'
'Christ, you're not exactly sunshine and roses, are you?'
'If only you knew.'
'Oh, I think I do.' She leans forward. 'People like me—we're your bread and butter. Desperate enough to take the abuse just to get that book written.'
'Quick study.'
'Experience, darling.' She draws out the last word like stretched taffy.
'If immortality's what you're after, we're off to a rocky start.'
'Not even grateful for the Italian holiday?'
You meet her eyes. 'Bribery's nothing new. Don't expect it to polish your image.'
'Tough nut to crack, aren't you?'
'I have what I need.'
'Meaning?'
'Let me put this delicately: my last subject bought me a year at New York's finest.' [2]
'Fantastic.' She rattles her ice cubes harder.
'You know what I think?' She sets down her drink with deliberate care.
'Enlighten me.'
'I think you enjoy this. The whole "unimpressed biographer" act.'
You pull out your notebook, unhurried. 'That'd make a great chapter one. "Local girl psychoanalyzes writer, lives to regret it."'
'There it is again.' Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. 'Tell me, do your subjects usually last long enough for chapter two?'
'The interesting ones do.'
'And the boring ones?'
You flip open to a blank page. 'They get a lovely rejection letter.'
'Which I didn't.'
'Yet.'
She leans back, studying you. The late afternoon sun catches the edge of her glass, throwing prismatic shapes across the table. 'You really don't care that I could walk away right now.'
'The door's right there.' You click your pen. 'But we both know you won't.'
'Because?'
'Because you didn't spend three months negotiating with my publisher just to storm off over hurt feelings.'
'Maybe I just like wasting time.'
'Maybe.' You meet her gaze. 'But people who like wasting time don't usually have a dozen designer brand sponsorships.'
Something shifts in her expression—surprise, maybe, or respect. 'So you did do your homework.'
'I always do.' You position your pen over the blank page. 'Now, shall we begin with the real questions?'
'Shoot.' She shifts in her chair, the late afternoon sun warming the cafe corner we've claimed.
'Tell me about your sister.'
Her eyebrows lift slightly. 'Not starting with the obvious questions?'
'Would you prefer those?'
'No.' She smiles, genuine this time. 'She's a nurse. Like our mom.'
'Close?'
'Very. She's the only person who still calls me Jimin.' She stirs her americano. 'Probably the only person who can get away with it, too.'
'Why's that?'
'Because she knew me when I was just the quiet kid who'd rather read in corners than talk to anyone. Before all of...' She waves her hand vaguely. 'This.'
'Still prefer corners?'
'Sometimes.' She considers the question. 'There's this tiny bookstore in Seongnam. When I go home, I still visit. They have this perfect spot by the window.'
'What do you read?'
'Whatever catches my eye. Last week it was about sharks.'
You raise an eyebrow. 'Sharks?'
'Don't look so surprised.' She laughs. 'They're fascinating. Everyone thinks they know them, but they don't, not really.'
'Speaking from experience?'
She takes a long sip of her drink instead of answering.
'You don't have to do that, you know.' You set your pen down.
'Do what?'
'Deflect. Turn everything into a metaphor.'
She meets your eyes for a long moment. 'Force of habit.'
'Bad one.'
'Says the person who's been matching my deflections word for word.' A half-smile plays at her lips. 'We're quite the pair, aren't we?'
'Difference is, I'm paid to be difficult.'
'And I was raised to be.' The words slip out before she can catch them. Her fingers tighten around her glass.
You wait.
'You're good at this,' she says quietly.
'At what?'
'Making silence comfortable.' She looks out the window. 'Most people try to fill it.'
'Most people aren't trying to understand.'
She turns back to you, something shifting in her expression. 'Is that what you're trying to do? Understand?'
'Would that be so terrible?'
'No,' she says.
'Progress.' You pick up your pen again. 'Though I've just realized something deeply troubling.'
'What's that?'
'Your americano's been empty for ten minutes, and you're still pretending to drink it.'
She glances at her glass, caught. 'Method acting.'
'Ah yes, the classic "I'm too invested in this conversation to pause for a refill" performance.' You wave to catch the barista's eye. 'Oscar-worthy.'
'Says the person who hasn't touched their...' She leans forward to peek at your cup. 'What even is that?'
'Green tea.'
'Pretentious.'
'Says the person who ordered an iced americano in winter.'
'It's barely spring.'
'Case in point.'
The barista arrives with fresh drinks. Karina raises an eyebrow at your cup. 'Still green tea?'
'I'm consistent.'
'Boring.'
'Strategic.' You take a deliberate sip. 'Can't blame caffeine jitters for whatever honesty slips out.'
'Sneaky.'
'Professional.'
'Same thing.' She stirs her new drink, ice cubes clinking. 'So what's next in your strategic interrogation?'
'Thought we agreed to drop the deflection thing.'
'Old habits. Ten seconds at a time.'
'That's oddly specific.'
'It's how I learned to swim.' At your questioning look, she continues, 'Ten seconds of courage. Then you can panic all you want.'
'Does that work?'
'Got me here, didn't it?' She gestures between you two. 'Letting a stranger with a notebook and suspiciously consistent beverage choices pick apart my life.'
'You could always run.'
'To where? Croatia?' She laughs at your surprised expression. 'What? I have dreams.'
'Of Croatia specifically?'
'Of anywhere that doesn't know my name.'
'That's rather poetic for someone who just called me pretentious.'
'I contain multitudes.' She mock-bows in her seat.
'Walt Whitman now?'
'See? You're not the only one who can be insufferably well-read.'
You make a show of writing something down. 
You flip to a fresh page. 'Tell me about Croatia.'
'Nothing to tell. Just a place.'
'There are plenty of places that don't know your name. Why that one?'
She traces the rim of her glass again, a habit you've started to recognize as her thinking gesture. 'Have you ever seen those old coastal towns? The ones with narrow streets and buildings that look like they're having conversations with each other?'
'Been to a few.'
'I want to get lost in one.' She looks up. 'Properly lost. No GPS, no itinerary. Just... walking until my feet decide to stop.'
'Most people want to be found.'
'Most people haven't spent years being findable.' The sharpness in her voice surprises both of you. She softens it with a smile. 'Sorry. That sounded more dramatic than intended.'
'Don't apologize. It's the first time you've stopped performing since we sat down.'
'I haven't been—' She stops. Laughs. 'Okay. Point taken.'
'Progress. Again.'
'You're keeping score?'
'Always.' You tap your notebook. 'It's kind of the whole point.'
'And how am I doing?'
'In being honest or deflecting?'
'Both.'
'You're averaging about fifty-fifty.'
'Generous scoring.'
'Strategic encouragement.'
'You're good at that.' She stretches slightly. 'Making people think they're in control of the conversation.'
'Are you not?'
'Please. We both know you've been steering this ship since you sat down.' She pauses. 'Though I will say, you're the first interviewer who hasn't asked about my routine yet.'
'Your routine?'
'You know. "What time do you wake up? What's your skincare regimen? How many hours do you practice?" That whole song and dance.'
'Would you like me to ask?'
'God no.' She grins. 'But I'm curious why you haven't.'
'Because routines are what people do. I'm more interested in who they are.'
'And who am I?'
'Still figuring that out. But I know you crack your knuckles when you're nervous.'
She stops mid-crack, caught. 'Observant.'
'Professional hazard.' You lean forward. 'Tell me something real. Not about routines or schedules or practices.'
'Like what?'
'Like what you think about at three AM when you can't sleep.'
She's quiet for a long moment. 'Sometimes I forget what my natural speaking voice sounds like.'
'What do you mean?'
'You spend so many years modulating everything—your voice, your laugh, your reactions—until one day...' She shrugs. 'One day you catch yourself using your "public" voice to order coffee at 3 AM in an empty convenience store, and you realize you can't remember what you used to sound like.'
'And that bothers you.'
'Wouldn't it bother you? Losing something that fundamental without even noticing it was gone?'
'Is that why we're here? Trying to find it again?'
'Maybe.' She smiles, but it's different now. Unpolished. 'Or maybe I'm just tired of having "public" and "private" versions of everything.'
'Including your voice.'
'Including my entire existence.'
'Right.' You snap your notebook shut. 'We're getting gelato.'
[1] The suspicious rate at which biographers are "dying off" has become something of an industry joke. Three prominent biographers mysteriously retired after attempting to write about a certain K-pop company's CEO. Totally not suspicious.
[2] The Plaza Hotel, to be specific. Said subject was a tech billionaire whose autobiography mysteriously never made it to print. The hotel suite, however, maintains legendary status among New York's housekeeping staff for its impressive collection of empty green tea bottles and rejection letters.
She blinks. 'What?'
'We're walking.' You stand, gathering your things. 'Unless you have somewhere to be?'
'Are you actually asking, or is this another strategic move?'
'Both. Neither. Whatever. Does it matter if there's gelato involved?'
A genuine laugh escapes her. 'Fair point.'
The early evening air hits your faces as you step outside. She pulls on a cap—more habit than disguise.
'Left or right?' you ask.
'You're the one who lives here.'
'Technically, I've been here three days.'
'And you already know where to get gelato?'
'First thing I do in any city. Professional secret.'
'Ah yes, the biographer's handbook. Chapter One: locate ice cream immediately.'
'Chapter Two: never reveal your sources.' You turn left. 'Unless they're wearing a questionably large cap and hiding from their own voice.'
'Low blow.' But she's grinning. 'Also, my cap is perfectly sized.'
'For what? Smuggling library books?'
'That's... oddly specific.'
'Says the person who just quoted Walt Whitman in a cafe.'
You find the gelato place tucked between a bookstore and a vintage shop. The owner, an elderly Italian woman, lights up at your approach.
'Due?' she asks.
'Sì,' you reply, then turn to Karina. 'What's your poison?'
She studies the flavors intently. 'What's the most unusual one?'
'Professional or personal answer?'
'There's a difference?'
'Professional would be something elegant. Personal...' You point to a vivid blue flavor. 'That one tastes like your childhood imaginary friend made a pact with a Smurf.'
She doesn't hesitate. 'Two scoops of that, please.'
'Really?'
'What?' She raises an eyebrow. 'Scared of a little blue tongue?'
'More scared of what my editor will say when the interview notes are stained cerulean.'
Ten minutes later, you're both leaning against a stone wall, gelato dripping in the warm evening air. Her tongue is, indeed, impressively blue.
'Yah! Why are you taking a picture?”
'Your tongue. I need photographic evidence for my editor.'
She complains, ‘self-respecting people would’ve walked a long time ago.’
‘And let me guess-’
‘Correct. Take a picture if you want.’
'Pulitzer worthy.' You take another bite of your considerably more dignified pistachio. 'So tell me about the sharks.'
'You're still on that?'
'You brought up marine biology in a cafe and then mysteriously changed the subject. I'm invested now.'
'There's nothing mysterious about it.' She licks a drop of blue from her knuckle. 'I just think they're neat.'
'That's the worst deflection yet.'
'Fine.' She pushes off the wall, starting to walk. 'When I was younger, I used to think they were lonely.'
You fall into step beside her. 'Sharks?'
'Mm. Always swimming, never stopping. Everyone afraid of them.' She shrugs. 'Stupid kid logic.'
'And now?'
'Now I think they're just... misunderstood.' She grins. 'That was terrible, wasn't it? Like a bad movie line.'
'Terrible. But honest.'
'You and your honesty fetish.'
'Says the person who just admitted to emotionally relating to sharks.'
She snorts, nearly dropping her cone. 'When you put it that way—'
'Oh, I'm definitely putting it that way. It's going in the book.'
'Absolutely not.'
'Chapter title: "The Shark Whisperer”. I can see it already'
She tries to hip-check you, but you dodge, protecting your gelato. 'I'm revoking your creative license.'
'Too late. The mental image of baby Jimin crying over shark documentaries is seared into my brain.'
'I did not cry over—' She stops. 'Okay, maybe once. But it was a very sad documentary.' [1]
The sun is setting now, painting the cobblestones gold. You pass a street musician playing something soft and acoustic.
'Your sister know about the sharks?'
'Of course. She bought me the books.' Her smile turns fond. 'Still does, actually. Sends them to me randomly.'
'Recent ones?'
'Last week.' She finishes her cone. 'She has... interesting timing.'
'Interesting timing?'
'Mm.' She wipes her hands on a napkin. 'Right after I told her about the interview. She sent me one about great whites. Said something about facing fears.'
'Subtle.'
'About as subtle as your interview techniques.' She eyes your notebook, still tucked away. 'Not writing anymore?'
'Memory's better when I'm walking.' You tap your temple. 'Also, harder to write about blue tongues while walking.'
'Still blue?'
'Devastatingly so.'
She sticks her tongue out at a passing window, checking her reflection. 'Oh god, it's worse than I thought.'
'Crisis?'
'Please. I once had to perform with my hair half-green because of a dye mishap. This?' She gestures to her mouth. 'This is nothing.'
'Half-green?'
'Not going in the book.'
'Already mentally drafting the chapter.'
She groans. 'I'm starting to regret this whole walking thing.'
'Because of the blackmail material or the exercise?'
'Both. Neither.' She pauses by a small fountain. 'It's just... nice.'
'Nice?'
'Yeah.' She sits on the fountain's edge. 'No schedule. No plan. Just... walking and talking and eating questionably colored gelato with a stranger who probably thinks I'm having a quarter-life crisis.'
'Are you?'
'Having a crisis or eating gelato?'
'Now who's deflecting?' 
And she pauses again, caught.
She dips her fingers in the fountain water, watching the ripples. 'Maybe I just wanted one normal evening. One conversation that wasn't prepackaged and pre-approved.'
'Mission accomplished, I'd say. Your tongue is literally blue.'
That startles a laugh out of her. 'You're never letting that go, are you?'
'It's going to be a running metaphor throughout the book. Deep, meaningful parallels between blue gelato and the human condition.'
'You're terrible at your job.'
'I'm excellent at my job. I got you to walk around Rome with blue teeth.'
'Is that the measure of success?'
'For this chapter? Absolutely.'
The street lamps are starting to flicker on, and the air has that peculiar Roman evening warmth that begs for a drink.
'Know any good bars?' she asks, as if reading your mind.
'Thought you'd never ask[2]. Fair warning though—my Italian's terrible.'
'Better or worse than your interview skills?'
'Much worse. But I can order Aperol Spritz in seventeen different ways.'
'Useful life skill.'
'More useful than relating to sharks.'
She shoves your shoulder lightly. 'One more shark joke and I'm leaving.'
'No, you're not.'
'No, I'm not.' She grins. 'Lead the way, worst Italian speaker.'
You find a tiny place tucked away from the main streets. The kind tourists don't know about, with mismatched chairs and a bartender who looks old enough to have served Caesar himself.
'Due aperol spritz, per favore.' You ask.
The bartender raises an eyebrow. 'Americano? Il tuo italiano è buono!' (your Italian was… apparently… good.)
'Peggio,' you say. 'Giornalista' 
(‘Worse. Journalist.’)
He laughs, already reaching for glasses. Karina slides onto a barstool, looking around with genuine curiosity.
‘He seems pretty impressed by your Italian.’
‘Oh trust me—he wasn’t. He just wanted to be nice. That’s all. The inflections are quite easy to catch.’
‘Alright, whatever you say. Giornalista—.'
You grin at her cute prod.
'How'd you find this place?' She asks; needless to say, she likes it here.
'Got lost my first night here––five years ago. It was either come in or keep pretending I knew where my hotel was.'
'And?'
'Woke up knowing exactly where my hotel was. And how to say "I'm sorry" in Italian.'
She laughs. 'That bad?'
'Let's just say there's a reason I stick to green tea now.'
The drinks arrive, vivid orange against the dark wood of the bar.
'To blue tongues,' you raise your glass.
'And bad Italian,' she clinks hers against it.
[1] The documentary in question was "Blue Planet II." Her sister still has the receipt for three boxes of tissues and a plush shark from the aquarium gift shop. The plush shark now sits in her studio, wearing a tiny version of her debut outfit. Her company has tried to mass-produce it twice. She's vetoed it both times.
[2] You were never this humble about your Italian until you talked to an Italian nonna. "Qui giace la dignità di un giornalista" (Here lies a journalist's dignity).
'Speaking of bad decisions—'
'We weren't.'
'We are now. Tell me about the green hair incident.'
'Absolutely not.' She takes another sip of her spritz. 'Some secrets I'm taking to my grave.'
'Come on. Half-green hair? There's got to be a story there.'
'There is. A great one. You're still not hearing it.'
'I'll trade you.'
'Oh?' She turns on her stool to face you fully. 'What could you possibly have that's worth my green hair story?'
'Remember when I said I learned to say sorry in Italian?'
'The plot thickens.'
'Let's just say it involved a fountain, three angry nuns, and a very patient carabinieri.'
She nearly chokes on her drink. 'You're making that up.'
'Want to bet your green hair story on it?'
'You know what?' She signals the bartender for another round. 'Fine. But if you're lying, you're buying drinks for the rest of the night.'
'Deal.'
'And no taking notes.'
'Now that's just cruel.'
'Professional hazard,' she mimics your earlier tone, then grins. 'Okay, storyteller. Dazzle me.'
The bartender sets down fresh drinks, and you lean in conspiratorially. 'So picture this: my first night in Rome, about five years ago...'
'Wait.' She holds up a hand. 'We need to establish stakes. If this story doesn't involve all three elements—fountain, nuns, and police—you're not only buying drinks, you're telling me where you actually learned to say sorry in Italian.'
'Counter-offer. If my story checks out, I get the green hair story plus whatever happened at that music show in Busan.'
Her eyes narrow. 'What music show in Busan?'
'The one you just reacted to.'
'That's... that's actually impressive.'
'Five years of professional nosiness at work. Deal?'
She clinks her glass against yours. 'Deal. Now stop stalling.'
'Right. So. Five years ago. I'd just finished an interview with this ancient countess at the bar. I mean, it’s the bar. Who else gets to interview a countess at a bar? That’s like crazy Bourdain-level shit right there.’
She nods along. 'Of course you did.'
'Anyway, she invited me to this wine cellar...'
'Oh no.'
'Oh yes. And mind you, I was already quite drunk. And she was very, very insistent about hospitality...'
Twenty minutes and much laughter later, you finish: '...and that's why you should never trust Google Translate to help you apologize to Italian law enforcement.'
She's wiping tears from her eyes. 'The part with the cat—'
'Hand to god. Still have the scars.'
'Okay.' She catches her breath. 'Okay, you win. That was worth it.'
'Time to pay up. Green hair. Spill.'
'Can I have one more drink first?'
'For courage?'
'So I can blame it on the drink.' She waves at the bartender. 'I still can't believe you showed those nuns your interview notes to prove you weren't a street performer.'
'Desperate times.'
'Speaking of desperate...' She takes a fortifying sip of her fresh spritz. 'Ever tried to fix green hair with grape juice?'
'No.'
'Don't.'
'There has to be more to this story than grape juice.'
'Oh, there's so much more.' She settles into her seat. 'Picture this: it's two hours before a live broadcast. I'm sitting in the makeup chair, feeling pretty good about life. You know, like that particular moment where your face just… shines. Then my stylist walks in, takes one look at my hair, and just... screams.'
'Screams?'
'Full horror movie scream. Turns out the hair dye we used was... let's say "not exactly approved by management."'
'Let me guess. DIY job?'
'Worse. My sister's friend's cousin who "totally went to beauty school."'
'Oh no.' You snort, taking a hefty drink of the remaining spritz.
'Oh yes. So there I am, one side of my head this bizarre shade of swamp-thing green, and everyone's running around like it's the end of the world.'
'Which is when someone suggested grape juice?'
'Actually, that was my idea.' She grimaces. 'I'd read somewhere that grape juice could neutralize green tones. What they failed to mention was that this works for swimming pools, not hair.' [1]
'So what happened?'
'Picture a very expensive wig, three cans of dry shampoo, and me trying to explain to the camera director why I couldn't turn my head to the left.'
'Did it work?'
'Define "work."' She takes another sip. 'If by "work" you mean "did I make it through the broadcast without anyone seeing the grape-juice-tinged disaster," then yes. If by "work" you mean "did I maintain any dignity," then absolutely not.'
'The fans never found out?'
'Oh, they did. Someone leaked a backstage photo three months later.' She grins. 'By then I'd managed to fix it. Mostly.'
'Mostly?'
'My sister still has a strand of green hair she saved. Threatens to post it whenever I don't answer her calls.'
'Effective.'
'Terrifying.' She raises her glass. 'Your turn again. What's the worst interview you've ever done?'
'Besides this one?'
She kicks your chair. 'I'm delightful and you know it.'
'You're something, all right.'
Three drinks in, and the bar's emptied enough that her laugh echoes a little too loudly. She covers her mouth, but it's too late – the old bartender shoots them an amused look.
'Sorry,' she stage-whispers.
'For what? The laugh or the fact that it just shattered three ancient Roman wine glasses?'
'Shut up.' She kicks your chair again. 'I don't always laugh like that.'
'Let me guess – there's a public laugh and a private laugh?'
'There's a whole taxonomy.' She sits up straighter, counting on her fingers. 'Interview laugh, variety show laugh, fan meeting laugh, oh-that's-not-actually-funny-but-you're-my-sunbae laugh—'
'Please tell me you're joking.'
'I wish.' She slumps forward, head on her arms. 'I once had to attend a laughing seminar.'
'A what now?'
'A laughing seminar. Professional instruction on the art of the public giggle.' Her voice is muffled against her sleeve. 'There was a PowerPoint and everything.'
'You're making this up.'
She lifts her head. 'I spent three hours learning about laugh-adjacent breathing techniques while a woman named Mrs. Kim hit a triangle every time someone laughed "inappropriately."'
You stare at her. She stares back.
'That's the most horrifying thing I've ever heard,' you say finally.
'I know.' She dissolves into another too-loud laugh, this one definitely not seminar-approved. 'God, I can still hear that triangle.'
'Is that why you're here?'
'Getting drunk with a biographer in Rome? No, that's just poor life choices.'
'Speaking honest truths to a stranger?'
'Oh.' She straightens up, but there's still something loose in her smile. 'Maybe. Or maybe I just really needed to tell someone about Mrs. Kim and her triangle of terror.'
'Triangle of terror.' You shake your head. 'That's going in the book.'
'Along with the blue tongue and green hair? You're really painting a picture here.'
'It's called character development.'
'It's called character assassination.' She signals for water. 'What else are you putting in there?'
'Wouldn't you like to know.'
'Actually, yes. That's literally why I'm asking.'
'Fine.' You pretend to flip through your mental notes. 'Chapter One: Sharks and Empathy—'
'Oh my god.'
'Chapter Two: The Grape Juice Incident—'
'I'm starting to regret everything.'
'Chapter Three: Laugh Taxonomies by Aespa’s Karina—'
'I hate you.'
'Chapter Four: Why Romans Don't Trust Her With Fountains Anymore—'
'That was you! That was literally your story!'
'Was it? Everything's getting a bit fuzzy.' You tap your temple. 'Must be all that professional memory I was bragging about earlier.'
She throws an olive at you. The bartender clears his throat.
'Sorry,' you both say in unison, then look at each other and start laughing again.
'You know what's really funny?' she says, once you've both contained yourselves.
'Mrs. Kim's triangle?'
'Besides that.' She accepts the water from the bartender. 'This is probably the worst interview you've ever done.'
'Oh, definitely.'
'And yet...'
'And yet?'
'It's the most honest one I've given.' She pauses. 'God, that sounded way less cheesy in my head. Must be the spritz talking.'
'Blame it on the altitude.'
'We're at sea level.'
'Blame it on the sea level.'
'You're ridiculous.' She's grinning though. 'Is this how all your interviews go?'
'Usually there's less gelato. More gravitas.'
'Gravitas is overrated.'
'Says the woman who attended a laughing seminar.'
'Hey, I'll have you know my triangle-approved giggle is very dignified.'
'Prove it.'
She sits up straighter, arranges her features into something serene, and lets out the most artificial laugh you've ever heard. It's so pristine it's almost disturbing.
'That was horrifying.'
'That was three hours of professional training.'
'I'm concerned about your profession.'
'Join the club.' She relaxes back into her natural posture. 'We have meetings every Tuesday. Bring your own triangle.'
The bartender slides over the check with a knowing look. Last call came and went without either of you noticing.
'Well,' you say, reaching for your wallet. 'I suppose this is—'
'Wait.' She puts her hand on your arm. 'I have a confession.'
'Another one? The green hair wasn't enough?'
'I read your book.'
'Which one?'
'The one about the ballet dancer who quit to become a motorcycle mechanic.'
'Ah.' You sit back. 'And?'
'And I maybe, possibly, completely changed my mind about this whole interview when I read it.'
'Because?'
'Because...' She fidgets with her empty glass. 'You made her sound so... human.'
'As opposed to?'
'A story. A headline.' She traces a pattern on the bar top. 'Most people would've written about the scandal, the career she "threw away." But you wrote about how she names each motorcycle she fixes. How she still dances in her garage at midnight.'
'Ah. That.'
'That.' She looks up. 'Is that why you haven't asked me about any of it?'
'Any of what?'
'Don't play dumb. The headlines. The speculation. The—'
'The triangle-approved responses you've probably rehearsed?'
She laughs, caught. 'Something like that.'
'Here's the thing about headlines.' You start gathering your things. 'They're usually more interesting than the truth.'
'And what's the truth?'
'That sometimes people just want to eat blue gelato and tell embarrassing stories in a bar and talk a biographer’s ears off.'
She kicks your chair again, barely noticeable. 'Even if those stories end up in a book?'
'Especially then.' You stand, offering her jacket. 'Though I might need you to sign a waiver about the grape juice incident.'
'I knew it! You are using it!'
'Chapter title: "The Perils of Amateur Chemistry: A Cautionary Tale."'
She shrugs on her jacket, shaking her head. 'You're impossible. That AI flair was so intentional'
'Says the woman who legitimately attended a laughing seminar.'
'I'm never living that down, am I?'
'Not as long as I have a functioning memory and a publishing contract.'
The Roman night is warm as you both step out of the bar. She stumbles slightly on the cobblestones.
You offer a hand which she quickly grabs.
'Don't you dare put that in the book,' she warns.
'Put what? The graceful interpretation of contemporary dance you just performed?'
'These streets are rigged.' She steadies herself. 'Also, your hotel's this way.'
'How do you know where my hotel is?' You’re not exactly one to remember locations, probably the reason you were able to gain such a repository of ridiculous stories.
'Because it's my hotel.' She grins at your expression. 'What? You think you're the only one who does research?'
'I'm concerned about your stalking tendencies.'
'Says the person who somehow knew about the Busan incident.'
'Professional hazard.'
'You really need new catchphrases.'
The walk is quiet, comfortable. Rome at night feels like a different city—all golden lights and shadow play. A cat watches you pass from its perch on a window sill.
'Don't even think about it,' she says.
'About what?'
'Making some poetic comparison between me and that cat.'
'Please. I'm a much better writer than that.'
'Sure you are, shark whisperer.'
You reach the hotel entrance. She pauses.
'Well,' she says. 'This has been...'
'Professionally catastrophic?'
'I was going to say enlightening.'
'That too.'
The hotel lobby is all marble and soft lighting. Your footsteps echo slightly.
'I have a balcony,' she says suddenly. 'And a really pretentious coffee machine I can't figure out.'
'Is this a cry for help with appliances?' 
'This is...' She fidgets with her room key. 'This is me not wanting the interview to end yet.'
'The interview ended somewhere between blue gelato and the triangle story.'
'Then what's this?'
‘Believe or not, some people just like having fun on their Italian vacation.’
‘Haha. Very funny.’
'This is...' You pretend to consider. 'Two people who might be friends if one of them wasn't writing a book about the other.'
'Complicated.'
'Professional hazard.'
'There's that phrase again.' She presses the elevator button. 'Come on. I'll teach you how to laugh properly.'
'With or without the triangle?'
She steps into the elevator. 'Depends on how good you are at making coffee.'
'Now who's the impossible one?'
The doors start to close. She holds them.
'Coming?'
You join her in the elevator. 'For the record, I'm excellent at coffee.'
'For the record,' she mimics your tone, 'that's going in the book.'
Her room is on the top floor, with a view that makes you understand why people write poetry about Rome.
'So,' she says, fighting with the coffee machine. 'This button makes it angry, and this one makes it hiss.'
'Move over, amateur.' You reach around her to press a combination of buttons. The machine purrs to life.
'Show off.' But she's smiling as she heads for the balcony. 'Bring your coffee wizardry out here when it's ready.'
The balcony is small, just enough room for two chairs and all of Rome spread out below. She's curled up in one chair, shoes off, looking more real than she has all day.
'Your professional opinion,' she says as you hand her a cup. 'Is this going to be a good book?'
'Depends.'
'On?'
'On whether you let me keep the shark metaphors.'
She laughs into her coffee. 'You're never letting that go.'
'Never.' You take the other chair. 'Though I might be willing to negotiate.'
'Terms?'
'Tell me something nobody knows. Something that won't make the book.'
She's quiet for a moment, looking out at the city lights. 'I sing in the shower.'
'Everybody knows that.'
'No, I mean...' She turns to face you. 'I sing the old songs. The ones I used to practice when I was just some kid in Bundang with a dream too big for my voice.'
'And?'
'And sometimes I still feel like her. That kid. Especially at night, in foreign hotels, when the city feels like it belongs to someone else.'
'Especially at night, in foreign hotels, when the city feels like it belongs to someone else.'
'Wow.' You let out a low whistle. 'That was incredibly profound.'
She groans, covering her face. 'I know. I'm sorry. That was straight out of a drama script.'
'I was thinking more indie movie. You know, the kind where people have deep conversations on balconies in Rome at—' you check your watch, '—one in the morning.'
'Oh god, we're living a cliché.'
'Complete with coffee and two chairs overlooking Rome.'
'Quick,' she straightens up, 'say something unprofound. Save us from ourselves.'
'My tongue is still kind of blue.'
She peeks at you over her coffee cup. 'Mine too.'
'Better?'
'Much better.' She slouches back in her chair. 'Though now I'm thinking about how this would look in your book. "Two idiots with blue tongues have existential crisis on expensive balcony."'
'Don't forget the part where one of them somehow charmed a coffee machine.'
'And the other one used to sing in her shower.'
'Still,' you correct. 'Present tense.'
'Still,' she admits. 'But if you put that in your book, I'll have to tell everyone about your fountain incident.'
'Mutually assured destruction. I like it.'
She yawns, then looks embarrassed. 'Sorry. It's not the company, it's—'
'The five Aperol Spritzes?'
'That. And the emotional toll of remembering Mrs. Kim's triangle.'
'Tragic backstory,' you nod solemnly. 'Very character-building.'
'Speaking of character-building...' She sets down her empty cup, turns to face you fully. 'This is usually the part in your books where something significant happens.'
'Is it?'
'Mm. Chapter twelve. Always a turning point.'
'You really did read my books.'
'I told you that already.' She's closer now, somehow. 'What I didn't mention was that I figured out your pattern.'
'My pattern?'
'The way you write moments like this.' Her voice is soft. 'When everything gets quiet, and the city's just background noise, and someone's about to do something...'
'Inadvisable?'
'I was going to say brave.'
'Brave is just inadvisable with better PR.'
She laughs, barely a whisper. 'You're deflecting again.'
'Professional—'
'If you say "hazard" right now,' she cuts in, 'I'm going to throw you off this balcony.'
'That would be...'
'Inadvisable?'
'I was going to say "terrible for my book sales."'
She's definitely closer now. 'Your book sales are about to be the least of your problems.'
'Because you're going to kiss me or throw me off the balcony?'
'I haven't decided yet.'
'Well,' you murmur, 'for what it's worth, one of those options would make a much better chapter twelve.'
She closes the distance between you, smiling against your lips. 'Professional hazard.'
You and Karina shared an instant spark that neither of you had experienced. Ever. The moment that first tease left your mouth, it was over.
[1] The sentiment of grape juice being able to eliminate green tones turned out to be completely unfounded. Despite this, wine sommeliers around the world have complained about Koreans with their distinct accent asking about grape juice’s ability to change colors.
The kiss tastes like coffee and Aperol and something sweet—probably the remnants of that ridiculous blue gelato. It's soft and quiet and perfect, the kind of moment that would sound made up in a book.
She pulls back slightly. 'Your editor's going to hate this.'
'Definitely.' You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. 'Completely unprofessional.'
'Thoroughly inadvisable.'
'Absolutely perfect for chapter twelve.'
She kisses you again, and Rome keeps existing below, indifferent to your small moment of magic. Somewhere in the distance, a church bell chimes twice.
'You know,' she whispers, 'this is usually where you'd write something profound about the city of love.'
'That's Paris.'
'Now who's deflecting?'
'Still you. But I'm starting not to mind.'
She laughs, soft and real—definitely not triangle-approved—and rests her forehead against yours, your breaths intermixing, plenty of intimate eye contact. 'Is this going in the book?'
'What do you think?'
'I think...' Her fingers find yours. 'I think some stories we get to keep for ourselves.'
'I think some stories we get to keep for ourselves.'
'Even after I charmed your coffee machine? That's cold.'
She makes a face. 'You're really bringing up coffee machine prowess right after—'
'Right after you thoroughly compromised my journalistic integrity? Yes.'
'Your journalistic integrity was compromised the moment you let me eat blue gelato.'
'My journalistic integrity was compromised the moment I saw you.' You run your thumb across her knuckles.
Her eye contact wavers and her voice falters, ‘Gosh, you’re such a player.’
‘Flirting has never come so easily before.’ You whisper against her mouth.
'Oh really?'
'Obviously.'
'Which was?'
'Stare at that blue tongue some more.’'
She shoves you lightly. 'You're terrible.'
'And yet.'
'And yet.' She settles on your lap, the forehead to forehead more natural now. 'So what happens now?'
'Well, traditionally, this is where I'd write something about dawn breaking over the eternal city—'
'Please don't.'
'—with golden light catching on ancient stones—'
'I'm begging you to stop.'
'—as two souls find each other under the Roman sky—'
She claps a hand over your mouth. 'I will literally pay you to not finish that sentence.'
You kiss her palm before she pulls it away. 'Isn't that technically bribery?'
'Add it to the list. Right after "compromised journalistic integrity" and "suspicious coffee machine expertise."'
'Speaking of compromising situations...' You glance at your watch. 'It's almost three AM.'
'Worried about your reputation?'
'Worried about your triangle-approved schedule.'
'Bold of you to assume I ever sleep.' She stands, stretching. 'Want to order terrible room service and you can tell me about all the other journalists you've scandalized?'
'That's a very short list. Very enticing regardless.’ 
'Good.' She holds out her hand.
The night air has turned cooler, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from somewhere below. Her fingers trace the collar of your shirt, hesitant but deliberate.
'What happened to room service?' you murmur.
'It can wait.' Her eyes meet yours, playful but wanting. 'I'm conducting my own interview first.'
This kiss is different from the first. Slower, more certain. The city hums below, a distant lullaby of late-night cars and echoing footsteps. When she sighs into the kiss, it's the softest sound you've ever heard. When she falters against your forceful touches, it’s the softest you’ve ever felt a woman.
She pulls back just enough to breathe, her forehead resting against yours. Her heartbeat is quick under your palm.
'Better than chapter twelve?' she whispers.
You catch her lips again in answer, feeling her smile. The wind stirs her hair, sending strands brushing against your cheek. Everything smells like jasmine and coffee and her perfume—something subtle and expensive that you'll probably spend the rest of your life over-romanticizing.
Because that’s what Karina deserves.
Rome stretches out endless and ancient around you, but all you can focus on is how perfectly she fits against you, how real she feels away from cameras and crowds.
Your lips find hers in the dark, soft and certain now. Her fingers trail up your neck, threading through your hair, pulling you closer. There's an art to the way she kisses—deliberate yet desperate, like she's trying to memorize the moment. Your hands settle at her waist, and she makes a small sound that you know you'll remember forever.
Her lips part against yours, deepening the kiss until you're both breathless. The balcony railing presses into your back—when did that happen?—and her body is warm against yours, fitting perfectly in all the spaces between.
Her teeth graze your bottom lip, teasing. You respond by trailing kisses along her jaw, feeling her pulse jump under your lips. When you find that sensitive spot just below her ear, her sharp intake of breath makes you smile against her skin.
She pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. Her lips are slightly swollen, her careful composure beautifully undone––hair spread everywhere, but just so that she looks ethereal rather than messy. You brush your thumb across her lower lip, and she catches it with her teeth, playful even now.
‘Still planning to put this in chapter twelve?’ she whispers, breathless.
Your answer gets lost somewhere between her lips and… her lips.
Her laugh vibrates against your lips when you finally break apart. ‘We should probably—’
‘Go inside?’ Your lips find the curve of her neck again.
‘I was going to say breathe.’ But her head tilts back, giving you better access. Her pulse flutters under your kiss like a trapped bird. ‘Though inside works too.’
You pull back just enough to look at her. Hair mussed, eyes bright, that perfect composure completely undone. She's never looked more beautiful than she does right now, with the city lights catching in her eyes and her professional smile nowhere to be found.
‘What?’ she asks, suddenly self-conscious.
‘Just thinking.’
‘About?’
‘How this definitely isn't going in the book.’
Her smile turns mischievous. ‘No?’ Her fingers trace patterns on your chest. ‘Not even a little mention of how you completely forgot about journalistic integrity the moment I—’
‘Then chapter 12 would entirely consist of me betraying my profession in order to catch your lips with my teeth.’
‘Wow. You’re bad. Like, real bad.’
‘You have no idea.’
You cut her off with another kiss, swallowing her laugh. Her hands slide up your chest, around your neck, pulling you impossibly closer. The world narrows to just this: her lips on yours, her body pressed against you, the soft sounds she makes when you run your fingers down her spine.
‘Inside,’ she murmurs against your mouth. ‘Before we really give Rome something to talk about.’
You let her lead you through the balcony doors, both of you stumbling slightly, unwilling to break contact. She tastes like promises now, like stories yet to be written. Her hands are everywhere—your hair, your chest, your face – like she's trying to read you by touch alone.
‘Wait,’ you manage, as her lips find that spot below your ear that makes thinking difficult. ‘What about—’
‘If you mention room service right now,’ she warns, ‘I'm going back to my original plan of throwing you off the balcony.’
‘I was going to say 'what about your triangle-approved image?'’
She pulls back, eyes dancing. ‘Oh, that?’ Her lips brush yours, teasing. ‘I think we thoroughly compromised that at the first meeting.’
"Professional hazard?"
"Shut up," she whispers, and kisses you again.
She sighs into your mouth, a soft, vulnerable sound that makes your heart stutter.
Her fingers tangle in your hair, nails scraping lightly against your scalp, sending shivers down your spine. You walk her backward until she's pressed against the wall, her body arching into yours.
You trail kisses down her neck, learning her— the spot beneath her jaw that makes her gasp, the curve where neck meets shoulder that makes her fingers tighten in your hair. Her pulse races under your lips, a rapid drumbeat that matches your own. When you find a particularly sensitive spot, her sharp intake of breath is the sweetest sound you've ever heard.
She tugs you back up to her mouth, kissing you like she's trying to tell you something words can't capture. Her lips are soft but insistent, moving against yours with a rhythm that makes you dizzy. One of her legs hooks around yours, pulling you even closer, and you groan into her mouth.
Her hands frame your face now, thumbs stroking your cheeks as she kisses you deeper, slower, like she's trying to memorize every second. You respond in kind, pouring everything you can't say into the kiss—how beautiful she is like this, how real, how perfectly she fits against you.
When you finally break apart, you're both breathing hard. Her lips are swollen. You rest your forehead against hers, sharing the same air, neither of you willing to move away.
"Still thinking about the book?" she murmurs, voice husky.
You answer by catching her lower lip between your teeth, gentle but playful, and feel her smile against your mouth.
Her smile against your mouth turns into a soft laugh. "I'll take that as a no."
‘Take it as whatever you want.’ Your lips find her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. ‘I stopped thinking about the book long ago.’
She hums contentedly, her fingers tracing patterns on the nape of your neck. ‘Good.’ Her other hand is still tangled in your shirt, keeping you close. ‘Because I have a confession.’
‘Another one?’
Instead of answering, she kisses you again, slow and deep. Her tongue traces your lower lip, and you respond by pressing her further into the wall, swallowing the small sound she makes. One of her legs is still hooked around yours, and when she shifts slightly, the new angle makes you both gasp.
‘That wasn't a confession,’ you murmur against her lips.
‘No?’ Her teeth graze your earlobe. ‘I thought I was being pretty clear.’
Your hands slide to her waist, steadying her. She's intoxicating like this, all careful control abandoned, her public persona nowhere to be found.
‘Jimin,’ you breathe, and feel her shiver at the sound of her real name.
Her response is to pull you closer, kissing you like she's trying to say everything without words. Her lips are soft but certain against yours, and you lose yourself in the feeling—the warmth of her body, the subtle scent of her perfume.
The city continues its nighttime symphony outside, but in here, the only sound is your shared breathing and the soft, desperate noises she makes when you find that sensitive spot on her neck again.
She pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your eyes. In the dim light, her gaze is soft, unguarded. Her thumb traces your lower lip.
‘What?’ you ask, voice rough.
‘I'm trying to decide something.’
"Whether to throw me off the balcony? Because I thought we moved past—"
She cuts you off with another kiss. Her hands cup your face, holding you there as she explores your mouth with a thoroughness that makes you dizzy. You respond by feeling her firm and perky ass.
‘No—,’ she moans when you break apart for air. ‘I'm trying to decide if this is real.’
Instead of answering, you trail kisses down her neck, feeling her pulse jump under your lips. Her head falls back against the wall, giving you better access. When you reach her collarbone, she makes a sound that's half-sigh, half-moan.
‘Feels real enough,’ you murmur against her skin.
Her laugh is breathy, unsteady. ‘I meant—’ She gasps as you find a particularly sensitive spot. ‘I meant this. Us. This whole night.’
You lift your head to look at her. Her lips are swollen from kissing, her carefully styled hair a mess from your fingers. She's never looked more beautiful.
‘If you think I did all of this for the fun of it, you’re clearly missing something.’
‘A gear in the head?’
‘Definitely—’
‘Gosh, how do I allow this sort of petulance?’
‘Because it’s me.’
‘You’re a player.’
‘Only for you.’ You catch her lips, even more wanting—and she forfeits it all. 
You pick her up, mussing up her perfect outfit, mussing up her perfect lips. And you finally throw her against the bed.
‘You’re really roughing up Prada’s global ambassador.’
‘And ambassador to a dozen other brands worth billions—couldn’t care less.’’ 
She smirks, and her arms open, waiting, pliant, obedient.
You rip off your buttoned shirt, tear off your pants; now, there’s truly no way of going back.
‘Wow. That scar is a lot larger than I imagined.’ She’s referring back to the scar that you received during that drunk haze of a night.
‘It was dark. Might’ve even been a lion.’ 
‘Mm. Heroic. Come here.’
Now, who could ever resist that?
You rip off her clothes, each layer even more decadent than the other. And then, she was there. bra barely containing her breasts, and a layer of dampness along her sexy panties.
‘That was expensive, by the way.’
‘I’ve got a payment plan on course.’
‘Mm. Enlighten me.’
You pull her panties to the side.
She’s dripping wet, nectar spooling right on her pink core. A glorious sheen that makes you stare far longer than you should’ve. She’s red-faced at this point, and her forearms cover most of her sight, and yet, she doesn’t move, doesn’t retreat. 
The first lick you place, just a brush against her engorged clit, crumbles every self-regulated triangle-approved behavior she has. Two pants turn fifty, one lick crumbles everything. Her hips coax you in ways gymnasts can’t even replicate, and of course, you oblige.
