#all the fucking heart of fog i am not working on

[gay-yosuke]

maybe i should write bw2 fic again

[secondpersonpoetry]

hi! oh my goodness. i am SO sorry i didn’t say anything earlier. i did read everything a couple days ago, and i Have been chewing on it, rotating it in my mind, etc etc…..and the graphic has been my phone lockscreen since i first read it!!!!!

frankly i am obsessed and have also been a little frazzled this month lol. saw your post late because of the general whirlwind that is december and then couldn’t quite get my thoughts into sufficient words n got worried “oh no would it be weird to say something now…..” which is incredibly silly in retrospect, so sorry for that. 

i’m relatively new to hockey fandom and the Narratives don’t always quite click for me (yet, at least :)) because i don’t know all of the lore for a lot of the popular pairings haha, so it means a lot that you’ve taken time out of your day to break things down for me and share your own thoughts <3 tysm. again, super sorry for the delayed response. i’m very sorry if you felt as though you’d wasted your time or something along those lines :’) just wanted to let you know that i really appreciate you and the time it took you to get everything down and make the graphic!!!! and like i can’t overstate how much your tags both over here and on your other blog have helped me to Get It since the start of this season, so thank you.

but now the house is quiet, the in-laws are gone, and no new work stuff until january :) so i can finally get some stuff down. every point you brought up hits in it own way but gosh you are very incredibly right the mcstrome of it all…..that’s sort of the lens i’ve been listening to the song through since you mentioned it.

the golden boy and the “draft bust” and the ever present notion of “isn’t it all about old friends? like everything? all of it?”.  like idk looking back on a bestfriendship from when you were a teenager that was Super intense and the lines were blurred and maybe realizing (if you hadn’t had the words or the “guts” or awareness or wtv to put a name to it at that point in your life) that y’all were a smidge more than just friends. 

best friends forever until you just aren’t! growing up and growing apart. it’s just the way things go but it can and will ache for a damn long time! you think you’re over it until their birthday or the holidays roll around and you wonder in a distant sort of way who they’re spending it with. what you would’ve hypothetically gotten them as a present if you still spoke. what do they even like nowadays, anyway?

maybe having the friendship end subtly. going from playing and traveling together and living in one another’s pockets to 2,080 miles of distance? (i may have my timeline/details confused here so sorry in advance) texting as much as you can at first but he’s a phenom he’s mcjesus he’s the next in line he’s expected to win the cup with his new team and end the drought for Canada. and they have him now but he was yours first, wasn’t he? but it’s fine. because you’re busy too. you’re captaining the team now. you’re gonna get the memorial cup that he couldn’t. it’s fine. you’re fine. you don’t even have time to worry about it anyway. 

one conversation a week turns to one a month turns to once in a blue moon turns to stale words until it goes cold. these days you can’t quite seem to remember who ended things, but does it really matter all that much now?

or maybe it doesn’t end like that at all. maybe it ends in a flurry of angry words and digs in some or other of the endless hotel rooms you’ve shared together over the years. who knows!

and that’s not even getting into the rest of the 2015 draft class. or the ld19 of it all! ooh hoo hoo. you grew up with him but he’s not your waiting room. he grew up with you but he’ll grow “old” (end his career) with someone else. and isn’t that just something! 

i don’t think it’s totally them, but sort of the sentiment of “I hope you get everything you ever wanted and I hope I never hear a word about it.” I want one ticket off of your carousel!!!! merry christmas, please don’t call!!!!!!!

dylan being sent up and down and traded around until finally landing in washington, a place where he is clearly at home and LOVED for the guy and player he is!!!!!!!! watching a game and seeing all the strome jerseys in the crowd……..wagh.

all that said. some other songs that are mcstrome to me in various ways: hot & heavy by lucy dacus (lol kinda the whole song). before the world was big by girlpool (“i just miss how it felt standing next to you wearing matching [jerseys? sweaters?] before the world was big”). happiness by Taylor swift (“i guess it’s the price i pay for seven years in heaven”), cut your bangs by radiator hospital (maybe? possibly? unsure. i like the whole dog thing there). i’m so glad i feel this way about you by insignificant other (!!!!!). there are so many THEM lyrics in there……..waough.

anyway. other things off the top of my head: 2015 connor specifically saying something like “hey let’s wait a minute so we can see this” to stand by the stage when dylan was getting drafted after him. MAN. you reminded me of the fact that they couldn’t even make eye contact at the handshake line!!!!!!!!! they didn’t go to each other’s weddings!!!!!!!!!! (do you think once upon a time they ever thought they’d being each other’s best man?). just a couple months ago dylan liking the tweet of connor getting that goal during the playoffs!!!!!!!! makes you wonder if he texted him………..

lol this was all over the place and i was probably wrong on some things and there’s SO much more that someone else could say way more eloquently, but i digress. i dunno everything about them is so nuts to me!!!!! needless to say i will be incredibly sat for the game january 21 🙂‍↕️

thank you again for your time :) hope you have a good one and a happy rest of the holiday season! <3333333

what a lovely message to receive 🥰😭🥹 i had to break it up into chunks because i couldn't sit down to read all of it at once without just. bouncing right back up and shrieking. i am also at heart terribly shy so i understand the struggle but it is never too late to say something <3 you are always welcome here

first!!! i love sharing!! i think most of hockey tumblr loves to see people finding out the Lore for the first time and the wonderful thing about hockey is that. it keeps going on. so there's years and years and generations and generations and always something new to learn about. i've learned to just not be afraid to ask!!! between different teams and players i'm always discovering new narratives (learning about the sharks old man yaoi rn... cbj rarepairs...)

no... to my heart's despair... you have the timeline right. i think in the best most tragic sense there's a mcstrome narrative where it is truly that nothing went wrong. the love was there. we couldn't do enough to save it because we didn't see it slipping away. i didn't notice when you didn't call until you never did. i don't know you now but i still remember when i did, do you?

HE'S NOT YOUR WAITING ROOM?? passing out. i do see "i hope you get everything you ever wanted and i hope i never hear a word about it" as them because!! they didn't go to each other's weddings!!! i don't wish you harm but i'm not going to put myself through that!! i hope you're happy and i'm never going to look on purpose.

i love dylan strome so much and the best part is that they all love him so much too. he wore a cool vintage ovechkin jacket!! and got slapped in the face with a tortilla!! he loves to gently rag on the rookies!! it just takes some time, everything'll be just fine. you're only on the middle of the ride.

OKAY WHEN I READ THIS PART I SCREAMED BECAUSE I DO HAVE A MCSTROME PLAYLIST AND!!!! HOT & HEAVY BY LUCY DACUS IS IN FACT ON IT!!! SO IS CUT YOUR BANGS (BUT BY GIRLPOOL SO DOUBLE JINX)!!!! i have dorothea by taylor swift on there but i don't know happiness so i'll have to give all the other songs a listen. mostly i just shrieked because i was like NO YOU GOT THE VIBES EXACTLY

🧠〰️🧠 truly the mind meld happening here. the handshake line. the mutual wedding non-invitations. i won't block your number or your name on twitter i just hope i don't see it come up on screen!! i do think that we got confirmation the last time they played each other that dylan did text him to say congrats on a milestone but i would have to check the archives

p.s. i think you said it perfectly eloquently :) what matters is that you said it at all and i was delighted to read it 💕

[kyunniebuns]

˗ˏˋ Entry : 058 - Sung Jinwoo x Fem! Reader: Smut ◛⑅·˚ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

[ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. By interacting with this post you are fully aware that this is a work of fiction for 18+ readers.]

╰┈➤ ❝ [ I want you in my Blood Veins ] ¡! ❞

"Ngh.. Haa... Jinwoo please" You beg, gasping pathetically as you fumble around on the sheets that felt damp from the frequency of your activities with you lover. "I can't..."

"Yes, you can." Jinwoo purs against your ear, suckling gently on the shell of your ear as he continously pistons you from behind.

How many rounds has it even been since you both started?

The last time you were able to count it was fifteen.

Someway along the way way you had lost count from the fog that overwhelmed your brain with how insatiable this bastard is.

He came from work and then suddenly he's fucking you like he didn't do it last week.

Is Sung Jinwoo losing his fucking mind?

With his cock inside you?

Fuck Yes.

God, did he have to be so big?

Each time it feels like you're a virgin with how girthy he is. The veins poppingon the skin brushing inside you walls is driving you absolutely insane.

How can he get so big in such a short amount of time even?

Sung Jinwoo is not even human at this point.

"Hic!..." He groans, thrusting once more as he buries himself into you— And you swear his cockhead is kissing your cervix right now.

"J-jinwoo... Have mercy." You drool on the pillow, completely fucked out of your mind as you once again feel so lightheaded with the thick and creamy release flooding your insides.

the uterus is normally pink, but yours right now must be white.

"I'm not even done yet, sarang" Jinwoo purrs sadistically, pulling out and then flipping you over on your back so he can admire the mess he made.

"Look at you" He muses, swiping his thumb on your parted lips. "So pretty like this, how can you expect me to control myself?"

Hair sprayed on his pillows, your cute and swollen pink pussy overflowing with his semen, your releases mixed together in his sheets— How can he resist? How can a man like him be calm when the love of his life is this perfect and fuckable?

He praises you with sweet nothings as he once again slides inside your already sensitive insides as if he wants you with a child by the time he's done with you.

"Ah, fuck" Jinwoo groans as he leans his head back while thrusting in and out like a fucking animal.

Such a brutally beautiful man this psycho is.

You swear your eyes must be dilating into hearts shapes at this moment with the sight of his slicked back hair from the amount of sweat he is producing. His defined adam's apple is bobbing up and down over and over,

Those scars on his wondserful skin, those lovely and strong pecks littered with your nibbles and bite marks, those hazy grey eyes who can only see you in the midst of all this madness and debauchery—

You are just as clouded with lust as this man, you hypocrite.

So, your legs wrap around his waist no matter how limp you already are from the countless rounds and the sticky feeling originating from your overflowing core.

Really, you don't mind even if this bastard fucks you until sunrise♡.

꒰ 🪼 A/N: Now before ya'll start qouting me on my last Jinwoo smut— STFU IK IM A HYPOCRITE NO NEED TO RUB SALT IN THE WOUND MFS QAQ. Miner Jinwoo is my kryptonite AND I AM IN HEAT YOUR HONOR. PLEASE SENTENCE ME TO LIFE IN PRISON PLEASE. I NEED HIM AND ITS NOT A JOKR ANM— ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[ghostarii]

SILK STRINGS & PEARL RINGS, SCARAMOUCHE

ʚɞ kisses with the weight of pain and bruises colored like love — his heart hits like a punch and you’re the sucker to catch it.

WARNINGS ݈݇- fem!reader, referred to as kuni, impact play, asphyxiation, biting / marking, hair pulling, degradation, name calling, praise, creampie, overstimulation, more scaramouche than wanderer, minors & dc antis do not interact!

NOTE ݈݇- hey . . hey . . how y’all doin ^w^ ive been gone a while becuz tumblr wasnt it anymore nd life was lifeing ! am back now bc i missed u guys nd missed being a freak :c theres sm of u now — thank u sm for 900+! ! i loveee youu loads xoxoxooo Anywayyy i hope u enjoy this quick littl drabble to flex my muscles :3

WORD COUNT ݈݇- 1.1k

LIMBS LIKE STRINGS OF silk: soft, pliable, and delicate, all in the hands of an unworthy sinner. His rough callouses rub burning patches on your skin as he runs his hands across your supple skin. Even the finest silks blemish under unclean hands and you are no exception — you're the example.

The name he bears stumbles out of your mouth in broken gasps and he only wishes you would shut up; he tells you again and again in hopes of your compliance, to no avail. Your voice is a constant reminder of who he is to you and, otherwise, who he’s destroying for superficial, fleeting pleasure. He’s far too deep to pull away now and scurry away—he has no choice but to double down and bump the sense out of your brain in hopes of fogging your memory. It works in a skewed way: condensing your mind to the two syllables of his name. “Kuni! Kun—i!! God, Kuni—!!!” Your pitiful screeches play on broken recurrences.

And as the master weaver he is, your pleasure is sewn up to its peak for what feels like the millionth time. Your body quakes and trembles, quivering under his weight and attempting an escape jaggedly. A hearty, choked-up whine jumps out of your chest, “Sto—I can’t! K-Kuni, please—!”

Deaf ears ignore your cries and pound deeper, harder—slamming his pelvic bone against your twitching clit. His hands move from the expanse of the mattress to your neck: pressing you into the mattress with pressure on the sides of your neck just right. “Shut the fuck up,” he grits, rolling his hips into you. “Just shut up and take it.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, lashes fluttering rapidly as, quickly, your brain computes nothing but pleasure.

His hips snap against you with such intensity, that it makes you feel like he hates you. It borders on painful, eliciting sharp lightning rods to pierce and prod around your body. The sheer weight of this impassioned thrusting has you jolting up the bed and thrashing around under him, looking to escape the white-hot harvest of pleasure pulsing in your pussy.

On top of you, he burns a pretty rose that can only be described as fire. The tight grip around his cock fills his head with foggy air—but it's the wetness that spools around his length: splat, splat, splat, that sings out the lost orgasms from rounds previous and ample arousal. It’s that that has him grumbling out blurbs of pleasure, chasing his orgasm that rests in your depths.

Every sensation is heightened tenfold with the ever-demanding charge that is being fed in your tummies. Every pulse, squeeze, leak, prod—all of it is akin to plugging you up to an orgasm charge-port and capping off the battery.

It’s too much; you scream that out enough until you can't gather enough air to breathe, let alone speak. Kuni agrees with you but he really, really, wishes you would shut up. He can't think and with every sound you make, he’s urged on in this unshakeable, carnivorous desperation to fuck harder. He's not immune to pleasure; he may be more susceptible to its threats, in fact. Knitted brows and screwed eyes blind him to the overstimulated writhing you enact, wriggling under his touch in vain hopes of reprieve.

Tears stream down your cheeks to mix with a layer of slobber splayed on your skin—a pitifully nasty mess, born out of the relentless palms of your man. He has the liberty to see you at your most vulnerable: degeneracy painting itself all over your body. A beautifully disgusting mess, you are, and he only makes it worse.

Stirring around your guts is his angry hard-on, circling your walls in shaky rolling manners, letting you both rest against the other and heave out deep breaths. The tip grinds against your g-spot and has you whimpering weakly, slapping his forearms and rolling your stomach. “I’m gonna—”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He grits, grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging your head to the left. The stinging burn that dances at your roots has you wincing and whining, scrunching your face up. “Hold it.”

“I c-can’t, Kuni!” Just as the words leave your mouth, his hips are re-angled to push up into your pussy, the right-bound hook he sports curving right up to a gummy cushion in your walls. They contract around him and he groans, tightening his grip on your hair.

He dives into you, letting his hands grip your waist as his head wedges itself between your chin and shoulder. “Get it through your thick fucking skull,” he berates, nipping your collarbone. “You can't cum until I say so,”

His hips grind upward, drilling his dick deep into your depths that the hoarseness in your voice is shaken off for a shrill yelp to be squeezed out. He laughs at you menacingly, sinking his teeth into your shoulder to then circle the mark with his tongue. “Take it like a good bitch and I may be nice to you.”

Not a word he said will be upheld. You're so good—the best girl for him and he still dangles your release in front of you. Like a dog to a thick bone, you pant and whine in anticipation of being thrown your Achilles heel.

Exhaustion catches up to him and he can only lazily rock into you. His left hand presses on your stomach as he does so, trapping pressure in your tummy and mixing deliciously with your pleasure.

Heat swims beneath your skin and spills out beads of perspiration, gluing your bodies together.

Proximity; your bodies are so close and burning up fervent flames that swallow you down. Like the pliable silk you are, you slip around under his hold and that knot your stomach is tied up in easily unwinds.

“You’re coming, aren't you?” He shakily asks, exhaling deeply. If you aren't, he is.

Your non-answer is answer enough—he moans pathetically in your ear, falling apart as he ruts into you.

Holding on is a thing of the past as he slams against your sweet spot, unfurling his orgasm into you in milky ropes. Simultaneously, you release your biggest orgasm yet, splashing against his stomach and streaming down your legs. The pressure pushes him out with a grunt, a sadistic laugh of his echoing in your head.

Your swollen pussy is shining in pearlescent, bubbled strings, rolling out of you in a gushing mix. Oh, it's nasty; and you're utterly destroyed—flushed and blemished and patterned in bites, bruises, and prints. Your lips are swollen and bitten; your eyes are low-lidded and teary; your face is sweaty and tear-stained; your body quivers and spasms and Kuni thinks that you've never looked better.

Reprieve only lasts a mere moment before your legs are pushed up to your shoulders, spreading and stretching your limbs to their limits. Drawing out a whine, you speak hoarsely, “What’re you doing? No more..”

“I never told you to cum, did I?”

A break quickly becomes a distant memory.

[deesseshesca]

PAC :How will your partner treat u during pregnancy ? (18+)

Foreigner ... Foreigner ...

IF YOU BOOKED A PERSONAL READING 6 DEC 2024 ON KO-FI PLZ DM ME ( I TRIED CONTACTING YOU BUT NOTHING WORKS)

PERSONAL READING (SALE) (LINK)

FIRE TO THE MOON

FUTURE LOVE + SEX DOUALA = 40$ (2for1)

DOWN TO MY CORE

CHARACTER UPDAPTE + LORE DUMP = 40$ (2for1)

PILE 1 

Ace of wands

3 swords (reverse) 

First he is going to be hella proud. Like it boots his ego when he knows you are walking around carrying his offspring. Anybody that’s laying their eyes on you knows you are pregnant and y’all must be pregnant by them because everyone knows you and him go together real bad. No question required. Plus he is so giddy about eventually having the proof of your love walking around. I am hearing : ‘’ Yeah … I did that. Remember when I told you I was going to marry her and give her babies’’. Not in a cocky way but a more loving and boastful way. Maybe you were always the type of person to never settle, that would run at the thought of committing to one man, you would just throw up at the thought of opening up to a penis… Now what do we have here: a wedding ring and a waddling mother. Y’all may be in your maneater era don’t worry babe … enjoy. Mother era is waiting to be unlocked. Plus they are extra horny for you. They want you whenever and however. If you guys have a BDSM or quite experimental relationship, good for you. You will wake up often with a tongue between your legs. Which to some point will actually annoy you because y’all may suffer from morning sickness. I see you standing hair in a perfect bun (important to mention because in all my vision your hair is tight up. Maye because you usually have your hair down … who knows) and you are complaining about all your pregnancy symptoms, especially the heat. I am channeling a summer pregnancy for a lot of y’all , whether it be your first or your last. He just out here staring at you like a vampire in need of blood because all he's thinking about is taking you to pound town. Warning to all my future plus size mama, is going to be even harder for you. Your man is going to be IN LOVE with that ass. Everytime he sees you walk away, he grows a little harder. ( I am serious, let's hold hands for all our plus size baddies … Amen). Also his heart is overflowing with love. I actually see him going crazy every time he sees a cute outfit. I am hearing : ‘’ Babe look at this … Omg soo cute. No look at this is fucking cuter … No baby baby look … it’s say - I HEART DADDY’’. You just stand there behind with a tight smile blaming your mom brain fog because you know to always skip the kids section. Now the 15 minutes run has become 30 minutes and your feet hurt already. A lot of rituals will be created and you better not take his place. He loves rubbing oil on your stomach and after making sure you are sleeping … he always makes sure to remind the baby to allow you to rest. Whatever you need he’s on it. You speak once and it’s done. You can’t handle meat during pregnancy … ok the whole house is now vegetarian. You can’t sleep … ok he is dealing with the morning shift of the household. You hate when people approach you and public … ok activated mean muggin husband. You want, you got it babes. 

PREVIOUS READING

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PILE 2 

5 swords (reverse) 

Hierophant (reverse)

This news is going to bring you guys together. I don’t think there would be distance between y'all. But stress is winning in this relationship. You guys are both thriving in your profession and ego is getting the best of y’all. Like you both think that the other is not doing enough romantically and that you respectively are doing too much. Nothing extravagant nor toxic but the honeymoon is not honey no more. Still a lot of love but the focus is not it no more but more who is right. 

They are going to love seeing you work while being pregnant. Is important for you to go to work not because it is necessary just in your bones to work. So you want to do it until your body tells you to stop. They are going to support you to the best of their ability. They will prepare your outfit the night before, add belly cream in your bag, make sure to pack a healthy and big lunch for you and the baby, will try to always drop you off and pick you up from work. Lowkey giving house husband don’t be a fool he still very much a bossbabe himself because I can only picture him in suits. Y’all are definitely a power couple. Anyway he loves your dedication so he does everything he can to ensure the baby's protection and help achieve your goal. What’s wrong with y’all partner … they out here having the nastiest thoughts for all of you. First they are going to try to control their needs. I do think when y’all usually go at it … it gets pretty animalistic and they fucking love it. But they are trying to keep a distance between their thoughts and action but y’all are going to be needy and are going to ask for it. Not your men trying to keep it together while you are teasing him and you don’t give a fuck about it. I see y'all eating maybe at dinner with your friend and you ask ‘’ Are you going to fuck me tonight ?’’ Somebody is choking but your husband is unfazed.

 ‘’ I put my stiletto heels on today, you know how much they hurt my feet.

Babe I told you not to wear those’’, he adds while feeding you. ( By the way … y’all have a cute pouting face

But babeeee’’

The reality is he was actually scared to hurt the baby. He needs got darker and you’ve been needier and that’s a scary mix in his opinion. 

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

4) IF YOU BOOKED A PERSONAL READING 6 DEC 2024 ON KO-FI PLZ DM ME ( I TRY CONTACTING YOU BUT NOTHING WORKS)

PILE 3 

Ace of swords (reverse)

9 wands (reverse)

Y’all are not in a committed relationship when this bundle of enjoy arrives in your life. 

Is going to be a life changing experience. Like theirs is clearly before the baby and after the baby in his life timeline. I think he was always serious about his feelings for you but was too scared to end up hurt that he would push you away subtly. Funny enough I would be the first to call bullshit, I ain't never been scared to do that … y’all know that. STAY is not giving bullshit. Is giving a broken boy. He is scared you are going to walk away in his life or that he is going to lose his mind 2 just like the people that were supposed to raise him but end up abusing him. He keeps you away to protect you and you know it. Something about y’all relationship, y’all are not together but everyone knows it is just to 2 of y’all. He doesn't talk to no other, he doesn't look at other girls, I don’t even think he interacts with any other girl but you. You are the only one he craves, wand, need and desire but he is too scared to break you. So you accept the no name relationship so he can slowly come to term with the fact that you are not going anywhere. Then a miracle knocks on the door. I can clearly see their mouths wide open when they are listening the baby's heart. Like they just have a life epiphany. You are laying on your back like a stick observing nervously their reaction because you want to keep it. They may walk in extremely nervous and a bit dismissive but the sec that they heard that baby … they are coming out the most confident man. They change forever. They used to be apathetic about life and now they are all about living each day like it is their last. They will do extra shifts at work to give you the dream experience. Babymoon, baecation, push present, being a SAHM, everything is given. They don’t play about their baby's health, they are coming at every baby appointment, they are asking all the damm questions. They also don’t want drama around you. You know when you are pregnant everybody becomes an adviser which can be quite annoying because fuck off this is my baby. I am hearing: ‘’ I don’t want to breastfeed but your mama- ‘’Fuck what my mama said. Do whatever you want (name)”. I can clearly hear them going on and on about how all they care is to make sure they 2 babies are always fulfilled.

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

4)IF YOU BOOKED A PERSONAL READING 6 DEC 2024 ON KO-FI PLZ DM ME ( I TRY CONTACTING YOU BUT NOTHING WORKS)

[p0orbaby]

For a Good Time, Call… (3)

summary: confessions of an Arsenal Vice Captain

warnings: SMUT 18+, (r receiving) sex with a strap, brief mentions of oral and fingering, alcohol consumption

a/n: am I updating this monthly? im afraid so

word count: 2.9k

part 1 | part 2 | part 4 | epilogue

-

You have no idea how you got here.

Well, you do, obviously, but you’re surprised you actually had the balls to go through with it.

‘Dinner tomorrow. Goodman’s. 19:45’

It was simple. Succinct. Completely out of character.

You almost passed out when your sweaty, nervous hands typed it and pressed send. In some ways you did. You don’t deal well with stress, at all, choosing to sleep most of your problems away. It worked this time for the most part. Until you were rudely awakened by your phone and its obnoxious ding.

‘Only if you pay’

So, here you were. Sitting at a table with a lit candle and at least 16 pieces of cutlery, wondering if you have to get a mortgage for a flat you don’t even own to cover the cost of this meal.

You’d arrived early because you needed a stiff drink to calm your nerves and you weren’t having Leah judge you for it. And the equally judgemental looks you're getting from the wait staff as you sat alone not so subtly gulping down your double vodka soda don’t go unnoticed.

So you ordered another one. Along with a bottle of white wine.

“I hope you got that for us to share”

You almost yelp into your glass as you hear a voice beside you. Your eyes flit up quickly to find Leah clad in an all black get up. A suit. Tailored too, by the looks of it. Your heart rate increases exponentially as she stands over you.

“What are you doing here?” You blurt at her.