Soft licks, teases around her outer lips, swollen from all the anticipation and arousal; tonguing at her inner lips, just at the crux of her clit, gets her screaming in ways her deep voice would never register; and above all, she’s orgasming, squirting, losing every pretense in favor of her built up lust. 
‘Oh~fuck—’
Her fingers find purchase in your hair, and she softly pulls you in—rides your face like it was all that she ever desired: her eternal wish.
‘Ohmygod! Imcumming!’ Her voice turns mousy, and her pupils go back in pure pleasure, coupled with hip movements thought impossible: this was the greatest pleasure of her life.
You grab her chin, squeeze softly, her cheeks molding to your grasp, and you press a soft kiss right on her kiss-bruised lips. You let her taste herself on your tongue.
‘Good. Right?’
And she nods. A complete personality switch from the playfulness she displayed earlier. Delicate.
Her hands land on your boxers as she melted into your kiss. Once you felt her palm your cock, you groaned right in her ear. She starts softly, stroking. But her strokes grow more all-encompassing as you press harder into the kiss.
‘Fuck. You’re so good for me.’
She mewls back, on the gradient slide of unadulterated pleasure.
Softly, you release your shaft from the boxer. And you press your cock right on her core. Feeling the wet heat, the sticky nectar that pooled to a mindbreaking degree. 
‘It goes without saying.’
‘That I’m head over heels for you?’
You grin, ‘Well, that too, but you’re hopeless.’
‘Maybe if we weren’t so compatible.’
You grab a breast, palming it, ‘Well that, that too, goes without saying.’
She smiles, so warmly, every trace of everything else melted off her face––the sort of smile you’d never forget, and the sort of smile you’d want to wake up to… forever.
Finally, you press into her, and her wet heat envelops you, enough to make you groan, enough to make her moan like there’s no greater pleasure––because really, there’s nothing else.
Her pussy clings onto you, a wet suction that is immeasurably soft and yet, a vacuum-seal-like tightness that gets you groaning after every thrust.
Her arms cling to you, and her eyebrows knit, her small face full of emotion—all of it processing how good you fuck her.
‘Oh god. Would it be bad that I want you to declare to the world that you own me?”
‘Chapter 12—’
She cuts you off, ‘Something along the lines of: “Chapter 12: Karina is my fuckslut”’ 
‘I don’t tolerate Karina disrespect.’ You say, truthfully.
‘Even if it’s by myself?’
‘Especially for that case, sweetheart.’
‘Oh… you’re too good.’
‘You’re blind.’
Most popular idol in the world, and… she’s hopelessly down bad for you.
‘If I’m blind. Then you don’t have eyes—complete darkness.’
‘We’re two of the same.’
‘I’m your biggest fan.’
‘We’re two of the same.’
‘I love you.’
‘You have a way with words, Karina.’ You reply, pressing soft kisses along her jaw, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, thrusting into her harder, sharing breaths.
‘You’ve inspired me.’
And you lock lips with her, the thrusts were becoming a blur, and her moans music to your ears—it was all just… heaven.
There was no technique. Nothing too purposeful. It was all just pure affection, pure love guiding all your actions. And the fact that she’s cumming again was no coincidence.
‘Oh. My. Fucking. God!’ Her head goes back deep into the pillow and you follow suit. Pressing soft kisses that covered every square centimeter of her beauty, kisses that made her giggle even in her most orgasmic moment of her life. 
‘If I knew anything that felt like this… I’d be doing it constantly.’
‘Well—’
‘That’s right,’ Karina gives a soft peck, ‘I have you now.’ 
You could feel her heartbeat, her skin precipitate, and her cunt pulse—it’s just heaven at this point. 
‘Are you trying to convince me to follow you?’
‘2 years, finest in New York.’
‘Deal. Though you overbid a little.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Means anything you want, dear.’
The soft slick of her cunt made it nearly frictionless, just pure pleasure for both parties. Her hips gave way every time, an identity of its own, retreating when you thrust too hard, giving in when softer.’
‘Is this like a sugar mommy situation?’
‘Two words I never expected you to say.’ You both share a laugh.
‘I mean that’s what it is right?’
‘A power imbalance? Please. I can get you to buy a New York penthouse for me at this point.’
‘Well. You’re right. But—’
You bring your cock to the hilt inside of her, whilst stealing her lips for a deep kiss. She moans and mewls and gasps—music to your ears. You change positions. You bring her legs to your shoulders, and you begin kissing along her ankle while thrusting inside of her.
This time, you can see the full view. How her breasts bounce against the thrusts, how her slick has completely covered your entire length at this point, and how beautifully her face is framed between it all. 
Her mouth’s agape, moaning, giggling intermittently with the jokes shared through eye contact. You bite softly at her ankle then down her legs, to her calves, then releasing her legs altogether to kiss her again.
She fits perfectly against you, small and delicate but the perfect puzzle piece under you. She’s absorbent, aware of your needs, placing soft kisses along the ridges of your eyebrows, rubbing away the day’s fatigue along your jaw and temple. 
‘I love you.’
‘I love you too.’
‘I didn’t hear.’
You press against her, feeling her breasts spool against your chest, bring your thrust to the hilt, the wetness of her loins pressed against yours, all of them vividly apparent. ‘I love your beauty. I love your humor. I love how clever you are. I love how authentic you are. And I could continue on and on but I’m about to cum.’
Karina sniffled, ‘God, I was about to cry and then you say that.’ She softly smacks your shoulder, ‘just cum inside me and let’s cuddle.’
You oblige, the thrusts turn into a haze of pure pleasure, a desperate moment chasing the local maxima, and finally, you burst inside of her. Cum spooled, all inside her, and she moans so gracefully, staring at you with all the affection in the world.
‘We can worry about this tomorrow.’ She palmed your jaw.
‘Of course.’ You fall onto her, cuddling her.
Both of you are a mess, gross, bodily fluids spread everywhere, and yet, the both of you fell into a deep slumber.
A/N: I'd like to apologize for switching up styles so much (But if you enjoyed this dialogue-heavy work, then lmk!)
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yoonia · 11 months ago
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A Christmas Fix — 02 (m) | kth
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⟶ Summary | One-night stands are supposed to be nothing more than just. It shouldn’t have involved seeing those two red lines looking back at you weeks later without a name or a contact number linking you back to your mystery man. Nothing more but his face. The unforgettable face that would sometimes appear in your dreams at night. So unforgettable that you immediately recognise him the moment he walks into your family home at Christmas, hand-in-hand with your older stepsister.
With special collab prompt: "the holidays aren't so bad with you around."
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⟶ Title | A Christmas Fix
⟶ Pairings | Taehyung x female reader
⟶ Genre | Secret Baby!au, Second Chance!au, Strangers to Lovers!au
⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; including: alcohol consumption, mentions of pregnancy, morning sickness, surprise babies, miscommunication, profanities/swearing, fake dating trope on the side, minor body insecurities (implied), fight scene, some family drama; involves multiple explicit sex scenes, including: sexual tension, one night stand, drunk sex (with clear consent), minor dom/sub dynamic, brat!reader, size kink, rough sex, light choking, restraint, hair pulling (M, F), protected & unprotected sex, pregnant sex, fingering (F), oral sex (F), clit play, breast play, stripping, biting, minor hand job/groping, grinding, masturbation (M, F), mutual masturbation, dirty talk, implied pain kink, praise kink, body worship, marking, multiple orgasms (M, F), overstimulation.
⟶ Word count | 29,410 words (of 54,773 words)
⟶ Story Notes | Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration with @leahsfavefics, @kithtaehyung, @kpopfanfictrash, @cybrsan, and @sugaurora | Written in 2nd person POV (in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs) | Moodboard was done by me | Posted in: February 1st, 2024 by @yoonia
⟶ Author Notes | And we're finally at the end. Thank you so much for everyone who has read part 1, and those of you who have been so patient with me. I'm sorry I had to wait for a day to post this. I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the journey to see how this story ends :)
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⟶ Jingle All the Way collab masterlist | A Christmas Fix: ⤎ previous chapter
⟶ Main Masterlist | Taglist | Feedback | Mailbox | Ko-fi
⟶ Read on AO3
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The house has been quiet all morning. 
There is only one day left before Christmas Eve, and everyone has been busy for the past couple of days. Your mother and Honey are hosting the Christmas Eve’s family dinner this year, with close relatives from their side of the family joining in, so everyone has been busy going around and about to prepare for it. 
After days filled with all the bustling activities, it feels like you finally have some downtime. With both of your parents gone—your mother is out with Honey to shop for a couple of necessities needed for the event, and your stepfather out doing some errands, assisted by Taehyung in place of Hansol—it feels like you can finally breathe easy. 
While the pre-Christmas rush helped smother the loud thinking constantly happening inside your head, the silence that you are experiencing now feels comforting. The underlying tension that is also present, however, isn’t so much. 
When you agreed to stay home and help out with the rest of the Christmas baking still needed to be done, you didn’t expect that Alia had volunteered to stay behind and help too. So you have been using this silence as a protective shield. 
Almost an hour has passed since the two of you started getting busy in the kitchen. No meaningful conversation has been shared so far, aside from the times you had to talk through the recipes together or talking about passing things over. The only sounds that are keeping you company are the occasional sounds of kitchenware hitting the counter, the shuffling sounds coming from both you and Alia as you move around the kitchen, and the burning oven behind your back. 
Slowly, you are beginning to enjoy this routine, finding calmness in the steady rhythm of baking and cooking which helps quiet the voices in your head. Too bad it doesn’t last long enough for you to relish it when Alia suddenly speaks, bringing up something other than the task in your hand for a change. 
“I’ve been wondering for a while, but you look like you had a rough night. Is your stomach still bothering you?” she asks, breaking the silence. 
To say that you are caught off-guard seems like an understatement. And you have no idea how to respond to her question. For her to suddenly ask something personal is completely unexpected. 
It’s not that the two of you never had an actual conversation with one another like a pair of normal human beings. It’s just she never seemed to truly care or have any interest in getting to know about you other than the stories shared at family dinners with your parents around. 
It’s making it even harder to answer when you have this underlying guilt brewing inside you. A feeling that comes from hiding a secret that keeps getting heavier to carry. And you are afraid that the moment you open your mouth to speak, they will all come spilling out of you. 
You wish you could just lie to her face. Tell her that everything is fine so you can continue working in silence. 
But when you look up and actually look at her, she seems—genuine, in her concern, and almost as much with her curiosity. 
But there is no malice or pretence in her question that you find yourself reaching out to accept the olive branch that she is offering you and answer, “It’s—okay. I mean, it’s been pretty rough the past few nights. I think it’s because of the lack of sleep I’ve been getting.” 
And you’re not completely lying. Because the past couple of nights have been rough. But you couldn’t possibly explain to her why.
Alia scrunches her nose, oblivious to this. “I heard from Honey that you get this way when you’re stressed out. Has work been stressful for you lately? I mean, with your latest work promotion, I can only imagine that you’ve only gotten busier lately.” 
You purse your lips and avoid her gaze, once again biting back the secret that is threatening to slip out. 
“Maybe—” you start to answer, “I haven’t been eating well, and I’ve messed up my sleeping schedule so bad lately, that it’s been hard to fix it even when I’m home. I’ve been having trouble sleeping, and I woke up with a headache this morning.” 
Alia frowns. “Have you been taking meds? I have some vitamins that may help you sleep better. I’ve been taking them lately to—” 
Thinking about taking vitamins makes you cringe. The doctor’s warnings come floating through your mind—reminding you that you should be wary of the medicines and vitamins to take, as they may not be safe enough for the baby in your belly, her warning about keeping your stress level low, and her reminder of watching over your diet at the beginning of your pregnancy. 
“No, it’s fine. I don’t usually take medicines or vitamins to help me sleep,” you gently refuse. Even without your doctor’s warnings, you know that nothing could really help you with your sleeping problems. 
Because the truth is, your nausea and ‘stomach bug‘ haven’t been the sole reason why you have been having trouble sleeping as of late. 
It was Taehyung. 
Ever since you came across Taehyung that night in the hallway, memories from the night of your wild hookup have been coming back to you. They have been haunting you at night, whether you were sitting in bed wide awake or when you were deep in your restless sleep. 
When sleep failed you, you would be left spending long hours recounting every action and every conversation that you could remember. Every single detail had been coming back to you in bits and pieces jumbling together, and you would spend the next long hours trying to piece everything together. You went through it all to answer the resounding questions that are still messing up with your mind. 
How many times did we do it that night? 
More than twice, for sure, you recall each time you try to look back. Was it three, or four times? 
You remember feeling sore and tired the next day, yet you were content enough to sleep the whole flight away towards your dream vacation with your whole body humming with the waning pleasure. And while you weren’t completely drunk that night, you were surely tipsy enough that you were unable to memorise every single moment with a clear mind. 
But the biggest question that you have yet to answer—
He really did wear condoms that night, didn’t he? 
You remember watching him roll the condom down the length of his impressive cock. It wasn’t really a memory that you could easily erase, no matter how tipsy-minded you were that night. Not when the way he did it left you completely transfixed. 
For some reason, everything about the first intercourse you had with him remains vivid in your memory. Because it was the first time for you to ever feel that kind of pleasure. To feel wanton and free with someone who was willing to help you open up a part of you which had been locked and sheltered during the long period of time you spent in your past relationship. 
The second time always seems a bit blurry. But you can still recall waking up to his sinful lips devouring your sore pussy in the middle of the night. 
He claimed it as a way to make up for the rough and dominating way he took you the first time and the lack of foreplay. So he spoiled you by giving you pleasure through his mouth and tongue and the work of his fingers, before he fucked you gently, slowly, until you were arching into him and crying out his name once again as he helped you embrace your slow rising climax. 
And the third time—
“Um, earth to ________.” 
Alia’s sharp voice pulls you out of your dark thoughts. Her curiosity seems to grow more palpable, and so does the concerned look you see on her face. 
“Are you okay? Seriously, you don’t look so well. You keep spacing out today and now it’s like you’re burning up or something.” 
With a gasp, you reach up and touch your cheeks, quickly realising that she is right. You are burning up. Except that instead of burning from a fever, your body is growing hot from the inside for a different kind of reason. 
You are burning from being drowned in your dirty thoughts and recounting all the pleasure that you felt back then. To be thinking about all the wanton things that you shared with—
Your eyes fall open as you draw a shocked gasp. Realising too late that you are thinking about your stepsister’s new boyfriend while she is sitting right in front of you. Guilt pierces through your chest right at that moment, and you quickly rise from your seat. 
“Excuse me, I think I need to cool down a little bit. I’ll be right back,” you quickly say to her before slipping away from the kitchen without waiting for her response. 
Needing distance from Alia, you rush to your bedroom upstairs, finding solace in your safe space as you lock yourself in it. The feeling of shame washes over you. You can’t believe that you had allowed yourself to think of dark, sultry thoughts while you were sitting right across your stepsister. 
Worse yet, that doing so made you feel aroused. 
The same thing always happens each time you think back about that night. As if your body has memorised what your mind has failed to remember. Each memory of his touch brings back sparks on your skin, reigniting the same reaction that he managed to draw from you then. 
By the time you lie down on your bed, the heat in your body has spread all over the place. Even to the places that you didn’t expect to be affected, as it spreads down between your legs. 
At the same time, your skin seems to be humming with need. There is a desire that has been awakened simply by reliving that night in your thoughts, which would be impossible to quench. 
You close your eyes, and immediately feel as though you are under a spell. Your hands begin to move on their own, searching for the source of the heat rushing within your body. They continue travelling their way down, following the pulses that you feel emerging from your core. 
You slip one hand down your pants, reaching down until you feel skin. A gasp threatens to come out when the tips of your fingers are met with dampened skin. Just as expected, thinking about that night and the things you did with Taehyung then has made you wet. 
Your fingers tremble, and your heart starts pounding like crazy as you continue touching yourself. Slipping your fingers across your slit, you make use of the slickness that has formed to slide back and forth, playing with yourself until you feel only pleasure. A shudder erupts through you as you stroke your clit. 
You shouldn’t be doing this. But before you can stop yourself, an image of his face hovering right above you comes to you. In that moment, you are back to the night when you were with him. 
The fingers that are touching your hot center are no longer yours. They may not be the same size as his fingers, and not as firm, but your memory easily replaces your dainty digits with Taehyung’s longer and wider ones as you push them into your throbbing core. 
There is a voice in your head that keeps telling you how wrong for you to be doing this. How inappropriate for you to be thinking naughty thoughts about someone who isn’t yours and pleasuring yourself with it. 
But your body wouldn’t listen. 
Your hand continues to move, pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy while your hips push back against them. The pleasure rises, increasing quickly the faster you move your hand, the more you ride your fingers like an animal in heat. 
And you don’t stop until your orgasm starts building. It keeps growing stronger, until everything within you snaps. 
As you fall into bliss, his face is all you see. His voice is the one you hear instead of the soft, muffled moans coming out of your lips, whispering to you the same sweet soothing voice that he gave you that night while you were succumbing to pleasure. 
“Good girl. You’re amazing, Red. Rest up, and we’ll play again once you’re ready.” 
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“I suppose this is what people call a Christmas miracle.” 
You start to roll your eyes before you remember that Skye wouldn’t be able to see it. For the past hour, you have been on the phone with your roommate while you were hiding from your family. 
Locked in the safety of your bedroom for the second time today because you still couldn’t get over the mortification that has fallen upon you after this morning’s blunder. 
Having your arousal slowly pooling between your legs by the mere thought of Taehyung and the sinful deed you shared with him seemed scandalous. Allowing it to happen while you were sitting right in front of his girlfriend, someone closely related to you, made you feel as if you were more deserving to be burned in hell rather than sharing the joy and laughter of Christmas. 
And instead of brushing those nasty thoughts away, you took it one step further by seeking pleasure with the touch of your fingers. With your head filled with thoughts of Taehyung and while your stepsister was waiting downstairs for you to return. 
Shame and guilt plagued you once you were done. And you were also too sated and tired to even function. But you couldn’t hide in your bedroom for long. Doing so would only cause people to grow suspicious of your behaviour, and you already gained enough unsolicited attention to let it happen. 
So after cleaning yourself up and wiping off any remnants of your misdeed, you put your big girl pants on and went back downstairs to finish the Christmas baking with your stepsister. This time, you kept to yourself more, avoiding as much conversation with Alia while you continued to pretend that nothing happened while you were away. 
Thankfully, you didn’t have to be alone with her for far too long when everyone returned from their outing.
Masking your shame no longer became a struggle when you stopped being the main focus of the room. Everyone was busy with Christmas Eve’s preparation; your mother with the holiday decorations, your stepfather with his handiwork as he went out to fix the porch and the locks on the front door, while you and Alia remained in the kitchen to finish baking. 
Honey stayed nearby, as she sat at the kitchen counter, watching everyone doing their own thing while she was nursing a mug filled with steaming hot cocoa and sharing the most recent gossip about the old ladies living in her apartment complex. 
While all of this was happening around you, you were blessed with the absence of Taehyung, who was said to have gone back to the motel where he and Alia have been staying to finish some work before Christmas Day.
You didn’t question it, trying not to care too much about him and making use of him being gone to try and forget everything that had happened. 
But then lunchtime came, and he returned just in time to rejoin your family for the meal. Seeing his face again, hearing his voice, watching how your stepsister kept being all touchy feeling with her boyfriend and clinging to him all the time gave you an unpleasant feeling that you felt sick to the stomach. 
That was when you rushed back into your bedroom. You convinced yourself that you weren’t hiding from them. That you simply needed some time alone; alone with your thoughts, to gather your wits, and calm your nerves that had become unsettled during lunch while he was once again sitting right across the table, subtly watching you when others weren’t looking. 
But being alone with your thoughts hadn’t been quite helpful. 
Your mind kept wandering into places that you shouldn’t dare to visit. You needed someone to talk to. To vent and get everything out of your system. And Skye, who is currently on the other side of the country to be with her family, was the best option to call. 
And yet, after telling her everything that has happened and keeping her up to date with the latest developments, you are starting to regret calling her. 
“Do tell me why you, of all people, would call this catastrophe a miracle?” you ask her while pinching the bridge of your nose. Your head feels tense, although you are relieved that it has somehow stopped pounding after sharing all of the drama to your roommate through the phone call. 
You can hear the subtle sound of her humming to herself, contemplating her answer. “I mean, think about it. We already made an elaborate plan to track him down, to the point that we nearly booked a ticket to go back to the place where your flight made a stop for transit in case we can’t easily find him,” she says with the same no-nonsense tone of voice that she always uses when she is laying out all of the facts, “and then he suddenly appears, right at your family’s home, as if saying ‘Here I am, look no further’.” 
She laughs, and you can picture her shaking her head when she adds, “Tell me that’s not a miracle.” 
Instead of answering her, you only bite your lips. It does sound almost too good to be true. Except for the one simple fact that is impossible to ignore. “You’re forgetting the fact that he’s here as Alia’s plus one. I’d say it’s a curse, instead of a miracle.” 
You can her chuckling bitterly on the other side of the phone. “And once again, I’m going to say that I don’t envy you.” 
You let out a groan as you fall back on the bed. “This isn’t funny.” 
“I know, sweetie,” she says, comforting you with a sigh. “It’s just so absurd to think about all the coincidences happening around this baby business.” 
You close your eyes, hating the fact that she’s right. There are too many coincidences happening around you, and it’s astonishing to think that everything could come to this point. 
“Yeah, it does sound absurd.” 
“I’m just sad I’m not there to witness it,” she says, laughing, while you barely have the energy to scoff at her. 
For the longest time, Skye has always been the one you turn to whenever you need someone to vent about your ordeal with your stepsister. But compared to the other times you clashed against Alia, this one surely takes the cake.
“You haven’t told him about the baby, have you?” 
You wince. “No,” you answer with s sigh. “I can’t think of a way to do it.” 
And you have been avoiding being in the same room with him to even have the chance to talk about it. Not that you would have found that chance anyway if you did, as Alia has always been by his side. You suddenly remember the way Alia suddenly sidled to his side when he was alone at a time, making a complete show about her doting on him.
Grimacing, you shake the image out of your head. “I’ve thought of different scenarios involving me talking to him and revealing about my pregnancy, but everything has changed now that Alia is involved in this.” 
Skye grows silent for a moment. “Just tell him,” she says. Her voice softens, which only means that she is being serious about this. “The sooner the better, even more so because he is involved with Alia. It’s better to let him know now rather than later, once they’ve been dating longer and the baby is here.” 
You bite your lips again, refraining to tell her that you had thought about the same thing. “He did say he wanted to talk—” 
But he never made it clear what he wanted to talk about. What is there to talk about if he still has no clue about the baby? Is he trying to convince you again not to let Alia know about your past hookup? How would that work if you’re having a baby together from that hookup? 
You hate to admit it, but being kept as a secret feels—painful. 
“Well—” Skye hesitantly says, “It’s not like you’re planning to have an actual relationship with him, right?” 
Her question makes your stomach drop. Have you ever really had any hope of having a relationship with him, just because you are expecting a baby with him? 
Thinking back to the night of your hookup makes you look back and relive the emotions that you felt that night. You are sure that you felt a connection with him that night. A connection that you never felt before with anyone else. It felt real, yet you denied it simply because neither of you had been using your true identities when you climbed on that bed together. It had seemed to you that both of you had only wanted that night to be a one-time thing. 
The sparks you felt with him had also been real, and you are quite sure that you felt them again the last time you were alone with him in that hallway, when he confronted you after the first family dinner that you shared with him. Sometimes, you can also feel that same sparks coming back whenever he is in the room, no matter how far away you try to distance yourself from him.
Could it be that somewhere along the line, you had unknowingly harboured hope that you could be together again? When did this happen? 
Or did having his baby growing inside you make you think that you could somehow build something real with him, to develop the connection that you felt that night into something else entirely? 
Is that why seeing him with Alia has been bothering you so much? Not only because you are hiding this secret, but also because nothing can come out of it once you come clean to him? 
Not for the first time today, you feel like you’re about to throw up. 
You only had one night with him. You keep reminding yourself this, hoping that it will be able to snap you out of the silly illusion that you had allowed your mind to possess. 
“No, I just want him to know about the baby,” you answer weakly, hoping that voicing this promise out loud would help put an end to your wishful thinking. To stop it before it gets too far. 
“But having this baby with me while he’s dating my stepsister will complicate things. And things are already complicated between me and Alia.” 
“Right,” Skye sighs on the phone. Knowing exactly what you mean without you having to say it out loud. 
Over the years, Skye had both witnessed and heard every single spectacle that had become a major part of your relationship with Alia. You can tell that she understands what to expect once this thing blows up. 
“You’re right. I can’t imagine how she’ll react,” you hear her say, before releasing an overly dramatic sigh, and you immediately know where this is going. “Maybe she wouldn’t have hated you so much if you didn’t break that doll of hers when you were a kid.”
You scream into the pillows while she laughs historically on the phone. “Why do you have to bring that up?” you groan, hating yourself for sharing this with her during one of your late-night drinking fests. “Out of all the ludicrous things I shared with you, that’s the one crossing your mind right now?”
“Hey, you were the one who brought it up first. How would you know that it wasn’t true?” 
“How could you possibly remember that when I barely could?” you whine out loud. 
One drunken night was all it took for you to disclose the severity of your childhood crime. Even if you barely remember the details of it. Thankfully, your roommate had been the only witness to listen to your drunk confession. 
“It was an accident that happened ages ago, and I already told you that she couldn’t have possibly started resenting me for years because of that ugly doll.”
Because it sounds ridiculous if you think about it with a sober mind. And you refuse to believe the disdain that Alia has shown you for years had all stemmed from the small incident that happened when you were a child. 
At nine years old, your small family—originally consisting only of you, your mother, and your sweet grandmother, Honey—suddenly expanded. Everything changed for you the day your stepfather, Cliff, came into the picture. Not only did he fill the void that was left behind by your late father, but he also brought with him another girl, and you suddenly had an older sister to play with and to look up to. 
A few years older than you, Alia appeared in your eyes like the coolest kid you have ever met. Beautiful, smart, witty, though she could act a bit snobbish whenever you tried to play with her, yet she still shared her bedroom, her toys, and sometimes her collection of dolls. 
One sleepover, a pair of clumsy little hands, and a ripped old doll later, everything turned the other way around. It happened so long ago that you eventually forgot about it. As Alia entered high school, she rarely came to visit her father, and the incident was simply overlooked with all the other things happening in your life soon after.
The moment she came back into the picture, Alia began acting differently towards you and your relationship was quick to turn dreary. 
Forced smiles and tensed, courteous chats. The hard and solemn look coming through her eyes that she would always reserve for you when others weren’t looking, always at the times when you earned everyone’s attention or when you accomplished something good in life. Plotting schemes by arranging her own agendas to match the significant moments of your lifetime—graduation days, birthdays, anniversaries—oftentimes forcing Cliff to have to choose between being there for you or to be by his biological daughter’s side, while mostly finding excuses to miss out on your important dates altogether. 
After another incident where she caused another drama back home years ago, you came back to your apartment with an opened bottle of tequila and spent the night drunk-venting with Skye. 
Somehow, as you drunkenly wondered why your stepsister would treat you with so much disdain, that small incident from a long time ago came back to mind. And that moment, it seemed that your subconscious linked the incident with the way she treated you years after, and you let it slip to Skye for her to later make it a running joke between the two of you whenever you came to vent about your stepsister drama. 
But really now…all of that hate and drama over a doll?
As if that would justify the way she has been treating you for years. It also makes you wonder if last year’s incident had anything to do with that as well. 
Shaking your head, you hate to think of what kind of hell she will be giving you once she finds out that you are carrying a baby from the man she’s been flaunting around since the day she came home. 
You shudder at the mere thought of it. 
“You know that my offer still stands, right?” Skye suddenly questions you, much to your relief, as she changes the topic right before your head begins to ache again. “If things get too hard or if he wants nothing to do with the baby, or if he mistreats you at all after knowing that he got you pregnant, we can still run away and raise the baby together. Maybe Europe is a bit too far, and too cold for me, so how about Australia?” 
Unprepared to hear her comment, you immediately erupt into laughter. Like always, your best friend knows how to ease your mind. The tension that comes from the stress is lifted, and so are your worries. 
It doesn’t change the fact that you are still going to have to face the music the moment you are given the chance to, but at least you are starting to see some light waiting at the end of this. 
“Running away sounds awfully tempting right now, I’m not going to lie,” you murmur into the call, knowing that Skye can hear you perfectly. But she wouldn’t be able to see it as you rise from your bed and reach out to the beside table, picking up the sonogram which you had gotten right before you left for home. 
Running away does sound tempting. But it is not the choice that you can make. And you won’t. 
You are going to have that talk with Taehyung and tell him everything. Soon. You just need to be ready to face his reaction and the consequences of what the truth might bring. 
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As much as you kept telling yourself to prioritise finding the chance to speak to Taehyung, all of your bravado simply vanished by the time you rejoined your family for dinner. 
Sitting down at dinner, once again taking the front row seat to watch Alia making a good show of being the doting girlfriend, as she kept clinging onto Taehyung while he was trying to keep his composure in front of you, you felt suffocated. 
And you couldn’t escape it. 
You had done it once, masking your discomfort with your sickness. And then doing it again a couple of more times under various excuses while everyone was spending time together.
Despite feeling like you wanted to run away, you were running out of excuses and there was nowhere for you to hide. Even once dinner is over, your attempt to escape unnoticed quickly fails when Taehyung finds you first. 
“What are you up to now?” you nearly snap at him as Taehyung slips into view, intercepting you when you are about to slip past the backdoor, hoping to get some fresh air. 
Pursing his lips, he hides his smile and shrugs. “Nothing, just trying to see what you’ve been up to.” 
You squint your eyes at him, finding him suspicious. “Does Alia even know you’re here? Cornering me instead of chaperoning her out there?” 
As you cross your arms over your chest, challenging him with your question, Taehyung simply stares at you with an amused look in his eyes. “You know, everyone is in the living room and they’re wondering where you are. Honey is about to make a show of making that rum cocktail that she was bragging about at dinner.” 
An overwhelming feeling of craving and queasiness comes over you as you picture Honey and her rum cocktails that you would normally enjoy during the holidays. You swallow the tightness in your throat and force a smile. “So you offered to look for me?” 
Taehyung grins, making it seem like he has no fault whatsoever for being where he shouldn’t be. “I’m currently free, so why not?” 
You scoff at him and shake your head when you fail to hide your smile. “Yeah, well. I doubt that they’ll be missing me.” 
There’s already Alia in the room with them to steal the show and everyone’s attention anyway, you silently wonder. 
And yours. 
Surprisingly, a frown forms on his face upon hearing this. “That’s where you’re wrong. Honey kept asking for you. Said something about making a special recipe for your, um…stomach bug,” he says with a small smile, and then lowers his voice to add, “and I also wondered why you weren’t there.” 
Your heart makes a sudden leap inside your chest. “Thank you for caring,” you say to him with a sarcastic tone of voice, trying not to look deeper into it or feel to happy about him looking for you. 
Having the flutter in your chest gives you more reason to walk away. “Please tell Honey I’m sorry that I can’t join her tonight. I’m not feeling up to it.” 
“Are you sure?” he asks before you can get away. “I remember that you enjoyed drinking sweet cocktails the last time we met. With how Honey kept bragging about it, I’m a bit curious to try the drinks she’s making. Don’t you? 
Of course, you would be interested, you wonder. But I can’t possibly drink whatever it is that Honey is concocting, even if I feel like I need a glass of whatever she is offering.
But he doesn’t need to know that yet—or should he? 
Suddenly, you start doubting yourself. You can feel the words hanging by the tip of your tongue already, the urge to spill everything to him right this moment grows so strongly as you look at his smug face. 
So what if he wanted to wait until the time is right to talk? When is the right time to talk about this? 
You take a quick glance around, noticing that you are all alone with him. This would be the perfect chance to tell him about the pregnancy, wouldn’t it?
“Maybe her cocktail can help you feel more at ease and less—tense,” he suddenly adds with a hint of a teasing tone in his voice that rubs you the wrong way, taking away every good will you ever have of talking to him properly about your ordeal. 
“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve dinner. There’s going to be enough drinking then,” you say to him while gritting your teeth. But you know that it would be highly unlikely that you are going to drink even then. 
You realise that you will have to find more excuses tomorrow to avoid any alcoholic drinks being passed onto your hands. But you can figure that out later. You first need to figure out how to share him the news. 
“You should go back. Alia would be looking for you by now,” you say to him with a bite while avoiding his eyes as you try to walk around him, yet he stops you from running away again. 
This time, he isn’t using his words. 
Your entire body freezes as he catches your wrist. Once he knows that he has gotten you right where he wants you to, he starts pulling you gently back to him. You look up at his face, surprised that he would do something so daring when he was the one who had been so adamant about keeping your history with him a secret. 
“What are you doing?” you hiss at him, yet you don’t make a move to pull away. You throw a quick glance towards the hallway leading to the living room, worrying that someone might suddenly show up. “Are you crazy? What if someone comes here?” 
Taehyung steps closer until you can feel his warmth engulfing you. He only stops once his chest is merely a few inches away from yours. His move seems menacing, and so does the look in his eyes as he looks at your face. 
Those are the same eyes that had been looking back at you that night. You get to see the same look you saw then. Passionate. Enthralling. He grounds you with nowhere else to go even without having to restrain you to him, only refraining you from escaping him with nothing more but the look in his eyes. 
Suddenly, the room feels tight. As though there is not enough air in your chest for you to breathe, much less to speak. And he is getting too close for comfort. 
His hold on your wrist loosens, yet he doesn’t pull away. The dark look in his eyes also wanes, and he looks almost as if he is in pain when he leans down, getting even closer until your faces are almost touching each other. 
“Is it making you feel uneasy that I’m around? Is that why you keep running away from me when I’m there?” he questions you with a voice so soft that you would have missed it if he hasn’t been this close, with his lips hovering close to yours. 
So close that you can almost feel his kiss, even without touching. Each word he murmurs to you sends your skin shivering, while the cavities inside your chest seem to tighten on themselves when he whispers, “You might be able to ignore it and pretend nothing happened, but I can’t.” 
You take a sharp inhale of breath. What is he saying right now? 
Suddenly, you feel as if you have just walked into a dream. The same feeling that you had that night returns to you; all the sparks that seem to be floating in the air around you; the way your head seems to be in a haze, as if his entire presence is intoxicating you. 
And his words are making your head spin. 
Once again, you feel as if you are under his spell. But at the same time, you feel irritated at him for doing this. For choosing to act like this now, when he was just holding hands with your stepsister just moments ago.
While your irritation lights up, he rubs his thumb across your wrist, and the sparks explode around you like fireworks. “Tell me you’re not feeling it too.” 
And just like that, his voice snaps you right out of the spell that he placed on you. Closing your eyes, you suck a deep breath and try to compose yourself. 
“This isn’t right. Alia is in the next room,” you grit your teeth. You open your eyes and glare at him. “You were the one who told me not to tell Alia about us. Was that not your way of telling me to forget everything?” 
Taehyung’s eyes grow wide and he slowly pulls back. To his credit, his face is filled with shame when you remind him of his own words. 
Leaning closer, you whisper to him, doing your best to keep your voice from shaking when you question him, “Or do you make it a habit of jumping from one woman to another as long as it’s convenient for you?” 
He winces. Once again, he looks pained after hearing your accusation. “We’re going to talk. Once the time is right,” he whispers. He clenches his jaw, looking tense for a moment until he lets everything go with a sigh. “But you need to stop avoiding me.” 
You rear back, not expecting to find that he has noticed that you have been deliberately keeping your distance. 
How are you going to explain to him the reason why you can’t possibly stay in the same room with him? 
For you, the reason is quite obvious. You are still feeling it now, when your skin feels tight and your chest grows warm the longer you are in close proximity to him. Even when you entered a room once he left, you could still feel his presence lingering around you, and it was starting to drive you insane. 
And yes, seeing him with Alia bothers you so much that you can never bear being there to witness it.
After your last conversation where he made it seem like he wanted to move on and forget everything, you thought that he would only notice Alia and wouldn’t care to notice your predicament. But obviously, he isn’t completely oblivious to your turmoil. 
“I’m not avoiding you,” you insist. 
Taehyung raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure?” he questions you with an accusing tone. “I don’t think I imagined it when I saw you turning away and running out of the room whenever I came in.” 
He is right, and you find it impossible to lie about it when you barely tried to hide it.
Tired of holding out the truth, you finally admit to him with a small voice, “No, you’re not imagining things. Do you really think it’s fun for me to watch you both together with Alia getting all over you the entire time you’re here?” 
The light in his eyes dims. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—” he sighs, “I’ll talk to her so she can tone it down.”
You shake your head and chuckle bitterly. “Don’t bother. She’s your girlfriend. I’ll be out of here right after Christmas anyway.” 
This makes him frown. “Look, ______,” he starts, but you are too exhausted to deal with this right now to listen.
“I have to go,” you whisper as you pull your hand away. “We’ll have that talk—” 
Because there are a lot of things that I need to tell you.
“And then I’m gone and you can go back to Alia with her family thing on Christmas Day. But tomorrow night, we talk. Right after the family dinner.” 
Not bothering to wait for his response, you turn and walk away, once again leaving him behind in that dimly lit hallway as you search for solace, somewhere far, far away from him. 
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Taehyung has been restless. 
He has been feeling uneasy for days. The truth is, it has been like this for him since the moment he stepped foot into Alia’s father’s house and saw you standing there. It has been a struggle to hide it and keep everything in. But last night, after talking to you again, the urge to speak to you about everything and explain himself has been growing even stronger. 
The look that you gave him when he first saw you has been haunting him, weighing him with guilt. Ever since that night six weeks ago, he has kept your smile deeply ingrained in his memory; the coy smile that you gave him as you flirted with him at the bar; the sultry look you wore when you clung onto him at the elevator while testing his limits with your lips tracing his neck; the content smile that he saw on your face the morning after the long, passionate night he shared with you before he took you again one last time. 
And yet, the smile that he kept wishing to see again for the past month was not there when he finally met you again. The expression that he has yearned to see had been replaced with shock, as you stood there looking like a deer caught in the headlights, while at the same time, you also seemed as if you had just witnessed someone kicking your puppy. 
Which was quite understandable, looking back at it now. It must have been a complete shock for you to see him entering your home, holding Alia’s hand and introducing himself as her boyfriend. Just as shocking it was for him to find out that you are Alia’s stepsister.
Fuck, how did things get so messed up?
”You’re not ready yet.”
Taehyung has been so out of it when he enters the motel’s bedroom that he fails to notice Alia watching him. Sitting right in front of the dressing table, she barely gives him a glance as she is busy putting on her makeup and doing her hair for the night. 
Normally, she doesn’t take this much time getting ready. But Taehyung understands that tonight is different. 
According to Alia, the family’s Christmas Eve dinner is a small annual gathering that is quite important for them. Held on behalf of Honey, who often spends the holiday with Cliff’s side of the family. It is when family members and second cousins would come to her Dad’s house to celebrate both the holidays and Honey’s good health. 
Ever since early this morning, Alia has been saying how she needs to look as her best self tonight—spoken in her own words—because she wants to make a good impression on her stepmother’s family. The only problem was that she also made it clear that she wanted Taehyung to play his role as her boyfriend perfectly, to continue to show that they have a great relationship right in front of everyone, just the same way he has been doing it for the past few days. 
It shouldn’t be bothering him so much that she would ask him to do this. Since that was the main reason why he is here in the first place. 
The original plan had been simple. All he had to do this holiday was to accompany Alia on her trip home to see her family. The family gathering from her mother’s side has always been so stressful, and he simply wanted to help her lessen the pressure so she could enjoy the holidays for once. 
Yet her mother’s special Christmas gathering tomorrow had not been the only thing that was bothering Alia before this holiday came around. Once Taehyung agreed to be her plus one, she extended her desperate plea for help by asking him to come with her as she spends Christmas and the upcoming days to it with her father’s family before heading to see her mother.  
He can’t remember well what Alia told him about having to be here. He understood the reason when it came to her mother, but he barely knew anything about her father’s family. He remembers her talking about something that had to do with clearing her name. Obviously, he should’ve paid more attention, and maybe he should’ve taken the time to know more about Cliff’s family. 
Not that it matters now. When he has travelled all the way here for this, and now he is stuck in this mess without having any clue how to fix it.   
“Taehyung?” 
Taehyung blinks. “What?” 
Alia doesn’t say a thing at first. For a moment, Taehyung wonders if she notices anything when she tilts her head at him, finally looking directly at him as if she is trying to read him. 
Yet he is proven wrong when Alia merely sighs. “I just said that you need to get ready,” Alia says, unaware of the battle happening inside Taehyung’s mind. Before he can say a thing, Alia averts her gaze and looks back at the mirror as if she is trying to solve a puzzle. “You need to look your best if you’re going to stay beside me and we’re going to be late if you’re not moving it.”  
Chuckling to himself, Taehyung walks over to stand right behind her. With his face appearing in the mirror, she has no choice but to look at him. “Should I wear my best suit tonight, then?” he taunts her as he leans down, breathing in her perfume that is a bit too extravagant to his liking. 
I was right, this perfume is nowhere near my taste, he says to himself, while he silently recalls breathing in your perfume and thinking just how much it suited you.
Alia looks up at him through the mirror and rolls her eyes. “You can wear whatever. A suit would be too much, since we’re having the dinner at home, not at some fancy and way too expensive restaurant like how my Mom would have it. You did bring your suit, didn’t you? Wear that at my Mom’s party tomorrow,” Alia instructs him, and for some reason, it doesn’t make him feel good about it.
Usually, he wouldn’t take it to heart and just laugh it off when she acts this bossy around him. Not this time, however. The entire situation has made him grow a bit resentful to her, something that he has been realising for a while now, even if it isn’t fair for her to be treated this way when it wasn’t really her fault. 
Alia keeps her eyes on the mirror when she continues to speak to him. “Wear that black jacket that you love so much. You always look good in it,” she says, flickering her gaze in a teasing way when she adds, “Even I would swoon when I see you wearing it, and that doesn’t happen a lot.” 
Taehyung scoffs at Alia and lowers his head to avoid her gaze. The black jacket brings back a lot of memories. He didn’t think much of it when he brought it with him on this trip, but maybe a part of him already felt that he would be needing it. 
Would it be okay to wear it tonight, right in front of her?
“Are you okay?” Alia’s voice snaps him out of his musings. As he looks up to meet her gaze through the mirror, she surprises him by not only softening her voice, but looking as if she is worried about him. “You know, you don’t seem like yourself lately.” 
How nice of you to notice, Taehyung wonders to himself but bites his tongue so he wouldn’t let those words slip. He has been wondering for a while now just how she could remain oblivious to everything that has been happening around her. 
If only she would notice how uncomfortable he feels whenever she clings to him, or how their act in front of her family bothers you so much. 
Maybe she does notice it, he muses. Maybe she’s been doing it on purpose by pushing it on him. Does it have to do with—
Before Taehyung could finish his own thoughts, Alia seems to have enough of his silence and turns on her seat to look at him straight in the eyes. 
“What is it? Spill.” 
Taehyung only continues to remain silent, having no idea how to answer that question or if he should try to. Even if he can explain himself, where should he even start? 
Is this the part where he needs to tell her that her stepsister—the reason why Alia decided to come to see her Dad after spending weeks complaining that she didn’t have any desire to, and also the reason why she is trying so damn hard to impress everyone this holiday, even to the point of bringing Taehyung home to meet her family—was his last sex partner? 
“You need to tell her.” 
Taehyung closes his eyes as your voice echoes through his head, as if you are the voice of his conscience. 
You were right. He needs to tell Alia about his connection to you. But knowing her mood swings, and the reason why she has been trying to be ‘perfect’ the entire time she was spending time with Cliff’s family, he was hoping that he could postpone talking to her about it until tonight’s big family dinner is done. 
An event that Alia claimed to be more important for her than her mother’s fancy family gathering. 
No, I need to talk to her first, he decides. Maybe we could figure something out once she knows everything. 
“Nothing. I’m just overwhelmed. You didn’t tell me—” he stops himself as he almost let it slip that it was your presence that bothers him. 
You didn’t tell me anything about your stepsister. 
He keeps those words to himself. But he makes a mental note to bring it up once he gets back to her again by the end of the night to have a different kind of conversation to the one he is having with you. “So, black jacket, huh? Got it.” 
“Good, now go get ready and make it quick. The trip from here back to Dad’s house will take some time,” Alia says with a sigh as she turns back to the mirror, her concern is quick to vanish as she proceeds to complain, “We could’ve spared that trip if you hadn’t insisted that we stay in this motel instead of using the guest room like me and my Dad suggested.” 
“I already told you,” Taehyung says with a deep chuckle, leaning back down again to whisper, “I’m a terrible actor.” 
He straightens up while looking pleased with himself for drawing a frown on Alia’s face. “And being in your Dad’s house the entire time we’re here would cost me too much work. The gig would’ve been up before you know it.” 
“Fine, whatever. Just go,” Alia waves him off. 
Taehyung nods and makes his way to the door. He stops before he opens it and asks her, “Remember what I asked earlier?” 
Once again, Alia rolls her eyes at him. “Yeah, yeah, tone it down with the clingy girlfriend act. I get it. Now go get ready, we’re going to be late.” 
Taehyung breathes a sigh of relief to hear it. He can’t seem to forget the way the light in your eyes seemed to dim when you talked about the way he kept putting on the new couple act in front of you. On top of this whole mess, the last thing he wants is to leave you feeling hurt by his actions, so he made a deal with Alia to tone it down, even if he couldn’t explain to her the reason why. 
Pleased to know that Alia is listening to him for once, and that he has at least one problem handled before tonight, Taehyung leaves Alia’s motel room, closing the door behind him with a click before he goes to his own room to get ready.
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You turn to your side and have a good look at yourself in the mirror. On instinct, your hands run down your belly, pressing down gently at the spot where the baby should be. 
The knitted dress that you have chosen to wear tonight may not be the fanciest one, but it is the one that feels comfortable on your skin. It isn’t tight enough on your body to make you feel self-conscious about yourself and definitely not enough to show the changes happening in your body. 
With just over six weeks of gestation, the baby bump isn’t showing that much yet. But you can still feel the way your body is changing. Perhaps it is all happening in your mind, only from knowing that you are keeping a living being inside you, but you can almost see it when you look at yourself in the mirror that you cannot help but try to do anything you can to hide it from your family. 
For now, at least. Only until you are ready to reveal everything to them. 
Thinking about this only makes you grow more anxious. You have been feeling this way since morning, all for the thought of having to face Taehyung again, and to finally talk about everything that is needed to be said before the night ends. 
“Tonight,” you tell yourself as you straighten up to look at your reflection in the mirror for one last time. “I’m going to tell him about the baby tonight.” 
Tonight will be the only chance you will ever have to talk to him, after all.  
Tomorrow, Taehyung will join Alia to visit her birth mother. Alia’s mother has always held a massive luncheon or dinner event on Christmas Day that Alia would be required to attend, so you doubt that she would miss it this year, even if you had always overheard her complaining about it to your stepfather.  
Every year, Alia would always prioritise her mother’s family event over her father’s during the holiday season. Coming from a wealthy family, Alia’s mother had always appeared to you like a different breed. Her holiday parties had always been so fancy, almost too extravagant compared to your family’s simple ones. 
Every year, Alia would focus on preparing for those events, always stressing about it before going, and barely focusing on her days spent with her father and his family that it did come as a surprise to you when she came early this year to join your family and to even get herself involved. 
Perhaps that was the reason why she had decided to bring a date with her this time around, and to introduce her boyfriend to the family like you did with your ex. 
Shaking the thoughts of Alia out of your mind, you finish getting ready and walk over to your purse. With gentle fingers, you pull out the sonogram that you had printed during your latest trip to the doctor. 
Holding it up under the light, you brush your fingertips across the blurry image of your growing baby. Sometimes it is still hard for you to process the fact that you are carrying a human child within you. Even through the nausea, the cravings, the lethargy, and any other peculiar things that have become parts of your life as of late, you still have a hard time grasping this fact. 
But this sonogram shows you the undeniable proof that the baby is there. You had even gotten the chance to hear the baby’s faint heartbeat on your last appointment, making it clear that you are carrying a life inside you. 
A life that seems so fragile, that you have developed a strong urge to protect it from the world. Even from its father, if he ever tries to deny or reject it. 
“It’s going to be okay,” you whisper to yourself while brushing your fingers on the picture again, speaking of it like a mantra. At the same time, it also feels as if you are talking to your baby, soothing it like you would if the baby is here with you. “Everything’s going to be okay. Let’s just get through tonight first.” 
For a moment, you contemplate between carrying the sonogram with you or to leave it here. With no purse or a pocket to hide it in, you finally decide to leave it on top of the bedside table until you are ready to show it to Taehyung later tonight. 
With one last look at the mirror, you rub your palms down your dress and give yourself the final pep talk before heading out. “Let’s go,” you whisper to yourself as you walk out of your bedroom, strengthening your shoulders and keeping your chin up as you prepare yourself to face the inevitable.
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It’s finally Christmas Eve. 
The holiday spirit hasn’t completely sunk in on you until you finally sat down at the table for the annual Christmas dinner, surrounded by your immediate family and the family members that you haven’t met for a period of time while you have been pursuing your dreams away in the city. 
Outside, the temperature has dropped down even lower than before. The layer of snow that your stepfather had spent hours shovelling away are piling up with fresh ones as snowflakes keep falling from the evening sky, while the windows would tremble once or twice with the flowing breeze that seemed to have picked up as the day turned into evening. 
Inside, however, the warmth of the festive season fills the air, as everyone gathers around the overflowing feast that has been set up on the table—your grandmother’s specially made ham and turkey with the additional main of lamb skewers and turkey meatballs, Aunt Dara’s potato bake and baked salmon, and Uncle Marco’s signature casseroles, with smaller bowls of side dishes set on the side. 
A couple of bowls of the fennel salad that you helped prepare are being passed around on the table. Once everyone is done with their meal, your home-made cinnamon bread rolls and your cousin June’s apple and caramel pie are ready to be served as desserts. 
Once everyone has filled the dining room, your mother’s Christmas decorations which you perviously thought was overdone no longer seemed as much. The twinkling lights and the fragrant pine garlands adorning the room are enough to rival the festive sweaters and bright-coloured dresses that everyone is wearing for the night. The scent of cinnamon and cloves wafts around you all the way from the kitchen, and it makes your head swim even without sipping on the champagne that are being passed around.
As everyone took their seats at the table, you stepfather stepped aside to let Honey take the head of the table as the matriarch of the family and the night’s host. The radiant smile on her face which never seems to wane sets the mood in the entire room, helping you to also forget about your personal troubles that no longer seem as dire as your mind had made them up to be. 
The laughter and chatter filling the room becomes the perfect distraction that you need to pay no heed to the unwavering gaze that Taehyung keeps stealing your way. Even as he chats with June who had sat down by his side, Taehyung continues to throw a few not-so-subtle glances your way, making you feel uneasy and self-conscious whenever you aren’t having your attention dragged away from your younger cousin, Maya, who is chattering right beside you while sipping her glass of champagne.
You turn your gaze at Alia, who had chosen to sit by Cliff’s brother, Kyle, who had decided to join your family this year. Too busy catching up with her uncle, she doesn’t seem to notice her own boyfriend’s wandering eyes. She doesn’t even seem to care as much as she should, you realise, as you have also noticed that she hasn’t been clinging or openly doting on Taehyung throughout the night since they had gotten back from the motel. 
It has given you a sense of relief, because you can finally have one night where your heart isn’t being crushed from watching them together, but also a twinge of guilt, knowing that your last conversation with Taehyung may have had something to do with it. She did appear tense when she first came in, and you never figured out why when it quickly faded the moment she saw her uncle in the room, and her stiff expression quickly turned into relief. 
The sounds of glasses clinking and the pouring champagne continues on as everyone is starting to finish their meal. Nursing the glass of fresh juice that you have had all through dinner, you hope that nobody notices that you have left the glass of champagne on your side mostly untouched—apart from the occasional raise of the glass when someone makes a toast or pressing your lips lightly on its rim to disguise the fact that you are not drinking any drop of it. 
Not too long, dinner is over, and everyone filters into the spacious living room to gather around the fireplace while the kids loiter around the Christmas tree to curiously shift through the wrapped presents to try and find which one of them would be theirs. 
There are a selective few that separate themselves to head out to the back porch to smoke and talk business—mostly your male cousins—while the others quickly follow Honey to where she has set up the minibar for her signature rum cocktails and act as the designated bartender for the night. 
As you follow to join everyone in the living room, the impending conversation that you are about to have with Taehyung keeps weighing you down, making you grow more anxious with each passing second. It makes you feel vulnerable, causing you to be hyper-aware of his presence inside the room even before you catch the sight of him mingling with your family. 
Moving one feet after the other without tripping feels like a struggle under the heat of his gaze. It bothers you to no end to notice that Taehyung seems to have disregarded any last bit of subtlety, when he is now openly staring at you even while he is chatting with someone else by the Christmas tree. 
You have no idea if anyone, especially Alia, has noticed it. You wouldn’t be surprised if someone has caught on, when he makes it so obvious that he is watching you from across the room. 
The only reprieve that you have to cover you from Taehyung’s gaze and the silent questions that may linger within any observant pair of eyes would be your grandmother, Honey, who steals most of the attention by running the show as she mixes her sweet cocktails and shares new stories about her friends back at her apartment complex and gossips that she heard recently from the neighbours here. 
“Congratulations.” 
A deep voice greets you, pulling you out of the stupor that you are in. You look over to see Kyle, your stepfather’s younger brother, coming to your side. 
It was a nice surprise to see him this year to join your family gathering, as your step-uncle has been working at another state for the past year and you haven’t seen each other since. Carrying a glass of wine with him—red, just the way he enjoys it—instead of a glass of cocktail, he gives you a warm smile that looks like a mirror image to his older brother. 
“I heard from your Dad that you just got another promotion. I’m guessing that this gathering is part of the celebration too?” he asks, while your skin warms at the mention of your stepfather. 
For as long as you could remember, you have been calling Cliff as ‘Dad’. You can no longer remember how it started, but ever since you were little, the only ‘Dad’ you have ever known has been Cliff, not the birth father who had been gone almost your entire life. He may not be your birth father, and there has been no talking about him adopting you yet, but he is the one and only Dad that you’ll ever know. 
Having someone else noticing and acknowledging it feels gratifying. Especially when it is coming from his side of the family. 
Nodding your head, you answer your step-uncle with a bashful smile. “Yeah, that’s what Honey said and she insisted that we host the annual dinner this year instead of Aunt Dara. But we all know that she’s the main star of the show,” you joke with him as you nod your chin to point at Honey, who is teasing your mother about dropping rum into her hot cocoa instead of taking one of her sweet cocktails. 
Kyle laughs with you as he watches the scene. “Still, you should be proud of yourself.” 
“Oh, I am proud,” you answer him with a smile. “I worked hard for it, but I’m feeling a bit guilty too since the busier I had gotten, the lesser I was able to make time to contact my parents.” 
Your step-uncle nods. “You can’t help it. That’s often the cost of building a career,” he says, understanding your situation, as he too has the same troubles of making time for his family with his busy life. 
“But your parents would understand. In fact, your Dad has been bragging about his girls quite a lot lately. One who keeps traveling across the globe to see the world, while the other who keeps climbing the corporate ladder, and I have to say—” he sighs, “I’m kind of jealous.”
You raise your eyebrows. “Has he now?” you chuckle a little, somehow feeling good about being your stepfather’s pride. “Oh, you shouldn’t be feeling too jealous of Dad. You know your kids are doing great too. They’re both in college now, aren’t they?”
At the mention of his children, Kyle’s eyes seem to grow brighter. He speaks with a voice full of pride as he talks about the two young boys who had just returned from the back porch and now huddling in front of the fireplace to warm up while bickering on their own. 
You stay to talk to him for a while longer, until your stepfather steals him away to share a bottle of a much stronger liquor in another room and you continue to mingle with the other family members that you haven’t met for a while. 
By the time you are done catching up, the object of your frustration—who is coincidentally also the father of your baby—forgotten, you are feeling drained and your legs are giving up from standing for too long that you unceremoniously collapse on the couch in the corner of the room without a single care. 
For a moment, you find calmness by sitting on your own, staying in the corner where you are mostly unnoticed. The festivities is still high around you, but you find freedom here, away from everyone’s attention. Too bad that you aren’t given the chance to savour it when someone decides to slide in and sit right next to you. 
“So—I suppose that aside from the cocktail tasting, the gift exchange is going to be the main part of the night’s event, huh?” 
A shudder rocks through your body. His deep, distinctive voice does that to you even when you hear it in your dreams. Taking a deep breath, you compose yourself before turning to him, hoping that you have enough strength to look at his face without feeling like your heart is about to burst. 
Slowly, you turn to look at him, and immediately, your entire body betrays you. Your heartbeat picks up, and the cavity in your chest is overflowing with gentle flutters, as if there are a thousand of butterfly wings inside you coming awake with just one look at his face. Taehyung lets his gaze linger on the children who are showing off their wrapped gifts to their parents before looking back at you. 
Your cheeks burn the moment your eyes meet each other, and you look away before it gets too much. “Yes, we’re exchanging gifts before the night ends, and then everyone will go on their merry way. Some drunk, while relying on their designated drivers or a cab, and some others to continue with their own thing back home,” you explain to him while trying to keep your voice calm. “It started mostly with Honey being the one giving out the gifts on the Eve, since it’s her thing to give something to everyone she cares about.” 
A smile is lifted on your face while you watch Honey handing out small wrapped boxes of gifts to the children first before the older ones get their turns. The cheerful laughter shared by everyone who has received Honey’s special gifts fills the room. Curious expressions that quickly turn into joy has always been the high point of these Christmas gatherings in your family. 
You should be there to join them, to enjoy the festivities, yet with everything that has been going on, you are feeling too overwhelmed to take part in it. “After a while, the relatives who are often invited to these things started joining in, bringing in their own gifts in addition to the plates of food that they bring for dinner.” 
“Sounds like so much fun,” Taehyung muses. “Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.” 
“Why are you sitting back here? Aren’t you supposed to be with Alia?” you question him as you wonder why he would be so daring to join you instead of staying by his girlfriend’s side and play his role as her plus one. “You could’ve asked Alia about these things.”
Taehyung grins. “She’s busy with her own thing. Besides, every time I ask her about these things, she would just brush it off and tell me to ask someone else.” 
Frowning, you find his comment to be odd. It isn’t something that you could expect to hear from a new couple such as them. Lest of all from one half of the couple that haven’t been shy with their constant public display of affection from the day they arrived. 
Once again avoiding Taehyung’s gaze as he looks at you again, you find Alia across the room, conversing with one of Kyle’s sons. Judging from the way she seems to be enjoying herself with the glass of cocktail in her hand, she doesn’t seem to care much about what her boyfriend is up to, much less to feel curious enough to find him. 
That’s odd, but it’s not really my problem, is it?  
You remind yourself and put your curiosity aside. “You could’ve asked Honey. You seem to have grown closer to her lately,” you tease Taehyung, pointing out how often he has been spending time with your grandmother whenever he isn’t busy helping others in the house or catering to Alia’s need for attention. 
Taehyung chuckles softly. “How could I bother the host of the party? Look at her enjoying herself. She’s the superstar tonight, so I’d rather not take her out of the spotlight just to be my guide.” 
Even without looking, you can hear the smile in his voice as he talks about your grandmother. And when you look ahead, you can obviously see that he isn’t completely wrong. 
Honey is clearly having the time of her life; whether it’s about watching the happy faces receiving her gifts or seeing people enjoying the drinks she is making. She may have lessened her own drinking habit—except for the occasional drop of rum that she sneaks into her hot drinks—but she still knows how to make amazing sweet and fruity cocktails for others to enjoy. 
That should explain why you have the penchant for sweet alcoholic drinks instead of the bitter ones whenever you feel like it.
“So,” you turn to Taehyung with a sly smile. “I guess that means I’ve earned the honour to answer your questions?” 
Taehyung seems surprised to see that you smiling back at him. His gaze softens, and so does his voice when he leans closer to say, “You’re the only person I know in this room.” 
Fuck. Your cheeks shouldn’t be getting warm just because he says something like this. You look away to hide it. “Is Alia the jealous type? Would it bother her to see us chatting as friendly as we do now?” 
Taehyung scoffs. “I don’t think she even bothers to notice. Not tonight, anyway.” 
“Yeah…she can be the least perceptive person in the room sometimes,” you sigh as you watch your stepsister joking with her cousin without a single glance at her boyfriend. Realising what you just said, you turn to Taehyung to apologise. “Sorry, that was uncalled for.”
“It’s fine,” he scoffs. “Trust me, I know it full well from experience.” 
There is a sarcastic tone in his voice that should have made you wonder about his comment. Yet there is a bitterness that you feel inside after hearing those words. Of course, he would have enough experience dealing with Alia’s attitude. 
They are dating, after all. 
You look away and bite back that bitter taste in your tongue. “Right, of course.” 
Unlike Alia who can be completely insensitive to her surroundings, Taehyung notices your change of mood right away. You feel him sliding closer, just enough to allow him to speak in a low voice, but not enough to make people grow curious or suspicious that something is going on between the two of you. 
“You promised that we could talk,” he says, almost a whisper under the noises around you.  
Your stomach feels tight with nerves. It’s time. “I did, and we do,” you say to him while clenching your hands. You are beginning to wonder if you had made the right decision of leaving the sonogram behind. Maybe bringing him back to your bedroom wouldn’t be a good idea. “I have—something to tell you. Something important.” 
Taehyung nods. “Do you think we can slip out of the room unnoticed?” 
“You mean…now? You want to do it right now?” you hiss at him, glancing at Alia before looking back at him again. “Wouldn’t Alia be looking for you?” 
Taehyung merely scoffs. “Like I said, she’s busy. Once she gets a few more glasses of drink, she’ll be more focused on looking for a sofa to lie down on instead of noticing that I’m gone.” 
As if on cue, Alia’s laughter echoes through the room, and she turns away to joke with both of her male cousins now. You also notice that she has somehow gotten a fresh glass of cocktail in her hand, and she must have drank it halfway already by the looks of it. 
Looking around the room, you notice that the guests crowding the living room is slowly dwindling. Most of your relatives who had gotten enough of Honey’s cocktail and received their gifts are starting to bid their goodbyes, hoping that they could return home before it gets too late and preferably before each of their designated drivers join in with the drinking. Yet there are some family members who have yet to show any sign of leaving soon, still enjoying their chat with Honey by the Christmas tree. 
There will be no other chance, you tell yourself as you silently make a decision. The lesser people there are left, the more obvious it would be for everyone that you had gone missing from the room. 
And with whom you may have disappeared together. 
“Can you, uh—meet me in my room in about ten minutes, maybe less? I think we can get some privacy there and people don’t normally get upstairs unless they’re staying the night.” And because I left the sonogram there. 
That’s right, it would be easier to show the sonogram to him right away when you tell him everything, just as how you initially planned it, even if you haven’t been too sure about it. “I’ll have to mingle a bit more and make sure that Honey can see me before I disappear. She’ll be looking for me if I don’t join her even if for a minute.” 
“Yeah, I can do that,” Taehyung says as he straightens up, “You go ahead and talk to Honey, and I’ll sneak us out some drinks so we have something to do while we talk.”  
“Drinks. Right. Good idea,” you simply say to him, not bothering to try and turn down his offer, or to insist him to bring you the non-alcoholic ones. He’ll figure things out later once you are alone with him anyway. 
With a nod, Taehyung rises from his seat and walks over to June, your cousin who seems to have gotten along with Taehyung over dinner. You wait for a few more minutes before making your move. Honey seems to be busy as more and more relatives are preparing to leave. So you turn to Aunt Dara and have a quick chat with her, making sure that the two of you remain within Honey’s peripheral vision so she can still see you. 
Too restless to linger around and stay a bit longer, in not more than five minutes, you end your conversation and turn away from your aunt, hoping that you can slip away from the room before anyone notices your stealthy escape. Not even Honey. Because the moment you are caught by your grandmother, you know it would make it even harder for you to leave the room. 
But just as you slip through the guests, staying clear from your mother’s relatives who are crowding Honey, your grandmother catches the sight of you and calls out—
“______, there you are. We were just talking about you. Come over here,” she says, waving her hand so you can join her and the small group that still remains to accompany her after a couple of more relatives have left the party. 
Fuck. Too late. 
Forcing a smile, you slither towards her, practically dragging your feet. “What is it, Honey?” 
Honey leans against the minibar and picks up a small bottle. She continues mixing and pouring the drinks as she starts talking to you, “I was just talking to them about your recent promotion and how proud you made us. And then Jennie here shared that she is starting a new job and moving to the same city where you work. I told them that you have a big apartment that I love so much—” 
You roll your eyes and laugh. “Honey, I already told you. I don’t own the place, I rent it with a roommate.” 
“Anyway,” she brushes you off, “I wondered if you could be a dear and help Jennie out to find a nice apartment. You know people in the city can be a bit sneaky. We’ve heard stories of young girls getting scammed the first time they’ve gone into a big city, so obviously, I was worried.” 
Before you can say anything, Jennie raises her hand and cuts in, “I told Honey that I’ve already been looking up at a few places so—”
Jennie’s voice fades in and out and you can barely focus on what she is trying to tell you. Something about making arrangements with property agents to look up for a few affordable apartments not far from where you live. But your attention is being drawn elsewhere, as you notice from the corner of your eyes, that Taehyung is nodding at June and walking away, barely giving you a glance as he slides towards the small corner table filled with bottles of beer to grab the drinks he promised you. 
“You know what, why don’t you call me up once you start moving. Maybe you can crash at my place and use the couch while you’re looking. Then I’ll see if I can arrange my schedules to go with you when you’re looking into those apartments so you won’t have to go alone.” 
“That sounds great!” Jennie says, looking relieved, and you see it as a chance to also slip away so you can get to your bedroom before Taehyung could. 
“Honey, I—” 
“See? I told you that _____ is an angel,” Honey cuts you off before you can get a word out. Then she turns to you, handing you the glass of cocktail that she was mixing while you were chatting with your cousin. 
“Here, you should try this. I made this specially for you,” she says as she gives the drink a few more stirs. “I remember that you loved the rose scented drinks I bought you, so I ordered this infused—” 
You bite your lips, trying to hide away your revulsion as Honey raises the glass to you so you can take it from her. On reflect, you lift your hands to refuse. “No, thank you, Honey. I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood for cocktails right now. I’ve just finished my hot chocolate, after all.” 
“That’s too bad. Well, I guess someone else has to taste this one for me.” She pouts, making you feel guilty for refusing her offer as she lowers her hand. “Speaking of which, I haven’t seen you drinking tonight. In fact, I haven’t seen you drink any alcoholic drink at all this holiday. Are you sure you’re not pregnant?”
Your stomach drops. An incredulous laugh leaves your lips. “W-what?” 
What did she say? You wonder. You must’ve heard her wrong. Right?
Honey shrugs as she puts away the rejected drink and places it on top of the minibar. “Seeing how you keep getting sick and avoiding alcoholic drinks since you got here, I would think that you’re secretly pregnant,” she says while laughing and looking proud, as if she was simply throwing her crude joke as she usually does without realising how spot on it was to the truth. “Are you carrying a child in that belly, dear?” 
The room falls into a rapt hush after Honey throws that comment into the room. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, while Honey remains unfazed, still wearing her curious smile as if she hasn’t done anything wrong. 
“Honey? W-what are you saying?” you nervously ask her, while your sweet grandmother merely shrugs and innocently waves you off. 
“Oh, it’s nothing, sweetie. Just thinking out loud. It’s just that seeing you get sick every morning, and being so sensitive with certain smells reminds me a lot of myself when I was pregnant with your Mom. You haven’t even touched a drop of alcohol I offered since you got home, and I know that you barely touched your glass of champagne during dinner,” she says with a wicked chuckle. “Don’t pretend that you didn’t. You tried to hide it, but I knew. I have eyes, you know.” 
Fuck. I didn’t think she would notice. 
Gritting your teeth, you can only curse at yourself for acting such a fool. You thought you were being clever about it, but you must have been distracted by Taehyung’s presence at dinner that you failed to notice that Honey had kept her eyes on you all night. 
“I—” 
You try to speak, but words fail you. How do you respond? What do you say to this? 
Ever since from the moment you came back home, you had expected that Honey would be the one who is able to put the pieces together, being the perceptive person that she is, and she had been the reason why you have been extra careful in hiding it, especially when you were around her. 
Never once did you ever expect that she would so quick to draw up this conclusion and speak of it so nonchalantly with a few relatives are still around. 
“Mom, stop talking nonsense,” your mother gently chastises your grandmother while laughing nervously. She looks back and forth between you and her mother, her eyes flickering on your face, then to your belly, as if she is trying to find what she has been missing. “_____ can’t be pregnant. Right, sweetie?” 
Your tears begin to form. “I, uh—I don’t—” 
Your head starts spinning harder the more you try to speak up, to explain, knowing that it would be futile to lie. Not to Honey. And certainly not to your parents. 
Under the attention and distress, feeling the burden of having all eyes on you, all of them waiting for your answer, your hands move on their own, finding comfort in embracing the very spot where your growing baby is hidden as you press your palms on your barely-there bump. Noticing this, a collective gasp spreads through the room. Honey’s smile falters, while your mother’s eyes grow wide in shock. 
But the most devastating of all is to see your stepfather walking around his brother to get to you from across the room. “You’re pregnant?” Cliff asks you carefully as he slowly comes to your side. When you look up at is shock slowly turns into rage when he asks, “Is that why that prick left you? Did he get you pregnant and choose to walk away like a fucking coward?” 
“No, Dad. I—” 
While you are struggling to answer him, your stepfather’s voice continues to rise. “Tell me where he is and I’ll chase that fucker—” 
Everything moves in slow motion. Your stepfather who keeps cursing at your ex. Your Mom who keeps pulling him back to try and calm him down, and her pleading gaze silently asking you to explain. The whispering gasps and questions shared among the nervous glances that the guests are sending each other.
Everyone is talking at the same time, while you continue having a hard time to speak up. Your stomach feels tight. Even the touch of your hands no longer bring the calming warmth that your body needs. 
Gentle hands press down on your arms as you are slowly being pulled away from the chaos. You can only make out Jennie and Honey’s voices whispering to you, guiding you to breathe while helping you to sit down before you would pass out. 
Amidst the confusion, your eyes travel across the room, immediately finding Taehyung who is standing there in the corner with a frown on his face and a couple of bottles of drinks in his hands. As your eyes are locked with one another from the distance, you can see him processing through everything. His emotions are clearly written in his gaze; confusion, bewilderment, wonder. 
You have no idea what kind of look that he sees on your face, but slowly, you can tell that everything seems to sink in on him. A dawning realisation sparks through his eyes when he finally puts the pieces together, and his shoulders fall to slump.
He knows. 
And he isn’t the only one who is putting the pieces together. 
With a quick glance, you find Alia standing on the other side of the room, her eyes keep flickering between you and Taehyung, evidently noticing the silent exchange happening between the two of you. There is a clear sign of shock and hurt in her eyes that you get to see a glimpse of when she looks at you one last time, before she turns away and runs out of the room. 
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“You need to rest. The stress wouldn’t be good for you.” 
Jennie’s voice sounds subdued, worrying. She has always been shy, but she seems particularly cautious as she looks at you. As if she is trying her best not to look down at your belly. But her presence here and her small, careful voice offers you comfort. Something that you need as you lean against the doorway to your bedroom, feeling a bit too weak to stand on your own. 
“I’m sorry you got entangled in all of this,” is all that you can say to her. You feel guilty for having your cousin and your aunt roped into this whole drama, all because they had been there to witness it when everything unfolded. 
While your step-uncle, Kyle, took over escorting the departing guests, and your mother is somewhere in the house to talk with your stepfather, Jennie had volunteered to help escort you back to your room. She becomes the calming force amidst the storm that helps clear your mind. 
“It’s fine,” she waves you off. “You’ll be paying me back once I’ve moved closer to you anyway. The couch is still available, right? You said I could crash until I’m settled.” 
That helps bring a smile to your face. “Yes, my door is always open. I’ll let my roommate know that you’re coming. She’s usually open to welcoming family who needs help anyway,” you say to her with full gratitude before adding, “Thank you for staying to help.” 
She nods and begins to turn away. “I better go check on Honey and see if my Mom is ready to go. I’ll see you soon.” 
Too exhausted to say anything else, you simply thank her one last time and watch her go down the hall before closing the door. Once again, the silence in your bedroom gives you the perfect solace. It does nothing to erase the weight in your chest, however, or give you the answer you need as you wonder how you are going to talk to Taehyung about the whole thing. 
You never expected that things would turn into such a mess, robbing any chance of you telling Taehyung about the baby properly, free of drama and uncertainty. 
Just as you start dragging your feet towards the bed, you hear a soft knocking on the door, pulling you back to it. Thinking it might be Jennie, you immediately open it. “Did you forget—” Your voice falls to a hush when you find Taehyung standing there instead, giving you a small smile that draws back all the slow flutters in your chest. 
“Oh, hi.”
“Hey,” he gently greets you. His smile is cautious, restrained, and his exhale of breath seems shaky. But he sounds calm when he speaks to you, “May I come in?” 
You prepare yourself to answer, but your eyes flicker out the hallway, searching, a gesture that he easily notices. “Alia is with your parents. They’re worried about you, but your Mom seemed a bit frantic because she didn’t see the signs. Alia probably won’t be looking for me until later. I wanted to talk to you first.” 
“Okay,” you answer him with a sigh of relief. “Come in,” you beckon him, stepping aside so he can enter your room. 
He steps deeper into your room while you take your time, gathering courage before you can turn to face him. His voice fills your room as he continues to talk, “I left our drinks downstairs. Things were so chaotic, so it slipped my mind—” 
“That’s okay, it’s—” you say in return, failing to notice that his voice has faded out into silence. When you finally turn to him, you find him standing in front of your bedside table, his eyes are locked on the tiny thing that he is holding up under the dim light of the bedroom. 
He found the sonogram. 
“How far along are you?” His voice seems quiet against your thundering heartbeat, drowning even in the silence surrounding you.
You draw an unsteady breath before speaking up. “Six weeks, give or take.” 
Taehyung remains silent for a moment longer before a sigh comes out of him. “Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?” he asks, still with his eyes on the sonogram. His expression is unreadable, something which you cannot fault him with, knowing that this must have come as a shock to him. 
“I’m sorry, I should’ve gone to you sooner,” you quickly apologise to him. A part of you wants to rush by his side, even if you cannot decide whether you want to calm and soothe him or rip that sonogram from his hand. Yet your legs seem frozen, and you are locked at one spot with no ability to move.  
“From the moment I found out, I was planning to find you and figure out how to share the news to you in person, but then you showed up here with Alia, and I got”—blindsided, aghast, confused, terrified—”I just couldn’t figure out how to do it.” 
“So, I was right. This baby is mine.” 
Just as he says those words, you finally understand the look that he is wearing on his face. Captivated. Entranced. Amused. As if this revelation is more fascinating to him rather than it is frightening. It brings a twinge of hope rising inside you, telling you that maybe you can both figure out on how to deal with this. 
But what about Alia? 
“It was from that night, wasn’t it?” he asks again, breaking you out of your thoughts—from thinking about Alia. And you can almost sure that you catch the corner of his lips lifting to a smile.
“Yeah,” you cautiously say to him. “It happened the night we got together. I’ve never been with anyone else since—” 
“What is this all about?” A deep voice bellows through your small bedroom, cutting through your words before you can finish talking. Both you and Taehyung turn to the door, noticing too late that your stepfather is standing there, watching the two of you with grief and horror in his eyes. 
“Dad—what you are doing here?” you ask him as your eyes flicker towards the door behind him. 
Crap. Distracted by your own nerves that had been affected by Taehyung’s arrival, you must have failed to shut the door tightly behind you. 
“I came to check on you and apologise for freaking out,” Cliff says, frown deepening, his voice and the expression you see on his face convey a mixture of anger and hurt. “But what is he doing in here?” he continues, pointing at Taehyung. “Why is he in your room, when he’s supposed to be with Alia?” 
The atmosphere grows heavier, yet Taehyung—the brave soul that he is—carefully steps forward to face your stepfather. “Cliff, I can explain—”
“And what did I just heard about the two of you being together? Is that baby—” Cliff turns to point at you, then back at Taehyung again while keeping his eyes on you, expecting you to answer him. “Was he the one responsible?” 
Still holding the sonogram in his hand, Taehyung straightens his shoulders and lifts his chin. And it seems to be enough to answer your stepfather’s question. But what it only does is to aggravate Cliff even more. The air crackles with his rage, and he moves so fast—too fast for your mind to comprehend—as he grabs the front of Taehyung’s shirt and starts dragging him out of your bedroom. 
“Dad, no!” 
The moment you see your stepfather dragging Taehyung out the door, that is when you snap out of it and start running to chase them. As you run out the door, you see Alia who was clearly on her way to your bedroom. Her eyes are wide with shock, and though you are unable to interpret the gloss in her eyes—whether they are tears of hurt or her tipsiness—you can tell that she has been standing there long enough before anyone noticed.
But was she there long enough to hear everything?  
“Daddy? What are you doing?” Alia screams out, though she doesn’t make any move, seemingly in shock to see her father dragging Taehyung across the hallway. 
“Alia, you need to stop him!” 
Your scream snaps her out of her shock, and she quickly rushes to chase both men down the stairs. You try to follow them as fast as you can, but your heart is racing, your legs feel weak, you can barely manage to come down the stairs without tumbling down. 
“Careful!” Alia snaps at you in panic as she catches you at the final flight of stairs. You lift your head to thank her for helping you, only for her to give you no chance to as she turns away right after, chasing after her Dad who is now dragging her boyfriend out the yard. 
Once the both of you are out the house, you can hear your stepfather’s voice bellowing through the air. His accusations echo through the chilly night, his eyes are blazing with frustration and rage, and he still has his hand pulling at Taehyung’s shirt, nearly lifting him off the ground as he continues shouting profanities between his grievance. 
“—the fuck are you trying to pull?” he yells at Taehyung’s face, and you wince at how loud he is being against the silent night. 
The only relief you can savour is the fact that he hasn’t gone physical. No hits are thrown, and the only rough handling he has been doing is to shake Taehyung back and forth with his tight grip on his shirt as he demands the truth. An answer. Anything that could clear this whole misunderstanding.
Taehyung’s eyes dart over Cliff’s shoulder as he notices you and Alia coming. Your stepfather follows his gaze and is caught by surprised to see you chasing him. But as he looks at you, his gaze hardens as he pleads, “Tell me that it’s not true. Tell me that you weren’t sleeping with him while he’s seeing your sister.” 
No, it’s not true. They weren’t together. You remember hearing Taehyung denying it when you first questioned it, so it must’ve been the truth. Right?  
The night you hooked up with him flashes through your head. That night from six weeks ago, the shared moment that he claimed to be a time where he hadn’t gotten involved with Alia. You want to speak up, to deny that he was playing both you and Alia, that the only thing behind this whole mess had been mere coincidence. 
If only you could stop shaking. Get some words out. Anything. 
But your chest feels tight. You can barely breathe in air, much less to let your voice out. 
“Cliff, please! I told you, I can explain!” Taehyung tries to get your stepfather to listen. You see his hand reaching to grab Cliff’s wrist, though it doesn’t seem that the hold would budge no matter what he does to pull it off. His eyes turn to you, then to Alia, right before he screams out with fear in his eyes, “Alia!” 
“Don’t you dare say her name!” Cliff yells at him, and you force yourself to speak. 
“Sto—” you try once, failing when your chest tightens. “Stop,” you cry out again, “Dad, please—” 
Your voice comes out as nothing more than dried paper, a silent hush compared to the loud voices as Cliff and Taehyung continue to argue with each other at the center of the front yard. But Alia is standing close enough to you to hear it. Close enough to see your hands shaking, your face turning pale and sickly, and she quickly moves right in front of you, standing between you and the quarrelling men. 
“Daddy, stop yelling. You’re going to stress ______ out,” she yells at her Dad while pushing you behind her to keep you away from them, as if she is making sure you won’t get hurt.
She’s…defending me? 
Your head starts spinning harder. Everything is so confusing right now, and it makes you feel worse when you look at Alia, seeing her getting caught in the crossfire as she tries to separate the two while shielding you from the chaos. 
“And it’s not Taehyung’s fault!” she yells again, and this time, it seems to do the trick, because Cliff finally lets Taehyung go. 
Now free from your stepfather’s clutch, Taehyung steps back. He tries to catch his breath while fixing his shirt. You notice then that he is still holding your sonogram, surprising you when even amidst all the chaos, he is still gripping onto it protectively. 
“How is it not his fault?” Cliff snaps at your stepsister. “Why are you defending this asshole? He slept with your sister when he’s dating you, and he even dared to show his face at my—” 
“Because we’re not dating!” Alia cuts him off with a scream, and everything stops. Her scream even shuts the voices in your head, drawing a single question in their place—
What—? What did she just say? 
With all eyes on her, Alia begins to shake with nerves. And then the truth spills out of her mouth. “We, uh—Taehyung and I—we’re friends. I wasn’t planning to come this year but you kept calling me to come for Honey’s family dinner, and—” she says, stuttering as she points at her father, and then turns to face you to add, “I thought that your—I mean, Hansol. I thought he was going to come with you this year like he always did and I didn’t want you to think that—” 
Drawing a shaky breath, she pushes through her nerves and forces the rest of the truth to come out. “I asked Taehyung to come with me and pretend to be my boyfriend so you wouldn’t think that I was going to try to make a move on Hansol again.” 
“Wait—what?” Taehyung snaps at her. He seems confused, and it is evident in your eyes that he never got to hear this part of the ordeal from Alia when he signed up for—whatever it was that they had agreed upon. “What did you do?” 
Alia opens her mouth to continue, yet Cliff cuts her off before she could. “Enough,” he says, no longer yelling. His voice sounds drained, exasperated, and yet there is an eerie calmness underneath that makes your skin shiver with fear. His silent rage terrifies you more than his loud, raging voice does, while the defeated look in his eyes hurts you deeply. “Alia, get inside. And you—” he turns to point at Taehyung. “Get out of my sight.” 
“Dad, no—” you step forward to stop him, yet Cliff doesn’t even look at you when he calmly orders Alia to move. 
“Alia, get your sister back in her room,” he says as he turns away, making his way back into the house.  
Left with no other choice, and feeling like the fight has left you, you let Alia place her hands on your shoulders. “I’m sorry,” you turn to Taehyung one last time as she starts guiding you back to the house, but then your stomach drops when he remains silent. His eyes are cold, as if he is trying to mask his true emotions as he looks at you. Something twists in your gut as if he had pierced a knife deeply through it. “Tae, wait—” 
A small smile is lifted on his lips, though it seems closer to a sneer, something which doesn’t seem to reach the pained look in his eyes, and that is the only thing that he gives you before he turns away and leaves the property without saying a single word. 
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Sleep, without a doubt, has become fruitless. 
All night, you have been tossing and turning in your bed. Even when you manage to close your eyes and doze off a little, your stepfather’s grievance and Taehyung’s bereft smile flash through your mind, sending you to an abrupt wake each time. 
At the very last time you find yourself being forcefully pulled away from your restless sleep, you glance out the window, its curtains left partly opened, you see the shadows of nightfall slowly shifting. A blush of hue in gradient colours of purple and grey is beginning to emerge amidst the dark, and you can feel it in your skin the awakening of dawn. 
Too anxious to remain still on your cold bed, adrenaline and stress still flowing violently through your body, you finally give up trying to rest and tiptoe your way downstairs. 
The stillness in the house at night has always been something that you have come so familiar with, but as you walk down the stairs and into the quiet kitchen, the house feels more eerie that it usually does. You can almost hear the creaking sound of the floors and the walls around you, as if they are whispering to you all the things that they have witnessed from the night before. 
The air feels unusually cold. You fight the temptation to light up the fireplace once more and huddle up right in front of it, resisting only to avoid waking everyone else up, and then walk into the kitchen in search for another source of warmth. 
You are just beginning to make yourself a cup of hot chocolate to warm up when a figure steps into the archway leading towards the hallway. You turn with a jump, realising with relief that it is Alia. 
Giving you a hesitant smile, she walks into the kitchen. With her arms wrapped around herself and a thick shawl cloaking her shoulders, you realise that you are not the only one struggling with the cold. 
“Can’t sleep? Or did you wake up too early?” she asks you with a soft whisper. 
“A little bit of both. How about you?” 
She stands by the kitchen counter to watch you work. “Tried to sleep, but I kept having nightmares. I was running downstairs to catch up with Dad, and it kept repeating over and over”—she visibly shudders—“and then I woke up with this crappy headache.” 
You give her a smile and tip your chin at the high stool right by the counter. “Take a seat. I’ll make more,” you offer her, which she accepts with a smile. 
Neither of you says a word for a moment, only breaking the silence once you are done pouring the hot drinks into two separate mugs and handing one to her while whispering, “Here you go,” to which she responds with a soft, sleepy murmur, “Thank you.” 
Taking the seat on one end of the counter with Alia sitting on the other, silence stretches between the two of you once again. There is an awkward tension in the air. You cannot remember when you have ever found yourself alone with Alia like this, deep in the night and with nothing else to do but to talk. Not since those many years ago when you were children. 
You remember how your parents made you share the same bedroom. It was their way of getting you to bond with your new stepsister at the time. Even then, you could tell that Alia wasn’t exactly thrilled by it, already so used to having her own bedroom before she had to split her time between spending the weekdays with her mother and then with her father on the weekends. 
But at least back then, the silence didn’t feel as stifling. And she had let you borrow her personal things to play with, as long as you got out of her way. And that included her books—so many of them, you remember—with her occasionally sitting right beside you so she could read you some of the hard ones to follow for a little child.  
Taking a sip of your hot cocoa, you decide that you have had enough of this silence. “So—” you breathe out a sigh. “You and Taehyung.” 
Alia groans and closes her eyes. “You heard me last night, didn’t you? I know I was drunk off my ass, but it’s true,” she says, scoffing as she glances sideways and meets your gaze when you do the same, “It’s stupid, I know.” 
You sip your drink before asking, “Why did you have to go make an entire scheme out of this?” 
“I don’t know,” she breathes out an exhausted sigh. “It sounded like a good idea at the time.” Her voice sounds wistful when she says this, and then she breaks out into a bitter chuckle. “But I guess, just like a ton of other bad decisions I’ve made my entire life, it only added to the long list of fuck-ups that have tainted most of my adult life.” 
You let out a snort, something that is so uncharacteristically you, but still comes out with all honesty. “At least you’re taking accountability of it,” you say to her almost teasingly, “I know some people who wouldn’t even admit that they fucked up and simply move on while everyone had to pick up the mess they left behind.”  