She smirks as you as she pulls a chair out for herself. “You invited me”

“No. I mean,” you start as you look at your watch, “you’re early”

“So are you”

Touché.

“The wine is for both of us, yes” you confirm, changing the subject. You’re not having her intimidate you. You were the one who asked her here, after all.

“Have you ordered food yet?”

Shaking your head, you open the food menu. She follows suit and you're left to sit in silence as you pretend to read what the restaurant has to offer. Like any sane person, you chose what you were having hours ago so you didn’t have to worry. And it gave you more time to drink your nerves away.

Though by the looks of it, it didn’t work. Your hands still shake when they go to pick up the bottle of wine. Leah must notice, because she’s smirking again and reaching for it herself not a second later.

“I’ve got it”

Get a fucking grip.

Leah’s smirk only adds to your internal turmoil, but you manage a tight-lipped smile in return. “Thanks,” you mutter, grateful for the distraction as she pours the wine into your glasses. The tension between you almost tangible, a thick fog that seems to settle itself over the table.

Taking a sip of wine, you try to gather your thoughts, driving yourself to act like a person with at least half a brain. “So, what made you agree to dinner with me?” you finally ask, trying to keep your tone casual despite the racing of your heart.

Leah leans back in her chair, her gaze lingering on you as she considers her response. “Curiosity, I suppose,” she replies cryptically, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. “And maybe a touch of boredom”

You can’t help but scoff at her honesty. “Well, I’ll try to make it worth your while,” you quip, raising your glass in a mock toast.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to entertain me. You always do,” she says, her tone so casual you almost missed it. And you’re not about to admit your lack of attention is from staring at the way her fingers play with the stem of her glass.

Trying to regain your composure, you take a sip of wine, the taste now bitter on your tongue as you struggle to find the words. “So, what’s new with you?” you ask, opting for a safe topic of conversation.

Leah’s lips quirk into a smirk as she leans forward. “Why? Feeling the need to pry into my personal life?” she teases, her voice low.

You roll your eyes, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “Just making conversation,” you reply, your tone light despite the flutter of, something, in your stomach.

Leah leans back in her chair, her eyes never leaving yours. “Well, if you must know, I’ve started seeing someone”

This catches your attention in a way you don’t expect. You try to maintain your composure, but the news hits you like a punch to the gut. “Oh,” is all you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Leah watches you closely, her expression unreadable. “Is that a problem?” she asks, her tone cautious.

You shake your head quickly, trying to mask the hurt that’s threatening to bubble to the surface. “No, of course not,” you reply, forcing a smile onto your lips. “I’m happy for you”

But even as you say the words, you can’t ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, the ache of disappointment that lingers beneath the surface. You had hoped that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more between you and Leah.

“She’s incredibly intelligent, with a sharp wit and a quick tongue,” she says, her voice laced with what you instantly recognise as admiration. “She’s kind-hearted and fiercely loyal, always willing to lend a helping hand to those in need”

You listen reluctantly. Why is she telling you this? To rub it in? To embarrass you that she’s strung you along? “She sounds amazing,” you say, unable to keep the hurt out of your voice.

Leah nods, a smile starting to form as she speaks. “Oh, she is,” she replies, her gaze lingering on you. “She’s someone really special. Even if she is really bad with technology”

What?

Why is that relevant? Have you zoned out again as she’s been talking? When on Earth did she take off her blazer? Were her sleeves always rolled up?Jesus Christ, don’t look at her forearms.

She must catch your frown because proceeds to explain the bizarre nugget of information she’s presented to you.

“Sometimes she takes all day to reply to a text, probably because her phone is dead. Or how she constantly has to get her screen replaced because it’s cracked. Oh, and this one time she sent me a naked picture by accident”

Your heart practically falls out your ass at that. The wind being knocked out of you when your heavy, almost wine drunk brain catches up.

And like a bolt of lightning, it hits you. Clarity emerging from the fog.

She’s talking about you.

Your heart pounds in your chest as the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. It’s as if everything suddenly makes sense, and you can’t believe you didn’t see it sooner.

In the days and weeks that have passed with you and her and this little game, you’ve been an idiot not to notice.

Despite her constant need to rile you up, she’s taken on a very unique trait of checking up on you. Nights out with your friends? A text to make sure you get home safe. In training when you’re completing your individual recovery? Asking if you’ve got everything you need before you head home.

You’ve actually found it pretty fucking annoying. Condescending even. How dare she treat you like a child who needs looking after. So you snapped and snarled at her and she smirked as you retaliated. That just added to the many reasons you thought she was doing it to piss you off. No one else seemed to get Leah’s special treatment. No one else seemed to warrant her attention in quite the same way.

Though you realise now that those weren’t just ways to get under your skin. They were expressions of genuine care and affection, subtle hints of whatever feelings she had for you that you had stupidly failed to recognise.

What do you do now? How do you respond to something like this?

You glance at Leah, your mind racing with a million thoughts and feelings. And then, without a word, you excuse yourself from the table, needing a moment to collect your thoughts.

As you step outside, the cool night air offers a brief respite from the clisterfuck inside your mind. You lean against a wall, trying to steady your racing heart and gather yourself.

This is good, right? This is what you want, isn’t it?

Leah is undeniably your type – intelligent, witty, and captivating in every way. She’s the kind of person anyone would be lucky to have in their life. But she’s also more than that. She’s your teammate, your captain – someone you’ve looked up to and admired from afar.

On one hand, the idea of being with her, of exploring the possibility of something more with her, isn’t an unappealing idea. But on the other hand, there’s a nagging voice in the back of your mind warning you of the potential risks and complications that come with mixing business with pleasure.

This is a decision you can’t make lightly. It’s not just about what you want, but also about what’s best for both of you, for your team, and for your friendship.

As you continue to wrestle with your thoughts, the door of the restaurant swings open, and Leah steps out into the night air. Her presence startles you, and you look up to see her approaching with her forearms covered once again.

Thank god.

“Hey,” she says softly, her eyes searching yours. “Can we talk?”

You nod, because that’s the only thing you can do. Your voice is caught in your throat and you fear if you try to talk you’ll just squeak at her and scare her off.

Leah takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she’s about to say. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” she begins, her words measured. “I know I caught you off guard back there, and I shouldn’t have put you in that position”

You feel a pang of guilt at the concern in her eyes, knowing that she’s trying to do what’s best for both of you. “Leah, that’s not-,” you start to say, but she holds up a hand to stop you.

“I just want you to know that whatever happens, I value our friendship above all else,” she continues, her voice tinged with emotion you don’t see from her often. “And if you don’t feel the same way, I’ll understand if you want to just forget any of this ever happened and go back to how things were before. I don’t want to make things awkward between us”

Before you can respond, Leah reaches out to touch your arm, her eyes looking at yours for any sign of understanding. But instead of words, all you can offer is a sudden, impulsive action.

Then without even thinking, you lean forward and press your lips to hers in a tender, unexpected kiss. It’s a brief moment of connection, a silent declaration of the feelings you’ve both been dancing around for so long.

-

You have no idea how you got here.

Well, you do, obviously, you’re not that drunk. But you’re surprised you actually had the balls to go through with it.

You’re surprised you had the balls to make out with someone in the back of a cab. And then on the doorstep as they tried to unlock the door.

Yet here you are, the sound of skin on skin filling a room that is half lit by a lamp on a bedside table. Your shadows are blurred around the edges. The doing of vodka sodas and desire and the way your face is pressed firmly into the mattress.

You’re not sure how long it’s been. Half an hour maybe? An hour? Long enough that your body has gone slack underneath hers, taking what she gave as she rutted into you.

She was almost too big. The feathered light made it difficult to judge the size of the strap when it was pulled from a drawer. But she’d touched you soft and sweet to get you ready. Then hard and mean when you were slick against her mouth and fingers as you begged her for more.

“Keep your hips up,” she demands as she grabs at them and pulls them backwards. “Yeah, just like that”

They’d be marks from where her fingers gripped at the flesh there, but you didn’t mind. You don’t care, as long as she keeps fucking you.

“Leah” you moaned. Her name sticky and wet in your mouth. “Harder, please”

She stills momentarily. A little taken aback at your sudden confidence. She sucks in a breath when you groan and push yourself further onto the strap unprompted.

“Jesus, Y/N” she gritted out through clenched teeth as you pulled an arm from underneath you to loop it backwards. Pulling at her, bringing her closer. Deeper.

She went, of course, wrapping her body around yours, humming against the back of your neck and stretching a hand over your stomach for purchase. Your skin hot against her palm. The scent of your perfume surrounding her as she kissed between your shoulders.

Again, her fingers squeezed where they were holding the meat of your hips. Pinning you firmly in place as she straightened and rocked into you again.

The noises were obscene. Skin slapping skin and your mangled cries echoing around the room when Leah found your clit and tapped at it rhymically.

You didn’t realise you were crying until salty tears ran into your mouth.

Your orgasm took you by surprise and you sobbed out her name when you started shaking. She eases you through it, removing her hand from between your legs and fucking you hard.

That's better.

“That’s it, good girl” Leah says from behind you, breathless. It reminds you of half time chats and tactics. When she comes off the pitch running her mouth about what’s good and what needs to be better. “Almost there sweetheart”

She pulls out of you suddenly and you clench around nothing as she flips you over. One smooth move and you're facing her.

She’s gorgeous. From what you can see through your tear soaked lashes. Red faced and beautiful. Her chest heaving with her efforts and you realise now why you sit rubbing your legs together from the subs bench.

Sweaty work really is sexy work.

You’ve barely even taken a breath before she’s inside you again. Pinning your hands above your head as her lips attach themselves to yours. The feel of her body pressed against your own is something you didn’t know you’d crave. But now you’ve succumbed to the feelings bubbling deep inside for so long.

“One more. Just one more for me”

“I can't,” you whimper. The words rough and stuttered as your body shifts with each thrust.

“You can, I promise”

Her mouth closed over your nipple. Sucking and licking and pulling noises out of you you didn’t think possible.

“I’m gonna cum” you announce, and she released your breast, your nipple pebbling with the cold air hitting wet skin.

You feel for her neighbours. You really do. It’s not late, but no one wants to hear banging on their walls no matter what time of day it is. Maybe she should get some stoppers to dull the sound a little.

Is that presumptuous? To think this will happen enough times that Leah will need to make changes to mitigate noise pollution? Maybe so, but you hope and pray this isnt the last time this happens.

Your orgasm rips through you, and unsurprisingly stops your virtual Amazon shop abruptly in its tracks. And my god, never have you climaxed this hard in your life.

Legs shaking. Eyes rolling back into your head. Back arching almost unnaturally as pleasure rips through you and touches every damn nerve in your body. It was fireworks on the Fourth of July. Colliding atoms. A demolition of everything you ever thought you knew about your relationship with Leah.

But what you now know, is that she is a woman that knows how to fuck.

You can’t breathe in the best way. Partly because you’d just had the horny pounded out of you. Partly because Leah was now settled on top of you, a firm presence as she too fights for air.

“You okay?” She asks after a second. And you almost laugh because you’re the one that should be asking that. She was the one that did all the hard work.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt better” you manage once your heartbeat has slowed down and the throb between your thighs has dulled to a pleasant hum.

She laughs and you feel warm all over again.

What was wrong with you? Don't say you’re in love with her already? Because that would be really bloody stupid.

“Don’t, you’ll inflate my ego”

“Like you need help with that”

It’s weird to be having a conversation like this with someone still inside you. But you don’t feel uncomfortable about it. Not with her. Never with her.

You think she must feel the same because when she lifts herself onto her elbows, she doesn’t work to remove herself. No, instead she looks down at you with those blue eyes and that smile and she pushes loose hairs away from your face.

“All you have to do is look at me and my head barely fits through the door” she admits.

“Well, I’ll just have to stop looking at you then. Can’t have you stuck in this room when we need you on the field, can we?”

[aimfor-theheart]

oh cielo!! happy new year!! i'm so glad we've met in this vast internet space and i'm sending you so much love for the coming year as well 💕 if you're still playing, how about fake dating with vi?

FUJI BELOVEDDD!!!! i am also so glad that we've met on this strange internet space and i am sending you so much love and joy and success this 2025!! 💗

i am still playing and i have been waiting all day to sit down and write this one. was SO EXCITED to see this ask...thank u for giving me the opportunity to write about vi 💗

fake dating au + vi

Someone's following you. Their footsteps echo behind you, reverberating around inside your head. You're keen, ears pricked, as you glance half behind your shoulder.

Their shadow in the fog is a ghost that's been haunting you.

Your heart ticks up, your steps lurch; you move a little faster.

Vi should be close—

The footsteps quicken. So do you.

You round the corner and yelp when you crash into a solid form.

Hands on you, wide and warm, steadying you. Eyes like a crystal sky finding yours. "You alright?" Vi asks and your heart swells, relief floods you.