Alia laughs. You can see her eyes warming up. “When did you meet him? How did it all happen?” 
Your lips curl up to a smile. You drink your hot drink slowly before you begin telling her everything—the trip that you went to after your breakup, the frustrating debacle with your flight getting delayed and cancelled and meeting him at transit, the hookup, everything that you already shared with Skye the first time you revealed about your first promiscuous night abroad with the stranger, the agreement you both made about shedding your identities, which had lead to this whole mess, and more.
Surprisingly enough, Alia merely responds with a soft chuckle. As if this is something that is to be expected when it involves her friend. “That explains it,” she muses softly. She has this faraway look in her eyes for a moment, as if recalling something in the past—perhaps something that happened during that period of time. 
“He was going through some stuff when we got in contact again about a year after the last time we met. We lost contact again briefly during that time”—the time he went to take that trip, you tell yourself—”I think he said he was off to some sort of a business trip and was using it to ‘escape’ from everything. He never told me any of the details, though.” 
You are curious, wanting to know more. But you also know that it isn’t your place to pry. You can also tell that Alia may not answer if you try to ask her. Yet she then surprises you by adding, “Then he contacted me not too long ago and said something about needing my help. I thought it was a wild coincidence and decided to use the chance to get him to help me in return. One thing lead to another, and here we are now.” 
You both share a laugh, despite how pitiful the two of you seem at this moment.  
When you both grow quiet once more, each of you taking the moment to savour your drink and the silence that is starting to bring more comfort than the uneasiness you felt earlier, your mind wanders. You recall the events that have been happening for the past few days, to tonight, seeing everything with a new light now that the truth has come out. You also find that you no longer feel the weight of your secret shadowing you, allowing you to breathe easier. 
And then the conversation you had with Skye on the phone from a while ago comes back to you. 
“I’m sorry I broke your doll,” you suddenly blurt out, while Alia snaps her head to look over to you. 
“What? Which doll?” she asks, her face is filled with incomprehension, before her expression shifts into knowing, and then to shock. “Oh, that one? That was a long time ago!” 
You laugh at her reaction. “Yeah, but it feels like you started resenting me since then.” 
“No, I’m—” she shakes her head and scoffs at you. “It’s actually fine. I hated that doll. That was the ugliest piece of shit I’ve ever owned when I was a kid.” 
“What—?”  you let out an incredulous laugh. “But you made it look like I’ve ruined your entire world. All hell broke loose because of it so I thought—” 
Alia laughs, though she also looks somewhat guilty when she explains everything to you. “One of Dad’s ex-girlfriends bought it for me on my eighth birthday. I never liked any of the women he brought home and introduced me, but she was probably the sanest and most normal one of all,” she calmly tells you, quickly adding, “That was before your Mom came in, by the way.” 
That makes you smile. Especially when you notice that her eyes are filled with fondness as she talks about your mother. 
“Anyway, she gave me the doll as a gift after she went for a trip abroad, and maybe I did like it because it made me happy to know that she thought about me. But the older I got, the weirder it felt for me to keep it, but every time I wanted to get rid of the doll, it made me feel guilty for even considering it because of how sweet she was to me,” she winces as she recalls the past. “When you ruined the doll, I was actually relieved. But I couldn’t show it to Dad since he thought I loved the doll so much that he even went out on his way to help take care of the doll for a long time, so I made it seem like losing the doll made me sad.” 
Your jaw drops and you laugh again. “Damn, I can’t believe I was gaslighted and framed by a twelve year-old.” 
“Sucks to be you,” Alia laughs back at you as she sips her drink. “Sorry for causing you some childhood trauma or whatever.” 
“It wasn’t so much of a trauma,” you say to her while scoffing. But that incident did leave an impression on you, regardless. And it wasn’t a good one. Looking back on it now, it does seem ridiculous for you to let it haunt your memories for so long. 
You are just about to share your thoughts to Alia when she finally speaks again. 
“On your eleventh birthday, you started calling him Dad,” she says, her voice dull, but you can feel the weight of her words when you hear them. It takes a moment for it to sink in, until you finally realise— 
“Oh—” Oh. You swallow hard and take a deep breath, realising that she is talking about Cliff. “Did you, uh—were you worried that I might take him away from you?” 
Alia smiles bitterly. “I’m not sure. Maybe?” She shrugs. “As a kid, I may have harboured an unrealistic fantasy that one day, my Mom and Dad would make up, get back together, and everything would be back to how it used to be.” 
She looks at you with a small smile. “But then Daddy met your Mom, and my Mom became more unhinged after the divorce and dealing with the consequences of her affair that it was becoming more obvious Dad would have never taken her back, no matter what.” 
The more she speaks, sharing her deep, darkest secret, the more you are able to understand her. For all these years, you simply thought that Alia has resented you for childish reasons. You never knew that she had nurtured the heartbreak of an innocent child for so many years. Silently hurting without anyone else knowing. 
“But it was the day you began calling him Dad that finally broke me out of that fantasy and forced me to accept that they were never going back together,” she says, sighing deeply with a broken smile on her face, which only deepens the guilt that you feel for becoming a part of it. “Maybe—that was the moment I started seeing you differently.” 
“I—didn’t know,” you murmur, and then you begin to recall how Alia kept avoiding to spend time with her father on the weekends when she was a teenager. “You started to come by less and less by then.” 
Your parents had excused Alia’s absence at the time as her newfound need of being independent. But you know better now. 
Alia releases a sigh, as if opening to you is helping her relief some of her own weight. “Dad was so happy because you and your family welcomed him into your lives. I guess that was really important to him. The more I watched him having a new family that was a whole, the more I resented it. Seeing you with Daddy—” she stops with a sharp intake of breath, “I guess the child in me felt like I was being replaced and I couldn’t take it.” 
“Alia—” 
She cuts you off with one look, with a gaze that is surprisingly warm. “You know what’s worse?” she asks. 
“The way Dad keeps bragging about you in front of me and anyone from his side of the family whenever he has the chance to. You have always been smarter, you’ve gained everything you wanted in life with your own effort. You have a good job, a nice apartment and, for a time, you had a long-time boyfriend, while I’m still floating through life,” she says with a wistful tone of voice instead of a bitter one. “I have no steady job, and I’m still moving around instead of settling down, which left me with no chance to start any serious relationship to brag about in front of everyone. So I suppose that makes me feel inferior when I have to face you.” 
You have no idea what to say. Because you had no idea about any of this. Still, you feel guilty, even if none of this was your fault when all you ever did was live your life the way you wanted it to. 
“Last year, I think that’s when I came to my limit,” Alia adds with a chuckle. “I guess somewhere in my mind, I had this thought that since you already stole my Dad, maybe I could steal something that was yours for a change.” 
Once again, your jaw drops. You let out a gasp. “Hey, that’s fucked up!” 
She laughs at your reaction. “I know! And I’m sorry, alright?” she says, still laughing and lifting both of her hands at you. But she quickly sobers up, looking genuinely concerned when she asks, “Seriously, though. Did you break up—” 
You quickly shake your head. “No. He chose his career over our relationship,” you admit to her. “He has always been like that. He’s always so crazy about work, a perfectionist, and not only does he have a big ego, he also has big ambitions. I think he pushed me to match his pace, whether he realised it or not, which became the reason why I managed to gained everything I have now.” 
Looking back, you have to admit that your ex was the one who gave you the drive which helped you get where you are now. As much as you hate to admit it, you do owe him that much for your current life, despite everything. 
“In a way, he pushed and motivated me to constantly be a better version of myself. But, deep down, I was starting to get tired of it.” You recall all the fights, the arguments, the agony that you felt when he belittled you for your need to start going in your own pace instead of following his. “I never realised how exhausting it was with him until we broke up. He made me feel like I was on a race against him instead of in a relationship where we were both equals in life.” 
Alia slowly nods her head with a silent understanding. “What happened last year with your ex was also the reason why I asked Taehyung to come with me,” she confesses with a shy smile.
“I felt so bad for everything that happened, and I had no idea how to fix it. I thought that if I brought someone with me this year, not only would I be able to shut my Mom up about trying to hook me up with some snobby guy from her circle and pushing me into marriage”—she rolls her eyes—”I would also be able to show everyone here, and you, that I had no desire to steal your boyfriend from you.” 
You grin at her. “That explains why it was shocking for you to find out that I already broke up.” 
“Obviously,” she scoffs. “That thwarted all of my plans.” You laugh together while she continues to complain about it. How she had meticulously planned everything to clear her reputation and avoid adding more drama between you.  
“But I couldn’t give up the gig. I know that Dad still keeps in touch with my Mom once in a while because of me, and she would call him to check on me if she’d heard I was coming, so if I let everyone know that Taehyung and I aren’t actually dating, my Mom would sit me down next to any bachelor of the year that she had chosen for me at the family gathering with just a snap of her fingers,” she sneers, lifting her hand to snap her fingers in the same manner that you imagine her mother would do. 
“And, as always, I had to mess everything up too because of my stupid plans,” she heavily sighs. “Sorry, by the way.” 
Scoffing lightly, you simply wave her off. “It’s not your fault. If only Taehyung and I had talked when we had the chance,” you finally admit, realising that you are also to blame for avoiding to speak to him right away, “Or if he had told you about me when I asked him to, then maybe the three of us could have figured something out.” 
Alia nods her head in agreement, and then her lips rise to a slow smile. “I didn’t expect that Honey would be the one stirring the pot when it was already boiling.” 
That makes you laugh again. “Honestly? I had expected that Honey would be the first to notice. I just didn’t expect her to blast me right in front of the whole family.” 
Sipping her hot cocoa slowly, Alia hums. “Maybe it was meant to work that way. Or else, I feel like neither of us would find any chance to spill out the truth, as bitter and ridiculous it might sound to admit,” she says, and you cannot help but agree with her. Even with no resolution have yet to be made, you can feel some of the weight of your troubles being lifted from you. 
Everything may have gone messy, yet for some reason, the future doesn’t seem so bleak when you are looking at it one last time. Then Alia gently adds, further encouraging the hope that is slowly blooming inside you. 
“Taehyung—he won’t be joining me to see my Mom. He’s driving back home, either in the morning or before noon, I’m not sure. You should go see him and talk.” 
“I—” you swallow hard. “I want to. We do need to talk, but—” 
Alia stops you by shaking her head. “No buts. You have a baby on the way, and I’m sure—seeing his reaction last night—he would want to be a part of it. Only if you’d let him.” 
That immediately shuts you up, taking away all the excuses that you have to run away and avoid facing him. You still remember seeing the way he was clutching your sonogram possessively as if it was his lifeline, and you have yet to get the sonogram back from him when he left. 
“Even without the baby—” Alia continues, noticing how you are still deep in your thoughts. “The favour that I mentioned? I think it might have something to do with you. I’m not sure what it was though, because he hasn’t had the chance to say anything about it. He only said that it had something to do with what happened during his trip from that time.” 
You know that she is right. The only problem is mustering the courage to go and see him in person. After what your family had put him through last night, you have no idea how to face him, feeling too guilty that he got roped into so much mess because you couldn’t tell him the truth when you had the chance.
“Well, while you take your time considering it, I should go back to my room. I have another Christmas event that I would need to mentally prepare to,” Alia says as she steps out of her seat. You watch her walking around the counter to put away her empty mug before smiling at you. “Thanks for the nice chat, and the hot chocolate.”
You return her smile and nod. “So—are we good?” 
That makes her chuckle. She stops before going out into the hall and shrugs. “Yeah, you’re okay. I guess we are.” 
“Does that mean we’re friends now?” you tease her, drawing a scoff from her. 
“Ugh—don’t push your luck, kid. Don’t even think about us being sisters,” she says, pointing at you. 
“Never would’ve dreamed of it,” you respond with a chuckle. Still, you are overcome with relief now that the old tension between you are lifted. “Good luck with your Mom.” 
“Thanks. Good luck with—” she says, “well, everything.” She turns away, but not before giving you one final warning, “I’m serious. Go talk to him. Don’t worry about the others, or about how Daddy would react. I’ll hold down the fort and explain everything to them until you’re back.” 
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Your grip on the steering wheel tightens just as your stomach tightens with churning doubt. 
The thought of seeing Taehyung, alone, seems nerve-racking. You have no idea what to expect once you get there, or what you are going to say, which only makes you even more nervous the further you are getting from home. 
Your thoughts are filled with worrying that things may not go as planned. Not that you really had any plan to go with other than to talk to him, stop him from leaving, and maybe find out what the future hold—if there is any hope there. 
The weather outside seems dreary, which is no help at all. Even under the winter sunlight that appears brighter than usual, the snow keeps falling thickly from the sky, the trees standing on either side of the streets are swaying dangerously towards various directions due to the intense wind. 
Weather does hate me, you wonder to yourself as you glance through the side mirror, wondering why these things keep happening to you during critical times such as this one.
Getting more impatient, the urge to press down on the accelerator feels so strong, yet you fight it the best you can, recalling the promise you made when you stepped out of the house. 
Honey was right, it was a bad idea to be driving out under this weather. She was the one who warned you about the weather when you were about to leave, which you simply ignored because the sky was bright, the wind was steady, and your intention to see Taehyung was strong. 
You should have learned from experience and took your time checking today’s weather forecast to find out just how quickly the weather could change. 
Looking at the fierce weather, it seems obvious that things are about to get even worse. A white jeep breezes past your tiny city car, causing your car to sway, and you feel a pull to match its speed. But then you see it nearly slipping on the road as the jeep makes a turn right ahead, and you heart stops. Your car slows as you start hearing Honey’s voice warning you about how easy the road becomes slippery on days like this. 
“Drive carefully. Even if you want to risk your life getting out there, at least think about that baby,” Honey’s voice echoes in your head, stopping you before you could even think of picking up speed again once the road clears up before you. 
“There’s nothing to worry about. With this weather, he couldn’t have left yet,” you convince yourself, though your doubt keeps pushing back nearly tenfold. 
He couldn’t just leave, right? 
Turning with reduced speed on the next intersection, you curse under your breath. It feels like it’s taking you forever to reach the motel, and when you still see no sign of getting any closer to the motel, you begin to wonder if you’ll manage to get there at all. 
“Damn it, Alia. Why did you have to choose that motel? There’s a bunch of them closer to home.” 
Obviously, there is nobody here to answer your question. So the only thing that you can do is to force yourself to calm down, focus on the road—and in not slipping or sending your car into a ditch—and find the motel as fast—and as safely—as you can. 
Quiet Peaks Motel. Room 1109. 
You almost laughed when Alia gave you the room number where Taehyung has been staying in. The irony of having those numbers shown to your face, reminding you of that night from six weeks ago. 
“I suppose this is what people call a Christmas miracle.” 
You let out a scoff as Skye’s words ring back to you. Christmas miracle my butt, you inwardly scoff at the notion. A queer coincidence, that’s what this is. 
Not too long, you are driving your car into the small parking lot of Quiet Peaks Motel. With your head covered under the hood of your coat, you challenge the cold to rush into the motel without taking a look around to see if his car is still here. Past the receptionist desk, you follow Alia’s guide to find Taehyung’s room. 
Room 1109. 
Shaking off the snow that has gotten all over your body, you take a deep breath, and knock on the door. A few seconds pass. 
No answer. 
Another knock, just a bit harder this time. And all you have in return is silence. No. No. No—
You raise your hand again, ready to give it another try while refusing to accept the possibility that he is no longer there, when finally—finally—you hear a click, and the door slowly opens. Taehyung appears before you, with wide, curious eyes and a smile slowly lifting on his lips, like a piece of a fantasy manifesting into something real. 
“You’re still here,” you breathe a sigh of relief, drawing a low chuckle from him. 
Taehyung crosses his arms over his chest as he hovers by the doorway, the small smile on his face unwavering. “Alia called. Warned me not to run away,” he gently says.
The thought of him driving off to leave town, running away before you could see him, feels like a bolt piercing through your heart. “Were you—trying to run?” 
“I felt the urge to,” he admit while lowering his gaze, briefly avoiding your eyes. “But I couldn’t.” 
You can hear the sound of your heartbeat. “Because of the blizzard happening outside?” 
Taehyung looks up, and his smile deepens when he steps aside. “Why don’t you come in? It’s getting colder. You can warm up inside.” There is a playful glint in his eyes which says the unspoken words—
With me. 
Drawn by the look in his eyes, your legs begin to move on their own. Your arm brushes against him as you walk past him, just barely, and your skin prickles warmly, as if the thick winter coat that you are wearing is nonexistent.  
Taehyung takes your coat, shaking the remaining snow that is still attached to it before hanging it on the coat rack by the door while you step out of your snow-coated boots, refusing to leave trails of snow and dirt on his floor as he pulls you inside. He guides you to take a seat on the edge of the bed while he takes the one-seater from the corner of the room and places it across from you. 
Sitting back, he wears a playful smile on his face. He seems giddy, with a twinge of wariness that is quite noticeable coming out of him—both feelings are something that you also share as you sit with your back straightened while your legs are shaking.
Sitting here like this allows you to get a good look at Taehyung. And for the first time, you notice the boyish charm in him that looks—adorable. You can see it better when he smiles, when he looks at you with an expectant look in his yes, and when he doesn’t seem to be able to remain calm. 
You have no idea why you had never seen this side of him before. Has he been hiding this part of him? Because, if you want to be honest with yourself, you like seeing this side of Taehyung, maybe even more than the side that he has allowed you to see before today. 
If comfort is a person, this side of him fits the picture, you wonder to yourself with a smile. 
Speaking of pictures—
Your eyes travel around the room, taking notice of the place where he has been staying at. The room is undoubtedly smaller than the suite that he booked back at the transit hotel, but not any smaller than your own bedroom back home. The bed that you are sitting on feels soft, with wooden bed frames that makes it seem sturdy. There is a single vanity table that stretches out on one wall, also functioning as a writing desk, an electric fireplace in the corner that is running with a soft hum, and a wall-mounted television that has been kept on with its volume lowered to fill the room with its white noise. 
Your eyes fall on the long table, on the small object that catches your attention.
“Would you like to drink?” Taehyung asks you as the silence stretches out for too long, and you look at him with a smile. 
“Sure, I’d love to.” 
Nodding, he rises from his seat to grab a drink from the corner cabinet, while you do the same. Drawn towards the small object that Taehyung had placed on the table like a precious jewel—your sonogram. 
“I didn’t mean to keep it with me. But throughout all the chaos happening last night—” you can hear his voice getting closer and closer, yet you do nothing to look his way. Holding up the sonogram between your fingers, your eyes are focused completely on it, fixated at the clear proof of your future. You still have your eyes on it as his warmth comes pressing on your back, his voice feels like a gentle brush on your skin as he whispers close—
“—I just couldn’t let it go. It felt surreal whenever I looked at it. It was almost as if—I was actually holding that baby in my hands, and I needed to protect it.” 
His words send your mind into a daze, even when you notice the tremble in his voice. Everything he does next seems like parts of a dream. You notice his hand reaching out beside you, placing two objects which seem to be bottles of fresh juice on top of the table. And his hand stays there, palm pressing on the edge of the desk while his other hand is resting on your other side, practically caging you in place. 
Slowly, you turn around to face him. The sudden closeness makes you feel dizzy, yet the feeling is incomparable to the way your body is reacting when you look into his eyes. 
His dark eyes somehow appear even darker from up close. You feel nothing carnal in the way he is looking at you, nor the way he is giving you no chance to escape. But there is the heat that you feel reaching out to you, vibrating through his chest together with his heavy breath. 
“We are—” he murmurs, stopping briefly with a deep exhale of breath. “We’re expecting a baby.” He speaks as if he is trying to rewire his brain into accepting reality.
Your heart starts racing when you hear his words. 
We. That word seals everything in. 
And you can feel that sense of acceptance coming from him. You can easily see it written all over his face; in his gaze that looks resolved and in his warm smile that seems inviting. And then you get to see it coming together when he takes you in, his eyes landing on your belly. Even though covered under your thick sweater, he looks at you as if he can see what is hidden underneath. 
“We’re expecting a baby,” you whisper with a smile. “It’s still early. Very early. Which is why you might not see any changes, like seeing the baby in its fully grown form, or find out the gender yet, but we can already hear the heartbeat. We can arrange so you can join me on my next appointment with the doctor. That is, if you’d like.”
Putting all of your hopes into words feels risky. But thinking about him being there puts a smile on your face. That smile fades for a brief moment when you realise that you are also putting your heart at risk of being broken—be it from him, or from life. 
“Anything could still happen,” you add with a wry smile. The sceptical part of you slowly sneaking its way into your mind to take control. “But if you’re willing to go through this with me and—” 
He doesn’t let you finish your sentence when he suddenly reaches out to touch you. He brushes your cheek with the gentle touch of his fingers, and wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling you gently to him until you are nearly pressed into his chest. You bring your palms up to his chest in reflex, pressing against him as a barrier, separating you from his overwhelming warmth. 
You can feel his heartbeat picking up under your palms, just as your own heartbeat starts thundering inside your chest. 
“Last night, Cliff stole my chance to figure out or express how I felt about this,” he says with a nervous chuckle. “I was in so much shock both from the news and then Cliff’s reaction that I couldn’t say a word about it. But the moment I left your home and spent the night alone in this room, I finally got the chance to process everything.”
He stops, shaking his head before pressing his lips on your temple. “Still, I can’t believe that this is happening. But this is our new reality right now and I have to face it. No matter at what cost,” he whispers with his lips hovering against your temple.
“What—what are you saying?” 
“I’m saying that I’m all in,” he says, pulling back so he can look at you. “I told you, didn’t I? You never really left my mind after that night. I’m not sure why, but waking up in the morning to see you gone back then got me curious and, well—” he chuckles. “It was all the reason why I got roped into Alia’s sneaky scheme, which I’m beginning to regret ever being a part of, but since we’re here anyway.” 
Taehyung lets out a dramatic sigh, drawing a curious smile to your face. 
His chest rises and falls as he exhales a deep breath. “Alia promised to help me once we’ve done the deal. And although I never told her specifically what I needed help with—” he grins, looking as if he is thinking back to the day he planned out this whole scheme with your stepsister. 
A scheme where he pretended to be dating her to trick your and Alia’s family. 
“Actually, I was already trying to find you. Alia has a lot of connections, gathered by traveling to different places and jumping between odd jobs, so I thought that maybe she would know how to solve that problem of mine,” he admits, and your skin flushes warmly when you realise that not only has he been thinking of you this whole time, but he had also thought of looking for you when you thought that he would have simply forgotten everything and moved on. 
“Things may have gone differently than I imagined, and not entirely in the right order. But technically speaking, she made it happen, just as promised,” he chuckles again, looking just amused at the situation as you are. “If I had known about the baby, I wouldn’t have asked you to hide from Alia that we got together at one point,” he grimaces. “I wasn’t sure what kind of situation Alia was in that would require her having a fake boyfriend, so I don’t know what telling her that we hooked up would do.” 
Frowning, you simply shake your head and murmur, “No, I should’ve told you right away. But like I said, I wasn’t prepared to see my baby’s daddy coming into my parents’ home holding hands with my stepsister.” 
Taehyung smiles and rubs his thumb across your cheek. “I’m sorry.” 
Your body shudders under his touch, but you cover it with a sigh. “Likewise,” you whisper. “But can we please stop talking about Alia right now?” 
He barks out a laugh. “Okay, if that’s what you want,” he says with a wide grin on his face. “Maybe you’ll be more interested in talking about something else, then?” 
You suck a deep breath as his eyes bore into yours. Even before he says it, you can somehow tell what he is thinking. There is something in his eyes that makes you feel hot inside. Something that feels intimidating, yet comforting at the same time, and it makes you want to dive into whatever it is that is offering you. 
As if he can read your mind, Taehyung starts staring at you the same way he did that night—with the same passion and hunger that are enough to engulf you as a whole. 
While you are captivated with his gaze, Taehyung leans in, stealing a kiss from your lips before you realise what is happening. He begins with a gentle, tentative kiss, as if he is testing to see how you are going to react. But with your emotion heightened, and relief warming your chest, the innocent kiss that he is giving you is already enough to send heat flushing through your body.
Your fingers sink into his sweater in a desperate clutch as you return his kiss, pressing your mouth onto his without any inhibitions. A sigh escapes from your throat, while he releases a deep grunt and begins to deepen the kiss. 
His tongue presses between the seams of your lips, penetrating into your mouth in seek of control. All the heat inside you starts swirling violently as he devours your lips, and it’s driving you crazy. Your thundering heartbeat presses against your chest and he keeps stealing your breath, leaving you gasping the moment he releases your lips. 
Yet Taehyung doesn’t stop. Giving you a few more pecks on your swollen lips, he then moves his kisses down the column of your throat, and your head falls back in an instant, helping him to travel lower until he rests his lips beneath your earlobe where he breathes out a sigh.  
“This wasn’t—” you gasp as he nips at your pulse, rocking your entire body at the touch of his teeth on your skin, “This wasn’t the reason why I came here for.” 
“Are you sure?” he hums against your skin. “We can stop if you want to. But you have to be the one to say the words.” His words make you swoon, but contrary to what he is saying to you, Taehyung continues to press his lips on your skin, making it hard for you to say a thing. “It’s been pure torture having to hold back, being in the same room with you but unable to do anything about it.” 
He leans back, looking at you with a deep gaze as he brushes his thumb across your swollen lips. “I kept seeing these lips and wishing I could kiss it.” 
Silently admitting that you feel the same way for him, your eyes move to his lips, noticing its swell, the faint crimson shade and the moisture that are left there after kissing you, and hazily blurt out, “Did you kiss Alia with that same mouth?”
“Fuck, no!” he says, making you laugh when he seems horrified at the thought of kissing your stepsister. “We’re friends, but not that close as friends to be smooching at each other.” 
The way he is scrunching his nose still makes you giggle. “Sorry, but—you know, I had to make sure.”
Taehyung snorts. “Of course you do,” he grumbles, although the mirth in his eyes turns, as he gives you an understanding look through them, now knowing what kind of relationship that you share with Alia. “There are a lot of things about your stepsister that you might not know about.” 
His words remind you of the short conversation that you had with your stepsister this morning. Deep down, you realise that he is right. With so many years spent harbouring a deep misunderstanding between one another, you realise that you never really knew her at all. Closing your eyes, you tell yourself that you can revisit this later. 
“Are you going to spend the rest of the day trying to butter me up so I can start being best friends with my stepsister, or are you going to kiss me again?” you question him with a grin on your face once you open your eyes again. 
He returns your grin with his own, showing you that same boyish charm that makes you swoon as he murmurs, “I think I like the second option a lot better.” 
Giggling, you release your grip on his sweater and move to wrap your arms around his neck, meeting him halfway just as he leans down to capture your lips again. “An excellent choice, Sir. I do like that option much better as well.”
Once his lips descend on yours once again, they don’t come down gently. They crash into yours, and you can feel his urgency, his hunger, everything that he had spent days withholding for the sake of the god-awful scheme. The kiss melts every cell in your body. It weakens your knees, leaving your arms as the only thing holding you up against him. 
His hands feel hot on your skin as he runs them down your waist, your hips, the heat penetrating through your thick sweater and jeans. You instinctively arch your chest against his, while your legs are moving, rubbing against each other when his touch sends your pulse rising, hot blood flowing down right between your legs. 
Fuck, why I am so sensitive? 
Right as you are wondering if your pregnancy has anything to do with the way your body is reacting, Taehyung folds his body and grabs the back of your thighs to lift you up. 
“Oh, God—” you pull away with a gasp, surprised with the sudden lost of balance. Tightening your arms around his neck, you hold on to him as he turns. His smile widens, looking as if he is proud of himself, and then he drops you onto the bed, gentle as he puts you down until you are lying on your back. 
You shift backwards until you are at the center of the bed with him following close behind. His gaze remains on your face as he starts crawling over the mattress, not stopping until he is hovering above you. He doesn’t settle his weight on top of you right away, but instead grabs a gentle hold at the hem of your sweater. With a quick work of his hands, the sweater is gone, tossed somewhere across the room. He doesn’t let you see where it went as he bends down, hovering close above you.  
“Doesn’t this make you think back about that night?” he asks, with a deep voice that has your entire body trembling. He ignites more reaction out of you with a gentle kiss at the crook of your neck. 
“Something is”—you gasp, shuddering under his kiss—“something is different, though.” 
His warm breath comes brushing on your skin with his deep chuckle. “You can tell, huh? I did some workout after that vacation,” he brags to you while wiggling his eyebrows, making you laugh. 
“I’d say you may have gotten your money’s worth. A little bit,” you tease him as you reach down between your bodies for his zipper. 
You can feel his hard cock pressing against your palm. Even while hidden under his pants, you can feel the heat coming from him as you rub your palm against his covered bulge, moving it back and forth until you feel him hardening under your touch. 
“Are you going to continue staring at me, or are you going to fuck me?” you whisper, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with how much you need him. 
And he is the only one to blame. When his sole existence stirs your every being. With one glance coming from his eyes, butterfly wings flutter inside your body, touching all the crevices that aren’t filled with past hurt and the baby’s presence and filling them with warmth. 
With one touch, your whole body comes alight, and you are feeling it now as he brushes his fingers along the expanse of your waist. As tough your blood is on fire as it runs through your veins, even with nothing more but a light graze on your skin. 
Taehyung licks his lips. His desire is written so clearly on his face. But then his gaze moves down your body, lingering on your stomach that is completely exposed now that you no longer have your sweater covering your skin. 
“Will it be okay?” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned. His voice sounds tight, filled with worries, which gives your chest a tight pinch. 
When was the last time you had someone—other than your family—to be so concerned about your wellbeing? Granted, there is a baby that is involved in all of this, and it would be normal for him to care, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like he is seeing right through you. 
“I think I read somewhere that the baby will be okay,” you look down at your stomach and start rubbing your hand gently over it. “Maybe we can go gentle. At least until we get to see the OB and ask more.” 
“Good idea,” he says with a smile, while you feel soft inside. But when his hand begins to move again, his thumb grazing down your exposed stomach, the heat rises back up and he is back in the game. 
His smouldering gaze feels like a complete opposite to the softness in his voice when he says, “Alright, I can do gentle. Just tell me if it gets too much, or you can lead the pace so I won’t make any mistake.” 
He wears the same wicked smile that stole your heart many nights ago as he lifts off from your body. You watch with your teeth nibbling at your bottom lip as he begins stripping himself. His sweater comes off, showing you his hard chest and filled arms which you haven’t had the chance to appreciate in the past. 
This time, you get to see everything with a clear mind. Instead of feeling hazy with intoxication, all you can feel now is the haze coming from your need for him.  
Reaching down to his pants, he pushes down his zipper. With a mocking grin, he makes a great gesture of pushing down his pants, only to stop once he hears your moan. 
“God, I missed hearing that sound coming out of your lips,“ he murmurs. He immediately returns to you and pushes your pants and panties down in one motion. Your bra comes off right before your butt comes back down on the bed. Having not an inch of your skin covered while you are lying there makes you feel exposed and vulnerable. Yet he keeps a gentle hold on your waist, holding you still while he takes you in. 
“I remember thinking that you were beautiful, but it beats seeing you in this kind of light to see what I didn’t get to see,” he murmurs, almost groaning as he takes you in. 
Licking your lips, you hold back, keeping your voice from trembling to answer, “We were both kinda drunk, so—” 
“Were we?” he chuckles softly and returns to you again, as if he can’t take being apart from you for too long. He presses his lips on your collarbone and whispers, “Good thing we get the chance to change that.” 
Your legs come up and wrap around his waist the moment he is back on top of you. The way his hard chest is pressing on your bare breasts feels heavenly. You can feel his heartbeat pounding against your chest, almost at the same rhythm as yours. But your attention is quickly drawn away once you try to move your hips to get comfortable beneath his weight, only to unintentionally rub yourself against his body.
You can feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh as you brush against him. Heat pools right at the depth of your core once you feel just how badly he wants you. It grows more intense as he pushes back into you, rubbing his covered cock against your center until you feel your wet arousal soiling the front of his pants. 
Yet still, the friction isn’t enough to satiate your needs. 
“Taehyung—” 
The moment he hears you calling his name—his real name—something dark and feral flashes through his gaze. As if saying his name in the heat of desire snaps something inside him that needs to be unleashed. 
His mouth comes down to capture yours just then, claiming you with a deep kiss. You writhe beneath him while he devours your lips, pressing against his center in a silent plea to have him striping himself off of the restricting pants and letting you feel him. 
Without saying a word, he understands what you are asking for and complies. With a reluctant sigh, he pulls back. He keeps his eyes on you the whole time as he pushes down his pants and boxer briefs until he is completely bare. His hard cock immediately springs free right before your eyes, drawing your attention towards it the same way it did the first night you were with him. 
“Say it again,” he says to you with a deep voice. A rough sigh escapes him as he wraps his hand around his girth and starts stroking himself, making himself hard and ready while he pleads with you, “Say my name.” 
“Taehyung,” you call him with a soft moan, and he lets go every last bit of his restrictions and covers your whole body with his. 
His mouth crashes down on yours, kissing you passionately until your body grows hot. A moan slips from you, and his tongue sweeps in between your parted lips, getting entangled with yours and you are immediately lost. You barely notice it when his hand moves down, slipping between your bodies to find the source of your heat. 
He flicks at your nether lips, drawing a gasp from your lips, and your hips rise up to welcome him. Then he slides a finger into your pulsing core, entering you until you are arching against his chest, overwhelmed with the sensation that he draws out of your body as he buries his finger deeper into your pussy. 
While he slides his finger in and out of you, his mouth remains pressed on yours, swallowing every sound you are making. Drowning every cries, every moans, while he continues devouring you as though you are his lifeline. 
The pleasure rises, and your body starts moving on its own before you can control it. You start grinding against his finger, needing more. It starts with a slow rock, but the more the pleasure climbs within your body, you continue grinding harder and harder onto his hand. This seems to amuse him, as you can feel his smile growing against his lips before he pulls away, freeing you from his searing kiss. 
Yet his hand continues to move, not resting until you can finally find release. “That’s it, ______. Give it to me, baby. Come for me,” he whispers with his deep voice like a spell. 
Under his encouraging words and his relentless strokes, you finally reach your orgasm. It feels so intense you can almost feel as if your body shatters in his hold, with your breath coming out in broken pants and your moans rising higher. 
With a gentle move, he pulls his finger out of you, leaving behind a series of small spasms inside your pussy from the climax. 
You immediately feel empty. But he doesn’t make you wait long as he positions himself between your parted legs, and his heavy hard-on comes right where his finger had been. His cock slides in between your slit, moving back and forth as he rocks his hips. The friction draws the slick sound of your release as he continues rubbing the entire length of his cock against your hot cunt. 
As your body continues to shudder beneath him, Taehyung lets out a deep groan. “Can’t wait, baby. Need to be inside you now.” 
“Yes, fuck me, Taehyung,” you cry out, and those exact words are the ones that draw him to move. 
You should have been prepared for it, yet your mind and body are somewhat occupied. Distracted by the blinding pleasure that he keeps pulling out of you, you are not ready when he slams his cock into you. You instantly cry out, and Taehyung stills inside you. 
You can feel your muscles clenching, pulsing around him in small spasms of pleasure at the sudden invasion. It draws a moan out of him, and he holds you in his arms to help soothe you through it until you are more accustomed to his width filling you up. 
“You okay, baby? I’m sorry,” he whispers with his lips pressing gently on your skin. Starting from your neck, your chin, and then he keeps making his way up to capture your parted lips. His kiss is soft, barely a flutter, but with every pulse rising in your body, you can feel the heat shooting right into your core. 
You wait just long enough until the pounding sound of your heartbeat eases before answering him, “I’m okay.” 
You start to wiggle under his weight, moving your hips to test if it’s going to hurt. When you feel that your muscles are no longer tense, and nothing but pleasure rushes through your body, you start moving your hips more. Grinding down his length, you can feel your hot walls contracting around his thick cock. It draws a sharp hiss out of his lips, and he jerks his hips against you, as though he is close to losing control. 
“Are you going to stay there the entire time we’re here”—you tease him while tightening your legs around his waist, your hands on his hard shoulders—”or are you going to fuck me?”  
Taehyung lets out a deep chuckle and begins to move. “So impatient. It’s been a while, so I’m only letting you act like a brat just this once,” he growls against your lips as he rocks his hips, moving in a slow pace. 
It feels so good. But you want more. You need more. 
With your heels pressing on his back, you rock back against him, grinding into his cock. He reacts with a groan, murmuring to you, “Fuck, that feels good. You want more?” 
The pleasure continues climbing. It starts to feel overwhelming that words fail you. The only thing you can give him is a nod. A sharp gasp comes out of your lips when he starts picking up his pace, going faster while pushing deeper with each thrust. 
“Tell me if it hurts,” he nearly begs, sounding desperate when you have yet to give him words in response to him. “Please, baby. Promise me. I’m barely holding on here, but I don’t want to hurt you or the baby.” 
His voice goes in and out of your senses, yet you still manage to hear what he is trying to say. “I’m fine, Taehyung. I won’t hide it, I promise.” 
He lets out a relieved sigh and smashes his lips on yours. “Good,” he groans against your lips. “Hang on tight then, baby.” 
Those words become the last warning as the force and speed of his thrusts escalate, hitting you deep and hard until your toes are curling and your throat feels tight with the urge to cry out in pleasure. Your chest rises in an arch at the sensations you are getting as your hard nipples are rubbing against his chest. 
But your mind is clear enough for you to do exactly what he asked of you. 
Your legs are pressing around him, not tight enough to make it hard for him to move, but enough to keep you attached to him. Your arms are around him, fingers running up to the nape of his neck and pulling at the back of his hair, while the other hand runs down his back, nails sinking into his skin as he takes you on a wild ride.  
Pleasure explodes through your body under his hard strokes. Your mouth falls open with a series of strained cries, calling his name. You wish he would lean down, to kiss you, to drown the sounds of pleasure that you are unable to hold in. Yet Taehyung chooses to pull back, allowing himself to keep his eyes on you as he continues with his relentless thrusts, making sure that he wouldn’t miss any sign of pain that may show on your face. 
But the pain that you had expected to come from his rough lovemaking only extends the pleasure. The wet sounds of his thrusts pushing deep inside you fills the room, growing intense by the minute. Your skin flushes warmly as blood pulses deep in your core, your pussy walls flutter around his girth, letting him know how close you are to reach the edge. 
“Are you close, baby? Do you want to come?” he whispers to you with a groan, and you find yourself crying out,
“Yes, Taehyung—I’m close. Please, let me cum. Please—” 
With his hands reaching down your hips, he lifts your bottom half slightly off the mattress, placing you in a new angle that allows him to reach deeper. Your whole body quakes once he finds your sweet spot, and as he repeatedly pushes his cock against that hidden spot inside you, you soon feel him pushing you over the edge, with him not slowing down even for just a moment. And you take it all while you continue clinging desperately to him with your nails sinking into the skin on his back. 
Pleasure flares through you like fireworks. A new wave of raw pleasure overcomes you, and your body erupts with the first wave of your orgasm. It flows smoothly through your body, but still intense enough to knock the air out of your chest. You cry out with a strained voice, your entire body shuddering beneath him. 
You heave as wave after wave of pleasure overcome your body, yet Taehyung shows no sign of stopping. Still not having enough, he still fills you up with long, deep strokes that rock your body and the entire bed together.
With every shake of your body, your nipples grow hard that they start to hurt as your skin keeps rubbing against his chest. Looking between you, Taehyung’s eyes turn darker with lust. You force yourself to watch him through your haze, feeling more than seeing it when he runs one hand down your belly. 
His big palm stays there, as if silently greeting the baby growing inside, before it continues to travel lower, finding home right where your bodies are joined. With his thumb and forefinger, he flicks at your engorged clit. Already throbbing and growing sensitive with the amount of frictions happening all at once, it sends your hips rising as another wave of pleasure rises from your core. 
Deep groans escape his lips as he savours the sight of you embracing the pleasure, and he continues playing with your clit—rubbing, flicking, pinching, drawing pain and pleasure over the constant thrusting of his cock. And just when you are feeling it building up once more from within, the telltale of your orgasm that you have been depraved of for so long, Taehyung leans down, capturing one taut nipple between his mouth and bites down. 
"Oh god. Oh god. I'm going to come again,” you cry out with your hips rising to meet each hard thrust that he is giving you.
“Yes, that’s it. Cum for me like a good girl," he croons against your skin, which sends you straight into the next round of climax while you are still riding the aftershock of your last one.
Your body shudders as another orgasm rocks your entire body, and your muscles clamp around his hard cock, sucking him with a tight clench as he thrusts in and out, pushing deep and sending your body shaking violently as you finally succumb into an earth-shattering orgasm that takes away the last drop of strength that you still have. 
And the force of your final orgasm is what sets him off. 
With a deep groan, and a rough tremble of his chest, Taehyung finally finds his release. You can feel his warmth filling your insides, his cock twitching and pumping between your spasming walls, and you are almost sure that the wicked sensation of him filling you up with his cum is enough to send you to a smaller, much more subtle climax. 
It takes a while for you to come down from the height of your release, and Taehyung is there, helping you to ride off your orgasm with the slow strokes of his cock and the gentle brush of his fingers as he slowly comes to halt. 
Once everything is done, your body is completely spent that you are unable to move. Your legs have turned languid as Taehyung gently drops them back onto the bed. The room is filled with the sound of deep breathing as both of you are fighting to catch your breaths. 
You can barely feel your arms moving, but essentially, he is freed from your tight hold, allowing him to pull out of you before dropping down beside you. 
The room no longer feels cold now that your entire body is burning hot. Seeing the thin sheet of sweat on his skin, you know that Taehyung is feeling the same heat, yet it doesn’t stop him from turning to his side and wrapping his arms around you to pull you close. 
The sound of your intense heartbeat makes it hard for you to listen to any other sounds. You feel so tired. The lack of sleep you had last night is making it hard for you to fight off the drowsiness that is coming over you. Feeling relieved and sated, you just want to give in to sleep. 
Your eyelids keep growing heavy, and once your breath is calm, you can feel Taehyung’s gentle kiss pressing on your temple. His voice is barely a whisper when he murmurs to you, “——sleep, rest for a while. It’s not like we’re in any rush to get anywhere, right?” 
You open your mouth to answer him, yet your body fights against it. His words seem to act like a spell, when you are soon taken deep into slumber, falling into a dreamless sleep with his arms wrapped around your body. 
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When you finally come to, the soft light of the afternoon sun is slowly penetrating through the windows. 
It feels warm inside, especially now that you have a blanket covering your naked body and his heavy arm resting languidly around your waist, yet you know that the same cannot be said with the weather outside. Even without opening your eyes, you can still hear the sound of the fierce wind hitting the windows, and you doubt that the road would be safe enough for you to drive out of this place. 
You find yourself curling against Taehyung’s bare chest as you properly come to wake. His heartbeat is steady, and you can feel it when he starts waking up. 
“Hey, there—” you whisper, greeting him with a sleepy smile, which he returns with his goofy smile. “Was I asleep for a long time?” 
Taehyung shakes his head. “No, not long enough,” he whispers. “I also just woke up, though. So—” 
Chuckling softly, you stretch out next to him. Your muscles are lax, and while you still feel worn-out, the short nap has restored your energy some. It helps clear your mind, yet you still refuse to move a muscle. 
Glancing at Taehyung, you notice that he has a faraway look in his eyes. He keeps his gaze out the window, and you start wondering what he is thinking about. 
“Do you think we’re going to be okay?” Taehyung asks you with a gentle sigh.