You glance behind you and perceptive and sharp as always, Vi peers into the city smog, too. She sees the shape of someone and knows. Knows danger. Knows who it might be. Her body tenses, hackles rising.

Then her demeanor shifts.

"Been lookin' for you everywhere, princess." And suddenly her arm is around you, pulling you into her. She's warm and solid and you can feel the press of your bodies together, the way you fit together. You try not to startle or pull away.

Your cheeks warm. Vi is your bodyguard assigned to you after this stalking started, not—

You swallow hard, uncertain. "Um—Vi?"

Under her breath, she says, "just play along."

And with that, she sweeps you away, tucked under her arm. The night is brisk and damp, but Vi's body, shrouding yours, keeps out the chill. You walk in step. Your follower perseveres.

As you near your safe house, you watch Vi's mind work.

Between one breath and the next, you're pressed up a back alley wall. And Vi's pressing you there, against you, her hands on your waist.

"We need to ditch him before we reach the safe house." She says lowly, lowering her face towards you. "Just—follow my lead."

As the footsteps approach, Vi dips her face to the crook of your neck. Warmth floods your system and instinctively, you grab for her, fisting one hand in the front of her shirt, the other looping around her shoulders.

You must look like lovers. It strikes you like lightning.

And when the footsteps round the corner, Vi suddenly grabs your chin in hand, and kisses you soundly on the mouth.

You make a noise of surprise, which she swallows. And you think she's only going to stay like this, unmoving and kissing you for appearances, but she suddenly deepens it.

Her tongue presses along your bottom lip and you part for her, almost out of surprise, which she takes advantage of eagerly. With your alarm, mingles a strange glow and flutter of desire. You feel it, tender and terrified, in the pit of your stomach. It spreads it's wings.

Your hand disappears into the hair at the nape of her neck and she gets a thigh between your legs. You gasp.

When she hears your follower near, she pulls away—lips spit slick and chest heaving a little, hair tousled, eyes fever bright—and rounds on him.

The man startles.

And Vi plays sleazy well when she swipes at her bottom lip with her thumb. Gone is your dedicated bodyguard, replaced with a heated fling you may have.

She asks, "You got a problem?" And now she sizes him up. Squares her shoulders. "Can't we get a little privacy?"

He falters, uncertain, eyes bouncing to you and then Vi.

"Fuck off," Vi snaps, "and get lost before I do something I regret."

He scurries away and the moment he's far enough away, Vi is reaching for your hand, engulfing it with hers. "Come on, we gotta go—" and she pulls you along, as if she hadn't just kissed you senseless moments ago, and you disappear down the maze of alleyways with her.

"Nice acting," she smirks, "who knew you had it in you?"

Send me a trope/gennre + a character and I'll write a drabble for it!

[revelboo]

A few things of note:

I am so glad I started following you early on. Trying to catch up on your multitudinous masterpieces separately while they're all intertwined and you making multiple updates DAILY would be a nightmare to parse out.

I don't think anyone or anything has gotten me to so regularly leave comments--lengthy or otherwise--in the tags before, not has anyone ever inspired me to send in as many asks as I've sent you.

Girl what fucking time zone are you posting from? Because your first update of the day usually comes in at 5-6 in the damn morning here and I refuse to believe you are bored at work before the ass crack of dawn.

Have a nice day, I love literally everything you've written here.

Yeah, I feel a bit for folks following me later on and trying to catch up since fics will cross reference each other or events. I love reading the stuff you and everyone else leave in the comments and tags! I’m in the Central Standard time zone. And I try to get at least one posted before work in case it’s busy and I can’t type at work 😅

Hum Along

First Aid x Reader

• This was supposed to be his first real station as a medic, a way to prove himself. To help. Delphi. After the first week, the first day, the excitement had tarnished. Because this is a punishment. No matter how fast they work, how good he, Pharma, and Ambulon are, the incoming wounded just keep dying. Too far gone already when they reach Delphi. Doesn’t even know where he’s going as he wanders the halls, servos shaking and stained with energon and audials still ringing from the screaming. Ambulon had said it gets easier, but he’s not sure that he wants it to. Shouldn’t it feel like a blade driving into his spark chamber every time he loses a patient? Shouldn’t it hurt?

• Not sure if you’re screaming or if it’s just in your head, you stagger and fall against a wall. It feels like needles sinking into you, pulling and biting deeper. Like being torn apart and you double over, retching. And when your head lifts, you try to figure out where you are. Hadn’t you been in your office sitting at your desk? Not anymore. Everything is huge as you look around at the endless stretch of hallway and fear rises up through the fog of pain. Is that your heart racing or the heavy sound of footsteps? Are you not alone?

• Coming around the corner, he freezes hearing a sharp little screech. What is that thing? The tiny, frail organic stands on shaky legs and retreats a step. It’s so ugly, it’s almost cute. A tiny biped with an uncannily Cybertronian face and you definitely don’t belong here. How had you gotten onto the station? “Hey, it’s okay. I won’t hurt you, I’m a medic.” Easing closer, you crane your neck to stare up at him and those eyes seem intelligent as you size him up. Before screeching and running.

• You hear the monstrous robot snarl something at you as you run for your life. Have no idea what’s going on, but death by giant robot is a definite nope. And that grating, snarling sound it had made? Pure nightmare fuel. It’s not like you’re a track star though, and you can hear the monster closing in. Screaming at the top of your lungs when a huge hand closes around you and your feet leave the ground. Aware that you’re babbling terrified nonsense at it, pleading it doesn’t eat or squish you.

• Adjusting his grip when he realizes how soft you are in his hand, you stare up at him with wide eyes and chirp frantically, tiny hands pushing at his servos. Little cries quieting when he touches your soft head and tips your chin up with a servo. Still has no idea what you are or where you came from, but realizes that you need him. That you’re not too far gone to help. “Don’t worry,” he says. “You’re safe now.” And he desperately needs this. Someone needing him that he can actually save. “It’s going to be okay.” Let it be okay, because he really needs a win.

Next

[kingkat12]

chasing sleep (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, morning sex, attempting-to-stay-quiet sex, Roman loves tits (oops), reader on top, dub-con elements, needle-gate is back lol, dark!Roman returns, fluff, angst, and reader is fucking brainwashed cause girl stand up for yourself wdym

summary: everything seems to be going perfect for you-- you've got the guy, after all. however, you're still haunted by the life you gave away to be with him, and specifically, the girl you left behind. will Roman ever fully trust that you won't leave him?

word count: 11,308 (merry christmas tihi)

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12

a/n: celebrating 700 followers AND christmas with this monster of a chapter!! I love all of you, thank you once again for your amazing support, I LOVE YOU!! this fanfic is nearing the end now, so... hold on tight for what's about to come;) ENJOY, MWAH<3

"You didn't say goodbye, and now a part of me believes that means you're coming back,"  

Over and over again, those words echoed in my ears. I had read it in a passage somewhere, probably in the new romance novel I had picked up a few days ago, and now it truly haunted me. Latched onto my guilt, my love, my very being-- I wasn't sure whether I was capable of letting it all go, despite how happy Roman made me. 

Was that maybe why I ended up right here, right now?

"Do you think it could work again?" Letha echoed, turning to me. Her legs were dangling off my roof as we sat by the edge. A soft breeze moved her long, blonde hair away from her shoulders, and just like that, I was reminded of how truly beautiful she was. It must be a genetic thing for all the Godfreys to be breathtaking. However, the look in Letha's green eyes told me something was wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on it. It was almost as though I was looking back at her with a grey-ish filter, like my vision was making it seem like we were sitting in a cloud of fog. None of this looked real. 

"What could?" I asked, turning to check my surroundings-- yeah, this was definitely my roof. Why were we here?

"Us," Letha's gaze awaited me as I faced her again, and it was heartbreakingly sad. "You and I. Our friendship."

It felt like I had dipped the tips of my fingers in cold water. "Letha... Come on," I reached for her hand, placing mine above hers with a sigh; "This ended a long time ago. I don't think we can salvage this--"

"But what if we could?" Letha's voice was so painfully sweet, so insistent. "Do you think it could work again?"

"What could?"

"Us," she breathed, turning her hand to intertwine our fingers with an unusually hard grip. It didn't feel so sweet anymore. "You and I. Our friendship."

The red lights in my mind went off like police sirens-- something was off. With my next glance at her hair, it was no longer that same warm shade of blonde. Now, I could argue it was actively turning white before my eyes. 

This wasn't real. "Letha?"

"Yes?"

"... Am I dreaming?"

Letha's eyes softened as the green in them dulled down, bordering a bleak color of grey. "Yes," she said. "I'm looping it until you're honest."

"What do you mean?--"

"You'll wake up when you tell me the truth. If you want to help your subconscious let go of the guilt, you should do it,"

My heart was actively breaking. Looking into Letha's blank eyes, I realized it reminded me of the look she had on her face when I first told her about Roman and me. "Ask, then,"

I could see her emotions clutching her soul like an unforgiving fist despite this only being a dream. My head didn't have any problems conjuring the image of her as a kicked, wounded puppy. She spoke; "Do you think it could work again?"

I indulged with a soft sigh; "What could, Letha?"

"Us," she said, allowing tears to well in her eyes. "You and I. Our friendship."

I felt it truly, brutally, that I didn't know what to say. I didn't know if it would break me to be honest. "I can't leave Roman for you," I breathed. "I won't. So I doubt you and I could be friends again as long as I'm still with him."

Letha nodded, turning away to look up at the full moon above us. The hand she had in mine was starting to turn cold. "Do you think it could work again?"

Oh, she was asking again-- was my answer maybe not the truth? Not the right answer? Did my sleeping subconscious know? "What could?" I echoed, growing tired of the loop we were caught in.

"Us," Letha closed her eyes as her chest raised and fell with her shallow breaths. "You and I. Our friendship."

I decided to give it less thought-- that was the key, sometimes. Roman had taught me that. Could it? Could it truly? "Honestly?"

"Honestly,"

It didn't take long before I realized tears were threatening to spill from my eyes too. I had missed the smell of Letha's sweet perfume. It smelled like home and a comforting hug hello. "Yeah. I think it could work," It was weird to hear me say it out loud; "I was always in love with Roman, but you... You taught me how to love in the first place. If we could both forgive each other, I think we'd have a chance. Yet... I don't think I ever can. Fully."

Letha didn't open her eyes, barely moved an inch. She opted for a short, melancholic nod as her lower lip gave in to a tremble. "I'm afraid I'll miss you forever," she whispered, mostly to herself. 

And suddenly, I couldn't feel the weight of her hand in mine. My gaze darted down to what was previously our union, only to find that she wasn't there anymore. I looked up to find a slow line of evaporating smoke, similar to a trail coming from Roman's cinnamon cigarettes. 

With my next heave of air accompanied by a lonely tear rolling down my cheek, I allowed my hand to reach out to touch the fog. It was thick, and it prickled the tips of my fingers to the likes of a cactus-- my sorrow clouded my instincts, and I didn't retract my hand. I hadn't allowed myself to feel any of this, after all. I had been so wrapped up in Roman, so wrapped up in the new feelings that washed over my body, that I had buried all the old ones. 

However, Letha kept her promise-- I was released.

Released from the loop, but with one foot remaining in the quicksand of guilt.

And as I awoke, it felt like I had been thrown into a cold pond. With a quick breath, I arched off the bed, gasping; "Roman!"  

Frantic beyond words, I heaved for air, blinking rapidly to wake myself up. The morning sun shone through Roman's curtains with soft rays, and I was hit with the smell of a burnt candle. Still hyperventilating, I put a hand on my chest as I tried to turn around, but to no avail.

Why couldn't I move? Was I maybe still stuck in the dream? 

Oh, wait-- It was at this moment that I realized I had a heavy arm around me, keeping me still with my back pressed up against human warmth. 

I let out a shaky breath, a relieved smile spreading across my lips-- Roman. 

My panic gradually subsided, washing away with calm waves as I turned my head to look at him. The sun did him good. Roman's hair was a very specific shade of brown, but in the sun, it had twinges of orange and golden hues. If I were to ever bring it up to him, I know he'd protest and say he was nowhere near ginger. He wasn't, and I was aware of that; as usual, he wouldn't get the point.

After some careful maneuvering, I managed to turn in Roman's heavy embrace, facing him. His plush lips were gently parted, and his long, brown lashes weighed over his eyes-- he also had a rather hefty case of bedhead which I couldn't help but find beyond endearing. Up close like this, completely still, I could see the nearly invisible freckles painting the apples of his cheeks, study the curve of his upper lip, and the scar-like indent on his right cheek. I dared to trace my thumb over it, feeling the softness of Roman's skin against the pad of my finger-- this was beauty unmatched.