You close your eyes briefly and sigh contently before answering, “With the baby? I mean, it might be a struggle at first. I know because I haven’t really grasp the fact that I’m carrying your baby, but—” 
“No, I’m not talking about this,” he says with his hand waving around your entangled bodies. “I’m talking about—” he waves his hand to point at the window. The muted light of the sun that you saw earlier is still looking bleak, more of a pale-grey than the usual golden, with the wild swirls of snow dropping from the sky and no sign of the blizzard letting up anytime soon. “That.” 
He sighs. “I feel like we’ve had strings of bad luck constantly following us.” 
Smiling against his chest, you know what he is trying to say. “We slept together twice, and both happened due to bad weather,” you deliberately deduce his thoughts with a hum. “Is that what you’re saying?” 
“Yeah,” he says with a delirious chuckle, finding it somewhat funny now that you have voiced his thoughts out loud. “Looks like we’re stranded together, again, until the wind starts letting up. They say it’s going to be soon, but I’m not sure.” 
You cannot stop smiling the more you think about it. “Funny how it keeps happening to us, huh? At least we can remember this day as the first Christmas morning we celebrated together,” you say this with a grin, as you pull back to rub at your stomach from over the blanket. “Just the three of us.”
Taehyung follows your gaze and scoffs. “Way to go for making me feel guilty about stealing you from your family on Christmas Day,” he grumbles, making you laugh. “And if we’re actually doing this, uh—this relationship, do you think it’ll be weird?” 
You look up to him, seeing the frown forming on his face. Before you can question what he means by it, Taehyung continues to explain, “Maybe I shouldn’t come to see your family again next Christmas, or anytime soon. At least until we’re settled and everyone has forgotten about everything.” 
The way he says it, and the way he looks when he did, makes you want to laugh. “I think we’re good. And you can always join us next year. Besides, the holidays aren’t so bad with you around. Not this year. It beats sitting down and listening to other people’s stories for once.” 
Hearing this, Taehyung raises his eyebrows at you. “Even with all the drama we had with your sister?” he asks, sounding doubtful. “In case you forgot, I almost had a brawl with your stepfather.” 
For the first time ever, you doesn’t feel any need to correct him by calling Alia as your stepsister. That thought makes you smile. But you keep it to yourself, and instead lean up to kiss his cheek to help ease his mind out of it. 
“What we had?” you question him with a teasing voice, “that’s nothing. You haven’t experienced having Aunt Janey around. Have you ever read or heard those Reddit stories about entitled aunts? She would have gotten all the trophies if anyone in the family has ever written anything about her online.” 
You smile as Taehyung listens to you with a chuckle, and you can feel his worries slowly being lifted. “And as for Dad—” you let out a sigh as you think about your protective stepfather, “let’s just hope that Alia manages to butter him up to let things go. You know that he’s weak when it comes to her. Or, you can buy him a drink the next time you see him.” 
Taehyung purses his lips as he considers this. For a moment, he doesn’t seem to believe your words, but he still nods his head either way. “Fine, I guess we can talk about that later. We’ll cross the bridge when we get there, I suppose?” he asks with a bashful smile. “Why don’t we focus on you for now, and the baby?” 
You prop yourself up on your elbow while holding up the blanket with the other arm to cover your nakedness from his hungry eyes. “Alright, what do you want to know?” 
“Everything,” he says with a grin as he sits up against the bed’s headrest. “Should we continue and maybe do this with a late lunch, though? I’m starving. I couldn’t eat anything at breakfast.” 
“Are you famished for food, or—” you tease him by leaning closer, “Do you have an appetite for another thing?
He groans. “If the second option has anything to do with you, then the answer would be both. But we need to get some food in our system if we want to get back into the other.” 
Laughing, you finally step out of the bed to call for the room service. You continue to spend the rest of the day with him, chatting over the meal, talking about your future plans and all the mundane things that you need to know about each other, before the heat between you picks up again and he pulls you back into bed.
Warmth envelopes you the entire time you are with him, regardless of the winter storm that is still happening outside of these walls. 
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Author’s Note 2.0 | Thank you for reading this story! Any likes, kudos, comments, and feedbacks will be appreciated. See you in the next story :)
© All rights reserved. 2024 Yoonia — Unauthorized use and/or duplication of these works, including reposting, translating and modification in any form, is strictly prohibited. 
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jolalibrary · 11 months ago
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2. lemon twist
frankie morales x f!reader | chapter two of do me yourself
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summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.
wordcount: 3.4k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over IG. frankie being a single!dad to a son. frankie gives reader/you a nickname (paint related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: thank you so much for all the love on chapter one, and the bonus graphic. I'm so happy to bring you chapter two! also, WE'RE POSTING WEEKLY BABIESSS
prev chapter | frankie's ig
key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics
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A soft, melodic tune pulls you into the land of the living, aware of the tug of it, and the immediate reluctance you have to leave the comfort of your dreams.
Your hand hesitates, reluctant to emerge from under the snug warmth of your sheets before your fingers are tapping and searching, all sluggish with sleep, groping blindly as it crawls against the wooden top of your bedside table. It's only when your fingertips connect with the screen does the world fall into silence.
Nothingness. Stillness. Peace.
The perfect environment for your mind to come to itself as you slowly open your lashes, raising a balled-up fist to rub slumber away, as your gaze meets streams of light rolling in through the breeze-blown curtains.
Then it hits you.
Comes to you in a trickle. Then a flood.
One after the other, memories of last night rush over you. Messages sent and received coming to you, recalling the way you'd tucked a pillow under your chest as your thumbs replied quickly to each incoming DM. Then, you recall the giddiness, how it fluttered through you—how it still remains. Still ever-present and very much thrumming inside of you as you begin to smile.
It remains on your face as you roll out of bed. A brief memory of something he said making you laugh as you wash your face, and another when you brush your teeth.
That feeling stays with you as the sun glistens through your kitchen window. One which adds a glow to the place, making the little smoke stains on the walls and the chips on the kitchen counter seem better, less noticeable—and less irritating.
You smirk as you wrap your hand around your mug—because is it too soon to wish him a good morning? Should you wait for him?
Sighing, rolling your eyes, you land on the dresser you were sprucing up in the place a dining table should be. Your eyes linger on it—teeth picking at the skin on your lip—just as it does so each time you come in this room.
A reminder once again that this place should be a home you’ve been building for years, and not just the last few months. There should be photos on the walls of a relationship playing out alongside family and friends, but those ones placed in between are still just empty.
Like so much of your home.
Taking a sip of your coffee, you drop your stare to the newspaper under the feet of the dresser. The stories were told in black and white splotches over in many shades, dotted around as you tested and checked to see what would make the old, worn thing look like something new. The same thing you’d somehow managed to get delivered through a smile and a sweet, please.
You had been, for so long, undecided on the shade.
Yet, as you gaze upon it now, your imagination begins to weave a vivid portrait. It conjures the image of what it might resemble should you succumb to the shade that's gradually painting itself in imaginary strokes.
Sliding your phone from your pocket, you open up your DMs.
Does butterscotch orange come in a paint type suitable for wood? It does. You at work today? Desperate to see me? Just looking to help someone shift paint they can’t sell. What you looking to paint, Rainy?
Taking another sip of your drink, the warmth kisses your palm similar to the temperature blooming in your cheeks from conversing with him again.
Choosing, instead of words, to snap a photo, knowing it'll be easier, simpler.
Watching it send, the little speech bubble appearing as your mind drifts to the hair above his lip, the facial hair along his jaw—the little patch you’d wanted to graze your thumb over.
You think of the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles; when he’d looked pleased to see you in the paint aisle—something akin to a modern-day meet cute you see on the TV.
You coming in today? If I can… gives me something to do this afternoon.
You bite your lip, considering it—whether it’s too forward to make a flirtatious comment. The two of you skirted around it last night, practically river dancing—not quite stepping over, but not quite retreating either.
I’ll get you it ready at the main desk. My hero, Frank.DIY Don’t push it.
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It’s the third visit you’ve made, and while you gloss over the paint chippings on the door, you do notice the circular stains on the floor.
They’re brown, smudged slightly at the edges as though someone has, at one time, attempted to clean (whatever it was) quickly after it had appeared. It’s clear they had failed.
Your eyes scan over it, for a moment forgetting anything and everything.
Just existing in today's scent, which happens to be singed wood—chippings of it practically in the air—as the sound of an electrical saw starts up and begins screeching in some distant corner until you hear your name being called.
And it silences everything.
That voice could pull you from anything, you think.
A crisis, your thoughts, a spiral.
You’d heard his voice plenty all last night as you watched videos of him hanging shelves, answering questions likely sent to him on how best to prime a wooden handrail, and still, you weren't sure you were sick of his voice.
That, and DIY had honestly never sounded so hot.
After the shortest walk to the counter, a brief hello, a grin you wish you could try and smother a touch, you’re leaning on the counter. His eyes focused on you, watching every move you make as though looking anywhere else would be a crime.
“You got a Sharpie there?”
Frowning, you feel you can breathe easier when his eyes drop to the counter—rustling around the till area as you rest your elbow.
“Because I forgot mine and I think I should ask for a signature this time.”
Pausing, he slowly lifts his chin, then eyes. “Funny.”
Shrugging, you grin, watching him ring up the tin—occasionally smirking to himself, before shaking his head as you pay, your phone vibrating on the counter that you continue to ignore.
“You gonna be alright with that?”
Scrunching your nose, you pocket your phone and tilt the can on the counter. “Painting a dresser or carrying this to my car?”
Something sparkles in his eyes, a little shimmer. His mouth opening, likely ready to spill nothing but charm and flirtation again, when another voice cuts through—one gruffer, more tinged in age.
“Francisco, what you d—oh, I see.”
Your smile remains, even as you stare up at the older man—the one with wiry whites and spotted greys you’d seen sitting behind the counter on the day you left to get coffee with Francisco.
It’s notable, how smaller, and thinner the older man is—how he moves like he’s pained by each step until he slumps into a chair and puts on the brightest and biggest of smiles before offering his hand.
“The name’s Harry.”
You look at it, only briefly, flicking your eyes to Frankie who looks like he’s wishing the earth would open up at his feet and swallow him whole. A somewhat twisted, forced blank expression and the mildest of eye rolls follow when your hand slips inside Harry’s, offering your name.
“Thought it was Harold,” Frankie says, rather bitterly.
“You have to call me Harold, but she can call me Harry.”
Smirking, you bite your tongue, rolling your lips as you smooth down your blouse—trying not to make any more eye contact with the man you’d really come to see.
Sliding the paint closer to you, you offer a softer smile, one that is nothing short of kind. “It was lovely to meet you Harry, and I’ll see—“
“—Rainy.”
His voice cut through as the can slid from the counter, the sudden acknowledgement of the weight showing—likely scorched across your face as your arm drags down, shoulder going with it, just about saving it from the ground.
It’s only as you look up, do you find Frankie half over the counter, spotting the key rings and cart tokens rolling around the floor—the stand on its axis from his sudden movement.
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So, is Rainy my name now?
You caught that?
I did 😏
I wasn’t thinking.
I have to ask.
Here we go.
Do you always wear the hat or is it a Frank.DIY thing? And is it Frank or Frankie or the newly learnt Francisco?
Whats wrong with my hat? And Frankie and Morales were taken.
Morales your surname? I feel I’ve hit a sore spot.
Yes. And you have but you can make it better.
How?
Meeting me for a very boring lunch this week.
You’re really twisting my arm. Which is mean. You saw the stress my shoulder had to endure today.
I tried to warn you. I’ll let you bring your Pinterest board and your saved Reels.
I fear you just want me for my organisational inspiration.
Can’t help you decide if I’m the man for your project if I don’t know what you’re after.
Fair, I guess I can meet you for a business lunch.
Would you be more into meeting me for lunch if it wasn’t a business lunch?
It depends on what kind of lunch we’re talking about.
I’m very badly trying to ask you out on a date.
Oh, that’s what you’re trying to do.
Unless I’ve read this wrong.
Nope, read it perfectly. I guess I have to confess to you that I really would love to go on a brunch date with you, Francisco.
Lunch date. Let’s not get too romantic. Don’t want you to fall head over heels and visit where I work twice in two days.
Has Harold told you how hilarious you are?
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It’s nice—the place he’s chosen.
All washed in bright white, yellow splashes and pastel accents. Plants adorn as much of the walls and ceilings as humanly possible, with guitar-infused music softly playing as the door clicks into place behind you.
It's so nice, in fact, you almost want to live here. To spend an infinite amount of time brushing your thumb over the leaves to see which ones are real and which ones are very good fakes. So pretty that it’s the kind of place that if you weren’t looking for him at a table, you’d snap a photo of it all and send it to a friend.
But, as soon as your eyes land on him, he's the only photo you want to take.
White t-shirt, with a dark shirt thrown over the top, still very much all broad-shouldered and wide chest as he smooths his hand down as he stands.
The hat, one that you'd assumed would be a staple, is all but gone, curls at odd angles as though his fingers have been teasing them—tugging and pulling as the ends slightly frizz—as he moves around the table when you approach.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” he grins, hesitancy thrumming before he must question himself, snaps himself back into place from dragging his eyes up and down you.
Then, he’s moving, gently—enough time to register he’s moving to hug you, and plenty of time to politely decline.
But you don’t.
Allowing his hand to slide over your waist, delicate, very much cautious and all but respectful, at the same time as his breath flutters over your cheek. You almost turn your chin, wishing to all of a sudden curl into it before his lips graze your skin, lashes fluttering before you feel him moving back.
And, fuck, the scent of his aftershave is still washing over you in thick waves. It does its best to slide up your nose and make a home there as heat rushes to your cheeks.
You almost turn, almost catch the last bit of his lips, eyes focused on his, holding, burning them in as you find yourself unable to tear away from it. Two people, swirling, completely lost in only the other—the rest of the world fading to a muted shade, nothing compared to the hue he exhumes in the centre of brightness and pops of colour.
A thing you turn over, unable to stop yourself from stealing stares as he pulls out your chair, before joining you by sitting opposite.
“Thought this was a safe bet, wasn’t sure what kind of lunch person you were.”
“More of a brunch person, honestly.”
He smirks, flicking his eyes up, even if his head is tilted down at the menu.
“It’s very nice—not been here before.”
A brow arched, he smiles—shyer, the beginning of the dimple appearing before he casts his eyes back down.
“What do you recommend, Francisco?”
You don’t miss his snort, the way he sticks his tongue in his cheek as he gives you that look—one that makes you want to keep flirting and testing him all at once. One that makes you clamp your jean-covered thighs together, but secretly hope he notices you doing so.
If he does, he doesn’t show it. Instead, using his index finger to point at various parts of the menu, recommendations falling, rolling—a shimmer in his eyes at certain parts, that makes it easy when someone comes over to ask for your order.
You suspect it’s a favourite, the one you’ve chosen. Something is written into the way he holds your gaze before he stumbles over his words, practically trips, to say his.
It’s only when you’re alone, do you rest your elbow on the table—the coldness of it rising up your skin, rooting you—as you lean your chin on your palm. “So, do I get my Pinterest boards out now or…?”
“Funny.”
You bite your tongue as you smile, staring, admiring. “So, outside of terrorising a man in his own shop, running an Instagram, what does Francisco DIY do?”
Shaking his head, he takes a sip of his water—a bead collecting, remaining on his lower lip for a ridiculously long time, before the tip of his tongue casts it away, and sweeps it from your view.
“My… my friend fights—like MMA. He stopped for a bit, but now he…”
You wait, let it form—let him decide what it is he wants to tell you and when, and how. Sliding your feet out under the table, stretching as you relax into the chair, finding his eyes fixed, concentrated.
“I go to some of his training.”
“Good at DIY and MMA training? Starting to wonder why you’re single, Butterscotch.”
He laughs, soft, rich. “Just… haven’t been looking to date.”
Nodding, you let out a heavy exhale. “I wasn’t either.”
His lips purse, twitch to the side, a smirk half forming somewhere in his cheeks as he leans over, elbow resting on the table, foot catching yours under the table.
Mirroring you entirely as the two of you just stare. And, normally, it would be weird. Odd. But, it doesn’t feel it. If anything, it makes you want to commit each crease from his smiles, each wisp of hair along his jawline that crawls up his cheeks—the patch that could be traced with your thumb, an almost heart shape left, ready to be stamped with a pair of lips.
Your eyes only pull from it when your drinks arrive—when the moment is broken by the real world—as you lean back, let your eyes move to your server, thanking them as you take your drink. And then, the two of you are alone.
“Might change my Instagram name.”
Brows lifting, he pauses his glass close to his lips. “Oh yeah, what to?”
“Rainier Grey—makes me sound elusive.”
Snorting, he shakes his head, sipping on his water before placing the glass down close to your hand. Fingers brushing against it, a thing which makes your eyes flick over your screen.
“I dare you.”
“You dare me?” you say. “How old are you?”
“A man too old for dares.”
You brush your index finger over the back of his fingers, lingering on it, noticing the way they flex as you do as if battling to take your hand in his.
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Even if you’re determined to go halves, Frankie’s insistence beats you.
All ‘Don’t argue with me on this, alright?’ said in a tone deeper, more serious than you'd heard to date. And, it's hard not to let heat lick up your spine at the sound.
Even if he’s giving you kind brown eyes as you hold your hands up in defeat.
Smirking, you watch him pay, spotting the picture in his wallet of a boy with a missing-tooth smile almost as big as the man in front of you.
“Alright Morales, but next time it’s my treat.”
“Next time?”
Smirking, you bite your lower lip as you stand, grabbing your things. “Think you’ve earned it.”
Each step to the door feels heavy, a fluttering in your stomach—a grin that can’t be wiped, barely doused when you say goodbye to the people behind the counter.
It grows wider when he gets the door for you, the cooler, outside air creating a vortex of his aftershave all over again (that you hope finds a way to bury itself into your skin) when he opens it.
It’s odd, almost insane—the giddy way you feel as the two of you walk to your car. His fingers are so close to brushing yours, the distance to your little vehicle becoming shorter and shorter as you desperately wish for another few blocks.
Disappointment flares, trying to scratch out the happiness inside your stomach as you pause at the car, trying to smile, but finding it difficult.
Rubbing the back of his head, you watch him roll his lips. “I had a great time.”
Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you nod, “Me too.”
“Won't have to wait long, you've promised me brunch.”
“Think I said I’d pay. But, if you want brunch, I’m down to blow your mind.”
You realise too late, mouth hanging open, the words hitting—landing in his ear as you watch him process them.
It’s sluggish, almost lagging, the way his face lights up, the way his eyes widen and his smile grows into something close to what you had across the small table—not tinged in any way by the upcoming goodbye.
“Well, if that’s—”
“Shut up,” you say, cutting him off, hand ready to push his arm, but you slide it around his waist.
Face close to his, bodies almost flush.
You watch him swallow, how his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he flicks his gaze from eye to eye.
Licking his lips, he smiles. “Can I kiss you?”
The moment you nod, he’s leaning—lips brushing over yours, fingers tightening on his waist as you move with him, all delicate, smooth, downright velvety as your other hand finds his neck. Feels his pulse against your palm, the warmth of him against your skin, before your lips part, deepening it, letting him have more, as much as he wants—
Then, he moves you. His palm meets your car, guiding you back until your spine meets the side of your vehicle, and he leaves another mark of him—thumb and four fingers—in the grunge the city throws at your car.
The other is the one he leaves pressed against your lips, all invisible, sweet and aching. Leaning in, your fingers find purpose on his neck, skating around, teasing a low curl as you lick into his mouth delicately.
All teasing, caressing, the arm around your waist tightening as the two of you remain almost flush against the car.
And it’s dizzying, all unexpected—but then, so is he.
More so, when you part—nose against nose, eyes opening to find his doing the same.
“I should…”
Your fingers slide, wiping his bottom lip before resting it on his chin, nail stroking against the hair there. “Okay.”
“I’d like to,” he begins, slowly stepping back, allowing cooler air to flow between where your bodies were pressed together, “Not wait to see you again—and, help you. With your project.”
Rolling your lips, you smile. “I’d like that too—both of them.”
“Alright.”
“Okay,” you smile. “Let me know.”
Nodding, he steps back up on the curb, hand wiping across his mouth.
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You actually changed your handle.
Told you, I don’t back down from a dare
Guess I owe you one.
Can I cash it in at any moment?
As long as it’s appropriate, yes.
There goes my idea of daring you to strip in the shop and make out with a paint tin.
Have to just dream about that one.
Oh, I will Francisco.
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NEXT CHAPTER ->
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smusherina · 9 months ago
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yard work - chapter 3 (regina george x reader)
fandom: Mean Girls (all media)
pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader
summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.
chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 4
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"So, have you heard of the new girl?" Regina asked, twirling a lock of hair on her finger.
You were still sitting on the couch several hours later. It was beginning to get dark.
"Caty Heron or something?"
"Cady, yes. What do you think of her?" Regina bit her bottom lip, sucking it and chewing at it in her mouth. Back when you were younger, her mom would've chastised her. Mrs George was lax about a lot of things, but she could not stand fidgeting. Nowadays, though, you doubted she had the heart to say anything negative to her daughter.
"I..." You tilted your head, thinking. "I don't really think of her. We're in the same calc class and she seems smart. Talks to Aaron a lot."
"Does she?" Regina narrowed her eyes and huffed. "I thought so."
"What? Don't tell me you're still hung up on Aaron Samuels. C'mon." You scoffed. "That dude, pretty as he is-" You knocked at your head. "All fluff, no substance. Hollow."
"Oh, because you would know so much about guys." Regina crossed her arms and stared at you petulantly.
"Yes, I would. I'm practically one of them." You shrugged nonchalantly. "By the way, shouldn't you get home?"
Regina didn't answer and just looked at you. You looked back, unsure of what she was thinking. You glanced around, wondering if you'd missed something.
"You're still- I mean, you're... A lesbian." She said slowly as if it were a curse word.
You laughed before answering. "Yes, Regina, I am still a lesbian. Just like I told you I was back then." You frowned. "Is there, like, a problem?"
"No." She said simply, but it didn't seem particularly truthful. "You don't know about what happened with Janis, then?"
"No, I just know she had to switch schools. Why, was it something you did?"
"No." Again, didn't seem too truthful. "I don't have a problem with you being a lesbian."
Clearly, she was uncomfortable talking about it. Still, something was off. You were almost certain Regina had had something to do with Janis leaving. She was probably lying to you.
"You're not going home for dinner then." Better to drop it for now. It wouldn't do either of you any good to push her. "Will your dad be mad?"
"As if he even notices I'm gone," She rolled her eyes, settling more comfortably on the couch. "He's always on the phone."
"I have frozen pizzas we could pop in the oven."
"I'm not eating that processed shit. We're ordering in."
"Reg, I can't order takeout 'til dad sends me more money."
"I'm paying, dummy, don't even worry about it." She pushed off the couch and walked to the kitchen. You trailed after her. "Where are the menus?"
"There should be some in the cabinet over there."
The evening turned to night with you two on the couch, chatting and eating pizza. The TV was turned on eventually. Adult Swim was playing some anime about cowboys in space, but neither of you was really watching.
You'd missed her so much. You didn't like thinking about it much, but that was the truth. You'd missed her for even longer than the two years you'd been officially cut off from her life. She'd started pulling away long before the silent treatment began. You didn't like thinking about how much it had hurt, how you'd felt your world go bleak when she rejected you. You'd never been one for confrontation, that was Regina's job, so talking to her about the why and how of it all had never felt like an option.
You'd eventually gotten the hint. And now, after all this time, after she had left you so easily, you were letting her back in just as easily. As if you were back in that time, sitting in the sandbox peacefully making castles when she came up behind you, pulled at one of your pigtails, and demanded you share your buckets and shovel. You were helpless against her force.
There was probably something deeply unhealthy about your friendship. She was probably only coming back because it was convenient for her. She wasn't interested in making amends- hell, she probably didn't even think there was anything to amend, in the first place.
This had been the way you two had been since forever. Her ploughing through anybody in her way, you clinging to her as she went, just as much of a victim and a perpetrator.
The Regina you missed was the impression of a girl, braces on her teeth, grass stains on her sundress, and laughter on her lips. The Regina that perhaps, maybe, probably was still hidden somewhere in her, but at the same time was just not her. Who she was now, who you were now, were so utterly different from back then.
Watching her face, illuminated blueish by the light from the TV, so much older but still soft and young, framed by naturally blonde hair but bleached a lighter shade, you made your peace. You were probably being way too dramatic about all this, but it felt like a big moment in your half-baked teenage brain. You would take her back every time. You would let her leave every time. You would stay in place while she explored the world, and if she deigned to come back, you'd be waiting.
"Hey, Reg," You said, quiet but not exactly a whisper.
"What?" She looked up at you, just bent over the coffee table grabbing another slice of pizza.
"I missed you." You said, so earnestly it sounded jarring to even your ears.
She scrunched up her nose. "'Cause I bought you pizza?"
"Yeah," You laughed. "That too."
If you hadn't been looking so closely, you might've missed the brief lapse in her armour. It was in the softening at the corners of her eyes, in the slackening of her face, the give in her spine. Something like affection, like she'd missed you too.
"You're a weirdo."
You only laughed more.
The moment passed and you continued eating and talking and watching TV. You must've fallen asleep at some point after Regina went to remove her makeup. Eventually, you couldn't tell when, you woke up to the sun shining through the blinds right into your eyes.
Shit. It was Monday. You pawed around yourself for your phone, flipped it open, and checked the time. Shit, indeed. You nudged Regina with your toe.
"Reg..." She didn't even stir. "Reg!" You pushed harder, causing her to groan and whine.
"What? Five... M're mins..." She mumbled into the cushion, curling up tighter.
"We're late for school, Reggie, c'mon we gotta go." You momentarily contemplated if it was worth even going in. Your dad would be busting a lung at the missed calc class anyway. But did you want to give him more reasons to yell at you? No, not really.
"I gotta go, c'mon." You moved towards her and really shook her.
"What?" She grumped at you. To be honest, it was really cute. She had dust around her eyes, sleep still lingering in her limbs. You'd touched her shoulder, covered by the knit blanket you'd given her last night, but you could feel how warm she was.
"School. It's Monday morning, sleepyhead."
It took no more than that for the reality to set in for her. Cursing up a storm and running around like a headless chicken, Regina tried gathering all her things that'd somehow ended up scattered around the night before. Her perfume was in the alcove by the front, her charger in the kitchen, hairbrush in the bathroom.
"Do you want a ride?" You asked before heading upstairs to change. Couldn't go to school in just Spiderman boxers.
"I have nothing to wear!" She screeched, glaring at you as if you'd caused this. She was the one who wanted to stay the night, jeez.
You held up your hands in surrender. "You can borrow some of my stuff."
"As if you have anything remotely fitting. You dress like a hobo." She said all that while climbing up the stairs past you, heading for your room. "A hobo with a liking to grunge music, nonetheless."
You walked after her, listening but not feeling the need to add anything. Once she got to your door and you went to follow, she whirled around.
"Uh, I'm gonna change." She sassed, though the intimidation was made less effective by the bareness of her face and the messiness of her hair. You smiled and gestured for her to go on.
"Be my guest." As if she needed the invitation.
To her credit, it didn't take long for her to pick something to wear, wash her face, and do her hair. In the meantime, you used the hallway bathroom to freshen up yourself. She stepped out wearing the same white tank top as the night before, over it a short-sleeve button-down in a glossy, satin black, and a black skirt she'd probably found at the very back of your closet. The button-down was neatly cinched around her waist and the skirt discreetly rolled up to be shorter than it really was.
The shirt was probably the nicest thing you owned. Something a relative had gotten you for your birthday. Versace or something like that.
"I'm going to have to go to school in sneakers, jorts." She pointed at you accusingly, leaning over threateningly where you sat on the floor. You looked up at her and just shrugged. What could you do?
She rolled her eyes and waved you away. You took the cue that it was your turn. You didn't bother closing the door behind you. Some wash jeans from the back of your desk seemed clean enough. You sniffed them just in case. Not too funky, but definitely not fresh. They'd have to do. You chucked the hoodie, sprayed on some deodorant, and replaced it with a short-sleeve flannel. You looked into the mirror and checked your hair was okay before grabbing your backpack.
"Okay, let's go." You turned to see Regina staring at you incredulously.
"That's it? That's your morning routine?" Leaning against the doorway, you couldn't help but notice she looked fantastic. It was a real talent of hers, looking so good all the time.
"Usually, I'd eat breakfast." You herded her out of the door. "Do you need to get your things?" She probably didn't have any of her school stuff.
"No, I didn't unpack my purse before coming here." She said, checking said bag as she did. "I'll do my makeup in the car, drive sensibly."
"Psh, as if you need to tell me. You're the speed demon, from what I've heard."
"There's nothing wrong with the way I drive, grandma."
"Until you get your license revoked, speedster."
Needless to say, Regina was not impressed by your 2001 Corolla. And though she complained the whole way to school, she still sat in the front seat, doing her makeup, there was no heat behind her words. You arrived in the middle of the third period. Nobody was out and about, much to Regina's relief. You parted ways with a wiggle of her fingers and a finger salute from you. You sat in the car for a moment, just breathing and thinking.
She didn't say thank you, didn't say she had a good time, didn't even bother pretending she'd enjoyed your company. It seemed like a relief she was finally getting away from you. Was that how she felt?
Now that your friendship had progressed beyond small talk while you worked and pleasantries over dinner, being ignored at school felt a lot more hurtful.
It was sobering, how she could goss and laugh with you on your couch and then act as if being seen with you in public was social suicide.
What made it feel even worse was that it was true. If Regina was seen hanging around you, god knows what the piranhas that were the student body would do. It would end with either or both of you ostracized or worse. Regina could bend minds and shift opinions like it was a superpower, but even she had her limits.
You got out of the car, locked it, and ambled towards Spanish class.
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gejo333 · 1 year ago
Text
Unexpected Match VII
DILF/DBF Miguel O’Hara x Female Reader
Pt. 1 Pt.8
18+ Warning!!
Summary: You and the O’Hara’s go away on a small family vacation upstate.
We’re back!!!
Happy to have another chapter out! Next one is going to have a lot of drama! I apologize for any grammar mistakes, I haven’t fully looked this over yet. But I hope you enjoy!
Wc: 5.2k
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The fall crisp air was becoming a winter chill as you gaze at the golden leaves falling from the trees. You turn your head towards the left as you smile softly at the curly brunette man. Miguel's phone buzzed, a photo of you carrying Gabi as you both smiled at the camera from one of the many days you had gone to the park. A small smile crept on to your face as you hadn't noticed he changed his Home Screen from the photo he's kept of baby Gabi on his phone since you first met him.
You turned your head and smiled at the adorable sight of a sleeping Gabi, as her head rested against her car seat. Suddenly, the thought of another car seat next to Gabi crossed your mind. Sudden realization of your thoughts made your cheeks red. You smiled as giving a few siblings for Gabi after your career is steady would be nice.
Miguel drove the car into the entrance of the family campsite. Two weeks ago Gabi had brought up that every year they leave the city to do a weekend camping trip at a family camp, where Gabi explained that there's a bunch of fun activities to do at the kid center. You were really happy when both Miguel and Gabi wanted you to come with them. You knew you lived with them for a few months now and felt like a family, the impending conversation with your parents has created some stupid insecurities to pop in your mind. But every time the thoughts pop up your happily reminded of Gabi's joyous laughter and Miguel's loving words, that you wouldn't change anything for this in the world.
"We're here." Miguel parked the car as you both got out. You went around the car and opened it up to Gabi's side. You unbuckled her from her car seat.
"Hey, baby bug. It's time to wake up. We're here." You said softly as you gently brushed some of the hair sticking out of her pony tail behind her ear. Your heart melted at the sight of her yawning and rubbing her eyes of any sleep before you saw her bright brown eyes. You helped her out of her seat as she was still trying to wake up. As soon as she got a look of her surroundings she perked up instantly.
"Yay! We're here!" Gabi ran on to the grass next to the parking lot.
"Please stay close Gabi, while your papa and I unload the car." You say smiling at her happy attitude as you watch her play around in the grass.
"Will do!" She said looking at you with one of the iconic O'Hara smiles.
You heart almost stopped as an arm wrapped around your waist and whisked you behind the car to the open trunk before being slightly dipped and kissed. You happily returned the kiss as your arms wrap around his neck to deepen it. The kiss ended with another quick kiss or two, as he stood you up straight but still wrapped in each others arms.
"Loved that. But what was it for?" You chuckle as you brush strands of his hair back in his iconic hair style.
"I'm just really happy. Ever since I saw you again, I just never felt this happy before. Of course I was really happy when it was just Gabi and I, but I just feel complete now that I have the two most important girls in my life."
"I've never been more happy being with you and Gabi. The perfect small family bubble." You press one more kiss to his lips before you untangle from each other and begin to unpack.
"Maybe our family bubble can grow bigger one day." Said Miguel as he took a cooler and set in on the ground. Your eyes widen from his comment.
"Doesn't sound like a bad idea. But maybe after putting a ring on this finger." You chuckle as you tease him.
"Sounds like a good idea. I'll keep it in mind."
"Wait...are you saying you might propose one day?" You paused when you heard his response.
"Yes." He smiled as he took something else from the trunk out. Your heart briefly stopped from his response. You smiled as you went on your toes to kiss his cheek.
"Sounds like a good idea." You say as you grab the last thing from the trunk and set it down before Miguel closes it and locks the car.
"Princesa, we're heading to the cabin." Said Miguel as he picked up majority of the things with out breaking a sweat as you helped carry the last two bags.
"Okay!" Gabi ran over to you both as she skipped slightly ahead, stopping and turning to make sure you and Miguel were still following her.
A few minutes later you made it to the cabin.
You were stunned when you saw it. It wasn't just a simple cabin, but a large two floor cabin with a double door entrance. You realized this family camping site wasn't your run of the mill place. It must have cost a lot to stay here.
When Miguel opened the door and the three of you entered you were even more amazed by the interior design. It was as if the wood cabin was made for the heavens.
"Papa! Can we go to the kid center?" Gabi said from the stairs.
"I'm sorry princesa. We arrived pretty late. Everyone's probably back with their families having dinner. But I promise we'll take you first thing tomorrow." Miguel said as he set down everything in the entryway next to the things you brought in.
"Ok, papa." You saw the disappointment in her eyes despite her trying to hide it, which stung you heart.
"Hey Gabi. Have you ever made a fairy house before?" You say as you begin to unpack things like Miguel and put them in the right places.
"No, what's that." Gabi's interest peaked from your words, districting her from her sadness.
"Well, when I was little and use to go camping, my grandmother told me that fairies lived in the forests all around and that not all of them have homes. So with my brothers and grandmother we would find sticks, leaves, and acorn caps and build tiny houses for the fairies to live in."
"Really! Can we build one?" Gabi's eyes sparkled from your small story as she ran towards you from the stairs.
"Of course! We can build one right outside the cabin. But let's help finish unpacking with Papa and then we can build it."
Miguel smiled as he watched you and Gabi from the window building a tiny fairy house on the side of the giant tree a few feet from the cabin. His heart swelled every time you glanced over and smiled at him. Everytime he saw you it felt like he was falling for you all over again.
20 minutes later Gabi ran back into the cabin calling for Miguel to come outside to see the fairy house. "Alright mija, I'm coming." Miguel chuckled as he was led outside by his overly excited daughter. Stoping right in front Gabi, crouched on her knees as you stood up and Miguel wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you to his side as he kiss the top of you head.
"Look what me and Y/n built! This is where the fairies can get their mail from their friends. Look! Y/n made a roof that can be removed, so we can check on the fairies. here is the bedroom. There are two beds so that the fairy can have a sleep over with her friends. This is the dinning room where they eat. And here is a tiny toilet too!" Gabi giggled from her last sentence which melted both of your hearts. "How will we know they came?" Added Gabi as she looked up at you.
"When you see fairy dust scattered around the house, that means they were here."You words made Gabi's eyes light up as she got up and gave you and Miguel a hug together. With ease Miguel picked up Gabi with on arm as he directed you both back into the cabin for dinner.
After dinner and more chatter about the fairies, a yawning Gabi indicated that it was time to go to bed. Miguel picked her up as you turned off all the lights downstairs before all three of you made it up stairs where you entered the first bedroom. Already in her pjs you and Miguel tucked her into bed before saying good night. "Y/n?"
"Yes my baby bug?"
"Can we check the fairy house tomorrow morning?"
"Of course we can. Good night sweetheart. Have sweet dreams." You and Miguel both leave, closing her door before heading down the hall and around the corner to the master bedroom.
As you entered the room you gasped when you felt arms lift you up in a bridal position as Miguel carried you to the bed, laying you down on it.
"Miguel we have to get out of our clothes." You giggle as he wouldn't let you out of his hold. You turn to face him, already meet his gaze on you.
"Te amo, hermosa." Miguel brushed some strands of your hair behind your ear before leaning down to capture your lips, which you melted into. The kiss continued into a loving make out session. Lips on lips or on skin.
In a slight daze you somehow straddled his lap as you continue the semi-heated session. You give him on last kiss on the lips before siting up, still on top of him. You felt a starting erection poke your thigh as you straddle, his hand on your waist as he lightly moved your hips on him.
A mischievous thought popped up in your head. You were curious how much and how long you could tease him before you got in trouble. Last time you made him sexually frustrated you didn't get a wink of sleep all night and sore the for the rest of the week.
You moved your hips a little bit more, earning a small groan from his lips as you felt his erection grow, making you slip out a small moan. You continue like this for a little more before you unstraddle him and get off the bed.
"Cariño, come back here." Miguel huffed as he gave you a light glare for getting off him in the middle.
"Mhmm nope." You try to hid your smile as you begin to undress.
"Y/n, I'm warning you. Come back over here." Miguel's gaze scanned up  your body as you were only left in a matching pair of white lace underwear.
"Please, mi amor." You smiled when you saw his slight bothered state as you turned around to walk into the master bathroom to remove your makeup. Even before you could get your makeup remover you heard footsteps came your way before you could turn around you were thrown over Miguel's bare shoulder "Miguel." You chuckled as he carried you back to the bed where he gently threw you on on to your stomach. Miguel got behind you, before leaning over to whisper in to your ear.
"You know better than to test me, hermosa."
You wake up the next morning, feeling sore between your legs. You sit up, still groggy as you look outside the window to the beautiful view. You feel arms wrap tighter around your waist. Turning to look the the man next to you, you smile down at him as he places kisses up your side to your neck as he sat up next to you.
"Good morning."
"Good morning, mi amor. How did you sleep?" He smirked as you gave him an slightly annoyed look, before wiping it away with a kiss to your lips.
"I slept well. Luckily you were tired from driving up here. Or I think I wouldn't be able to walk today."
"Well, I would have gone easier if you didn't tease me like that." Miguel moved your legs to lay over his lap, lifting you to sit on his lap as he
leaned back on the bed frame. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you placed a kiss on his lips again. "I was thinking, after dropping Gabi off at the kid center that we go on a hike." Miguel said.
"Sounds perfect."
"Good. Make sure to wear a bathing suit."
"Ooo, ok. I can't wait." After relaxing in comfortable silence, being in each others arms more than enough you both take a shower, Miguel needing to carrying you as your legs were too sore to walk.
After getting dressed you both go downstairs where you both made breakfast together you noticed that little O'Hara was still upstairs asleep. Miguel went up to go wake her up and a couple minutes later he carried her down the stairs towards the kitchen.
"Good morning baby bug. How did you sleep?" You say as you place a kiss to the top of her head and placing a plate of scrambled eggs, sausage, and fruit in front of her.
"Good! Can we check the fairy house?" Pleaded Gabi.
"How about you eat your breakfast and then we can go check." Said Miguel as he passed you a cup of coffee, which you happily took.
"Ok!" Gabi began to eat her food fast.
"Gabi, don't rush eating. You can choke. Please eat slower." You worried.
"But what if the fairies are gone by the time I'm done?"
"Fairies wake up super early to go to work, so we won't see them sadly. But, I'm very sure they were there." You added.
After Gabi properly ate her food you helped her put on her shoes before the three of you walked outside into the fresh morning air. Gabi ran to the fairy house and took off the roof, a gasp leaving her before she jumped up and down with a wide smile on her face.
"They were here! They were here! Look! There's fairy dust! And the bed was used. And look! They left some food on the table!" Gabi pointed out with a big smile on her face.
"Wow, that's so cool." Miguel brought you close and kissed the side of your head, before whispering a thank you.
"Alright Princesa. Let's gets you ready so we can take you to the kid center." Said Miguel, which Gabi happily ran back into the house.
You helped put on Gabi's shoes as the two of you waited for Miguel. However, he came down the stairs on the phone, and annoyed look on his face. You give him a worried look for seeing him stressed. He walked over to you saying, "Peter, you know that I'm with my family upstate. What's happening?" His brows furrowed as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his hand, clearly frustrated by whatever was being said to him. You placed your hand in his empty one, giving him a gently squeeze to get his attention.
"One moment Peter. Are you ok, hermosa?" His looked quickly became soft and loving when his attention was on you.
"Gabi's getting a bit impatient to go to the kid center. I was offering to walk her over and get her settled there." You smile up at him.
"That would be great, thank you." Miguel placed a quick kiss to your lips and then a kiss to the top of Gabi's head before he went back on the call.
You and Gabi walked out of the Cabin, and following the signs walking over to the kid center.
"Y/n? Why isn't Papa coming with us?"
"He had to take an quick emergency call with work."
"Oh. That happens sometimes. Papa sometimes can't stop work from taking up all his time. But ever since you moved in he's been a lot better, which makes me really happy because I get to spend even more time with Papa." Gabi smiled up at you as she continued to hold your hand, walking to the kid center.
"That makes me happy that I was able to help."
"Papa loves you a lot. Like a lot. But I win, cause I love you most!"
"I love you the most too Gabi." You stop as you kneel down and pull her into a hug, which she happily accepts.
A few minutes passed by and you and Gabi made it to the kid center. As you entered the building you walked up to the front where a camp counselor of sorts greeted you with a warm smile.
"Good morning! Welcome to the kid center. Are you here to go on super cool adventures?" The camp counselor said as she looked at Gabi.
"Yeah!" Gabi smiled.
"Perfect! And what's your first and last name?"
"Gabi O'Hara."
"Welcome Ms. O'Hara. Let me talk to your mom and have her fill out a few forms for you and then you can join the rest of the kids." Your eyes widen slightly when you were mentioned as Gabi's mom. You didn't want to correct the women as Gabi didn't seem bothered by the mistake. And in  truth, you were bothered by it either. You did love Gabi as your daughter, even though you knew you aren't her biological mother. You hoped maybe she saw you at a mother figure.
After reading over the permission slip forms and signing them you handed them back to the woman.
"Perfect. Ok, Gabi, you can follow me."
You kneel down as Gabi gives you a hug.
"Papa and I will pick you up in a few hours. Have fun." You give her one last hug before she waves goodbye and walks with the camp counselor to the main area.
As you walked back towards the Cabin you felt like something was off. You felt the hair on your neck stand up. As if someone was watching you. Just to satisfy your nerves your turn back to see no one. You shrug if off, obviously you needed more coffee. You picked up the pace as the feeling wouldn't go away, as you sped walked all the way back to the Cabin, where you quickly unlocked the door and closed it behind you before locking it again. You look out the window to see a woman walk by. You didn't recall her walking behind you. Maybe it was just a coincidence. Your stomach dropped when you felt arms wrap around you, making you jump.
"Lo siento, cariño. I didn't mean to scare you. Y/n? Is everything ok?" Miguel asked, concern etched in his voice as he gave you a worried look.
"I'm fine. I just felt a bit off on my walk back. For some reason I thought someone was following me on my way back. But I think it was just my mind playing tricks on me." Your words didn't reassure your boyfriend as he opened the door to scan the area. He closed the door as he kept you in his arms to help calm your nerves.