He was so beautiful. 

And he was mine.

With the gentlest of pressures, I leaned forward, barely brushing my lips across Roman's. I didn't dare to fully kiss him. I wouldn't dare to wake him up. If only we could lay like this forever, undisturbed and alone.

Forever.

Memories of last night swarmed my brain, pushing out all the memories of Letha's sad, green eyes. I smiled as I realized the ache between my legs hadn't subsided-- the sting remained. It had actually happened. I hadn't made it all up. And I would've stayed engulfed in my cloud of complete and utter awe if Roman hadn't nearly scared the living crap out of me with the following.

His voice was raw with sleep as his eyes remained closed; "It's rude to stare,"

I practically arched right off the bed again. Had Roman not had his arms around me in a deadweight hold, I was sure I'd have flown right down to the floor. "Christ!" I hissed, shocked. How had he known? "Sorry... Did I wake you?"

Roman seemed too sleepy to grant me a proper answer, and he settled for a short grunt; "Sleep," 

"It's already morning!--"

"Don't care. Sleep," With his next breath, he pulled me even closer, until the tips of our noses were touching.

I was almost glad Roman's eyes were closed. At least he didn't see the hefty blush creeping up my cheeks. It dawned on me that he maybe had a point-- we had never had the pleasure of having nowhere to be, with no one to wake us up, or school to go to. 

There was one thing I wanted to say, but I was scared he'd get upset at my use of words-- no, fuck it; "You're so pretty," I whispered, reaching up to brush my fingers over the tips of his long, long lashes. "You can't expect me not to stare when you look like this."

Roman's brows drew together, yet he allowed me to do as I pleased in his sleepy state. "I'm not pretty,"

Knew it. "Yeah, you are,"

"Just go to sleep,"

"You're unbelievably pretty,"

"... Please just sleep,"

I was aware that I was annoying him, but something about the way his voice got all harsh in the morning made me want to hear him more. Roman's breath fanned over the skin at the tip of my nose with the gentlest breeze as I sighed against his lips; God, how I loved him. "I don't want to sleep... but I can lay here with you, if you want,"

Roman hummed, the dark rumble in his chest nearly vibrating the bed in the process. "Just don't go anywhere,"

"I won't,"

"Ever,"

"I won't,"

With Roman's next breath, I knew he finally believed me-- finally. It hit him for the first time last night that I wasn't lying when I said I wasn't going anywhere, and it hit him again now. Forever was a dead serious plan of mine, and I was intent on making him understand that no matter what. "You're prettier," he eventually said, nudging my nose with his. "You're like the first pleasant sip of water after you've recovered from a sore throat."

"... Specific,"

Roman let out a short, annoyed groan; "Sleep,"

I didn't want to sleep. I didn't want to possibly face Letha again. With my palms against Roman's soft cheeks, I placed a loving kiss against his parted lips, feeling him sigh into me. "Good morning, Rome,"

He smiled, fulfilled, as though he couldn't hold it back anymore; "Good morning, baby,"

"Did you at least sleep well?--"

"Sleep!"

"... But I really don't want to,"

With another sigh, Roman stirred, pulling me closer to press a lazy kiss to my jaw. "Either you go back to sleep, or we fuck. You gotta give me something to work with, here,"

I stilled. "That's... not a bad idea,"

Roman's classic smirk illuminated my morning. "Turn around, then,"

"Huh?--"

"Trust me,"

Sometimes, when I was lonely, before everything with Roman, I used to kiss the skin between my knuckles and imagine someone else was kissing me. The small sounds, and the tingling sensation pooling in my stomach, would distract me from the unbearable feeling of loneliness. The reality of it.

Which is why, when Roman brought my hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to my knuckles before turning me around, I knew I wasn't alone.

Actually, it wasn't just that that showed me I wasn't-- the repeated strokes of Roman's cock filling me was certainly reminder enough.

It was that sort of lazy morning sex I had only read about in those odd novels my mom would hide around the house, or heard about from my friends which I no longer had. This was a different type of sex from yesterday's, which had been so highly connected and emotional-- and this was not to say that this right now wasn't both connected and emotional, but it was... comforting. Like we were taking joy in being able to do just this. To enjoy one another in a sleepy, slow form.

Roman's grip around my throat wasn't hard or choking-- it was more of a hold to keep me in place as he let out a breathy grunt against my shoulder, sinking into me with slow, lazy strokes from behind. "We should do this more often," Roman murmured against my ear, listening to my small whimpers. "Isn't this fun?"

I could hear his stupidly pretty smile. Fucking Romy Schneider. "What, sex?" Obviously?

Roman's deep laugh against my ear nearly had me shuddering; "In the morning," he purred.

"That's gonna be-- hard," My last words were cut off by the hitch of my breath. This felt too good. "Parents and-- and all." It was true, though. How were we supposed to do this with our parents in the house? I doubted Roman's mom was out on business trips all the time, anyway.

With a small huff, I was pulled even tighter to his chest, almost as a reprimand-- I had no idea why it made my cheeks burn. "You'll learn to be quiet," Roman breathed, kissing up the shell of my ear. "Right?"

"I--"

"You'll be a good little girl for me and be quiet, hm?"

And just as I was about to protest, to remind him it was probably a little rude to have sex with other people in the house (I had no idea actually, was there no etiquette to it?), the hand Roman had around my waist slid between my legs, coaxing them further apart. All my thoughts of having a proper conversation went out the window the second he pressed two fingers to my clit, circling it as his kisses moved to the skin between my ear and my jaw.

It was impossible not to give in to the feeling; Roman was intoxicating. I whimpered with the next brush of his cock against my sweet spot, the different sensations dulling my brain with every thrust-- "Yeah,"

Roman let out a hum of approval; "Just for me?"

"Only-- Only you,"

I could practically feel him melt against me. "That's my girl,"

It was an oddity how much Roman enjoyed the sound of it. How much he enjoyed knowing he finally had a companion in the world. I could feel his cock twitch inside of me with the reminder, with the need to become one.

Because at the end of the day, that's what we were now.

We were one. 

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The next day at school was the easiest day to handle in a while. It didn't matter that people were staring, that my reputation was still tarnished, because I finally felt the stream of love floating my way that I had been craving my whole life.

"You need to start zipping this up," Roman huffed, reaching for the zipper of my jacket. He pulled me closer to the railing he was sitting on by the school entrance, shaking his head. "It's getting cold. Don't be stupid." This was a new level of intimacy. The quiet moments, the small, shared moments of care. He was almost annoyed that I hadn't done it myself, that I hadn't thought to take care of myself, thoughtless little girl. 

I loved it when he got protective like this. Absolutely adored it. It only reminded me of how much I loved him, and consequently, how I couldn't tell him. 

I glanced at Peter, who sat next to Roman, and held back a snicker. I could bet about a hundred dollars that he had never seen his best friend so ridiculously protective before. "She's not twelve," he tried, nudging Roman's shoulder, earning a displeased grunt. 

Oh, of course Peter didn't get it. Roman Godfrey, sweetly zipping up my jacket-- the simplest of all things. Nonetheless, it brought a twinge of scarlet to my cheeks as I spotted a group of cheerleaders passing us on the way to the school entrance; the looks of seething jealousy in their eyes only brought me joy. A part of me wanted the sight of Roman being sweet to leave them with a feeling of pure agony. I wanted them all to suffer. Always. For their heads to be bashed in like Jasmine nearly did to herself into her locker; I wished it upon them. On them all. 

... I needed to snap out of this.

Roman had been right-- it was getting chilly in Hemlock Grove. I shivered when he finished buttoning my buttons, smiling down at him where he sat with Peter, glad none of them could read my thoughts. I wondered whether Roman would be horrified or... comforted by the fact that I was capable of wishing cruelty upon others, just like him.

It didn't matter. None of it did. Especially not now that he was looking up at me with those big, green eyes of his with his hands tucked into his jacket, looking handsome as ever. From this angle, Roman's shoulders were almost broader, and the more I thought about his physique, the more I thought about last night when he was completely undressed.

Completely undressed, on top of me, loving me. 

... Loving me. 

If only he did.

Fuck-- I couldn't think about that right now. The need to draw him in and have him all over again would overcome me soon, and I needed to push it down. It would be quite unfortunate if I started acting like a cat in heat every time I saw him from now on. "I need to get to class," I said, keeping my hands to myself despite how much I wanted to run them through Roman's hair. 

His eyes softened as he scanned me, jacket fully zipped up and all. "What do you have now?" he asked, now toying with the fabric of my pockets. 

"Math, sadly,"

Peter looked like he couldn't wait to escape the tension that ensued the two of us being in such close proximity. "Oh, right," Peter muttered, clicking his tongue against his palate as he sat back on the banister. "Math, second period... With Letha, right?"

The name was enough to make me freeze, and just for a second, it felt like the air got colder. I was sure I might've even flinched. The image of Letha in my dreams, white as though drained of blood, clouded my vision as my heart started to thump painfully. Why was I reacting like this? 

Also, Roman looked like he had been greatly offended by something. With furrowed brows, he sat back and sent Peter a look of what the fuck. "How do you even know that?" he muttered, reaching one arm forward to drag me closer by my waist, his eyes not leaving Peter's to scan his every minuscule reaction.

I was relieved by Roman's touch-- my fingers dipped into the short hair at the nape of his neck, unsure what was happening. 

On the other hand, Peter seemed to have a hard time recovering from what I could only guess was a slip-up. "I don't know," he said, shrugging as his eyes shied away. "I just remember it, I guess."

Roman snapped; "Why?"

Okay-- I didn't want to be here for this conversation. I couldn't hear more about Letha, not after my cryptic dream. It didn't make matters any better that Peter was right, and that I would see her in my next class. I stopped playing with Roman's hair, placing a short kiss to the top of his head; "I'm heading off," I mumbled, nodding shortly to Peter before excusing myself. 

Having got a quick whiff of Roman's heavy, intoxicating perfume, I closed my eyes and clutched my books tightly to my chest as I walked to class. The sheer smell of him, the softness of his hair, the kindness of his gestures-- it all made my head wander back to last night. The way it felt to have him inside me, how he took care of me, and how good it all felt. Allowing the memories to float back into my mind, I didn't realize I was walking around with a bright smile on my face until I sat down in math class and got a few odd looks from the other students around my seat. I wasn't usually this cheery, I suppose. 

Life felt good. When I thought about Roman, everything felt great. I made myself comfortable behind my desk, feeling my tummy tingle with my reminiscing of last night; I wanted him more than ever. Now that I knew we could be together like that, I wasn't sure how I was supposed to be able to detach from him. And just as I thought I was about to explode into a burst of butterflies, I stuck my hand in my coat to reach for my phone, only to find what felt like crumbled-up paper. 

Confused, I unfolded it;

i miss the look on your face when you cum. miss you miss you miss you. let's find a quiet place somewhere and get very very noisy after school, what do you think about that? do tell. i want to know your every thought, actually. what makes you tick, and so forth. know that i'm probably thinking about you right now. always. 

- your favorite (hopefully)

Oh, Roman and his notes. When had he managed to put it in there? A few minutes ago, when he toying with my pockets? Sneaky. I was dead sure my cheeks had turned a peculiar shade of pink by the time I felt someone put down their bag in the empty seat next to me, and I was too drunk on the euphoria to glance at my partner for today's class. How I loved Roman-- I loved him to the point where the tips of my fingers burned when I thought about him. And knowing he was probably in class now as well, thinking about me too... no, it was almost too much to bear.

However, when something much harder to face suddenly sat down next to me, I would've loved to get sucked right back into my tingling cave of Roman-comfort. 

Letha. 

Letha was here. 

Letha was sitting next to me, gazing back at me with those trademark green Godfrey eyes. 

Fuck. I immediately crumbled up the note, stuffing it down my pocket to hide the content of it from her. Knowing Letha, she'd probably barf at the sight of the first sentence. "What are you doing?" I hissed, glancing around to scour the classroom for empty seats. "There's a free table two rows down--"

"I like sitting here," Letha's face remained free of strong emotion, and she turned away to unpack her supplies. "It's close to the window, and I need the natural sunlight. It helps the headache I get from the lamps in here, don't you remember?"

She said it so matter-of-factly, and for a second, it felt as though I had been teleported back to two months ago. I didn't know how to act around Letha anymore. "Sure," I mumbled. Just my luck. 

As class started, I would glance over at Letha every once in a while. She seemed so peaceful, undisturbed by my presence, and I wasn't sure why that annoyed me to this extent. Was it perhaps the fact that she sought out forgiveness from me when she refused to give me any in return? That she was seeking acceptance about the situation only when it suited her? 

It was odd to look at Letha and see her in colours. After my dream last night, I could only see her in her undead form, dead to me.  

To my dismay, Letha leaned over to my side of the table a little later that class; "Do you have a pencil?" she whispered.

A Godfrey asking to borrow my pencil? It usually led to no good. Still, I handed her one--

"Thank you,"

"No problem,"

This was so weird. It felt too normal, yet it was agony to act that it was. However, the situation only worsened when the teacher asked us to work in pairs and solve an equation on the board. I held my breath, daring to glance at Letha; she was already looking at me. "You have no clue how to solve this stuff, do you?"

I shrugged. She knew me too well. "You've probably already solved it in your head,"

Letha's smile was kind, genuine. "Want me to show you how to do it?"

"Nah," 

"Do you even do your homework anymore?"

I knew her question was coming from a good place. I could feel it. After all, I barely managed to do my homework when Letha and I had regular study sessions at her place. Just thinking about it made me remember the sweet smell of her sheets, which never mixed well with the incense she was always burning for 'good karma'. "Roman has a guy that does them for him, and I write my answers off of his," I mumbled.

I expected the mention of him to put her off-- yet Letha simply nodded, raising her brows in a conniving look. "He's corrupted you,"

"I've let him,"

"I know," Letha's green eyes shimmered with words untold as she echoed; "I know."

It was odd to face her like this. For her to know my feelings for Roman, and not walk off this time. This was the first conversation we'd had in months where we weren't at each other's throats. And suddenly, Letha took the leap I wasn't allowed to take-- she leaned in closer as she dared to whisper the forbidden words; "I miss you,"

Oh no. "Letha--"

"You never said goodbye, and now a part of me believes you're coming back,"

I let out a shaky breath as I moved my chair further away from hers. What she said had been too close to the words in my dream last night. It was chilling. "Of course I never said goodbye," I hissed back, feeling my emotions boil to a simmer. "You didn't let me." There it was, laid out in the open. "You cut me off, Letha." She had. "And you left me for dead!"

Letha held her breath high in her chest as her mouth formed a tight line. It wasn't until she moved her chair closer to mine and gripped the table harder that she allowed herself to breathe; "I left you for dead because you basically fucking stabbed me!" 

"I didn't mean to!"

"And you think I did?" Letha hissed. "You gave me no choice!"

"That's not true! I came clean to you, and the least you could've done was to!--"

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry!" 

We stared at one another in silence. There it was, my apology, served on a silver platter. I had heard it once before, but Roman wasn't here to control the outcome of it this time. Something within the bounds of my soul was relieved of anger and tension, and I couldn't halt the result of it; "I'm sorry too,"

Letha froze for a good second or two. Her lips parted in disbelief as her grip on the table lifted, and she sat back in her chair with a slow nod. It gradually dawned on her what this meant for us. 

"Do you think it could work again?"

I indulged with a soft sigh; "What could, Letha?"

"Us," she said, allowing tears to well in her eyes. "You and I. Our friendship."

It was easier to breathe, all of a sudden. I knew that an apology wasn't enough to mend our wounds, but it was a start. I nodded along with Letha and watched as the corners of her mouth tugged upwards into a smile-- I caught myself mirroring it.

"So..." she tried.

"So..."

"Did you hear that Brooke Bluebell bought a big needle from a pharmacy?" 

I grimaced; "What? No, why?"

"To get her revenge on Roman," Letha held back a laugh, biting down on her lip as she turned to write down the answer to the math equation. "From a few months ago, if you remember the whole ordeal."

"Oh," I breathed. "Needle-gate?"

"Needle-gate,"

Despite how concerning the big needle sounded, it was a funny reminder of the past; "I've gotta tell Roman," 

"Yeah, you better. I think he's blocked me, so I'm out of the picture," Letha sat back in her chair after finishing her work, and she glanced back at me as she tapped the pencil against the paper. "You've gotta tell him about prom too."

"... Prom?"

"Yes, prom," Grabbing her bag, Letha rummaged around for a few seconds until she found a flyer. It was purple, super lavish-- "It's in two weeks, I think. Kinda short notice, but I have a feeling he'd secretly want to go. He's into the classics, so I'd suggest you indulge him."

I felt my cheeks turn red as I kept my eyes on the flyer. Just the thought of me in a dress, Roman in a suit; it made me warm. Uncomfortably warm. "I think he'd rather die, actually," I mumbled, handing it back to Letha. "Are you going?"

"Meh, don't think so," She stuffed the flyer back into her bag and sighed, reaching for her phone. "The guy that I'm into says he doesn't want to go, so I'll stay home."

It hit me that this was the first time I didn't know who Letha had a crush on. Previously, she would tell me all about them. There was a Tyler, there was a Scott, and then there was a third one who had a really peculiar last name. And just as I was about to scour my brain for more names, a particular one popped up on Letha's phone as she turned it on;

Peter: I think it's time to...

That was all I was able to see, as she needed to click on it to read the whole message. My eyes widened as I sat back in my chair, sending Letha an odd look. It was clear by her body language that she hadn't intended for me to see that, and she immediately flipped her phone. 

... Was something going on?

Letha cleared her throat and turned back to me with the same smile, yet it felt disingenuous. "That's a different Peter," she said, a somewhat panicked squeak to her voice. "It's the neighbour. He might be complaining about the amount of cars my dad has parked on our street, cause they don't fit into our garage anymore. It needs to be discussed, apparently. It's time, or whatever."

That seemed like a typical rich-kid problem. I could somewhat buy it. "Is it a Godfrey thing to be crazy about cars?"

"Just you wait until you hear about the cigarettes. Dad's a real chain-smoker,"

"... Don't tell me they're cinnamon-flavoured?"

Letha sighed; "Sadly, yeah. The garage smells like a goddamn gingerbread house,"

The laughter that followed wasn't intentional, and it blended in with the ring of the bell. 

This was nice. To see the smile on Letha's face felt good, like a warm soup when you have a cold. It was a comfort to know that we could finally be normal around each other, despite the fact that we would possibly never be friends again like before, or even forgive one another. I doubted that I ever could, fully. 

However, just as I was about to excuse myself, I spotted a silhouette by the door which made my blood run cold. 

Fuck.

Roman. 

I saw it in his eyes immediately. The confusion, which quickly morphed into something darker, anger-like. My laughter died down in an instant as my body kicked into a fight-or-flight response, suddenly scared out of my mind to be caught laughing with Letha-- she seemed to catch on momentarily, but remained in her seat as she watched me shove all my supplies and books into my backpack, hurrying to get to Roman.

I had forgotten that he wanted to pick me up after class. I had forgotten my promise to not fraternise with the enemy-- fucking stupid. 

Hoping to conceal the slight tremble in my hands, I put one of them on Roman's arm when I caught up to him in the doorway, smiling up at him with an anxious breath stuck in my chest. "Hey, you," I tried, giving the sleeve of his shirt a gentle tug as I always did, a plea for him to bend down and kiss me. It was impossible to reach all the way up to his lips without it, anyway.

But Roman's attention hadn't left Letha. His eyes had narrowed, glaring at her with fury apparent in the way his jaw clenched. Had telepathy been a real thing, I'd have thought they were yelling at each other through their minds. I almost wanted to butt in and say Letha wasn't bothering me, that we were having a normal conversation-- however, I knew that would only make it worse. 

"Come," Roman said with a low growl, unlike anything I had heard from him before. With one last scorned look at Letha, he gripped my wrist and started marching down the hallway; I didn't expect to be yanked from my place the way I was, and I was sure my legs were fully in the air for a microsecond or two; "Roman!--"

"This day just keeps getting worse," he muttered, not waiting for me to find my balance as he continued to drag me down the hallway. 

Roman's grip around my wrist was hard. "Slow down!" I tried, grabbing his arm with my free hand. "It's not what it looks like! It's not-- " Everything about this made me dizzy, and his sudden anger made the familiar feeling of dread pool in my stomach. It only got worse when he pulled me into an empty classroom, slamming the door shut behind us.

I took a few steps away from him, waiting for the bomb to explode. My breath came out in short, ragged motions as my hands remained clenched by my sides in anticipation. It felt like I was five years old again, waiting to get reprimanded for having drawn on the walls. "Roman, I--"

"Shut up," Of all the things I expected, it wasn't this. Not at all. Because suddenly, my body was pressed against the door of the classroom with Roman's arms around me, and his lips pressing needy kisses to my neck. My bag dropped to the floor-- What the...?

"Not here," was all I managed to say before my breath hitched, and my hands automatically flew up into his hair. "Roman, please, wait--"

"No," He was more dismissive than ever-- I wondered why I sort of liked it. Why it made my stomach tingle, why I wanted him to do whatever he wanted to me. Was it possibly after what had happened last night? "No more bullshit." 

I closed my eyes, hoping we'd have a few seconds to disperse if someone walked in on us right now. With the force of Roman's weight against mine keeping the door firmly shut, I was sure of it. My head lulled against the door as I felt him latch on a particular spot on the side of my neck, marking my skin with his possession. I knew I was screwed-- you can't get more screwed than this. 

I was sure I disassociated for a few seconds, because suddenly, Roman's lips brushed against my ear, and I had to suppress a shiver. "We're gonna have a damn serious talk," he said, keeping me still against the door. "We need it. I need it."

Something told me we wouldn't be talking much if he continued kissing me like this. "Let's-- Let's talk, then,"

When Roman pulled away, I could finally see the frustration on his face. The way his brows were drawn together, how high his breath was in his chest, and the narrow glare of his gaze. Still, I didn't think it would result in this; it took me a while to realize his hands were no longer at my sides, and that they were now unzipping my jeans. 

"What are you doing?" I breathed, grabbing at his wrists. "Don't--"

"You think you can outsmart me?" It was as though someone had ripped the curtains off its hinges, now revealing what was always hidden behind them. Roman's breath fell heavy against my cheek as a small twitch of his upper lip revealed his inner turmoil; "You think you can tell me one thing, and then do the opposite when I'm not looking?"

My anxiety grew as I realized Roman's strength was unmatched. There was nothing I could do to fight him. "What are you talking about?" It was hard to come up with a cohesive sentence when I was this stressed. 

"Peter told me, y'know," Roman continued, a low growl in his voice prevalent in ways it had never been before. "He told me the obvious, of course. That Letha is trying to reconcile, that she misses you... But then he told me the part I didn't know. The part you probably didn't want me to know."

It was with his last ominous words that he managed to dip his fingers past my waistband, past the hem of my underwear, and placed two fingers on my clit. The unexpected touch immediately made me squirm against the door, squeezing my eyes shut. "Why-- Why are you doing this?" was all I managed to stutter out, my hands still locked around his wrist. He knew I didn't want this. He knew. "I don't-- don't know what you're--"

"Talking about?" Roman rubbed rough circles around my clit as he placed his forehead against mine, pressing my head further up against the door. "Oh, so you're not gonna tell me?" His voice got more patronizing, as though this was fifth grade and he was teasing me in the courtyard-- "Is my good little girl gonna be real stupid and not tell me? You wanna act dumb with me, huh?"

Something about his tone made my cheeks burn. His tone, his words. This was not a good way to find out about a possible kink. My mind dulled with the stimulation against my clit, and it didn't take long before I eventually felt my arousal pooling. In all ways of the word, I felt like my body was betraying me. "Not here," I echoed, breath hitching. It felt like he was pressing a button on me, like I was a toy, thoughtlessly repeating it over and over; "Not here, Rome-- N-Not, here, please--"

"I'll stop when you tell me,"

"Tell you what?" I cried, squeezing his wrists as my hips bucked into his hand. Roman knew how to touch me, even if it was at my disadvantage. My mind was racing; someone could walk in, someone could see, someone could--

"How Letha helped you get us back together," Roman's breath was so warm, so angry, against my face, it felt like he was drawing my scorching red blush on my cheeks. "How you went and asked her for advice on how to decrypt me? Maybe you don't know me at all, is that it?"

I didn't want to think about this. I didn't want to be present. I didn't want to think about the fact that Roman had gotten the information all twisted, that Peter must've had quite an extensive talk with Letha to even know parts of this story, and that Roman couldn't find another way to talk it out than to do it like this. Forcefully. Because right now, it felt too good. It felt way too good. The sensation of his fingers rubbing circles into my clit, running them between my folds to gather up my slick, only to return to my bundle of nerves to make my legs shake with a mix of anxiety and pleasure, felt too good.

"That's not true," I tried in between heaves of air. What would it make me if I came like this? "That's not-- not true, Rome--"

"I won't ever be enough for you, will I?" 

"No-- no, you're everything!--"

"Because the end of the day, you'll go back to Letha," Roman's voice was tight, restricted, as though he was holding back a heap of emotions. "No matter what I do, how gently I fuck you, treat you, you won't want to be with me forever. No one does."