"Would you like to stay in the cabin? We can watch a movie in the bedroom or living room."
Miguel offered.
"no, let's go on our hike. It'll be nice to enjoy nature. Plus, my big strong boyfriend can help protect me." You dramatically bat your eyelashes as you wrap your arms around one of his biceps, to which he chuckled as he took your chin and kissed you. "I'll make sure to protect you, mi amor."
You both changed into clothes to go on a nice walk as you both walked outside and begin your walk. You took Miguel's hand in yours to which he smiled leaned down and kissed you lovingly before you started your walk.
Ten minutes into the hike, was comfortable silence until Miguel decided to speak. "I've taken this hike once before. And I found something, which will be a surprise until we get there." Miguel grinned as he saw the pout on your face before you replaced it with a smile. "Well I can't wait to see what it is."
"I think I'm going to tell my parents at the Christmas party." You add which Miguel gave you a soft and warm smile. "I'll be there for you. Let's hope they take it well."
"I'm hoping so. But since it's a week away, I know it might be a lot, but I think we should have a plan in case it goes south."
"Like what?" Miguel's breath held waiting to your your words.
"Well, if they don't take it well they'll probably get upset and say things they'll regret. Maybe you take Gabi back home. I don't her having to experience anything bad, especially around Christmas."
"Y/n, I really want to be right with you. It's about us. I'm not going to leave you if it goes south." Miguel gives you a serious look, you sigh knowing he wouldn't let you do it by your self.
"I don't want Gabi to witness anything bad."
"And she won't. If it goes south we'll just leave. And to not be bothered, we'll spend Christmas in the city."
"The city? Where?"
"At my apartment. The one Gabi and I moved from to here. We left almost everything besides essentials. I'll have a Christmas tree delivered and set up."
"Well, that sounds like a plan. I hope it goes well. But honestly, I don't care what they think. I'll just be relieved to finally be able to show my love for you anywhere." You stopped, Miguel following right after as he smiled and brought you close to him as you both looked at each other in perfect silence.
"I can't wait to tell the world how much I love you."
You walk hand in hand in a comfortable silence, only talking when either of you point out something beautiful or interesting. Enjoying the walk, you didn't realize how far you walked until Miguel stopped.
"Close your eyes. Your surprise awaits." Miguel grinned. You smiled as you closed your eyes, before Miguel placed an arm around your waist and pulled you close so you he could guide you. After a minute you heard the thunderous sound of rushing water. Miguel stopped as leaned down lips against your ear as he said, "you can open your eyes now."
When you open your eyes, they widened, amazed by the gorgeous waterfall and swimming hole. The water was a beautiful crystal blue, something you though you would never see so up north.
"It's so beautiful. Thank you for showing this place to me." You turn to face Miguel as you give him a hug and kiss to the lips, thanking him for the surprise.
"I'm glad you love it, hermosa. Would you like to take a swim?" Miguel grinned after he saw you nod and smile.
"One little problem though."
"And what's that?"
"I forgot to wear a bikini. Guess I only have my birthday suit to wear." You giggle as you see lust cloud Miguel's eyes. You step away from him as you begin to shed your clothing. Only left in your panties you slipped them off before tossing them into the pile. You then walk into the water, relieved that it was warm, going in until your chest deep. You turn to face Miguel who was still on the shoreline, now removing his boxers, as his erect cock bounced out, relieved to be free from its restraints.
He walks into the water before making it right in front of you. You knew there was a stark height difference between you both, but standing at the same level of water, where your chest deep and his was still above made you even more self aware of it. Holding your waist and pulling you against him you feel his erection against your stomach, making your cheeks slightly red. Miguel leans down capturing your lips wis his. Not long were the kisses becoming more intense, as he moved his lips from you chin to your neck where he found that sweet spot. A moan escapes your lips as Miguel's hand move from your waist down to your thighs, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck for stability. A moan by you and a groan from Miguel came when he sunk you down onto his cock. Although you were plenty wet from the water, the lack of prep made you tighten around him, earning another groan from him.
"Hermosa, you have to loosen up a bit or I won't last much longer."
You moaned out loud as you tried to adjust to his size. As soon as he felt you were relaxed, he began to ram his hips up into you, You were in slight pain, but it didn't bother you as you were overcome with pleasure. As one of his hands held your hips in place, the other began to play with one of your breasts as he used his fingers to play with your nipple, making you gasp.
You lower your hand to your clit to help relieve some of your arousal. However, as soon as your fingers touched your sensitive area, Miguel snatched your wrist and moved it to your side as you groaned in frustration.
"Miguel." You whine as you lay your head back against his shoulder.
"Sorry, cariño. Not going happen yet. You just have to sit here and take my cock in this pretty little pussy of yours." Miguel whispered in your ear before kissing and marking up along your neck.
Your lips connect into a heated kiss. The water splashes around from the movement of both your bodies.
"This take me back to the time we first met. In that private pool back in Miami."
"At least now I know your mine and that this won't end tomorrow." Miguel said as he smiled against your lips before kissing you again.
"Please touch me Miggy."
"What was that hermosa?" Miguel chuckled as your rolled your eyes.
"Please Miguel."
" As you wish." Miguel lowered his hand as he began to rub your clit. A moan escapes you as you arch your chest against his.
"Cum for me." He whispered as your eyes rolled back from the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body as you came from your high.
Miguel groaned as he felt your walls tighten around his cock. "You always feel so good, mi amor, I never want to leave." Miguel bucked his hips into you one last time before you felt him spill deep inside you. Miguel rode out his high before he removed himself from you, capturing your lips one last time.
Miguel found a place in the water to rest against as you both relaxed in the warm water basking in the beauty of your surroundings. After some time you both decided you needed to head back to take a shower and get changed before picking up Gabi at the kid center.
Getting dressed you walked hand in hand back to the cabin, where your both got in the shower to save time, and to maybe have another quick session before washing off and getting ready.
You both head and walk towards the kid center as you wrap yours arms around Miguel's bicep, to which he places a kiss to your cheek saying, “ I love you.” As you look up to him with a loving smile replying, “I love you more.”
When you arrive to the kid center you see other parents picking up their kids, walking in you see Gabi talking with a few other girls before spotting you and Miguel. She waved goodbye before running into your arms, as you pick her up.
“How was your day?”
“It was amazing! We played games in the grassy field, and we made s’mores. I ate two. And I told my friends that we built a fairy house, and that a fairy stayed there over night. They thought that was really cool.”
“Two smores! Are you going to be able to have one tonight?” Miguel said making Gabi’s eyes widen.
“Yes! I can still have more! I’m not full.”
“Ok princesa. I’ll trust you on this one. Let’s go sign you out.” As you carry Gabi you and Miguel walk to the camp counselor you talked to this morning.
“Hi Mr. And Mrs. O’Hara. Gabi had a really fun day. She told us about how she built a fairy house with her mom. Everyone loved it they were all built them too. And might make it a fun activity to do at the kid center.” Your eyes widen, when she mentioned you again being Gabi’s mom. It melted your heart to think that Gabi called you her mom to other kids. You wondered if she was too shy to call you mom. Maybe because you only have been living with them for almost 4 months. You glanced at Miguel when the counselor made the mistake, but you noticed his smile only widened by the comment.
After signing Gabi out, you set her down and she wanted to hold both your and Miguel’s hand as you walked back to the cabin, where Miguel decided to start making dinner while you helped Gabi wash up and change her clothes.
After dinner Miguel received a call and took it in the living room when you took all the dishes and began to wash them in the kitchen. You heard him end the call before turning on the cartoons on the tv for Gabi to watch before you heard his footsteps walk into the kitchen.
“Do you need any help with the dishes?”
“Nope, just have this last plate. Then I’m done.”
“The person I was on the phone with was real estate agent. I bought this cabin.” He said.
Your eyes widened turning to him. “That’s amazing. I thought this place was a campsite?”
“It is. But you can buy the properties and some of the land around it so we can expand it. It’s just been an amazing time up here this time around, and I want to make it an official tradition to come up here. Like a family place away from the hustle and bustle of Nueva York and the prying eyes of our neighborhood.”
“I think that a great idea. It’s so beautiful up here. It definitely is a nice place to go to get away from everything and everybody.”
“I think we should tell Gabi on Christmas. It’ll be one of her gifts. A gift for all of us.” Miguel smiles.
After you finish cleaning up the kitchen you spend the rest of the night watching a family movie, as you cozy up with Miguel on the couch with Gabi on his other side.
The next morning you all woke up early to pack and put everything in the car before driving back home. While packing things into the car with Miguel you felt that familiar off feeling, like someone was watching you. You decided not to bring it up to Miguel this time, not wanting to worry him as you thought it might have been your imagination.
As everyone got in the car and drove away, unnoticed by either you nor Miguel were brown eyes in another car nearby watching from afar.
————————————————————————
Hope you enjoyed it!💕
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impromptu-sketches · 7 days ago
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𝔹𝕃 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟜 ✦ 𝕎ℝ𝔸ℙ-𝕌ℙ
happy new year!! ✨ °˖✧🥂✧˖° ✨
I enjoyed so much BL this year ⸜(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ thank you to all of the authors, artists, & creators for your hard work and dedication. I promise every little detail you include we see and appreciate ♡♡
For all of the BL stories I’ve read this past year, I have a winner in 13 categories and 5 overall 2024 winners.
Enjoy!
.
.
✰ FUNNIEST
And the nominees are…
Punch Drunk Love (2023 winner)
Killer Crush (2022 winner)
Sekai-ichi Hatsukoi / The World's Greatest First Love: The Case of Ritsu Onodera
Lucky Paradise
Happy Crappy Life
And the winner is…
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LUCKY PARADISE
I re-read this one this year and despite some emotional moments in the series, I laugh out loud every single chapter!! This one has ~layers~ to it, it hits so many different types of humor for me. Ho-in and Woojin are absolute clowns (bffs ♡) and Chunwoo is always so deadpan... I love them so much ٩( ᗒᗨᗕ )۶ Idc how many side chapters there are, I'll be reading them all ♡
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✰ MOST INTRIGUING
And the nominees are…
Night Fragments
Gig of the Day
Liveta
Dawn of the Dragon
Scent and Sensibility
And the winner is…
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LIVETA
Ahhhhhh ♡ I love Liveta ♡ Despite this one being ongoing since 2021 and being on hiatus a lot of this year, when it comes back -and honestly every single chapter- I'm pulled into this unique world all over again.
I'll definitely be re-reading this series before it ends. I feel like it's one of those where we don't register certain information the first time or understand the meaning of things, like the side characters, characters' history or traumas, context as to what happened when. I've already re-read it twice? three times? and I feel like there's more I missed! I love the complex characters, the inner & outer conflicts, I love the overall tone and balance of soft and dark scenes. This author can do it all!
We're on chapter 76 and I want to see so much more of their world and their stories. I can't wait to keep reading and I hope we still have a long way to go ♡
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✰ BEST SEX SCENES
And the nominees are…
Coyote (2023 winner)
Honey Bear
4 Week Lovers
Pearl Boy
The Ghost's Nocturne
And the winner is…
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HONEY BEAR
A very difficult choice... but this year specifically I was drooling over the spicy scenes in Honey Bear ʕ >ᴥ<ʔ
After that amazing author's note at the end of season 1, I knew. (If you haven't read the author's note, please do! These creators are hilarious, I love them so much ♡♡) They teased us a bit in the beginning and then fed us so well!! We got the BAKERY scene! And then they topped that ;) with the dom/sub scene - THE FREAKING BREATHE PLAY!!!! The hot springs scene... literally every single sex scene \(0_0)/
I love when the bottom is so horny, enthusiastic, and desperate for their (future) bf!! And what makes it even better is that they're so cute together and so sweet to each other ♡♡ I love them so much ♡♡
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✰ FAVORITE FLUFF
And the nominees are…
Our Sunny Days
Boyfriends
To the Stars and Back
Sasaki and Miyano
Hirano and Kagiura
And the winner is…
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SASASKI AND MIYANO
THE SLOW BURN IS KILLING ME!! I really just melt reading about these two ♡ they're so soft and sweet to each other ♡ I'm obsessed ♡
I want to see them continue to grow on their own and together, I want to see them bond over more BL (specifially I want Sasaki fudanshi moments haha), I want to see more of them happy and in love, and seeing each other's family & friends. I want them to go on a double date with Hirano and Kagiura hahaha ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و
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✰ FAVORITE BOTTOM
And the nominees are…
Park Seon-Woo | Punch Drunk Love (2023 winner)
Victor Luna | Liveta (2021 winner)
Shin | Shutline
Yeomin | Gig of the Day
Dohu | Between the Lines
And the winner is…
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YEOMIN | GIG OF THE DAY
Yeomin!! Oh my god, he's so cute!!
The thing I love about Yeomin is that his character is set up as a stereotypical bottom we see often where he's poor, in debt, has no family/the family he does have is awful and takes advantage of him, and he must work hard just to survive. But unlike other characters, Yeomin is outgoing, cheerful, and surprisingly positive. Even after scary moments, he bounces back pretty fast. We see him smiling a lot with friends, and of course, with Tae-seo.
One of my favorite parts in the beginning of the story that made me fall for this little cutie was when Tae-seo took him out to eat for the first time and Yeomin talked his ear off about school, and other random things in his life (,,>﹏<,,) he's so precious we must protect him (งᓀ‸ᓂ)ง Tae-seo, you better step up and be nice. (I trust this author to do him right ♡)
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✰ FAVORITE TOP
And the nominees are…
Juwon | High Clear
Minwoo | Topsy Turvy
Dooshik | Pearl Boy
Kahyeok | Killer Crush
Jae-hee | 4 Week Lovers
And the winner is…
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DOOSHIK | PEARL BOY
I love Dooshik so much ♡ always have, always will. This year he's been suffering... as have I while reading Pearl Boy... but I hope he gets his happy ending ♡
I want to see him carefree dancing in the club again ♡ I want to see him being silly and dorky and singing in the car with Jooha ♡ I want to see him being submissive (haha, just me? I liked seeing him cry tho)
The way this man hasn't wavered one bit and tried to be so strong for Jooha ♡o(╥﹏╥)o♡ he deserves all of the happiness.
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✰ FAVORITE COUPLE
And the nominees are…
Dooshik & Jooha | Pearl Boy (2021, 2022, & 2023 winner)
Skylar & Cirrus | Lost in the Cloud
Sasaki & Miyano | Sasaki and Miyano
Taeman & Kahyeok | Killer Crush
Suyong & Jaehyun | Topsy Turvy
And the winner is…
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DOOSHIK & JOOHA | PEARL BOY
4th year in a row ♡♡ I JUST LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR!!!
。゜゜(´O`) ゜゜。I love them both so much - as individual characters and especially together ♡♡ The way they've both had their own and intertwined character development that continues even now, the way they're so ride-or-die serious about each other but also silly stupid in love. They really saw each other at their lowest rock-bottom moment in life and said... 'yup, he's mine'
I don't know how much longer we have left of their story but I hope we get to see them going about their new life together ♡♡
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✰ FAVORITE SIDE COUPLE
And the nominees are…
Sys & Randolph | King's Maker: Triple Crown
Ichikawa & Kikuchihara | Twilight Out of Focus
Minwoo & Norman | Topsy Turvy
Seolho & Hyunshik/boss | Killer Crush
Mi-Rye & Kyungbin | Merry Marbling
And the winner is…
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MI-RYE & KYUNBIN | MERRY MARBLING
I don't even know where to start with these two... this author really fleshes out their characters and these two are no exception. It's so interesting to see them from their first interactions together up until now. They're so high school shy silly cute!! The time when Mi-Rye secretly followed Kyungbin to his away practice camp thing (˃ ▿ ˂) Mi-Rye is a fool for him HAHA
One thing I'm dying to know even though we may never find out... is who's top and who's the bottom!! I can't figure these two out. If it was up to me, I would definitely make them vers, pretty equally. That's how I see them right now anyway.
Looking forward to reading more of their story ♡♡
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✰ COUPLE I MOST WANT TO BE IN A THROUPLE WITH
And the nominees are…
Karlyle & Ash | Define the Relationship (2023 winner)
Ye-gyum & Jooin | Lovesick Dog
Taeman & Kahyeok | Killer Crush
Deisel & Ein | Wolf in the House: Nightfall
Joowon & Aiden | Bend over Backwards
And the winner is…
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YE-GYUM & JOOIN | LOVESICK DOG
Them ゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜♡
First, they're so cute and domestic ♡♡ can't beat being lazy at home together. Another couple who are so sweet to each other and care about each other so much ♡♡
Second, the switch vibes are immaculate. They don't actually switch :/ sadly, because I know this author has done that in their past work, but there are side chapters coming out! So maybe there's hope?
Regardless, I've loved these two from the beginning and I would be so happy in this relationship ♡
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✰ FAVORITE MAIN CHARACTER
And the nominees are…
Taeman | Killers Crush (2023 winner)
Park Seon-Woo | Punch Drunk Love
Shin | Shutline
Juwon | High Clear
Yeomin | Gig of the Day
And the winner is…
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SHIN | SHUTLINE
I love all of these characters so much (>ω<) but Shin... he just cracks me up. Tough-guy mechanic, smarter than he looks, vers king, self-proclaimed lowlife, and in too deep... I mean, he recognized Jake from his -footsteps- alone. He's so funny without even trying. And these overalls (●//▽//●) finally we get to see him in sexy overalls!!
I love Shin's smile ♡ I hope we get to see more of him smiling ♡
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✰ FAVORITE SIDE CHARACTER
And the nominees are…
Sys | King's Maker: Triple Crown (2023 winner)
Seolho | Killer Crush
Woojin | Lucky Paradise
"the kid" | Our Sunny Days
Kyungbin | Merry Marbling
And the winner is…
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SYS | KING'S MAKER: TRIPLE CROWN
I didn't even read any of Kings Maker this year (/ω\) (I'm waiting for the mature version to be complete and then I plan to re-read the entire series) but Sys is such an icon ♡ I haven't read any of season 3 yet but I'm so freaking excited!!!! I want to see him and Randolph, I want to see more of him and his two guards ♡♡ and just Sys being his badass fashionable self ♡♡♡
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✰ FAVORITE BOY
And the nominees are…
Juwon | High Clear (2023 winner)
Sasaki | Sasaki and Miyano
Cirrus | Lost in the Cloud
Yeomin | Gig of the Day
Minwoo | Topsy Turvy
And the winner is…
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CIRRUS | LOST IN THE CLOUD
Oh my god Cirrus... I don't know what to say. Honestly, I love how messy this boy is. I love his regular high schooler side, his flirty side, when he was begging for Skylar's attention and was pouty when he didn't get it. I love his silly and innocent side. I love his dark side and his anger. I love everything about him ♡♡
This poor boy has gone through so much. He really went through hell as a child and -then- had to deal with psychological warfare in his own home for years :( I want to see him living on his own with Candy (his dog) again. I want to see him happy and silly with Skylar ♡♡
Despite everything lol I think they're so good for each other.
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✰ FAVORITE TOXIC BL
And the nominees are…
Twittering Birds Never Fly (2023 winner)
Lost in the Cloud
Boss Bitch Baby
Gig of the Day
Jinx
And the winner is…
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GIG OF THE DAY
Yay!! Even though Gig of the Day doesn't have a very unique plot, I loved this one from the very first chapter!! It felt refreshing, I think because of Yeomin's character but also because of the overall tone.
When I first started it, I thought that it was going in a slightly different direction... I thought Tae-seo would basically be one of those 'I'm an asshole to everyone but you' characters and Yeomin wouldn't know about his other side as a director (or as an asshole lol) until much later. I thought Tae-seo would fall for him and get swept up in his feelings - even if he didn't realize them yet - and not be able to treat him poorly. Like, he would want to because that's typically what he does, but he would just give in to whatever Yeomin wanted. I got that vibe (just like Yeomin lol) when he stayed the night, took him out for food, etc. in the beginning. But despite doing those things that could be seen as caring, he didn't treat Yeomin the best... haha (although he was honest & upfront about what he wanted so it wasn't completely awful).
Even though it didn't go like how I was imagining, I trust this author with the redemption arc and turning him into a simp (ㅅ´ ˘ `) we're seeing glimpses of that already haha I love it. Plus, I LOVE how Tae-seo is always there at the right moment for Yeomin and is his protector. Idc about practicality, I love all of those scenes.
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✰ SUING FOR EMOTIONAL DAMAGE
And the winner is…
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PEARL BOY
... again. I'll stop choosing Pearl Boy when it stops giving me anxiety!! Even though I didn't sob like last year, I'm always on edge reading this one because when they're happy I think something bad is coming and we're already on the side chapters so I don't know how much longer we have until the end! One chapter? Thirty?? They're still crying it can't end yet!! (つ﹏⊂)
Some lucky bastards will discover this a year or two from now and have a whole completed work to enjoy while we suffered and stressed since 2021!!
Worth it tho ♡♡♡
.
✰ FAVORITE NEW BL
And the winner is…
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A FIRST OF SUMMERS
Oh my god, y'all, I just started this like last month and it's so freaking cute (●//▽//●)
The art is amazing & original, these two are adorable!! An age gap where they both question the age gap?? Unheard of. Younger top x older bottom, younger guitar teacher x older guitar student ♡♡♡ fluffy & smutty (˵ᵕ̴᷄ ˶̫ ˶ᵕ̴᷅˵) my heart is so full ♡♡
.
✰ FAVORITE ONGOING BL
And the winner is…
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TOPSY-TURVY
AHHHHHHHHH!!!! Okay, if you're not reading Topsy-Turvy or you tried it and you didn't like it in the first few chapters, I'd give it another try if I were you!!!
Starting this, I didn't take it too seriously and thought it was just going to be another little goofy college story. BUT NO. It's a glorious mess of love triangles that I can't get enough of!!! I've already read it twice!!
First, the main couple is FREAKING ADORABLE!!! They're hilarious frenemies? in the beginning and then super sweet ♡♡ switch energy but don't switch (yet. I swear the author is teasing us) I love their dynamic so much ♡♡
One love triangle turns into another ~ it's driving me crazy!!! I ship Minwoo & Norman but I don't know if they're endgame (☍﹏⁰)。 Norman's friend/fwb gives off creepy vibes to me (not in a good way) and now this new guy from the past just showed up in season 3!?! :/
I'm open to the author changing my mind. Whatever they give us I'm thankful for ♡♡ We're getting at least 50 more chapters from here (the korean is at ch. 152 and ongoing, we're currently at ch. 103). I'm happy we still have a long way to go (≧◡��)
I've had so much fun reading this one so far!! ♡♡♡
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✰ FAVORITE BL THAT ENDED THIS YEAR
And the winner is…
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UNDER THE GREEN LIGHT
I'm sad to see this one end, but it was time for them to get their happy ending ♡ Under the Green Light has been consistently amazing since the very beginning and I've had such a great time reading it over the years.
The ending was amazing in my opinion ♡ I would have liked to see a bit more of them happy & living together & obsessed with each other... but that's how I always feel lol
The REVEAL at the end... got me so emotional and when I inevitably re-read it again, it'll make the story even better ♡♡
.
✰ FAVORITE BL OF 2024
And the winner is…
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CHERRY MAGIC! THIRTY YEARS OF VIRGINITY CAN MAKE YOU A WIZARD?!
I can't stop looking at this volume 11 cover art (⊃//˶̫ //⊂)
Okay, I've loved Cherry Magic for a few years now but this year we got three volumes of them being newlyweds & living their happy life together ♡♡♡
We got the anime series!!! (loved it!!)
And we got the thai live action series (I'm currently watching and will be posting my thoughts later)
♡:.。ღ˘◡˘ற.。.:♡
Watching their story in all of these adaptations just makes me love them more ♡♡ and honestly makes me want to re-read the manga again. We get so many more small insights and moments in the original that I want to see again... one of my favorites is Kurosawa remembering that he wrote 30 songs about Adachi before they got together when he was crushing on him HAHAHA (✿>ꇴ<) omg I will never get over that.
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Thank you for reading!
34 notes · View notes
irisbleufic · 5 months ago
Note
Of all the current Devil’s Minion writers your playlist is the one I want to see. Do you have one? If not, are there particular songs you’ve been listening into to while you write? The vibe of your prose with them is hypnotizing like the short story about them in the books, it’s impressive, and does your music also inform this choice if at all?
Intense question, anon. Fourteen-year-old me fucking hyperventilated after reading the DM chapter in Queen of the Damned (me, on the floor of my bedroom at 3am because I don’t want to get caught reading this book, staring dazed at the ceiling; me, now, three weeks ago, sitting shellshocked on the sofa after watching S1 and S2 over two days as a binge; me, over two of those weeks following the binge, rereading the first half of the Chronicles and starting to see double, tilt the prism, see what happens when the narratives are overlaid and blurred), and it still feels like that. Likely my prose turning out the way it is in these stories is about 90% my giddy teenage self having access to my adult self’s writing experience to finally write this beloved pairing without fear of litigious letters (IYKYK, my fellow elder Millennials in the fandom). I don’t often love film and TV adaptations of my favorite books, but I adore this show. It’s flawlessly transformative; its improvements only make the resonances and overlaps that much more meaningful. No notes.
However, I have been listening to the same small handful of songs on repeat for 6 days as I write these pieces. I imagine they are affecting my sense of scansion at points; my writing life didn’t begin with fiction, it began with years of poetry before I ever tried prose. These tracks are as meaningful to me as poems as they are songs. It’s as good a starting point for a playlist as any; I’ll keep adding and put it together on Spotify at some point.
1. Vesuvius - Sufjan Stevens
Vesuvius, I am here
You are all I have
Fire of fire, I'm insecure
for it is all been made to plan
Though I know I will fail
I cannot be made to laugh
for in life as in death
I'd rather be burned
than be living in debt
This song was my entire first 72 hours of writing. I’m that Autistic weirdo who will listen to a single song on repeat for a month and think nothing of it. Villa of the Mysteries in Pompeii being the nexus point of their love story from beginning to end in QotD, this is everything to me; I was never going to be able to write about the show incarnation of them without integrating this location and this imagery in the most reverent love letter I know how. This is why my series title for these stories is Caldera. Volcanic crater blowout if ever I saw one; I ran with it.
2. I Forget Where We Were - Ben Howard
Hello love, my invincible friend; hello, love, the thistle and the burr. For you, I have so many words—and I, I forget where we were. I haven’t known this song for all that long in the grand scheme, but it found me via Spotify shuffle in 2022 right after something awful happened. The longing in this song hinges on one of the lovers in it waking up to something they’ve forgotten about their relationship, something precious, and I’m thrilled to finally have a fandom application for it.
3. Make You Better - The Decemberists
I sung you your twinges
I suffered you your tattle-tales
and when you broke sideways
I wanted you, I needed you, oh
to make me better
Oh, to make me better
But we're not so starry-eyed anymore
like the perfect paramour you were in your letters
And won't it all just come around to make you
let it all un-break you to the day that you met her
No excuse for this one; it does a great job of speaking for itself. Front-man Colin Meloy is one of my all-time favorite songwriters, and his work is frequently dark, creepy, and/or gothic enough in flavor that I could find a few more.
4. Song to the Siren - Elisabeth Fraser & This Mortal Coil
On the floating shipless oceans
I did all my best to smile
till your singing eyes and fingers
drew me loving to your isle
and you sang, “Sail to me,
sail to me, let me enfold you—
here I am, here I am,
waiting to hold you.”
This cover of Tim Buckley’s folk masterpiece completely transforms the vibe of the song, and in the kind of way you need for this pairing. This one is at responsible for the events and imagery in my “Still Life with Sunken Treasure.”
5. Hal - Yasmine Hamdan, Only Lovers Left Alive OST
لأ ما أقدرشي
لأ مش ممكن
لأ ما أقدرشي
لأ مش ممكن
يا عزيزة اطلعي
لأ ما أقدرشي
يا حبيبتي شرّفي
لأ ما أقدرشي
وطلعت يا ناس، مغلوبة يا ناس
يا عزيزة اتريحي
لأ ما أقدرشي
يا حبيبتي اتلحلحي
لأ ما أقدرشي
وسمعت يا ناس، مغلوبة يا ناس
لأ ما أقدرشي
لأ مش ممكن
لأ ما أقدرشي
لأ مش ممكن
لأ ما أقدرشي
لأ مش ممكن
يا عزيزة اتفرفشي
لأ ما أقدرشي
يا حبيبتي قربي
لأ ما أقدرشي
فرشنا يا ناس، مغلوبة يا ناس
يا عزيزة اقلعي
لأ ما أقدرشي
يا حبيبتي اتجرأي
لأ مش ممكن
شلحنا يا ناس، مغلوبة يا ناس
لأ ما أقدرشي
لأ مش ممكن
لأ ما أقدرشي
لأ مش ممكن
يا عزيزة اتغندريله
يا حبيبتي اتذوقيله
افهمي يا سيدي مش قادرة
وطبعا تقنعني مش واخدة
ايه يا عزيزة؟
ايه اللي إنتي عملاه ده؟
يا يا يا راجل يا هوه!
مش عيب عليك اختشي ونو
لأ ما أقدرشي
لأ مش ممكن
يا عزيزة اخلعي
لأ ما أقدرشي
يا حبيبتي اتشخلعي
لأ مش ممكن
يا خيبتي يا ناس، مغلوبة يا ناس
يا عزيزة اتبغددي
لأ ما أقدرشي
يا حبيبتي جربي
لأ ما أقدرشي
وجينا يا ناس، غلبنا يا ناس
جينا يا ناس، غلبنا يا ناس
I don’t think the Arabic justified to the correct side when I copied this, but the translation is very easy to find. I don’t speak Arabic, but honestly the English translation is dull compared to the beauty of this language. If you haven’t watched Only Lovers Left Alive, what the hell are you even doing with your vampire-loving, monster-fucking life? All the tracks on it have the right vibe for DM, really.
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pattypanini · 10 months ago
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Lay All Your Love On Me
Chapter 1- Trust Fund Baby
Josh Kiszka x Reader
Word Count: 2,257 (Short one, sorry guys)
AN: Hi everyone! Here is the first chapter of Lay All Your Love On Me from me and @mar-rein12! We hope you enjoy and please leave comments or feedback, we want to learn on what we can do better. This is a short one so prepare for more chapters soon!
Warnings: 18+, Angst, Flirting, Cursing, Degrading, NO smut yet... be prepared for the near future though.
Late March 2023- Spring Semester- Junior Year
“Okay let's run that scene one more time. We're gonna pick up with y/n’s first verse and continue through it. And please, more passionate guys give me some emotion. And 5, 6, 7, 8…”
The instrumental begins to play and you prepare yourself for the worst scene with the most insufferable guy you’ve ever met, Josh Kiszka. You get uncomfortably close to him, getting ready for one of the more enjoyable parts, pushing him into the artificial rock wall. He takes an extra step towards you, closing the gap even more. You push him hard and begin to sing and Josh gives you a cocky ass grin as he props his body up against the wall, watching you intently as you walk towards him. He’s disgusting.
You reach up to grab his face. Slowly, but painfully, you drag your hands down his chest not being able to ignore his toned body beneath his thin, white shirt. Without a doubt, your disgusted look was written all over your face and was easily recognized.
“CUTTTT. Stop the music.” Dr. Coleman, the director shouts, slamming her papers onto the table in front of her.
The music stops and Josh lets out a frustrated groan and both of you turn to Coleman who is furiously walking towards the stage, flailing her arms.
“What the hell was that? Sky and Sophie are madly in love, you both look like you're about to throw up on each other. We have been working on this since February and you guys still can’t get your shit together.” She slams her hands on the stage looking up to the two of you.
You look to Josh to get a read on him, seeing if he agrees or not on what Dr. Coleman just said. Turning to him, inconspicuously, you see a look of annoyance.
Since freshman year Josh has always thought he was the best thing since sliced bread. He thinks he should either have the lead role, or that the other actors around him weren’t good enough to work “alongside him.” And that may lead back to the fact that his daddy gives a generous deposit to the music department at the University of Michigan every year for the musicals. Josh has always been told that he's been the most talented man anyone has ever seen, by directors, family, and many others. But to you, he was just an egotistical, trust fund baby. 
“I don't even want to see the crawl, something needs to be figured out here before we move on next week. There is no chemistry or love, I'm not buying a bit of it. We're done for the day, rest up for next week everyone.”
As everyone begins to clear out Josh looks at you and furrows his eyebrows, “Yeah mama, why don’t you love me?” His hands clutching his heart. “Show me some love y/n.” A shit-eating grin plastered across his face. 
“Fuck you.” You mutter under your breath as you walk away from him. 
“I know you want to.” You hear from across the stage while grabbing your stuff. Without looking, you knew his body would show he was enjoying the moment way too much. Cocky little shit.
“Y/n, get back here. Rehearsal is not over yet for you two,” The director motions to Josh. “We have a long weekend since everyone is off on Monday, so you two NEED to build a connection with each other, hangout or something, or else someone is losing their part.” She says sternly and begins to walk away leaving you two to talk it over.
“... Its not gonna fucking be me, so you better start lovin’ on me, y/n.” Josh whispers, feeling his warm breath against your ear.
“In your dreams, Kiszka.” Rolling your eyes towards him, grabbing your bag and leaving before this situation could get any worse. 
As you walk back to your dorm late that night, you prepare to be interrogated by your curious roommate, Charlotte. Putting in the pin to your dorm you walk into the shared living space and see Charlotte working on her English paper that she, of course, pushed off until the last minute. 
“Procrastinating again I see?” You joke as you put your backpack near the door. 
“Of course, what else would I be doing? But now I have an excuse to stop because I need to know the tea. How was the rehearsal?” She says shutting her laptop and turning herself to you on the couch. 
You debated lying to her and just saying it was good and move on, but you needed to rant.
“Pretty awful actually. I’m being threatened that my role might be given to someone else.” You flop onto the couch next to her. 
“What! Why? I thought you were perfect as Sophie?” 
“I am.” You try not to sound cocky. “But my ‘love interest’ and I don't seem to have the connection the director is looking for.”
“Josh Kiszka?” She says with a smirk.
You roll your eyes, knowing what's about to happen.
“But he's sooo hot, how could you not be attracted to him? I’d kill to be in your position right now.”
You weren’t going to lie. He was a very attractive man, but he's so stuck up.
“He’s such a dickhead, Charlotte. He's too cocky for his own good. And I know that if the chemistry isn’t there it'll be my part taken away, not his, since his dad practically buys his parts for him.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“The director wants us to get to know each other and form some type of ‘connection’ but I don’t see that working out.” You scoff.
There is a moment of silence before it is broken by Charlotte's horrifying idea.
“You guys could fuck, break the tension a little, you know?” She says elbowing you in the side.
“WHAT, no fucking way. I don’t want to even kiss him in scenes, let alone fuck him.” You think about the idea and have to physically stop yourself from gagging. You cringe, as a shiver travels down your spine.
“Well I would gratefully take the part from you to get a little Josh action, or from any of the Kiszkas.” She giggles. 
You begin to think about it and a pang of jealousy washes over you. You didn’t know why, but you didn’t like the feeling. 
“I’ll figure it out, I might have to be the bigger person and reach out to him over the weekend.” 
You grab your bag, dropping it off in your room and walk to your bathroom, needing to cleanse yourself of the negative energy from tonight. As you begin to take off your clothing, you think about what Josh would look like without his shirt on during the actual performance. 
It's one thing to feel what's underneath, but seeing it is another. Subconsciously, you get a shiver all over your body, hardening your nipples. What is going on?  You never thought about him like this. Maybe because you really never thought about him much at all?
Freshman and Sophomore year had been a breeze, only having to play side characters, but this is your first main role as Sophie. 
When Coleman came to you before winter break and told you about the spring musical that would be put together by her with her ‘best students’ you got excited. You were happy to be considered one of her best. You studied that movie and musical all until the last moment before auditions that were held a week before winter break was over. They were very small due to the limited people chosen to get a chance at a role. You and Sophia ‘Bitch’ Michaels, or that's at least what everyone in the theater department liked to call her, were trying out for Sophie. When the cast list was posted on the department's website, you were ecstatic. But some weren’t. You got many threats from Sophia that night, but that was shortly followed by you blocking her number. 
Not having many roles in romantic plays you were inexperienced, but in real life, it was no problem. Most weekends, you often wake up to new, unfamiliar faces in random beds, but it wasn’t any secret. You wanted to have fun in college and get experience with lots of people, and didn’t mind that people knew. 
You wondered if Josh knew. But why should you care? You never cared if anyone else knew, so he's no different. You hop into the shower, having many thoughts about the night and what would happen in the future. As you finish rinsing the soap off your body, you wrap yourself  and hair in a towel. You step out from the shower and scurry back into your room.
Your room showcased you perfectly. Many posters of your favorite musicals and some dance awards you earned throughout highschool. You connect your speaker to your phone and play some music quietly to not disturb Charlotte from her work. As you close out of Spotify you look to see one notification on messages. 
11:12pm Josh: So do you want to figure this out or do you want me to text Coleman now and start looking for a new lead, or do you want to do that yourself?
11:16pm y/n: Simmer down Josh. It's not my problem, I have to work with a pretentious piece of shit! 🙂
11:18pm Josh: Someone seems to be bratty this time of night.
11:19pm y/n: Did you text just to be an ass or did you actually have something important to say?
11:22pm Josh: Well I was going to see what you wanted to do about this so we don’t have to find someone new for your part.
You scoff at the fact that he's so confident that it would be you getting booted.
11:24pm y/n: Oh so you don’t want me gone, is that so?
11:27pm Josh: I just don't want to have to learn how to work with some new moron that doesn’t know how to act for shit.
11:28pm y/n: Aw so cute Josh, you admitted I can act 😘
11:30pm Josh: Don't get a big head y/n. So what do you want to do?
You sat there and thought about it for a moment, and it always went back to Charlotte's comment earlier. 
“You guys could just fuck, break the tension a little you know?”
11:39pm y/n: Do you wanna go out or something? We can go to that bagel place down on the main street, their everything bagels with lox are so good.
11:41pm Josh: That's so cute y/n, you wanna go on a date with me? 😏
11:44pm y/n: Well do you have a better idea?
11:48pm Josh: You can come to my place, work on some stuff. We can watch the movie so you can see what real passion and love looks like, seeing that you’re the ‘campus slut.’
God he's awful, but this role is important to you. 
11:51pm y/n: Jealous that you don’t get any Josh? Are you pussy deprived?
11:57pm Josh: So when do you want me to send the text to Coleman? Now or do I wait til tomorrow?
11:58pm y/n: Fine, when do you wanna do it? 
12:01am Josh: Tomorrow at 8. I live in the apartments next to the dining hall, apartment 322. My brother will be gone at band practice, so we will have the place to ourselves. 
12:03am y/n: Okay, and how long will he be at ‘band practice’ for?
12:04am Josh: Well his BAND PRACTICE is from 8-10, and then he’s staying at his friend, Scotts, apartment for the night to work on some music or something. 
12:06am y/n: Was that orchestrated by you?
12:07am Josh: I’ll see you tomorrow at 8, goodnight.
As you stare at your phone, you are in disbelief at the conversation you two just had. There was tension, and not the kind you had expected. As you sit in your towel, you're brought back to reality when you realize Heartbeat by Childish Gambino is playing.
“I might just text you”
You thought over how he was making you think and feel…
“Turn your phone over”
Things you didn’t want to feel from him…
“When it's all over”
You had a feeling of desire…
“No settling down,”
A feeling of wanting to be desired…
“My text go to your screen”
Specifically…
“You know better than that”
From Josh Kiszka.
“I come around when you least expect me. I’m sitting at…”
You quickly shut out of Spotify knowing that was your sign that you were done for the night. You change out of your towel and into your Michigan T-shirt and plaid PJ pants. 
You walk out to see if Charlotte had retreated to her room or was still working on her paper to share what had just happened. 
“You still working, Char?”
“I think I’m done for the night, I’ll take the points off for not having citations.” She laughs while closing her laptop. “ Did you reach out to Josh?”
“No…no not yet. We’ll see what happens tomorrow, I guess.. Good night Char.”
“Night y/n.”
With that you tuck yourself into bed with one thought only, Josh Kiszka.
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tunaababee · 8 days ago
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2024 Fic Writer End of Year Roundup!
(please ignore that it is 2025 for me now)
thank you for the tags @foundress0fnothing and @popjunkie42!!
1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024? 53,872! it isn't much by many metrics, but please also consider this is after not writing fanfic consistently for a good 8-ish years?? so i am proud!
2. How many fics did you complete this year? three! artistic (un)intention for homestuck, we will be everything we say and Little Games for acotar!
3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year? technically two since wwbews was started and finished in 2024, but if we're talking just currently unfinished? one!
4. What was your favorite thing you wrote? i'm probably proudest of our fingers touch (i feel my way back home) at the moment. my writing is by no means perfect, but i feel like i'm getting better and better with every work. i dont think my excessive criticism on myself helps as much as i would hope though lol
5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style? definitely Little Games - i'd literally never done any sort of plot what plot/porn without plot before and it was so weird just. throwing them in this proverbial sandpit and not building up any further context. i need to practice it more!
6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception? i genuinely did not expect we will be everything we say to get as much love as it has received. like, i wrote that bad boy as an indulgence on my occasional love for friends-to-lovers - write what you wanna see, yknow? but i know it's quite boring for many and not quite their cup of tea. absolutely warmed my heart and soul to see how many people also loved it!! also, feyre leaving college completely in chapter 5 also took me by surprise. i was writing it and the spirit of the character and plot completely took the wheel.
7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!) i feel like Little Games didn't get as much love as i had hoped it might, but at the same time. twas literally my first acotar fic. it is my little fic that could. i love it no matter how many hits it gets. broke a glass for that thang
8. Who is an artist that inspired you? literally anything that @witchlingsandwyverns or @velidewrites does is transcendant to me. other ones that have made my brainworms go wild are @eospaint and megabee on insta!! there are a lot of others but my brain is so mushy.
9. Who is an author that inspired you? quite literally where tf do i even begin. i have fallen into such a cozy supportive little network of fan creators that i am forever inspired by and grateful for. this is not an exhaustive or ordered list but @whatishowedyouinthedark, @climbthemountain2020, @popjunkie42, @damedechance, @shardminds, @rosanna-writer and @secret-third-thing are a handful of my close and bestest fanfic buds. you are all my spouses and i am kissing you all with tongue.
10. Who is a new author you discovered? see: above question. quite literally read the entire acotar series thus far and all the fic writers in question in 2024.
11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start? i have but it shan't be revealed yet :3 all i'll say is my friends put out a call and i gave it a red hot go <3
12. What accomplishments are you proudest of? getting back into writing fanfic at all. and reading. i was in such a literary slump and it's been so wonderful to jump back in with two feet and land in such a welcoming, supportive place.
13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year? sprinting is king for my little likely-adhd ass. i also used to be a big pantser, but i'm finding a balance between planning and pantsing seems to be the way to go. i'm still learning though! also, breaks are needed and necessary and i'm not unproductive for not creating for a while. it's part of the cycle. also, things can be shit and thats okay <3
14. Any advice you’d like to share with new or aspiring writers? carry some sort of notepad with you - those ideas that come to you like a flash of lightning will not stay with you, that is the devil lying to you. don't be afraid to scrap segments or even whole works if it feels like something isnt working, sometimes you have to go back to the drawing board and start fresh. write what you love and/or want to see. be freaky and horny with it always.