If only he knew. If only he knew that I loved him. My hands let go of his wrist, and I placed my palms against his chest, forcing some space between us with a push. That seemed to do the trick-- Roman's fingers slowed down as our eyes met, and he was faced with my watery gaze. "I didn't lie last night," I said after finally catching my breath. "I've never lied to you." An unnervingly big part of me longed for him to rub me through my high, which was not too far away from the horizon, but the sane part of me knew I had to put an end to his venture into the dark ways of his past. 

Roman's mouth pulled into a straight line; "Peter wouldn't lie to me either,"

"I'm not saying he is. He just got the story wrong,"

There was a long silence, and I knew this was my moment-- I reached for Roman's wrist again, and with careful, slow motions, I got his hand out of my underwear. "Letha heard us fight, and she came over to ask about it afterwards," I started. "There was no plotting. No decrypting. The only thing she told me, was to look for a bigger picture when it comes to fighting with you. I didn't ask for it! And what you saw just now, was us being friendly. Not friends. We will never be again, after everything that happened!" 

"But... you were talking on the stairs," Roman echoed, as something in his gaze faltered. "I saw you when we were leaving the party."

Letha's following words were almost icy to the touch, hollow to the ear; "Was I right?" 

It felt as though my world stilled. Time stilled. Just for a second, I felt as though I could wade my free hand through the coldness of her phrase, and I could wave away the mirage. She was concerned, curious. Had she genuinely wanted to help me get through this fight with Roman? 

"Yeah," I breathed. "You were. Thank you." 

Letha's face softened as a relieved sigh escaped her, nodding her head slowly. It had been a long time since the last time she had heard those words from me. "Any time," 

The memory was as fresh as day. "You were right next to me, Roman. If I was hiding something, I wouldn't have talked to her in front of you," I let go of his hand, letting out a shaky breath as he took another step away from me. I could sense that his mind was cracking itself in half. "I don't need Letha to tell me how to fix things with you. Contrary to what you were thinking, I do know you. And I know you well enough to see that this isn't you being angry with me, but rather your fucking abandonment issues surfacing because you haven't dealt with them yet!"

It was clear that Roman didn't expect me to raise my voice, but hell-- I was so done with this behavioural pattern of his. 

"It might be good for me to not have the worst relationship with all the girls at this school, have you thought about that?" I said, feeling my fists clench at my sides. "That Letha and I being friendly and not at each other's throats might be good for me? And that it might also be good for your relationship with your cousin, mind you, who you've seemingly blocked?" 

Roman remained silent, at a loss for words. 

My breathing had yet to calm down, along with my arousal. "You will always be enough for me," I said, softening my tone. "You're all I've ever wanted. I'm not leaving you. But it doesn't matter how many times I tell you this unless you trust me." I zipped up my pants, huffing as I picked up my bag. It felt as though my knees were about to give out-- I could feel my slick dripping into my underwear. This was a feeling I never wanted to revisit again. Ready to storm off, to slam the door behind me with a bang and leave Roman here to wallow in whatever he was feeling at the moment, something else hit me like a blow to the head; "Wait, how did Peter know?"

It couldn't be. It seriously couldn't be.

Roman cleared his throat, no longer meeting my gaze. I could see it in the light pink of his cheeks that he was embarrassed about his outburst. "He said they talked at the party," he mumbled under his breath. "Briefly. Just for a second."

"Ah, is that right?"

Roman caught my tone, glancing up at me through his brows. "Why?"

"Don't you think it's odd?"

"... Maybe, I don't know? I was busy getting laid that night, don't ask me,"

I would've laughed had I not been so pissed off. I could see the lack of reaction on my face getting to Roman, and he gave in to a slight shiver. Finally, the roles were reversed, just for a second. "Rome?"

He looked relieved to hear me use his nickname-- "Yes?"

"You will never do anything like that to me ever again,"

Roman tucked his hands into his pockets, head hanging low. "I... really don't know what came over me--"

"Never," I snapped, biting my teeth together. I was afraid I'd start yelling. "You will never."

I wondered whether anyone had talked to him like this. If this was the first time in history that Roman had gotten a boundary imposed on him. Maybe by his mother when she was scolding him as a child, but after that? I somehow doubted it. He remained silent, eyes fixating on his polished shoes.

Finally getting the opportunity to look at him this close, I spotted the vial of my blood still hanging around his neck, poking out from beneath his shirt. In the back of my mind, after having read that stupid book on upirs, a huge part of me thought he was getting affected by it. That the constant smell of blood right underneath his nose was activating dormant senses, dormant thoughts. 

But upirs weren't real. 

Not.

Real.

Roman's silence made me feel unimaginably guilty, as though I had been the one to force myself upon him-- he looked like a kicked puppy. I hated it. So, I gathered my next breath; "Could you at least say you're sorry? Then I'll feel better about inviting you home for dinner later,"

Roman's eyes lit up as they met mine, surprised I'd even offer. "You... still want that?"

"I can barely breathe when we're apart, what do you think?"

He let out the breath he had been holding, falling apart; "I'm really sorry,"

I didn't want to dwell on it. Didn't want to think about the fact that the scared look on my face would probably get him going for months on end. That he'd think about it at night, when he woke up, and especially when he got off at the thought of me. The scared look in my eyes. 

No. I didn't want to think about it. 

Roman was the first to approach, slowly daring to tilt my head up with two fingers underneath my chin and kissing me with the utmost gentle touch. No tongue, no urgency-- just a small, soft brush of our lips against one another, creating sparks that went all the way down into the tips of my fingers. 

Letha had been right when she first warned me about him, all those months ago. Roman was the epitome of an asshole. A core so rotten, it was impossible to carve out all the bad. You could try, you could dig, you could pray, but all of it would never go away. It would forever fester in his bones, infect the very basis of his DNA, and course through his veins.

But... when he kissed me like this, I could forget it.

I could forget.

When he kissed me like this, I only loved him more.

I knew I would love him forever. 

And as the kiss deepened with the sweetest pressure, I reached for the vial of my blood around Roman's neck-- he didn't notice the way I twisted the capsule, figuring out which way to turn it so it would screw itself off. I had a feeling I would need to know this information in times of crisis. 

Just in case.

Just in case. ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The rest of the evening went on as normal. Weirdly enough.

Roman had fully snapped out of his rage, and he had turned into a version of himself I hadn't seen before. He wasn't joking around. He wasn't making dirty jokes. 

He was... calm.

Assured. 

I knew this was probably a form of keeping on the low, to not take a wrong step and blow up in the minefield he had made himself. Roman laid still in my bed with his hands behind his head, watching as I scoured my closet. If there was going to be a prom, I had to look for a dress, right? 

"What are you looking for?" he asked, yawning. "Need some help?"

I shrugged, hoping to brush his question off. It was a bit embarrassing to be talking about this, seeing as he hadn't asked me to be his date or anything. "Just looking for a dress... Wondering if I still have the one I'm thinking about,"

"What do you need a dress for?" Roman sat up in the bed, watching me like a puppy would.

"I... like dresses. Need to wear them more often,"

"But it's getting colder, don't you think it's better to wear something warmer for the season?"

What was up with this obsession of his lately? He had to keep me warm at all times, supposedly. "You sound so polite," I mumbled, wading through my clothes. "Stop looking so guilty, please."

Roman let out a sigh, running his hands through his hair. "I feel bad,"

This was intolerable. It gnawed on my heart. "I told you we're fine, so please don't," I turned to him with one hand on my hip, hoping to stare some sense into him; "I even wore this crazy top to make your mood better, look!"

Roman's eyes darted down to the hot pink crop top I was wearing, and he bit down on his growing smile to stay neutral. Nonetheless, I could see it on his face that he remembered exactly where I had gotten it, and possibly the feeling he had back in that closet when he came into the soft fabric of it. "I'd rather you wore my sweater, like usual,"

"It's in the washer. And this top is fucking iconic," I pointed to the words which were stretched out across my chest. "See? 'Rock on', in big, black letters. You need to rock on more, Roman."

His smile immediately cracked, and he propped himself up on his elbows as he leaned down on the bed. "I've done enough rocking for today, that's for sure,"

I finally saw a way I could turn his mood upside down. With a smug smile, I walked over to the pink speaker I got for my seventeenth birthday and connected it to my phone. "Rome, baby, who's big in rock these days?" 

Roman chuckled, rolling over on his side to follow me with his eyes. "Depends what type of rock you're looking for,"

"Anything,"

"I don't know, then. Anything from Nirvana to Blur, I suppose," 

Bingo. I guessed that Roman was going for bands he thought I had heard of, and he had hit jackpot. With a click of a button, the intro to Song 2 by Blur started playing through the speakers, which earned me another laugh from my boyfriend. It was a typical rock song-- it started out rather quiet until it broke out into complete chaos. 

I crawled back into bed, kissing my way up Roman's stomach, which only made his breath hitch. The giggles brewing in his chest resonated through my body that was pressed up against his, and I joined the laughter as I kissed his rosy cheeks. It was intimate, it was sweet. I loved that I could do this with him now, that he was comfortable enough to be put in a position like this, and that he allowed me to pull stunts like these.

And after all, I decided I would show my love through action, as I couldn't tell him about the extent of my feelings. I knew he'd get up and bolt right out the window like something straight out of a cartoon.

Roman caught his breath, placing his hands on both sides of my face-- all the emotions he couldn't tell me either were on display in his big, green eyes, roaming around the galaxies in his dark pupils. "I trust you,"

"... What?--"

"I keep thinking about what you said earlier," he tried, stroking his thumbs across the soft skin of my cheeks. "I promise I trust you. And I'm sorry that I get in my head about it, because you don't deserve that. You deserve so much better than what I can give you, yet... I want you to stay with me. I really, really want you to stay with me."

This was a rather deep conversation to be having with loud rock music in the background. I should've definitely picked something more mellow. With a sigh, I leaned down to kiss the tip of Roman's nose-- "I told you I'm not going anywhere," I breathed. "I'm yours forever, if you'll have me."

Finally, Roman's eyes lit up. Lit up like fireworks painting the sky. "Forever sounds nice,"

"It does, doesn't it?" It was impossible not to smile.

"It so does," 

It was a relief when he pulled me tightly to his chest and kissed me. It was the type of kiss I had dreamed of having in my bed on a lazy afternoon, the type of kiss which made my heart swell as it beat against his. The type of kiss which I had only ever seen in movies, the type of kiss I could never imagine would feel this good.

No one ever told me that making out with your boyfriend was such a thrill. To be tangled up as one, to be a heap of bodies coming together, to be a mess, and that it would make my whole being vibrate with joy. Roman's lips were so gentle to the touch, yet his kisses were so hot, all-taking, that I wanted nothing more than to melt into him and become one. 

It didn't take long before he rolled us over-- I knew he wouldn't be the type to like anyone on top except for him. My hands were in his hair, tugging at the tips of his dark locks to make my fingers busy, as Roman's tongue licked a stripe up my lips; it was so soft, a feathery touch, and it drew out a shaky moan. 

I didn't know any of this was possible before I met him. I really had no idea, silly me. 

My mind didn't register the meek whine that escaped me, possibly to protect my psyche, as Roman pulled away. A thin string of saliva connected our lips as we simply breathed down at each other, gazing into the other's eyes-- I was sure mine widened a little when I felt something hard pressing against my lower abdomen. 

Fuck, that was still damn hot. 

It certainly gave the words rock on a new meaning, no?

"I need to ask you something," Roman breathed, followed by a sigh of relief when he heard the song was over. "But don't freak out on me, okay?"

I nodded, eager to have his lips back on mine again; "Sure,"

"And before you judge me, I'm not the biggest fan of this idea myself, cause I think it's kinda lame. Keep that in mind,"

"Okay?"

"So... Heh," Roman let out a soft, nervous laugh, nudging my nose with his. "You might actually want to find a dress for this to work, though."

My fingers traced circles into his hair; "Rome,"

"Yeah?"

"Stop rambling, please,"

"Oh,"

"You were saying?"

"Oh," Roman cleared his throat, placing a short kiss to my lips. "Do you want to go to prom?"

Had I not been trapped beneath him, I would've shot right out of the bed. My eyes widened as I pulled him in for another kiss, hoping to suppress the squeal that threatened to escape me. 

"Wait, wait--" Roman's words were muffled against my lips before he raised himself up, still not done. What else was there to say, though? "So, you're going?"

"... What?"

"With friends, or...?"

"Roman, what friends?"

"Ah, right," Once again, he cleared his throat and got all serious again; "So... would you want to go with me?"

It took a second for it to dawn on me that Roman had been genuinely confused. That he thought I would be going with anyone else but him. That he thought, even for just a second, that there was a possibility that I would tell him no. "Are you crazy? Of course!"

Oh, how I loved him.

I loved him to bits.