15. What are your creative goals for 2025? put out more! be less concerned with the set dressing and just get right into the meat of it. i have a list of ideas literally staring at me on my desk and i wanna hook into them!!
since it is now 2025 and i am officially Late To This Party, i'm not gonna tag anyone, but if anyone wants to do it, please take this as ur invite <3
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analogwriting · 1 year ago
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It Comes in Waves
Chapter 1: Tsunami
Trafalgar Law x gn!reader tw; ace's death. i know, we're starting off strong as shit. word count: 3k prev|next
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Portgas D. Ace. Also known as ‘Fire Fist Ace’ or even the commander of the second division for the Whitebeard Pirates. Also…a great friend of yours. A friend you had run into several times over your years at sea. A friend that let you cry on his shoulder and who had cried on yours. The memory of you meeting flashes in your mind. A simpler time. Before he had all his alternate titles. Before he was even his own captain. 
You were on a tropical island. It was small and reminded you of your home island, but it was just a pitstop for you to get rest and something to eat. You had hunted down some small wildlife and gathered some fruit that seemed to be edible before beginning to roast it over a fire you created. 
While it was cooking, you worked on setting up a place to sleep. However, you heard something from behind you. Pulling a knife from your belt, you threw it as you turned around. 
“Whoa! I come in peace!” An alarmed, male voice chimed. You turned to see a man standing there. He couldn't have been older than eighteen. So, more of a boy. You noticed that he dodged your attack well, so he wasn't a complete idiot. There was a small cut on his cheek. Not quite quick enough but still impressive. He was lucky it was a warning shot anyway.
“Well, maybe you shouldn't sneak up on someone.” You folded your arms, taking in the boy before you. Disheveled black hair, tanned skin, dressed like a punk. You could tell easily that he was a pirate, perhaps at the beginning of his adventure.
“I didn't really mean to. I was just following the delicious smell of food.” A wistful look crossed his face before he frowned. “A bird flew away with my food.” He looked at you with puppy dog eyes and you sighed, shaking your head. 
“Fine. I'll share. Consider it my apology for attacking you. I'm a bit on edge.” After all, you had just narrowly escaped the navy on your most recent heist. You wouldn’t have been surprised if they had somehow found you, even if they were pretty dense.
The man's face lit up, wasting no time as he plopped down next to the fire you had going. “I have some sake I can share.” You shake your head. You couldn't risk letting your guard down right now. “I'm fine. Help yourself.”
You moved to your food, beginning to divvy it up for the two of you. You handed him his share before settling with your own. “I'm Ace, by the way,” he said, a mouthful of food. 
You told your eyes at his lack of manners. “Y/N,” you said simply, beginning to eat. 
He asks you a couple more questions, but notices you guard some of your answers, so he maneuvers to more simple questions and talks about his own journey. He eventually brings up his little brother - a kid named Luffy. From the sounds of it, he seems quite the handful. He mentions how he's the world's biggest crybaby, but he wants to become King of the Pirates. 
You can't help but feel admiration for the kid who has yet to set sail.
You knew just about everything there was to know about one another. He is your best friend.  And now, it looked like everything was going belly up for him. You were about to lose one of the few people you held close. Again. Why did you have to keep losing people you cared about?
You stared at the video that was being casted from a transponder snail in Sabaody. You were there taking care of a few loose ends from your most recent mission. It dawned on you just how long it had been since you'd seen Ace. You'd been cracking down on your own agenda, not exactly keeping up with current events. It had easily been…at least six months? 
You noticed another familiar face on screen. Monkey D. Luffy. Captain of the Strawhat Pirates and Ace’s baby brother. The one he had told you about and the one you had eventually met on your own. One that you ran into often just like you had Ace.
You had just seen Luffy and his crew not too long ago. It was right here on Sabaody. They helped you take down a human auction house. They were saving a friend of theirs and this was something you did on the regular. Freeing slaves and making slaveholders suffer. Celestial Dragons hated you, and you hated them.
You had been doing this for about a decade, so you had a pretty high bounty - close to a billion. However, you have always been extremely careful to cover your identity. You had a whole disguise set up. A special cloak that covered all of your features. That’s all they had photo evidence of. Your first and last name donned the poster, but you went by your middle name on your average day. You lived a double life that no one knew about.
No one except Ace that is.
You're pulled out of your thoughts as you hear voices begin to raise. You blinked, coming back to earth and looking around. That’s when you realize the videofeed had been cut off. Everyone was starting to raise their questions and concerns. What the hell was going on now? What happened to Ace? To Luffy? You heard those questions being asked around you, so you knew the feed cut before anything happened.
“I need to get out of here,” you mumbled to yourself. You needed to get to Marineford and fast. Unfortunately, your boat that was akin to Ace’s striker, your ‘navis’ as you called it, was much too slow to get there in time. “Even if I call to the sea…” No, still too slow. Time was against you. You cursed silently to yourself, feeling yourself beginning to unravel. This couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t be losing him.
That's when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You tensed. Knife in hand, you turned around quickly, pressing it to the throat of whomever was dumb enough to lay their hands on you. It didn’t matter if all around was chaos. You didn’t even care if this had been any other day. You weren’t a fan of being touched by strangers. Who was?
The owner of the heavily tattooed hand was tall. You were face to face with his chest. A logo of some smiling jolly roger. You looked up, glaring at the man only to find him glaring right back at you. Who did he think he was? He was the one that touched you. Not the other way around.
You took note of the long sword he carried and his lanky frame. Did he even know how to wield this sword correctly? Or use it in general? Your eyes trailed to his at before resting once more on his face. Something…felt familiar. Had you seen him before?
“You greet everyone like this?” There was a hint of a smirk that was just enough to make you want to punch him. His calm demeanor he had whilst you had your knife to his throat also drove you mad.
“Just those that touch me without permission.”
He took his hand away, putting them both up in a surrender motion. “Apologies.” He looked at you once more, taking you in. There was a hint of recognition in his eye and he looked like he wanted to ask something before deciding against it. He looked up to where the video feed had been.
“You know him?” Then he glanced back at you.
You stared at him, blinking several times as you processed his question. You tried to form words but nothing was coming to you. Too many questions were trying to pour out all at once. All that came out was, “What?”
“Well, I'm heading that way and you seemed pretty distraught about it so I figured I'd offer a ride in my submarine.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. Who the hell just did something like that? “You don't seem like the kind of person who does things out of the kindness of his heart.” There had to be some hidden motive. Some other reason that he wanted to offer a ride. Was this some kind of human trafficking ploy? They sure were getting creative these days. It was disgusting.
“Suit yourself,” he said, turning away. What if he was just offering out of the kindness of his heart? Or maybe there was some hidden motive but…you couldn’t risk it. You had to save Ace. You had to save Luffy. Or die trying. “Okay, fine.” He turned, looking as you spoke, smirking. “That’s what I thought.”
Oh, this was going to be a nightmare. Your fist just might up in his jaw. Why would someone just offer a stranger a ride into a war just on a whim? And why were you accepting it? You had to be just as crazy.
“Let's go then,” he said, once more pulling you out of your thoughts. 
Silence fell over the two of you as you walked, delving once more into your own mind. Would you make it on time? Could you save your friends? Why was this man helping you? Why were you trusting him? Is it because you had nothing left to lose? If you lost Ace and Luffy…you’re not sure what you’d do. They were the closest thing you had to family since…
“We’re here.” You were yanked back to the present as the man in front of you spoke. Your eyes landed on the yellow submarine. You blinked. That’s right…he had said that. It was just registering that he had mentioned it earlier. You were such a mess, you didn’t even question it. What the hell was a pirate doing with a submarine?
“Last chance to turn around. You’re stuck once the door closes.” The man smirked at you and you felt the need to punch him in the nose. You didn’t even bother saying anything as you headed inside. There was no turning back now. This was your only chance to reach your friends in time. 
You were told to keep close to the man, which you didn’t argue. You assumed he didn’t trust you…though he invited you on his ship? This whole situation was weird.
You found yourself thinking of Ace again. It was only natural. Currently, you had no idea if he was alive or dead. You hoped for the best but expected the worst. God, it was like that theory about a cat in a box. Without seeing him, you had no idea if he was alive or dead.
Memories flashed in your brain as if they happened yesterday. When you met Ace’s crew for the first time. When you met his second crew. All the nights you stayed up drinking with him. (You had eventually given in and trusted him enough to let your guard down.) You remembered when you told him that you finally met his brother on the sea. Man, he was so excited and positively radiant after hearing that news. He had immediately set out to go find him shortly after that. 
All of those memories passed through your mind, each one of them hurting you more and more. It was almost too much to handle. You had already lost so much and you thought that you were done feeling this way but…here it was again. It hurt…so much. It was never easier. No matter how many people you saw that you cared about die before you…it never got easier. You tried your best to keep your distance from people but Ace was warm both inside and out and it slipped past your defenses faster than you could blink. He introduced you to a new family. 
Many times he asked you to join the Whitebeard Pirates and you told him the same thing each time.
“I still have too many things to take care of on my own.”
The man scoffed. “C'mon! You say that every time, y/n! If you join us, we could help you!” You looked at him, shaking your head. “You know this is something I have to do on my own. The less people involved, the better. Besides, you promised me you wouldn't tell anyone or try to get involved in any way.”
Ace whined, folding his arms. “Yeah, but that was before you told me what you were up to!” He rolled his eyes, clearly unhappy with you. You frowned, sighing. It was the same argument every time you parted ways. He wanted you to join his crew so that he could help you wish your mission, but you couldn’t bear to see anyone else you care about die.
He looked at you again and sighed. “I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't push you.” He looked down to his feet, unfolding his arms. 
Your own face softened and you shook your head. “Don't say sorry, it's not your mistake.” He looked at you as you said those words, chuckling softly. You said them every time he apologized. It was your way of saying that it was okay. That the feelings he was feeling were valid. That his emotions and actions caused by them were valid. It was something that your father had always said to you when your emotions were too much and you were apologizing for things that were out of your control.
“I may join one day…” You paused. 
“It's just not the right time yet, I know,” Ace finished for you. You offered an apologetic grin and he returned with his own, warm one. 
“We're here.” A voice pulled you out of your thoughts once more and you looked at the man who you boarded this vessel with. It was then that you realized that you didn't know his name. You opened your mouth to ask when he interrupted. 
“There's a war going on out there. Be vigilant.”
You nodded, closing your mouth. Now wasn't the time for formalities. You felt a sinking feeling in your chest - something wasn’t right. 
As you headed to the top deck, you felt your chest growing heavier and heavier. This was bad. You could hear all the pain from outside already. You could feel the anguish. It was almost too much to bear. It was enough to make your head spin, to make you want to lose the lunch you didn’t have.
When the door opened and you stepped outside, you were taken back. Taken back to when your own people were taken from you. The sounds of fighting, the smell of blood and metal in the air. The screaming, the anguish. You wanted to scream yourself. It was almost too much to bear. Even though it was over a decade ago, it still had an iron grip on you.
From the corner of your eye, you saw a flash of blue. You looked over slowly, noticing blue flames. Marco. He was Ace’s crewmate. He caught your eye, a dark look of guilt passing over his face before looking away. It was a moment, but that was all you needed to confirm your suspicions.
You suddenly felt like you couldn't breathe, like something just sucked all the air out of your lungs. Your legs felt shaky and you felt sick. The world was spinning. Ace was gone. A man you loved like a little brother. Gone. And there was nothing you could do to bring him back. You were going to be sick.
“Y/n!” You blinked, looking up and seeing the man you had traveled with. “Get it together!” He motioned across the battlefield and that's where you saw Luffy. It was like something sparked inside of you. You were suddenly able to move again. He was your lifeline right now. You needed to focus on saving him. He wasn’t gone yet. 
You nodded at the man before you before turning back to look at your friend. You could tell he was completely shut down. It reminded you of yourself all those years ago. You’d lost everyone you loved and completely shut down. You don’t remember what happened while you were shut down. You were on autopilot for so long. Barely living.
You noticed he was in the arms of a fishman. Ally? You had to hope so or this was going to be difficult. Seeing how he was heading straight towards the submarine and the man waving them down, it seemed safe to assume an ally. Then you saw an admiral attack them. You ran towards the edge of the deck, pressing a hand to your necklace and withdrawing a long spear. You outstretched your free arm, taking aim right over the fishman’s shoulder and throwing it.
It flew through the air, hitting the admiral in the shoulder. Not near enough to kill him but at least enough to deter him for a few moments so the fishman and Luffy could make it safely on board. The next thing you knew, you were ushering the wounded into the submarine and to the infirmary.
“You look like you know about basic medicine,” the man said, laying the two men on operating tables. 
You nodded, unable to really speak. “I can't hear your head rattle,” he said. 
“Y-Yes,” you stammered, taking a deep breath. Your father was a doctor, after all. You studied under him and read many of his textbooks. You’d also been on your own with no doctor all this time, so you had plenty of time to study and put your skills to use.
“Good. Then you're going to help me.”
And with that, the operation began.
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super-unpredictable98 · 5 months ago
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The Eighth Child (~TUA AU~) - Season 4
Chapter 1: Your Dreams Came True, Now What?
Warning: Strong language, guns
a/n: Hello everyone! I really missed The Eighth Child and I hope you all have as well. We can all agree this season was pure bullshit, so here I am with a very short series of chapters to fix it. Welcome to the final show, hope you all like it <3 also thank you so much @jozstankovich for supporting me and being my guinea pig beta reader
(The Eighth Child Masterlist)
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"Of course we're coming, Dieguito!" Victoria said on the phone while trying to tame Fortune's big curly mane. "Tunnie is very excited to play with Gracie and the twins. Alright, see you later!"
"Lunch is ready," Klaus called from the kitchen. He wore a frilly apron on top of his completely normal and absolutely not flamboyant outfit. "No no no! Fortune, don't run, we don't wanna get hurt, right?"
"Right, a safe girl is a happy girl!" She repeated what her father always said.
Something about the pandemic mixed with Fortune growing into her own person, realizing Victoria was no longer indestructible, and Klaus staying fully sober, made him into a complete nut job. He was scared of absolutely anything and everything that could harm him and his family. The idea of dying and not being there to raise his kids was too much for him to even think about.
"You too, Liebling, you're in no condition to run," he caressed her baby bump.
Victoria and Klaus started off their married life as happy as can be, but the real world was right ahead and with his new sobriety and paranoia, it became harder and harder for her to... how should one put it... feel attracted to him.
Klaus was a completely changed man, his wife didn't necessarily like that. But alas, every once in a while, they still had some romance and of course she got pregnant by chance one of those times.
"I'm not sick, Klausie. Don't you remember when I was pregnant with Fortune and we would party all night in the clubs near campus? I was fine and so is she."
"I know, I know, but we were totally irresponsible! The world was different too, no COVID for starters..." He shivered before taking a bite of his risotto.
Victoria sighed, looking at the several cardboard boxes surrounding them. Right after marrying, she used her saved money to rent the apartment she used to rent back in her college days with Klaus, she loved that place and it was special to begin their new lives there.
After about a year, she made enough money with her bakery for a downpayment on the apartment. But now with their second child on the way, it wasn't viable to live in such a tiny place, even though it hurt to let it go.
"Something wrong, Mommy?" Fortune asked, seeing her mother's face. Sadness, conformity, longing, and a little disgust in her eyes.
"No, baby, I'm okay," Victoria sighed, but her husband also noticed that look. It had started about two and a half years ago when he was really focused on his sobriety journey, she seemed to simply lose interest in the person he was becoming.
Every morning, he woke up afraid she'd be gone. Every day when she left for work, he was scared she'd meet someone more exciting that would fill that void he unwillingly left behind. He was terrified she'd leave him like she did back when they were younger.
"Hey, Schatzi, since Fortune is having that sleepover with Gracie tonight, we should do something special," Klaus suggested.
"Like what?" She gave him that vacant look like she was dead inside.
"Romantic dinner, watching a movie, some... special cuddles," he winked.
"Sure," she sighed. Something horribly dangerous happens when your dreams come true... You're stuck with them.
**
"Die Hard!" Diego opened the door to Brigaderia Oito, Victoria's bakery. "How's it going? How's Klus?"
"It's alright, he's... sober," she mumbled. "Ah Dieguito, married life isn't what I signed up for."
"Trouble in paradise, huh? It's tough, marriage is hard work. I feel like everything I do is meaningless, but in the end, we're with the people we love, and we have amazing kids. We built something good."
"I guess so," she nodded, giving him his usual carrot cake with gooey brigadeiro on top. "I just wish Klaus would go back to being... Klaus. Not the drugs you know, but the wild nature, it's like he's broken. We barely ever have sex anymore."
"Ew! I don't wanna hear about that!" Diego pretended to gag. "My two siblings having sex? Barf!"
She rolled her eyes and placed her hand on her belly before turning to get Grace's birthday cake. She baked it and decorated it herself with cute jungle animals.
"Oh, it looks amazing!" He gasped. "How much do I owe you?"
"Nothing, it's part of her present. Only the best for my goddaughter."
"Thank you so much, Vicky," he smiled, giving her a hug over the counter and giving her belly a pat. "Already know if it's a girl or a boy?"
"Not yet, we'll get to know on the next ultrasound."
"Hope it's a boy this time, my little man needs more friends, he's drowning in estrogen."
She huffed and gave him a playful shove. "Keep the cake in the fridge."
"Thanks a million, Vicky! I'll see you later."
"See you later," she turned to pick up the phone. "Hello, Brigadeiria Oito, how can I help you?"
"It's me, Schnucki!" Klaus said into the phone. "I just picked up Fortune from school, she choked on the pulp of her orange juice."
"What? Is she okay?"
"Yeah, she's okay now, she just had a little coughing fit and was back to normal... it's just, that she got scared and wanted to come back home."
"Klaus! I can't believe you pulled our daughter out of school because she lightly choked on juice! You're gonna ruin her with all this coddling!"
"She was scared!"
"Because she sees you scared all the damn time!"
"We can talk about this later after the party. She's here now and listening."
"Why did you put me on speaker?"
"Holding a cell phone close to your ear isn't good because the temperature-"
"JESUS CHRIST! SHUT UP!" She shouted and only then she noticed there was a client waiting for her. "Just a second, I'll be with you in no time..."
"Why are you like this? Pregnancy hormones driving you crazy?" He asked.
"No, Klaus, you are! Talk to you later, I have to work... someone has to work in this household!"
**
"Why is Mama mad at you?" Fortune asked as she rode in the back of Allison's car with Claire and her father to the party venue.
"Mama is nervous because she's pregnant, that makes mommies a little angry sometimes," Klaus said, adjusting her seat belt for the millionth time.
"She said it wasn't because of the baby."
"Alright... you know, sometimes daddies and mommies fight, my Tunnie baby, but that doesn't mean it's forever and it doesn't mean something bad is gonna happen."
"What if you two split?" The little girl frowned.
"That's not happening, your parents have been attached at the hip since they were toddlers," Allison chuckled. "It was kinda disgusting."
"If you're Aunt Vicky's sister and Uncle Klaus' sister... does that mean they're siblings too?" Claire asked.
"That's a very long very lovely story for when you're a little bit older, Claire-bear" Klaus said before turning back to his daughter. "My little princess, don't worry about mommy, okay? I'm always here for you, and she'll always be here for you too, we love you more than the entire universe. It's just that things changed a little, but nothing that cannot be fixed."
"Hey, guys!" Victoria waved at them once they parked, she was bringing four boxes of party sweets, Brazilian style of course... beijinho, brigadeiro, bicho de pé, ninho e nutella, casadinho.
"Hey! Hey! Don't go around carrying that! You're in no condition!" Klaus took his car helmet off and rushed to help her with the boxes.
"Relax, she's pregnant, not dead," Lila came right behind with the huge bottles of soda.
"Leave it to me," he insisted.
Once they were inside, Grace and the twins came running to meet Claire and Fortune. Victoria hugged her nieces and nephew, as did Klaus before Diego gave them a look and pointed with his eyes to the doll house which was secluded and empty.
"We need to talk," she mumbled.
"Yeah... don't take your eyes off Fortune, Claire," Klaus asked. "Don't let her eat or drink anything with red 40 or 4-MEI!"
"You say as if we didn't sneak out at least three times a week to stuff our faces with doughnuts at Griddy's..." Victoria sighed as she pulled him to the doll house.
"We had superpowers and it was a different time, we were young and dumb."
"We enjoyed life," she sat down on a tiny pink chair. "We don't need to feed our child crack, but if she drank a little coke once in a while, she'll be fine!"
"What happened to us?" He looked up with puppy eyes. "We haven't fucked since we conceived this baby, you look at me like I'm a pile of cow shit, you turn your face when I go to kiss you..."
"It just hurts to see what you became. This isn't the man I married. You need therapy."
"This again? No therapy! I don't need it and we probably can't afford it."
"You're going insane!"
"Give me a chance, okay? I promise I'll make it right tonight when we get home."
She nodded, wanting more than anything to believe him. "Alright, let's see about tonight."
When the couple left the doll house, the entire family was already there, well almost the entire family.
"Oh give me a break... fake Ben is here? Who invited him?" Victoria huffed, she never really accepted Sparrow Ben as a part of the family, because he wasn't. She was even a little happy when he was arrested, meaning he'd stay away.
"Believe me, I didn't wanna be here either," he rolled his eyes.
"Come on guys, no fighting!" Luther emerged from the ball pit. "It's a family night."
"Yeah, you're right, can't let him ruin it... Cincooooo!" She went to hug Five. "Look at you, all grown up! It's like every day you get bigger, come here, little CIA man!"
"I'm not a damn child, you know?" He reluctantly hugged her back. "And I'm not little!"
"Where's Viktor?" She asked.
"He said he was coming," Luther smiled.
"Victoria, can we go outside for a little bit? I'm hyperventilating, this place is so full of people and nobody's wearing a mask," Klaus whispered.
She shook her head defeated. "Just take deep breaths, honey, it's okay. Did you see fake Ben is back? Look, our brothers are here, we're still waiting for Viktor though."
"Vicky!" Diego called from a corner while holding a piñata.
She was happy to leave Klaus to calm down for a moment and join her other brother. "What's up?"
"Does this look like a West Side piñata to you? I mean, it's clearly East Side, right?"
"Um... what's the difference?"
"The fringe, the eyes, the colors! And the fact that Lila told me she'd be on the West Side today and this looks like an East Side piñata."
"Oh Dieguito... don't overthink, it's probably a misunderstanding, let's not jump to conclusions, alright?"
"Maybe you were right, you know? I work all day and it kills me, the kids suck whatever energy I have left, and the in-laws... I'm glad they're alive in this timeline, but I don't want them living in our house."
Victoria nodded, understanding the feeling, but she didn't want their marriage to end because of her own doubts.
"Hey, cariño, come on... I know I didn't like Lila when you first got together, but she really grew on me. She's a good mom and she really loves you. It's just a rough patch."
"Liebling, please... can we step out just a little bit?" Klaus approached them.
Accepting her fate, she nodded and took his hand so they could get some fresh air. But the moment she stepped out, she knew something was wrong, there was a wrapped gift on the pavement and she picked it up.
"From Uncle Viktor?" She read the card.
"Why would he leave the gift on the street and take off?" Klaus wondered.
She started looking around for clues and after some inspection, she found a note on her windshield.
"Your brother Viktor has been kidnapped. Follow my exact instructions and no harm will come to him," she read the contents of the note. "Fucking shit cunt ass motherfucker... let's get the others."
**
After leaving Lila's parents in charge of the party, the old Hargreeves clan and Lila jumped into Diego's van and they headed to the address written on the note.
"Everyone stay behind me, I got a gun," Five announced, pulling his revolver as they entered the dry cleaner corresponding to the number they were given.
"Did you bring a gun to a children's birthday party?" Klaus hissed, his face covered by a gas mask. "Can you smell this? This place is a chemical wasteland."
"Says the man who made me swim in the fucking sewer six years ago," Victoria huffed.
"It's Viktor!" Luther pointed at the short man tied up to a chair with a bag over his head.
She ran and got the bag off. "Oh hey, Vik, long time no see!"
"Hey Vic yourself..." he mumbled as she started untying him with the help of Luther.
"Who kidnapped you? Dad and his goons?" She asked.
"I doubt it, this is amateur hour," Five shook his head.
"I apologize if my methods are a little crude, but it's my first kidnapping," A man came from the back. He looked harmless enough, but he held a gun, so out of instinct, Victoria stood in front of Klaus like a shield. "Hopefully it'll be my last, but I need your help."
"Kidnapping our brother and pointing a gun at us won't buy you much goodwill," Five murmured, pointing his gun at the man.
"It was the only way I could make sure you came here, all of you. I couldn't leave anything to chance, especially when it comes to the Umbrella Academy."
"Wow, haven't heard that name in years!" Victoria scoffed.
"Sorry pal, the Umbrella Academy doesn't exist," Five said.
"Only in our hearts," she completed.
The man put the gun down and opened a box full of artifacts, pictures, newspaper articles, masks, action figures...
"Oh look! The time we saved the Eiffel Tower! Remember?" Vicky smiled. "Zombie Gustav Eiffel!" She said in a silly voice.
"Where did you get this?" Diego asked.
"It was all in this box in the back of my daughter's car. Her name is Jennifer."
"Ugh, I hate that name," Victoria groaned, she had hated this name since the incident that took her brother's life.
"I don't know where she got it, but about a year ago she met these new friends and she started going to these strange meetings. Some very strange people, call themselves The Keepers. And then over time, she stopped talking to me, I believe something terrible happened, because we were very close."
Klaus picked Dave's dog tags from the box and frowned, which made Victoria's blood boil. She was very understanding of that whole thing when it happened, but lately, she didn't need much to get angry at him.
"Put that shit back!" She snagged the chain from his hands and threw it in the box.
"Sorry, sorry..." He mumbled.
"How did you find us?" Luther asked.
"I saw you on TV, Toss N' Wash," the strange man pointed at Allison.
"Ha! See? No small parts," Klaus poked his sister's shoulder.
"I've been watching you for a while actually and I apologize. I'm so sorry! I know you'd probably kill me if you could," the man looked at Victoria. "But she's all I have left, you must know what that feels like."
"I actually do," she sighed. "But we're not the same as we were, we don't have powers anymore."
"Yeah, we're not special," Diego agreed.
"Speak for yourself, tubby," Ben whispered under his breath and earned a punch in the shoulder from Victoria.
"I might not have powers, but I can kick your ass!"
"Give us 24 hours, we'll find your daughter," Five took the box quickly.
"Yes! Thank you!" The man cried. "Thank you very much, Umbrella Academy! I think you're special!"
"Five! What are you doing?" Allison hissed, following him outside. "You know we can't help, why did you do that?"
"Because... of this," Five pulled out a jar of marigold from the box.
**
"What I wanna know is how the daughter of a dry cleaner ends up with a jar of marigold in the trunk of her car," Five wondered.
The siblings decided to grab dinner at a Japanese restaurant and discuss their theories.
"Could it be something to do with Dad?" Klaus clumsily shoved rice into his mouth with the chopsticks (because of course, raw fish was too dangerous to eat with all the contamination risks)
"No, he took away our powers, and for good reason," Victoria shook her head.
"How do we know that's not just glow stick juice?" Diego teased.
"For the sake of discussion, let's say this is legit. Does anyone here actually want their power back?" Five asked.
"No way!" Klaus yelped. "For the first time in my life, I'm sober... and happy. And most importantly 100% poltergeist free."
"You're anything but free, you don't leave the house and you wear gloves and a mask in public," Victoria pointed out.
"At least I'm in control."
"Hmm I smell divorce," Ben taunted.
"Shut the fuck up! You're not even one of us, fuck off," she grabbed the jar of marigold and held tightly to it.
"It's a hard no for me too. I have a bar, a life..." Viktor quickly said to end the discussion.
"You're all such losers, we should be mainlining this shit right now!" Ben groaned.
"Whoever wants powers back, raise your hand!" Victoria stood up. Nobody raised their hands except Ben.
"We have everything we need," Lila shrugged.
"Damn right, and as much as I hate Dad, he's extremely intelligent. He took away our powers because they were the cause of apocalypse after apocalypse after apocalypse. This way we are safe and the world is safe. Majority wins and I'm taking this cause I don't trust you, little weasel." Victoria shoved her finger in Ben's face. "Now let's go home, and stop flossing in public, Klaus, fucking disgusting. You're not making me wanna have sex with you any more by being gross."
Tag List: @salvador-daley @seanfalco
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callsigns-haze · 1 year ago
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Pretty like a crime
Chapter 6
Pairing: Agent Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Singlemom! Agent Y/n 'Cobra' Y/l/n
Summary: Cobra is finally back on the agency and is finally back in the job. With Kai at home she has to jumble being a mother and a agent. She's sent to her first U.C mission but never thought that she would meet a blonde, green eyed Texan...
Warning: Mentions of gun use, ptsd, mentions of death, mentions of shooting, flirting, mentions of abuse, description of dead body, death, blood, undercover work, alcohol use, smut, kissing
Prologue/ Part 1/ Part 2/Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5
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"Oh who is she?" You ask one of three of your brothers in-law. It was his own engagement party but the most lively thing here was the alcohol.
This place was full of snobs and people from the news. A Chevalier getting married is a big deal and you remember it quite well.
"She's dad's new lawyer or something." Joris spat each word out in hatred. She didn't seem bad, she seemed quite sweet, honestly.
Joris never accepts people well, it was a quite long bit till he started to warm up to you. This was his party after all so I guess unwanted guests from his point of view were annoying.
"Well Matt sadly can't defend you a lot or me either." There was some stupid rule that if there was a law case you couldn't interact with it if it involves a family member or relation but Matthew is still your parents lawyer due to prior signed contracts.
"I don't like her already," Joris snarled with his nostrils flaring as he put on his sunglasses. Anger issues is the definition of this man, mad as hell. You wrap your arm around his shoulder and whisper in his ear. "Truly I don't either."
He smiles at you while whispering back, "Well, at least we're on the same page of action."
Getting trusted by the Chevalier family was quite impossible if you were a total outsider. Your family knew them through business which quickly led you into Etienne's circle of trust but with this chick it will be different.
"Just play you like her, I'll do the rest." That's the last thing he tells you before he wanders into the crowd. What did you get yourself into…
------
"He's over there," Jake whispers to you as the two of you sit in two red velvety seats in the top private room of the opera. The guy you need is right there in front of you looking back and taking a glance at you. He knows who the two of you are, or at least your undercover characters.
"He's looking at us," Jake mumbles into your neck as you look into those clear green eyes. "I'm going to sit in your lap and whatever you need to tell me, kiss it into me." Usually you'd never say this but the two of you are pretending to be a sex full couple and right now, it was not giving what it was meant to be giving.
You get up from your seat and swing your leg over Jake's sitting figure so that when you sink down you're facing Jake this time. The second you lower yourself, Jake begins to attack your neck with kisses and love bites.
You let out a groan… That wasn't supposed to happen, your full focus was meant to be on the outcome of this mission but yet Jake's delicate lips upon your skin played a quite different role in this game.
"How do we act," Jake asks you while licking up your neck as you put your lips to his. So passionate and full of emotion. You didn't know what has got into you. Since you were a young child, when brought to the opera you could always fall asleep, let here you were so alive and awake.
"The longer we sit it's not gonna work on him, full contact straight away," you respond. You sink into his lap more though. You've melted into Jake's touch, it was like free sailing on an ocean free from storm so mesmerized in the moment that you didn't notice the time passing and that the guy you needed was tapping you on the shoulder.
------
"Y/N, stop moving your head," Anne laughed as you cocked your head from side to side. For a thirteen year old, you sure were stubborn. Tonight, your parents are holding an annual gala which means you had to be prepared like a jewel for the show.
"But I don't want some hair due," you groan, slouching your shoulders in the chair. Anne had patients with you, for all you were just a kid but she understands that you don't like the whole concept of being rich and looking it.
"You know, kiddo. Once you get there, you'll be so mesmerized in the moment you won't notice it pass, trust me there."
"Sir, Adanson," you say turning around in Jake's lap. You see this undercover wasn't a act like this was some sort of Shakespeare play but a game where the second he turns to you you blow of his damn head.
For years you've been hunting this man down and have been getting nowhere. For years you've chased after him, through continents, countries, capitals, towns and cities but all it took was to lure him into your reach and distract him with a inexistent personality.
"You have a lot of balls coming down here," Jake comments, tilting his head to the left as Adanson stares at him in disbelief. Nobody speaks to a man like that in such a way that he was standing his ground in his face that Jake was a different man with no threat on his life.
"Pardon?" Adanson asked in disbelief. No one ever tried to talk to him in such way, nobody ever wanted to mess with such man, let here the two of you where.
"You have no balls, walking up to two gods and thinking some manners are a shit that can protect you," you snap as the standing man growls at you, you were getting on his nerves. As you were planning to.
"Do you know who your talking to?" Wow, he thinks that kind of speech will scare you? A speech about a snob kissing his own damn ass.
"Oh, yes I do and I don't care."
With that you give your signal to Jake which represents the start of the fight. You pull out your gun and aim it directly at two of men. Jake throws himself at which causes you to be left with the sidemen.
"So we meet again." One of then howls at you. You've caught many men over the years so recognising these was impossible. You try to shoot him but he grabs your wrist, spinning you, causing you to scream horror in pain.
He swung you round, throwing you against the wall as you hit of one of the carved pillars. Damn the world is spinning or at least it's messed up, because now you see three of the same man rather than one.
You have very little energy but once the world stops spinning it's when you'll manage to get up straight. He wants the satisfaction, the pain of you getting back up since he doesn't attack but instead he waits, which gives you an advantage.
You run at him, the jump you take would most likely be compared to a leprechauns, and kick the bodyguard straight into the king's jewels where the sun doesn't shine. To this he hurls over and groans. You don't hesitate like he did to you, you ram him with your fists as he kept going backwards until he reaches the railing to which you respond, "Bon voyage!" As he falls to his death.
"Whose next boys?"
------
"Mr. Adanson, you in this case have NO right to a lawyer or to remain silent. Each question asked will b answered and no proper trial shall be held. The evidence of all your crimes is here and your name is written all over it, have a nice time behind bars."
You don't know who that officer was saying all those words, but you loved the guy, putting Adanson in his place was your dream for years now. Finally fighting out the justice and beating the hell outta that guy as well.
Jake wraps his arm around you as the sight is full of police and Agents. His touch is comfort, which you lean into with a smile as he says, "Let's go to the hotel, I think we both have enough for one messed up night."
You two turn, still with each others touch. The things you did together this night will never be forgotten by either. You sat in his lap and let him place his lips upon your body, wherever he wished. That will never be forgotten.
Even though both of you had enough for one night, the evening was still quite young.
-----
"Come on, you guys really believe she should be trusted! We don't know the whore!" Joris shouts out quite frustrated. This was probably one of the dumbest things to possibly do, meet up without Etienne and Pene. If either find out you all might as well leave the planet.
"Joris, why the hell do you always judge people before you know them," Matthew sighs back into his chair looking at his younger brother Romain to help him in this unwinnable arguement. Usually he'd look at you to help him out since Joris trusts you a slightly listens but while they sit at the table, you stand staring out the big glass window looking down upon the big sea at view.
"Matt! The bitch appeared a week ago and now apparently she's in his 'circle of trust'!" I mean you could sorta understand the frustration that Joris had. You guys had no clue where Olivia came from but her backstory did check out so that at least could be slightly trusted but the rest, it could all be faked.
"Y/n, can't your Justin or whatever his name is friend, help us out?" Matthew rolled his eyes at that. He despised Justin more than anything. He hated his guts, name style, EVERYTHING. Technically to you Justin wasn't even a friend anymore, he stopped being that a long time back, now he's just an acquaintance. You turn around and stare at the three brothers out of four quite intensely, truly you were flaming at his idea.
"There is NO way on god's green earth that you'll drag me down into this. I've done things to people that I should be long hung for, for this family. You guys are lucky that. I even agreed to coming because once Etienne finds out we'll already be dead."
Romain finally speaks up and announces, "She's right. Let's give her a shot."
You knew you couldn't call in your car or in the house where the family was so you had to go out, out as far as possible. You go down to the beach to call her and once you do you only leave on message, "Olivia, they're onto you."
-----
You always told yourself that adults do things that they regret but this now is not one of those situations
Jake unlocks the door, closes it, and places his items on the kitchen counter before approaching you two. As he scoops you up, he starts kissing you and forcing you to wrap your legs around his body. You can feel his delicate tongue pleading for admittance, which you allow. The kiss was ravenous, and even though he probed every corner of your mouth, it was insufficient.
He drags you into the master bedroom and lays you on the bed, then removes all of his belongings. Looking at his physique made you wetter; he had a mysterious effect on you.
After that, he lowers himself and kisses your jawline, neck, and chest. You groan at the slightest brush of his soft lips against your skin. He aids you in removing your garments, leaving you just in your pants, which he then removes.
He started sucking on your sensitive nipples. Swirling his tongue and blowing air on them, he knew it would drive you insane, arching your back and making you moan out in agony as your desire for him was unbearable. "Jake hurry" you say getting impatient, "how bad do you need me" he declares in a raspy voice looking towards you from smothering your chest.
"Really bad, Jakey," you remark once again, leaning your back to him. He hovers above you, holding his erect member and rubs it against your highly wet region, causing you to gasp. He begins to put it in with gentle strokes. Before he eventually says it all, you let out small whispers.
As you hold his arms, he places the top of his head against the curve of your neck. Returning to your lips, he runs his hand up your thighs, stroking the aching area. You arch your back in want for him as you feel yourself becoming moist. You grab hold of his hair as he starts sucking on your stiff nipples.
He groans with pleasure as he swirls the tip of his tongue around you. He kicks your pants to the side, inserting a pair of fingers and pounding in and out.
You whimpered and bit your bottom lip. He lifts his head to your ear and whispers, "I love to hear your purrs," in a deep rich voice that sends shivers down your spine. He pulls his two fingers out of you and licks the come off his fingers. "You taste heavenly," he adds, his eyes blazing with passion. You felt yourself on his tongue after slamming his lips into yours.
"Fuck me please," you beg, barely breaking free from the kiss, as he pulls you off the sink and flips you around, bending you over on the bathroom counter. Pulling his trousers down, he reveals his firm member. He teases you by rubbing it on your soaking wet area before carefully applying it. You moan with delight as he fully invests himself in you. He begins with small strokes and gradually increases his pace.
"Holy Shit, fuck," you gasp, as he rubs your throbbing area with his left hand and pounds you from behind. He takes his right hand and wraps it over your neck, allowing you to arch your back little more. As his strokes increase quicker and harder, your moans become uncontrollable.
You can only blurt out "I'm gonna cum" between moans. He pounds you harder while softly tightening his grasp on your neck, never missing your g-spot. As you get closer to your climax, your walls tighten.
You give out a loud gasp as you approach your peak, prompting him to halt his strokes. He unlocks your throat and emerges from within you. He turns you around and gently kisses you.
Guess he finally worked the charm.
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avastrasposts · 2 years ago
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The Pilot and his girl - ch 11
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Now we're getting into the fun part! 😋 The metaphorical shit is about to hit the fan as Frankie and our reader get ready for their one year anniversary on September 26, 2013. I had a lot of "fun" writing this chapter and I hope you enjoy it even though I'm now taking a seriously hard left turn with this series, away from the fluffy little bubble I've wrapped us in. The warnings will contain spoilers so I've put them in a separate post and will update them as I go: Warnings
Word count: 6.2 k
Chapter 12
Chapter 1, if you want to catch up from the beginning
Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko  @javicstories
“Cariño! I’ve got to go now, come kiss me!” Frankie calls through the apartment as he pulls on his boots, hastily tying them up before he tugs on his jacket. “Carinooooooo!” he wails, “come kiss me goodbye, I can’t leave if you don’t kiss me!” 
You spit out the toothpaste and rush to rinse your mouth, before opening the bathroom door, looking over at your baby of a boyfriend who’s currently standing by the door, bag in hand, making puppy eyes at you. “Cariñoooooo!" he wails impatiently while you pad over to him on bare feet, shaking your head. 
“You’re such a baby, Francisco Morales,” you wrap your arms around his neck as he bends down and gives you a wet kiss on your lips before trailing more wet kisses down your throat. 
“I can’t leave if you don’t kiss me,” he gives you a fake pout as he stands up. “You’re sure you’re ok to pack everything up on your own? I’ll be back as soon as possible so we can just load into the truck and go.” 
“Yeah, it’s fine, I’ll do some laundry and pack the last of the food. Just ring me when you leave work and I’ll be ready to go when you’re back.” 
“Ok, hermosa, mi amor, my gorgeous cariño, happy anniversary, my love,” Frankie captures your chin between his thumb and fingers and you smile up at him as he gives you another long kiss. 
“Happy anniversary, Frankie, my love,” you mumble against his lips, giggling as he tries to push you up against the door, groping at your ass, “I thought you had to leave.” 
“I do, fuck, but I don’t want to,” Frankie sighs, and plants a final kiss on your mouth before he opens the door and heads out, “I’ll see you this afternoon, hermosa,” he smiles, “te amo.” 
“Love you too, Frankie.” 
You lock up behind him and continue to get ready. The plan is to head out of the city and up to Denny’s cabin as soon as Frankie’s back from work. You’re working from home today to save some time, you’ve set aside manuscripts to read and that’s best done from home anyway. 
Frankie had surprised you a couple of weeks ago by telling you he’d asked Denny if you two could borrow the cabin for your anniversary, have a little holiday together. Today was exactly one year since you met at The Outback Bar and it had been the best year of your life thanks to Frankie. A weekend escape, just the two of you at the cabin, sounded like the perfect way to celebrate. To make matters even better you’d closed on a house just a few days ago, all the paperwork signed, you didn’t even have the keys yet, but you’d still spent the past three days mentally decorating the whole place. Frankie had sent Lucía pictures of the house and her room and she’d been over the moon to see the pictures of the pool outside. Now you were planning on throwing your very first Thanksgiving dinner at your new house together with Frankie and Lucía. 
You allowed yourself to get lost in daydreams for a while as you finished your breakfast and cleared the kitchen, throwing a load of clothes in the washing machine. While it ran its cycle you sat down at your small home office and went over the manuscript. 
Frankie called you just after lunch with bad news. 
“I’m sorry, cariño, I think I’ll probably be later than I thought, things are fucking crazy today,” he sighed over the phone. “One of our choppers crashed, we can’t get hold of the pilot, I’m just fucking praying he’s ok, Denny’s on his way out there now.” You can hear him rub his hand over his face, rough against his scruffy beard, “And I’ve got to fly three doctors to different locations, apparently they’re swamped, all kinds of crazy shit happening, it’s like it’s a full moon night but it’s midday.” 
“It’s fine, Frankie, just fly safe, you’ll get here when you get here and if it’s too late we’ll drive up tomorrow.” 
“Yeah, but I wanted to be with you all weekend,” he huffs, “Fuck, I’ve got to go, Denny’s on the radio. Talk soon, cariño.” He hangs up before you have a chance to say goodbye. 
By the time seven pm rolls around you have everything packed up for the trip to the cabin, you’ve been checking your phone for Frankie’s phone call for the past hour. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he said things were crazy today, you’d gone down to the corner store for some snacks for the road and found it closed, shutters down even though it was only five pm, the streets empty. And on your way back to the apartment you’d seen a police car crash into a small car. You’d started running over to the crash to see if you could help but a police man had stumbled from the cruiser and yelled at you to get back inside, to stay away. Something in his voice had scared you and you’d turned back straight away, running back to your building and up the stairs. 
Once back in the apartment you’d locked the door and tried calling Frankie, but he didn’t pick up. That wasn’t unusual, he usually couldn’t answer when he was flying, if you really needed to get hold of him you’d call Denny and he’d patch you through on the radio. But you tried Denny too and there was no reply there either, not on his cell or the landline to the airfield. 
So now it’s seven pm and you’re getting antsy. There are an extraordinary amount of police sirens outside, the news are talking about riots in the streets downtown, but the footage makes it look more like a warzone and the local news cuts the broadcast when someone attacks the camera man. 
At nine you’re pacing the apartment, back and forth between the big window facing the street and the small window in the kitchen overlooking the parking lot. When your phone rings you jump, and relief floods your chest when you see that it’s Frankie. “Frankie, where are you? Did you see the news?” you ask when you pick up, but you’re interrupted by him straight away. 
“Cariño, where are you? Still at home?” He sounds stressed and he’s breathing hard. 
“Yeah, I’m at home, waiting for you, of course. What’s going on, are you running?” You press your phone to your ear, trying to hear what’s going on around him, you can hear people shouting in the background. 
“I was, I’m trying to get away from Washington Park, I…I got into some trouble,” he stutters, “some guy was beating up another guy and I pulled over to stop him, I had to pull him off the other guy but he was fucking crazy, like high on salts or something, never seen anything like it. He came after me and I had to…I’m sorry cariño, I had to…take him out.” 
You hear the shame in his voice, you’ve only talked a couple of times about the guy in the bar Frankie beat up because he thought he’d hit you. He knew his skill at violence scared you and he’d done his utmost to prove to you that he wasn’t a violent person. But now he’d had to take this guy out, in self defence, and he was trying to explain it to you. 
“Just get home, Frankie,” you say, “we can talk when you get here, just get home.” 
“I’m trying, hermosa, but the police turned up and…fuck…hang on.” 
You hear his heavy boots shuffling over broken glass and hard ground, he grunts as he seems to move through or over a structure, nearly dropping the phone. 
“Ok, I have to keep moving, hermosa,” he pants, “the police turned up and…they thought I’d killed the guy, the didn’t see him beating up the other guy an-” 
“You killed him!?” your eyes are wide, you’ve stopped dead in your tracks in front of the big window. 
“I don’t know, cariño, the police came, they pulled their guns on me, I had to run and-”
“Frankie, why the fuck did you run from the police? You’re gonna get into so much more trouble now!” 
“I couldn’t stay, something isn’t right, some weird shit is happening all over town.” 
“And fucking running from the police after beating someone to death is the way to make it less weird, Frankie?” you spit out, you’ve been worried about him for hours but now your nervous energy shifts into anger at his stupidity. “Just get the fuck home and we’ll deal with this mess in the morning, or just maybe just turn yourself in, it’s gonna look so bad with you running from the scene.” You sigh, pushing your fingers through your hair, “Frankie, why’d you have to be so reckless?”  
Frankie bristles, you can hear his anger, “You don’t understa-” he begins but suddenly your phone goes dead, cutting him off. You look down at the screen and curse, you have no reception, there are no bars, it looks like the service has overloaded or gone down.
“Fuck,” you say out loud, and turn it off, maybe a restart will help, but no luck. Your phone is still dead and when you try calling Frankie on your landline phone it goes straight to voicemail. You leave a message, telling him to just come home as soon as possible. 
After that there’s not much to do except wait, you resume your path between the kitchen window and the living room window, stopping every now and then to flick through the news, all hell seems to be breaking out across the state, even the country. You try calling Frankie a few more times but it still goes straight to voicemail. The knot in your stomach is growing, making you feel nauseous with nerves. 
You call Pope but there’s no reply so you call Will’s landline. Hannah picks up and she’s frantic with worry about Will, he’s not back from work and she can’t get hold of him either. Benny was meant to have dinner with them and he’s taken the car to try and go pick up Will at work but with the cell phone services down she can’t reach him either.  
“I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” she almost cries, “I saw people running down the street just now and I don’t know if I should leave or what?” 
“No, just stay put, Will or Benny will come back there so just lock up and wait,” you say, you can’t stop yourself from biting your nails, you feel panic rising in your throat.
You promise to keep in touch and update each other, when you hang up you feel sick to your stomach. You desperately want Frankie to come back, you need to see him and feel his arms around you, tell you it’ll be alright, but no matter how many times you call, you only get his voicemail. You ring a few extra times just to hear his voice repeat the same message. 
“Hi, this is Francisco Morales, I can’t pick up right now, please leave a message.” 
“Please, please, please, Frankie, come home, come home, baby,” you whisper into the phone as you listen to his voice again. 
Night has fallen outside and it’s even worse, around the city fires have broken out and from your apartment you can see a couple of them burn out of control. Just after midnight the news channel stops broadcasting, suddenly, in the middle of an update. You flick through the channels but there’s only static on all of them. 
You call Will’s place again but there’s no reply, you hope that means Benny has brought back Will to Hannah, and they can’t pick up right now, maybe they’re on their way here. 
Just as you’ve put the phone down it rings again and you snatch it up. 
“Frankie?” you almost cry down the receiver but instead you hear Pope’s worried voice. 
“Is Frankie there?” he asks, you can hear the stress in his voice. 
“No, he called at nine, he…he was in some trouble but I don’t know…he was on his way home, but he’s not here yet,” your words rush out, “Pope, what’s  happening? I can’t get hold of Will or Benny either and I’m freaking out!” 
“I don’t know, it’s a shit show, people are…listen, I’m not too far from you, I’ll try and make it over there. I’m on a military frequency so my phone’s still up, I’ll call you if anything. Just stay put inside, keep the door locked.”
“Yes, yeah, of course, I’m waiting for Frankie, I’m not going anywhere,” you say, double checking the lock and deadbolt on the front door. 
“Do you have a weapon, a gun, baseball bat, knife, anything?” he asks, you can hear him jogging, his shoes drumming along whatever hard surface he is on. 
“I don’t know, I don’t think we have a gun, we have a baseball bat, and the kitchen knives,” you frown, looking out the window again, “Pope, why do I need to arm myself, are people looting?” 
“Yeah, they’re looting and it’s getting violent, so stay inside, and don’t open to anyone except me or Frankie. And don’t talk to anyone but me or Frankie, ok?” 
“Ok, I’ll dig out the baseball bat straight away but…but just get here, please, Pope, I’m really scared.” You leave the window and go to the closet in the guest room where Frankie keeps his old bat. 
“I know, I know, I’ll get there as soon as I can.” 
“Hurry, please, and stay safe, Santi,” you say, you can feel tears gathering on your lashes as your voice starts to wobble. 
“I need you to be strong, ok,” Pope’s voice is firm, as if he’s giving a soldier orders, “I need you to handle yourself, if someone tries to come through that door, you need to defend yourself, do you understand? Even kill them if it comes to that, do not let anyone attack you.”
“Santi…” you stumble, “I can’t..”
“I know, but you have to. This is serious, Frankie’s not around so I need to make sure you’re safe, and for you to be safe, you need to be ruthless now, do you understand?” His voice has a sharp edge, he’s breathing hard, moving fast trying to get to you, and the reality of what he’s saying hits you. 
“I promise, Pope,” you whisper, “I’ll…I’ll try my best to defend myself, I’ll try.” 
“Good, I’m about an hour away on foot, but it’s slow going. Give me two to three hours and I should be there.” 
“Stay safe, Santi, please,” you beg, pressing the receiver of the phone to your ear, as if hearing the voice of your friend will keep him and you safe. 
“I’ll try my best, and stay strong for me, and for Frankie, ok?” 
“I will,” you promise. 
… 
When his phone dies, Frankie hears the click and then nothing. He had a feeling this would happen, it’s mayhem in the city and the system is bound to be overloaded, so the lack of reception is no surprise, but he still curses under his breath. 
He was moving down narrow back alleys, jogging fast, staying off the main streets, avoiding people, especially any police, as he tried to get away from Washington Park. When he’d put some distance between himself and the park, he’d stopped to call home. He’d crouched down just behind a dumpster, keeping out of sight, while he talked to her. Now he stands up carefully, looking up and down the alley and considers his next move. The keys to his truck are in his pocket, it’s still where he left it by the park, he could maybe try to get back to it but the police are sure to be there. 
But something, at the back of his head, tells him he needs to keep moving and get home as fast as possible. Things are not normal, the whole day has been a shit show, but now, now it’s getting out of control. The man he’d tried stopping beating up the other guy had been raging, he’d turned and attacked Frankie so fast he’d barely had time to react. Only his instincts from the army, slower now but still just under the surface, had saved him from getting bit, fucking bit! 
The guy had actually tried biting him when Frankie sidestepped, and tripped him up, making him fall to the ground. He’d been on his feet in a flash and Frankie knew the guy was high on something when he saw his eyes, so he’d sidestepped again and swung an elbow to the guy’s head, hitting him in the temple. It had been harder than he’d intended but the sudden attack had his adrenaline running high, and the man had dropped to the ground and remained motionless. 
As he started running, when the police pulled up, his only thought was to get away as fast as possible. But as he ran, as he put a couple of blocks between him and the park, he saw others starting to act strange. When a city bus crashed into a taxi he dodged into an alley, the passengers on the bus flailing about inside as if they were locked in battle with each other. Frankie’s gut was yelling at him that something was very wrong, this was not just a weird day, this was something else, but he couldn’t wrap his head around what was going on. So he’d stopped to call her, to hear her voice and make sure she was safe, and let her know he was trying to get home. 
The way the call ended, when the phone network died, left a knot in his stomach that had nothing to do with the unfolding mayhem in the city. This weekend was meant to be about them, he wanted everything to be perfect, and now the last words between them had been anger. The small box in his jacket pocket represented everything he wanted for their future, and more than anything he needed to get back to her, to explain what had happened and get them out of the city for their anniversary. Whatever the fuck was going with everyone else, he needed to be with her, at the cabin, and ask her to be his wife. Everything else was secondary. 
Frankie drew a deep breath and started moving back towards Washington Park. He needs his truck, it’s their best chance at getting out of the city. Hopefully the police had been called away on something else, letting paramedics deal with the guy he’d taken down, maybe he hadn’t actually killed him. 
He stays on side streets and alleys, keeping low, staying out of sight. When he sees the door to a gun shop wide open, he pauses, considering the risk. A gun would make him feel safer, but looting one now, is pretty shitty behaviour. The thought stays with him for only a second, before he cautiously moves into the shop. The back of the shop is dark but quiet, broken glass crunches under his boots as he moves towards one of the display cases. There’s rifles on the wall but they’re too hard to hide, instead he quickly finds a Glock among the wreckage, the familiar gun feels solid in his hand. 
There’s ammo behind the counter but when he steps around it, he sees the woman, splayed on the floor, face down. He stops in his tracks, staring down at her still form for a beat. She’s wearing a pink t-shirt and he can see the blood where it’s been ripped open over her shoulder. It doesn’t look like a significant amount of blood but he can’t see her face, can’t tell if she’s alive or not. 
There’s a box of ammo near him and he quickly loads the gun, sliding a full magazine into the Glock. He doesn’t know why, maybe the way the day has been, but he keeps his gun trained on the woman, safety off, while he carefully moves towards her. There’s more ammo behind her and he wants to pick it up, but he also doesn’t want to leave her injured or dead without checking on her. 
Gently he nudges the toe of his boot against her hand, shifting it slightly, and he hears a deep growl, inhuman. The sound makes him take a quick step back, more glass breaking under his feet with a loud crackle. The woman lifts her head and turns to look at him for a beat. All Frankie has time to think is that her eyes have the same rage as the man at the park, she scrambles to her feet and launches herself at him. He fires his gun on instinct, the bullet hitting her cheek, the close range making it explode out the back of her head. 
She drops instantly as Frankie holds the gun trained at her. It takes a split second for his training to kick in, but then he moves. Stepping over her, he grabs two more boxes of ammo, stuffing them in his pockets, before he quickly throws himself over the counter and heads out the back door he came through, checking the street before he leaves. Walking fast, but not running, he puts the safety back on the gun and shoves into the back of his trousers, out of sight under his jacket. His breathing is normal but he can feel adrenaline pumping through his system, muscle memory makes him move through the city as if it’s hostile enemy territory. 
What the fuck is going on? What was that? Bad batch of some drug on the streets? 
As he moves back towards the truck he checks his phone, there’s still no reception. There are more people on the streets now, more cars too, all heading for the freeway. He sees a family hastily throw bags into a car, a cat in a travel cage stuffed into the back. Other cars speed past, full of stuff, people are packing up and leaving. The sight makes him anxious, he needs to do the same, get back home, get to her, and get the fuck out. 
Screw the weekend, we need to get the fuck out of the city fast, whatever this is, it’s not gonna be over by Monday.
He finally spots his truck, parked where he left it, the man he’d knocked out nowhere in sight, and no police. Quickly scanning the area for signs of trouble, Frankie crosses the street and gets into the truck. He breathes a sigh of relief when he can lock the door and the engine rumbles to life. He can see traffic lining up on the other side of the park so he takes a side street, mapping the best route back home in his head as he tries to drive as fast as he can, people are running along the streets, cars speeding past and it gets worse the closer to downtown he gets. He tries to skirt around it but as he turns down a side street he finds it blocked by a truck that’s crashed into a building. 
“Fuck,” he breathes under his breath, there’s fire under the truck and he can see people on the other side. Quickly he reverses back onto the main street and turns left, heading a few more blocks down. The traffic’s getting heavy and it’s getting harder to avoid getting stuck, up ahead he sees cars grinding to a halt and in a last second decision he pulls a hard right and turns down a narrow alley, he knows it connects to another big road after a couple of blocks but it will get him closer to home at least, almost all the way there if it’s clear. He barrels through the alley, slowing down only to take the sharp turn onto the main road, and speeding up as he sees the way ahead of him clear. The harsh headlights flooding the cabin of his truck is the only warning he has when the bus slams into the passenger side of the truck. The screech of metal and tyres is the last thing Frankie hears as the world outside the shattered windscreen goes spinning and turns to black. 
Your body is telling you to sleep but you can’t, it’s almost three am and you’re on the couch, with a painful knot in your stomach. There’s sirens wailing outside, close by, and you’ve heard screams of terror and pain throughout the night. Frankie’s baseball bat is next to you on the couch, your hand shoots out to grab it whenever you hear a sound, your nerves on edge, the big kitchen knife on the coffee table. You’ve cried yourself dry with worry, Frankie’s not home, Pope hasn’t arrived either, you feel like you’re all alone in the world and every minute you’re fighting to keep the panic down. Pope’s words, keep strong for me and for Frankie, roll through your brain, it’s all you’ve got to keep you from falling over the edge. 
A loud crack rings out somewhere in your building and you shoot up to your feet, it sounded close and it sounded like a gunshot. Straining your ears you try to hear more, but the wailing sirens from outside make it hard to make out anything. Slowly moving closer to the front door, you grip the bat in your hand. You stop in the hall, holding your breath and listen intently in the silence. Suddenly you hear a shoe scuffle against the floor outside your door and you bite down hard on your lip, your heart is thumping so loudly it’s deafening. 
A soft tap on the door startles you enough to make you jump back into Frankie’s sneakers on the shoe rack. 
“It’s me, Pope, open the door,” Santi’s familiar voice filters low through the front door and you almost cry with relief, stumbling forward to unlock it. He comes through it as soon as it’s open enough to let him in and he immediately closes it behind him, locking and sliding the deadbolt in place. When he turns to you, you throw your arms around him, and you feel him grab hold of you, squeezing you tight as he pulls you into the living room. 
“Santi, I’m so scared,” you sob, fighting back tears, as he sets you down on the couch, “what’s happening?” 
“I don’t know yet, Frankie isn’t back?” he asks, looking around the living room. 
“N-No, I haven’t heard from him since the cell network went down,” tears well up in your eyes, “h-he said, he was coming back here. But that was six hours ago, Santi!” The tears spill over as fear overcomes you and he sits down next to you on the couch, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, gently shushing you. 
“Deep breaths, hermana, you need to focus,” he turns you around, putting both hands on your shoulders, squeezing them as his eyes lock onto yours. “Listen, I need you to stay with me now, ok?” 
You nod weakly as Pope wipes your cheek with the back of his hand, “We need to pack essentials and get out of here, there’s a couple of dirt bikes in the garage under your building, I’ve got the keys and-” 
“I’m not leaving without Frankie,” you say immediately, leaning back from Pope instinctively. “I have to stay here until he comes back.” 
“You can’t, it’s not safe, I have to keep you safe while Frankie’s not around,” Pope grabs your shoulders again, as if to press it into you but you baulk. 
“If I leave, with the phones down, he won’t find me. He said he was coming back here and I said I’d stay until he came back,” you pull away from Pope and stand up, moving to the window to look down on the street again. 
“Hermana, you haven’t seen the city, it’s chaos,” he’s stands up and comes after you, grabbing hold of your arm, “I don’t know what’s going on but people are unhinged, losing control and attacking each other,” his grip on your arm loosens a little but he’s turning you to look at him, “I don’t want to scare you more, but it’s bad out there, people are dying.” He falters, hesitating for a few seconds, “I’m sorry, this isn’t going away anytime soon, and Frankie might not make it back.” 
“Don’t say that. Don’t fucking say that!” You feel panic rising in your chest and you push him away.
“I saw a woman…she was…she killed a child, it’s that bad out there,” Santi grabs you again, a pained look on his face, pleading, “I’m sorry, Frankie is a very capable soldier, one of the best, but it took all I had to make it here.” 
You pull your arm from his hand, “He’s coming back here, I’m not leaving without him,” you spit out and step back into the living room, crossing your arms as you turn back to Pope, he’s looking at you from the window. 
“I can’t leave you here, Frankie’s my best friend, my brother, and you’re the love of his life, I’ve got to keep you safe. For him, hermana.” He’s pleading with you but you shake your head even as tears well up in your eyes again. 
“If you want to help Frankie, get to Lucía. Take one of the dirt bikes, get her and we’ll meet you at Denny’s cabin.” You’re staring at him, your jaw set, you know Pope can’t argue with that and he has no choice. As he drops his chin to his chest you know you’ve got your way. 
“Ok,” he sighs, “I’ll go and get Lucía, but you have to promise me that if Frankie’s not back by Sunday morning, you take the other bike and come up to the cabin too,” he’s walked over to you again, looking down at you with dark eyes, “if he’s not back by Sunday morning, he’s not coming back. Take the bike, get to the cabin.” 
“He’s coming back, Santi.” 
“I really want you to be right, hermana,” he sighs as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest. You slump against him, you can feel your body shaking with the onslaught of nerves and adrenaline. 
“He has to come back,” you whisper into his chest, “he has to, he has to, he has to,” you repeat as a mantra as Pope gently strokes your back. 
You don’t notice when Pope carefully lays you down in your bed, pulling the blanket over you. Your exhausted body and mind shuts down for a few hours and lets you sleep without dreams. When you wake with a start, daylight is starting to creep through your window, and for a second it feels like a normal morning, until you see Frankie’s side of the bed, empty. 
You push back the blanket and make your way out to the living room to find Santi on the couch, two guns and a rifle laid out in front of him. 
“Morning,” he says, looking up at you. “I hope you managed to sleep some.” 
You sit down next to him on the couch, watching his methodical movements with the weapons, “Did you sleep at all?” 
“No, I kept watch, but it’s fine,” he adds as he sees your concerned look, “I’m still running on adrenaline and I’m used to it. Pulled plenty of all nighters in the army.” 
“Did anything happen while I slept?” You move to the kitchen and open the fridge to pull out some breakfast, the inside of the fridge is dark. 
“The electricity and the military phone network cut out about an hour ago,” Pope nods at the fridge. “Eat whatever might go bad first.” He stands up and grabs a backpack, you recognise it as Frankie’s spare one. “I’ve packed enough to keep me going for a few days, and I’ve done the same for you and Frankie,” he points to a bigger backpack, Frankie’s hiking pack. “I’m gonna try to get to Lucía now, you and Frankie head to the cabin as soon as possible. Get out of the city, that’ll be Frankie’s plan too.”
He comes over to you where you’re standing by the kitchen counter, frozen in your movements. “Remember what I said last night, hermana, I’m sorry, but if he’s not back by Sunday morning…” he pauses and grabs hold of your hand, squeezing it tight, “if he’s not back, you have to leave by yourself and get to the cabin. Promise me,” his dark eyes are bearing into you as his fingers wrap around your own. 
“I promise, I’ll leave if he’s not back by Sunday morning,” you say, your voice barely over a whisper. 
“Ok,” he gives your hand another squeeze and goes back to Frankie’s backpack. “I’m leaving a gun with you, and some ammo, it’s in the pack,” he shows you the boxes in an outside pocket. “This is your gun,” he picks up one of the handguns on the coffee table, “it’s easy enough to handle, I’ll show you.”
“Where did you get them?” you ask, “did you just happen to have two guns and a rifle on you yesterday?” 
“No, I didn’t,” Santi looks at you, “I broke into a gunshop and took them.” He sees the way your eyes widen and holds up his hand, “Look out of the window, the world is falling apart, I don’t know what is happening, but looting three guns to protect myself and you, is the least of our worries right now.” He picks up the gun and motions you over and shows you how to hold it, “Grab it like this, both hands, keep it steady.” 
The gun is heavy and cold in your hands, “You really think the world is falling apart?” Your voice is quiet as you adjust your grip as Pope moves your fingers. 
“The first thing I heard yesterday was that something was going on in Indonesia, then Rotterdam. Here, put your thumb like this.” He moves your thumb to cross over your hand, “then there were news reports from all over the US. And if things are as bad there as they are here, then yeah, I think the world is falling apart.” 
He steps back and looks at your grip on the gun, “That’s it, hold it like that and squeeze the trigger when you’re ready.” 
You pull back on the trigger and the gun clicks. “So we get to the cabin and then what?” you ask, looking down the barrel of the gun, feeling the weight. 
“We hold down the fort, wait it out, until it’s under control again.” Pope gently takes the gun from your hands and shows you how to load it, making you go through the motions several times. When he decides you’ve got a hang of it, he takes the gun and gives it to you, “Safety on, keep it within easy reach. I should’ve gotten you a holster but stick it in the back of your pants for now, keep it on you at all times, ok?” 
“Ok,” you nod, doing as he says before looking up at him. “Do you think the others, Will and Benny, will come up to the cabin too?”
“If they can, yeah, it’s the most logical choice.” 
He turns and grabs the smaller backpack and his jacket, “I’m leaving, I’ll get to Lucía, get her and her mom, if I can, back to the cabin. Sunday morning, ok?” 
“Sunday morning I leave if he’s not back, yes, Santi.” You nod, your jaw tight. 
“Ok. And listen, when you do leave, with or without Frankie, don’t trust anyone. People are attacking without warning, like animals.” Pope’s eyes are on you, imploring you to understand, “Anyone moves towards you, shoot them, aim for the torso to bring them down, then head shot, to kill. I know it’s not going to be easy, but if you want to survive, you have to. Get to the cabin, I’ll be there.” He pulls you in for a big hug, squeezing you tight and you hold on to him for as long as you can before he pulls away. 
“Stay safe, Santi.” 
“You too, hermana.”  
You walk him to the front door and watch him as he listens through it for a couple a minute, the landing outside is silent. Carefully he opens the door, gun drawn, and peeks outside. Daylight is filtering through the windows, shining some light into the stairwell. With a final look at you he steps through the door and you close it behind him, locking it securely again. 
Walking back to the living room, you sit down on the couch. Twenty four hours until Sunday morning.
All you can do now is wait.
Chapter 12
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hail-brod · 1 year ago
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A Chance and Beyond (1)
Next chapter: (Chapter 2)
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Loki x FReader
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Set after the events of Thor: Ragnarok and begins with Infinity War when the spaceship containing Thor and the other Asgardians were spared from the supposed attack of Thanos. Meaning, Loki is alive. But the threat still looms.
(Also, let's just pretend Hela didn't destroy Mjollnir :DD)
Spoilers for Loki season 2!
Warning/s: Just some cursing
WC: 3.3k
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When you realized that your existence is in great trouble, you do your best to find a way to get back to where you were previously encapsulated as a time criminal. After all, they're the reason why you're fucked. But, seems like you'll be needing the Avengers' help first. And Loki's.
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"What the fuck."
Was all Tony Stark could managed to say after being abruptly interrupted by a terrifyingly distorted figure appearing right in front of him, evidently disrupting the banter he was having with the so-called God of Mischief, Loki. The other avengers surrounding the two men were no different, frozen on their spot as they gather round in the sophisticated compound, loss for words at the woman who happens to appear uninvited.
You stood there breathless.
Without any second thoughts, they made their move directing a fighting stance at you, as if expecting a sudden attack. Just what you'd expect from the Earth's mightiest heroes.
Minus Loki.
Though, not without a hint of confusion delighting their faces.
After you had successful regain your balance, although still dreading the feeling of being ripped apart through time, you slowly flayed your hands up in defeat. Panting, you surveyed around.
You were in the Avengers' compound.
"What...in the hell was that?" the one who seemed to have said that was actually the only one hesitant to attack you, knuckles upfront him with an obvious unsureness as his eyes warily scanned you. Gaping, he continued. "Did I...Did I hallucinate that or...? Oh, god, am I going mad?"
"I don't believe that is the case here, Banner." boomed Thor, holding out Mjollnir threateningly. Eyes stern at your panting form.
Alright, how fortunate to see a very familiar face.
"I hope so. Or else, I might as well decide that being on a whole different planet for a whole year and being part of a godly family crisis has already altered my mind in many different ways."
"Bruce, calm down." a bearded blonde man with a shield said. Steve Rogers. You recall. "Just be thankful that isn't the case here because it certainly isn't."
You wish you could snort at the exchange but you have other matters to focus on at the moment. Though, you held Banner's terrified gaze with a wary of your own as you think for a moment who Banner is but you brush it aside.
You can't afford to dilly-dally with such questions and just preferably, avoid starting a needless fight.
With Stark now a few steps back from you, hands enclosed in his iron red gauntlet with the center of his palm alight, he eyed you suspiciously. He pointed at you, threatening to blast you on your spot. Not even sliding the chance to put out a snarky comment. "I don't know about that Cap. I think we've all gone mad."
"Shut it, Tony." the blondied woman in a black armored and leather suit remarked, eyeing the freaked out Banner. "Now's not the time."
He only gave her a stern look before returning it back to you, although not without muttering something under his breath. You can almost make out the mocking smile he had before seriously staring you down.
That's also when you perfectly noticed the raven haired God at your other side. Just like Stark, he was a few steps away. Your hands were still in the air as you didn't waste a second to slowly shift your eyes to the God who you we're just with a few hours ago.
Technically, it isn't him and also, you're not even certain if that was a few hours ago. TVA has victoriously displaced your sense of time and you have no choice but to set that aside for now.
First and foremost, let's not die in the hands of these worldly — and otherworldly — renowned superhuman Midgardian people.
"That was no sorcery." was all Loki could utter, blaring a suspicious glare at you. At this point, you can say that everyone here is glaring daggers at you with so much suspicion after just witnessing you appear uncannily right in front of their eyes. Loki's trusty daggers points at you with such intensity that you can't help but freeze on your spot entirely. You garner that moving further might just cause him to pounce on you and successfully cut your throat out.
Such a Loki trait. You consciously note. At the same time, it pricks a sense of oddness to you.
"For once, I can agree with you." this time, it was the man in a red cape. His hands projecting a some sort of fiery circular engravings — Or markings, it seems — that you were not familiar with. Although, it did felt familiar. "Who are you and why have you come here?"
Finally asking the right questions, everyone else anticipated your response.
"I'd really thought you'd ask how I did get here but, fine." your attempt at settling everything down with a little humor earned nothing. You only strained a smile. "You can put your guard down now. I doubt I can even inflict damage to any of you when I am outnumbered, don't you think?" You say with a nervous shrug.
"Wait.." Thor started. "You are an Asgardian."
Ah.
"Wait, what now?" a conflicted Banner turned to him with a frown. "Where did that come from?"
"Her clothing." it was Loki. Tilting his head, he slightly squinted at you. You can already feel their movements break from their stance but nonetheless, was still on guard. "But I wouldn't want to jump to conclusions if I were you, brother. A lie or two is easy to miss." he says that in a lowered and slick tone, eyes prying deep in your existence.
"Good preach, God of Lies, but why don't you myth brothers figure something out if she'll massacre us or join the party. Is that good or is that impossible?" Stark commands.
"That's-" Thor tries to say.
"I can do that." Oh no.
Without hesitation, Loki readies to attack you with a knowing smirk. You want to say that you expected that but in terms of fighting physically between you and him, he always precedes. Except when it comes to sorcery.
Yet, his daggers haven't spelt your doom when suddenly, you fell.
You fell and landed in a bright room enclosed with the very bright color of white. Norns, help me. At this point, I'm not even surprised if Midgardian structures could be capable of blinding me. Humans and their taste in design.
Before you could jump to assumptions whether you time-slipped again, you heard the sound of sizzling above you as you turn to look only to see a yellow ring close.
Oh. You thought. Of course. How can I forget that doctor wizard and his parlor tricks? I can do better than that.
But before you could prove it to no one in particular by trying to dematerialize a wall for your way out, which you expected to be unbreakable because, well, this is the Avengers' territory — you felt the familiar twist of your body as you closed your eyes, getting ready for what's to come. You're time-slipping. Again.
When you opened your eyes, you don't know if you should be relieved or not because you were still in the same spot.
I am seriously starting to despise this more than anything. You say in your mind, cranking your head in pain.
As if the universe has heard your impulsive thoughts for wanting to pride yourself as the better sorcerer, one episode of time-slipping has managed to avert your thoughts to a different one. There's really no point in trying to escape when you'll be thrown off eventually to a different timeline thus, relieving you off of this situation. At least you hope you'll have that kind of luck, considering that you're here imprisoned and untrusted by heroes. For the meantime, you painfully have a lot of questions.
The fact that you are time-slipping outside of TVA is making you feel wary and disoriented.
Not just that, because you're not being tossed around through time in one place like before in TVA, but because you're being tossed around in different branches of time. You can't help but overthink, a blooming panic erupts in you. If what you heard from Ouroboros was true, about the possibility of being lost to time, then maybe you can consider that that's what's occurring to you. Adding to that, how can Loki and the others track you when there's a number of branches exceeding spontaneously and you're amongst one of them — inconsistently appearing through one branch after another.
To hell with this time-slipping phenomenon.
Such thoughts have managed to waver your poised will. You don't want this. After everything that's happened, you're now overwhelmed by incomparable fear, enough to cover the pang of grief that you successfully tried to keep a hold off during the dangers you have encountered. And that causes you to resume the fear of losing something again. If before you've lost the right to exist in your own timeline, then now seems like you're losing more than you could think of.
A chance. The chance to only exist without the burden of being a criminal to time.
The Loki you met ensured you that. And you're scared to lose the hope you unconsciously held so close that he had given you.
You're scared that you're bound to be stuck in time, alone and nowhere to belong to.
You're just a displaced speck of entity in the vast timelines of universes, an error meant to be rid of.
Is this truly the ending that you deserve?
Just lost to time. For eternity.
After everything that you've been through, you think of the fact that your Nexus event was a fickle thing in the grand scheme of things. A mere sentiment, and now it's a fault that you apparently cannot undo.
Would you have regret it?
Ah. You think. That's the problem,
I don't.
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For the love of Buri, what is happening?
You have already time-slipped thrice in a row now, and you're still where you stood afoot a few minutes ago.
You hitched your breathing as you relished the acquainted feeling of distortion, you exhaled in distraught. Your mind trying to run a million miles per second thinking of an explanation on the same bloody concept of time as well as your timely old friend, time-slipping. Marvelous.
But before you could sit down and relax on the cushions edging on two sides of the opposite walls which levels above your knee, you caught in the corner of your eye the wall you tried to dematerialize earlier; now fading from white to being transparent like glass.
And behind the glass wall stood your captors.
You tried to ground yourself with the wall beside you, but you pushed your body to the side so that you can at least have the decency to look like you aren't struggling so much. Because you definitely aren't.
"Good catch." remarked Stark. "We have so much going on today with Earth being threatened by a goofy alien that's apparently so much more dangerous than we could know — and now, you add more questions and trouble to that just for appearing out of nowhere like a grated spaghetti."
You almost missed the way the blonde woman rolled her eyes at Stark's words but nonetheless, you focus on what he said.
Earth being threatened by an alien.
"Do you mean to say... Thanos?" you ask. Doubtlessly aware of his feats and reputation in your timeline. Their heads perked up at the mention of the said Titan.
"You know of him?" quite surprised at the familiar voice, you turn to look at Thor.
Parting your lips with slight hesitation, you reply. "No. No, I do not. At least, not personally. He is called the Mad Titan, a galactic conqueror. Tis but a.... common knowledge where I come from."
"Which is Asgard, is it not?" Loki tauntingly says.
Oh, well.
He eyes you in victory for having caught your lie and the foolish words you had unintentionally slip. But he continued. "Or perhaps, my brother and I are mistaken to assume that you are a kin of our people. As well as considering that of your knowledge of this Mad Titan, you seem to know more than just that." you slightly stiffened, noting the lofty tone he had, slowly strutting his way forward with his hands tucked behind him. "Keep hiding your secrets but your eventual lies will get you nowhere when I'm here, imposter."
"Brother..."
"No, no, let him. It's great that we have a lie-detector in the team." Stark muses, earning an unamused head shake from Rogers.
Your gaze lingers a tad bit longer than you intended to at the raven-head, deciding whether you should even admit your unruly situation to them and potentially double their troubles a hundredfold by stating that their lives are also in danger from a timeless phenomenon and being at risk for the possible collapse of their existence altogether.
Probably not a good idea.
Moreover, you don't want to let yourself fall in the luxury of pitting yourself with fellow Asgardians and perhaps attain the old life you had when you woefully know that you have no place in any kind of reality no more. Your heart clenches at that.
But how can you possibly deny your origin and the non-sorcery distortion materialization, also called—
Your body aches and twists as you grit your teeth, shutting your eyes and reliving the ripping portion of this damned time-slip. As it ended, your breath wavers as you pant, shoulders crooked at the fleeting sensation it brought. Expecting that maybe you have been transported to another timeline, you peek one eye out.
You see the same faces and surroundings except this time, their reaction contorts to a series of pained and horrified expressions. Even Loki looked uneasy.
You exhale. "Pardon me, that must've been very unsightly." you eventually say.
"That just happened again." Banner gawks.
"Are you alright?" a stern voice asks. You turn to meet the concerned eyes of Rogers. "I assume that doesn't happen normally. Not even for Asgardians." you caught the quick glance he gave at Thor before focusing back on you.
You reply, nodding. "No, no, you're right. This is no common occurrence amongst the people of Asgard. It is simply just.... " you puff your body back up in a poised posture. "No, not simply." you let out a strained chuckle, confliction can be traced on your face. "To be painfully honest and blunt, I am lost through time and I haven't got a clue on what exactly I shall plan to do in these circumstances. Although indeed, I am an Asgardian but, from a different...let's say, reality. So rest assured because I don't plan on harming heroes I've accompanied in battle."
You were ready to receive their doubtful phrases and looks, but the sorcerer who brought you in this cage steps forward. Almost like he disapproved everything you had just mentioned.
"Time-travelling is not something to be tampered with. Unless, you're adept at the arts of time sorcery, and to be able to manipulate it without damaging our reality is rather a big feat for a sorcerer." he explains. This time, he frowns at you. "But no. Whatever's happening to you, it doesn't feel like magic."
You take in his words, holding his unrelenting stare. "You're right..."
You know Doctor Strange and his capabilities as the Sorcerer Supreme, and as you thought of the fact that he also possesses the Time Stone, maybe you can do something with his help.
Even though you know the chances of successfully using magic against a complication from TVA is way below the odds, you'd wager.
He raises a brow but before he could add more, you spoke. "Time-slipping." you pause, scanning his expression, hoping that maybe someone who knows so much about the expertise of time in terms of magic could help you discover your way back to TVA. Though, his face doesn't show any hint of knowing so you pushed further. "I've been repeatedly tossed around multiple branches of time against my will, but not because I time-traveled. For now all I can say is, I am stuck here in your reality and, well... with a distorting body."
"Great. Sure. Magic and sorcerers exist, even Gods, so why the hell would I not believe anything about time-traveling now? Tell me, Doc, is she making any sense to you?" Stark walks towards the said wizard. You slightly frowned at the tone he used. If this is how Tony Stark reacts to someone he doesn't trust just like how a particular individual mentioned to you, then you're glad that the Stark that you know favored you well.
Not that it matters anymore.
"I've never heard anything about that kind of problem. Especially now you do confirm it doesn't root from magic." the Doctor answers.
Stark hefts up his hands, looking around at everyone else, as if showing that his point has just been proven.
But from the corner of your eye, you noticed the way Loki haughtily rolls his eyes with a sigh and you perfectly know what irked him at that moment.
"As if a second-rate sorcerer could know anything more beyond the complexion of sorcery and time."
The only woman other than you sighs in slight frustration. "Oh, no. Someone please stop him."
If you weren't in a tight spot, you could've laughed at her compliant. Although, that earned her a glare from the trickster with crossed arms. For once in a while, it's nice to see Loki act so indifferently.
Strange only gave the God a pointed look before resting his eyes back on you. "Okay. If what you say is true, time-slipping as you would call it and to consider there's no magic tapping into this, what exactly do you plan on doing now?"
There it is. "I need your help."
"Are you shitting me right now?" Stark loops in.
"Even if with just your help, Doctor Strange. Please." you plead, firmly stepping closer to the glass barrier.
"How can you assure you're not just after something from us, specifically from him." Loki tips his head in Strange's direction. You know well that he caught unto your intentions as he spares a quick glance at the necklace of the said wizard.
Cocky snake.
At that, everyone stares at you sharply that if looks could kill, you'd be a dead corpse that has been stabbed with various types of weaponry magnificently forged by dwarves.
"You're not entirely wrong if you think that I'm after the Time Stone but for argument's sake, there is a reason why it is called the Time Stone." you explain, trying not to waver for being the receiving end to their eventual wrath. For a second, you thought you'd gain another yet of Loki's condescending retortions, but you're surprised that he only eyed you down impassively. Observing you.
Banner joins in. "If you admit it and put it like that then, I don't even know if you're lying or not anymore." he sits down on one of the metallic chairs by the semi-circular machinery in the middle of the room. "Even though that last part sounded dumb for an excuse; which is exactly why I'm having second thoughts."
"That's... I appreciate that — I think." you say, slightly frowning. It is dumb. You don't blame him though.
He gives you a tight-lipped smile which disappears immediately. "Yeah, no, it's fine."
Stark looks at him incredulously, as if he truly felt betrayed. "Bruce, what the hell?"
The others quirk confusingly at the exchange before you spoke again. "But to be clear again, that wasn't an excuse. Not for deception, at least."
It actually didn't sit quite well with you that the one who usually loves to deceive is standing idly in silence when you mentioned his expertise.
But you know that calculating gaze of his.
"Fine." you bat an eye at the person who spoke. "But you are to be restrained until we deem you trustworthy. One wrong step and you might just end up somewhere other than a cell."
A weight lifts up from your chest, somehow. You eye Strange in relief, almost a hint of exhaustion engulfs your expression but you blink it away. "I am grate-"
Your body contorts and twists once again.
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Next chapter: (Chapter 2)
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Ko-fi?
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balanceoflightanddark · 1 month ago
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Moby Dick is a novel about a lot of things. It's a novel about rampant capitalism and how it affects the common man. It's an allegorical and existential fable about one man trying to find meaning. It's about the fruitlessness of the American Dream. Simply put, it means something to everybody.
To me in particular, it's a deconstruction of the concept of revenge. Which is probably one of the most surface-level themes in the entire novel. At this point, everyone knows at least the gist of the story. Captain Ahab gathers a crew of whalers on a long voyage to track down and slay the infamous albino sperm whale Moby Dick, which bit off his leg. In the end, Ahab's quest ends in failure as the whale kills not only him but sinks the Pequod before escaping back to the watery depths. Leaving Ishmael as the only survivor to recount the tale. We all know it and a lot of revenge stories these days do owe some credence or reference to the captain's obsession with his "nemesis".
It also perfectly demonstrates how utterly pointless and self-destructive the concept of revenge is.
I'm going to be approaching this on two fronts. One is the more allegorical interpretation with reference to religious texts following the idea that Moby Dick is a stand-in for Satan or Leviathan. The other is a more literal interpretation where Moby Dick is simply an unusually violent whale.
It has been speculated numerous times over the years that Herman Melville drew a direct parallel between Satan and Moby Dick. Or at the very least, painted Moby as some sort of otherworldly entity that makes the seas eerily calm and drives men to madness. This would mean any attempt on Ahab's part to slay the whale is doomed to begin with because he's literally fighting something beyond the capabilities of any man. Yet he "solves" the problem by effectively inserting himself into this Biblical narrative as God themselves.
"There is one God that is Lord over the earth, and one Captain that is lord over the Pequod.--On deck!"
-Captain Ahab, Chapter 109
That was his response to what he viewed as a mutiny by his first mate Starbuck. Yet the point still stands; the idea he'd say this means he's willing to put himself in a higher position than any mere mortal man. And thus, he should be the one to right the wrong of Moby Dick taking his leg.
The problem is that by this interpretation, Ahab's quest for vengeance is pointless. If Moby Dick is a stand-in for Satan, then that means that God, the real God, will eventually one day strike him down during the Day of Judgement. The same goes with the references to Moby Dick being Leviathan since the latter is also fated to die in the scriptures.
In that day the Lord with his sore and great and strong sword shall punish leviathan the piercing serpent, even leviathan that crooked serpent; and he shall slay the dragon that is in the sea.
-Isaiah 27: 1
So if we're going with this allegorical interpretation, Moby Dick will be punished someday. Yet the problem is that Ahab refused to swallow his pride and tried to get vengeance on the beast by himself. Which ends with predictable results.
The other interpretation is just as pointless and self-destructive. Maybe even arguably so since Moby Dick is literally just an animal. Yes, a large and unusually aggressive animal, but not exactly the source of all evil as Ahab describes him to be. Heck, the incident where Moby Dick took Ahab's leg was likely a case of self-defense against whalers trying to kill him. So it's unlikely that there was any intended malice to begin with. This actually is supported by the text where the white whale is attempting to swim away from the Pequod and only becomes violent when he's attacked.
What this means is that Ahab's vendetta against Moby Dick has no real merit. The incident, while tragic and would've scarred Ahab, was less some evil spurning him and more an animal defending itself.
Unfortunately for Ahab, either way, he's part of an industry that's built on whale killing. Even if Ahab wanted to, there would be a societal push to get even with the whale that maimed him since killing whales like Moby Dick is what's expected of him. It's something the Captain actually reflects on before the fateful final battle, and ultimately he feels locked into the conflict. That something beyond his control is pushing him outside of his own vendetta, and he's just as much disturbed by the thought as he has a grudge against the whale.
The ultimate tragedy here though is that Ahab could've turned back. Even within the society of whaling, he didn't need to go after Moby Dick. Captain Boomer, a whaler the Pequod meets at sea, also fought the white whale and lost his arm. Thing is, he didn't go after them again for revenge. He thought about it, considered it, and decided to take his loss lest he lose his life. Ahab wasn't as wise. Instead, he gave into his quest for revenge and paid the ultimate price for it.
Which is ultimately why Ahab's revenge was pointless. Even if he killed Moby Dick, it wouldn't change what happened. He'd still be down a leg and he'd still likely be hunting whales once his quest was done. In the end, he wouldn't have gotten better. What's tragic is that there was a good chance he probably could've bounced back. He admitted in his final speech that there was something he was uneasy about with his quest and the possibility of admitting defeat was always on the table. Unfortunately, Ahab's pride got the better of him. And the rest was literary history.
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