And here I was, squealing about going to prom. Roman had made me a puddle of girly with his heartthrob-ways. It would've made me sick, had we not immediately gone back to making out, but this time, with bright smiles on our faces. Kissing someone while smiling was definitely in my top three of all things possible on earth. 

Second place was being picked up like I weighed nothing, oddly enough. That was one of the perks of having a tall boyfriend, after all.

And the first place was a no-brainer. It was definitely sex. 

Oh, and who would've guessed-- we'd end up having sex a few minutes later, believe it or not. When your boyfriend is this hot, it's impossible to resist. It was the type of sex that made up for his behavior at school today, the type of sex that made me melt into the mattress with joy and pleasure. 

The cursed hot pink crop top was quickly discarded, and so was my sanity. Roman's kisses grew firm against me, muffling the sounds of my moans as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of my thighs, pinning them down and folding me into submission. It was official-- there seemed to be no etiquette to sex, and my parents being in the house was an obstacle that was easy to deal with. 

Just... shut up. Keep your mouth shut. Right?

But it was so damn hard. Especially as Roman angled his cock right up against my sweet spot with the help of the pillow beneath me, making me whine in pleasure against the kiss he had locked me in to ensure my silence. It was impossible. It made my toes curl, made my vision blurry, and made my mind go into complete lockdown. I entered a phase where I almost didn't care, where I couldn't care less at all, and where the only important thing was for Roman to do whatever he wanted to me. 

"Fuck-- me," I rambled, my hands skimming the muscular range of his broad back as I felt my need grow insatiable. 

Roman let out a huff against me, the smile on his face a visible contradiction; "What am I doing, then, gorgeous?" He was so secure, so confident, that it was impossible not to let him do whatever his heart desired to me. I trusted him with my whole being, even as his grip around my thighs started to make them ache. My lower lip quivered; "Lo--"

No, no!

"Love this," My rambling needed to end, stat. 

Roman smirked into the kiss that followed; "Me too," He seemed to be catching onto my overstimulated state, and the second I let out a sigh of relief when he let go of my thighs and the pounding against my sweet spot relented, he came right back with a move I didn't expect. Roman wrapped his arms around me, pulling me up into his lap with his cock still throbbing inside me. 

I suppressed a surprised yelp. "Rome!--"

"Shh," He guided my legs around him as he watched me adjust to the new feeling-- he was deeper than ever, now, and it freaked me out a bit. "Stay quiet for me, okay?"

I was on the brink of tears. It felt like my thoughts had short-circuited and left me for dead. My breath tensed in my chest as I draped my arms around Roman's neck, grabbing a fistful of his hair to ground myself, just as I knew he liked it. "Let's try something new," he purred, hands traveling up my thighs to grab my hips, lifting me up along his shaft as I gasped into his open mouth. 

Even when I was on top, Roman needed to have control. Perfect. That worked out well for me, actually.

The way he was looking at me made me feel like I was on fire. The green of his eyes etched into mine, watching me with unmatched amusement-- his lips were upturned into the usual smug smirk which made my heart dance in my chest, and in vulnerable moments such as these, it also resulted in my cheeks flaring up with an embarrassing shade of pink. 

It didn't take long before we found a rhythm, and before I got used to practically riding him. It was different like this, especially when Roman's hands were simply a weight on my hips, and I could fuck myself on his cock. It felt like a permission of sorts, like he was telling me he was all mine, that I could do whatever he wanted to him-- like an exchange of submission. Although, of course, Roman would never fully submit to anything in the world. 

It was easy to keep quiet when the soft pillows of his lips muffled the sounds of my inevitable moans, but when they left me, it became a fight against my conscience. A small gasp would escape me here and there, along with a loud hitch of my breath, and it eventually balled on into a breathy string of ah ah ah's-- staying quiet was an impossible task. I prayed to all the Gods above that my parents wouldn't hear the mess their dearest Roman was making out of their daughter.

They had no idea he could be like this. None. He was such a sweetheart at dinner, he'd always make sure to help my mom set the table, and he'd talk sports with my dad-- they had no idea. I could see it in Roman's eyes that he found the sight of me beyond amusing. That he got off me unraveling more than anything. He only made it harder for me to stay quiet as he pressed the heel of his palm to my clit, keeping me steady with a hand on my back as his kisses trailed down my body. 

"A-Ah, Rome--" I was done for. I was done for. 

"Shh, just a little more," Roman's lips had stayed at my clavicle for long enough to leave a mark. It dawned on me that he was leaving a trail of hickeys, and my fist in his hair tightened as my legs quivered. This was too many sensations at once. "A little more... You can take it, right?"

I couldn't utter a cohesive sentence. The pressure on my clit, his wet, eager kisses, and the way I could set the perfect pace as I slid up and down his cock made my brain buzz with static noise. I was sure my eyes had morphed into the shape of hearts as I let out a shaky, quiet moan, filling myself up with Roman's cock over and over. The best feeling in the world. 

"That's my girl..." he cooed, grabbing my waist with his free hand. "Fuck yourself on my cock, it's all yours..." His pink lips parted with pleasure as he watched me sink down on his length, enchanted by the sight. It was a delight to watch the way his perfect up-do came undone, and the way his hair fell over his forehead in messy strokes. He looked unreal, godly. 

Roman's words were enough to make my hips buck into his abdomen, but my state only got worse, deteriorated, as his mouth trailed down to my breast. The moan I had to suppress when I felt his tongue against my stiffening bud was unmatched-- I was sure I started panting as he took it into his mouth, suckling it swollen as I whimpered. 

I wanted to let it spill past my lips; I love you, I love you, I love you. In that sense, sex was dangerous territory for me. However, how was I supposed to resist when it felt this good?

My lips ghosted over the parts of him I could reach, his ear, his cheek, and I let my breath hitch against his skin as a familiar feeling pooled in my tummy. Aware, Roman only drove the heel of his palm harder into my clit, making it so that I was grinding up against him with every lift of my hips against his length. I gave into a tremble, unsure how to stabilize myself in this position-- "Rome," I cried, pleading for him to kiss me. I wasn't sure I'd be able to suppress the sounds that were threatening to spill past my quivering lips when my high washed over me.

Roman's free hand remained at my breast, pinching my bud between his pointer and his thumb in a firm hold which had me wincing in pleasure. He kissed up my body, my shoulders, my neck, my jaw, my cheek-- yet he hovered inches away from my lips, the smirk still prevalent. "You lost," he whispered.

Lost what?

It was as though he read my mind; "You can't stay quiet, can you?"

I really wished I could. I was trying with all my might. But I was so, so damn close, and I shook my head, hoping he'd take pity on me. 

"It's okay," he cooed, his breath falling hot against my cheek as he tilted his head as though to kiss me. "You were never meant to win."

And so I crumbled. Completely. Utterly. Euphoria tore through me as I fell apart in Roman's arms, and it didn't take long before he simply wrapped his arms around me, laid me back down, and fucked me through my high as I suppressed my sobs of pleasure into his shoulder. 

Honestly? I didn't remember what happened next. Completely zen, relaxed, and thoroughly fucked, I considered myself logged off for the next ten minutes or so. However, I had to run over to my mental keyboard as Roman's hand, which was previously toying with my hair, pointed to my nightstand-- "What's that?"

With a small grunt, I raised my head from his bare shoulder. Fuck. My eyes sprung wide open as I spotted The Avoidable Vampirism on display, uncovered and everything. "Uh..." How could I have left that abomination out in the open? I gulped, turning to Roman with a doe-eyed expression that I knew worked well on him. I was sure my next words would put him off his incoming queries in an instant; "It's the sequel to Twilight. Vampire erotica, the usual. Edward is gay in this book, Bella is dead, and there are tons of scenes where, uh... men kiss men. And suck each other off. Super interesting."

Unsurprisingly, Roman was immediately disinterested. "Girls," he mumbled, rolling his eyes before he pressed a short kiss to my lips. "Stop thinking about gay sex, go to sleep."

"I'm not thinking about!--"

"Sleep!"

a/n: thank you for reading this monster of a chapter!!!! as you see, Roman's going absolutely nuts... I wonder whyyy (oh we know why, don't we? don't dangle a carrot in front of a donkey or whatever they say). there are a few chapters left of this book which will be packed w shit I hope will melt your brains, but before that, I wish you all a lovely christmas and a happy new year!!! MWAH, THANK YOU!!)

here are all the chapters!!<3: PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12

loveliest taglist of all time:

@mentallyscreamingsincebirth @putherup @corawithfanfiction @vladsgirlxx

@iamaslytherin0 @sexualparkour @the-universe-is-complicated @heavenly-bratt

@lafemme-nk @namiusedbubble @useyourwandbro @strmborns @literally-lani

@virgosapphire79 @star-girl-04 @veyzus @ddipotassium @pecxiebu

@mil88691 @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @katifefe @sn0wybowie-blog

@lilithskywalker @likecherriesinthespring @sadheartjellyfish @vadersangel

@shehangsbrightly @burningmiraclekingdom @dollforaswan @austinswhitewolf

@nico-velvet @shiiiii-okayyyy @theantagonistalwaysdies @blackbluerose666

@obexes @rosecoloureddudez @amoure020 @itsaeasykill

@succubustacy @carmillavalentine

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Coffee Orders

AO3

The guys had all come to the shop tonight. Johnny led the way, his bright smile finding you first. Kyle winked, Gary waved, Simon nodded, and Price studied you.

“Hi guys, what can I get you? Gary, I know your order if you wanted to find a seat.”

You had quite a few patrons tonight, they might struggle to find a space to sit together.

“Why do you know his order bonnie?” Johnny looks from the menu to you.

“Ask him,” you smile before looking to the rest of them. “Do you know what you want to order?”

“I’ll take a large black coffee, one sugar,” John said.

“Small London Fog for me,” Kyle adds.

“Large black, one London, got it. Simon, want an Earl Grey with a splash of milk?” You glance up from the tablet to see his nod. “That leaves you, Johnny, anything pique your interest?”

“I can’t decide, why don’t you give me your favorite drink on the menu?” He looks at you.

“Can do. All one ticket tonight or separate?”

John steps up, “I got this trip.”

“Alright, go ahead and tap your card I am going to get started on these drinks for everyone.” Leaving the counter you start on their drinks.

You would normally call out their drinks and have them pick them up but you wanted to talk for a few minutes. Grabbing Gary’s ice caramel macchiato and John’s black coffee you leave the kitchen. You found the seating space rearranged. Someone had pushed together two of your smaller tables to make room for them all.

Gary’s ears reddened as you put his drink down. A general chuckle spread out from the table as the men saw his drink. Johnny elbowed Simon with an eye on the ice floating in Gary’s glass. Kyle snorted and turned to look at some art on the walls. John lifted a brow as he took his own drink from the table.

You snatched the coffee from John’s hand as it headed for his lips.

“Okay. That’s not going to fly.”

Everyone looked at you, slightly confused.

“If you want your drinks, you’re going to apologize for laughing at Gary. We don’t make fun of my friends.”

You stared at them expectantly, expertly ignoring the red rising in Gary’s ears.

When murmurs of apology drifted from each man you gave John back his drink and headed back to the kitchen for the rest. When the guys all had their drinks you nodded once and went back to the kitchen. The reaction had been extreme, and unnecessary. Gary was a grown man who worked a secret job for the government, he didn’t need you to defend him. You stayed behind the counter until closing, waving everyone out before locking the door. You set about cleaning up the seating, and tables, and sweeping and mopping the floor. You sent your cleaning playlist through the speakers that were placed around the building, blasting it so loud you couldn’t hear yourself think.

Quinn knocked at the door at his normal time. Quinn washed your dishes. Letting him in you go back to finishing your closing duties. Once you cleaned the front of house well enough for tomorrow you stepped into the kitchen. Turning the volume down you chat with Quinn for a few minutes.

When a jaw-cracking yawn overtakes you he shoos you out the door. Quinn would go out the back, taking the garbage with him. The back door locked automatically so you went out the front door and locked it after you.

Music still spilled from the bars nearby as you worked your way to your car in a parking lot a few buildings over. A large shadow peeled off one building as you got closer to your car. Keeping your pace even, you checked for anyone else on the streets. No one. Figures.

“Can I walk you to your car?”

“Fuck Simon! Don’t do that!” You slap a hand to your heart. It is still trying to beat out of your chest. “Next time if you want to walk me to my car maybe ask before you leave the shop so you don’t scare me near to death.”

His shoulder hunched as he must realize what you were thinking.

“I’ll ask next time.”

“’s too late now. Do you need a ride home too or just waiting to scare the shit out of me?”

“Told Price I would ride with you.”

Pulling teeth from a feral cat would be easier than getting information out of this man right now. Taking one deep, calming breath you straighten.

“Alright. Come on then. I am in need of a shower and my bed.”

He doesn’t say much of anything on the drive home. At least he didn’t comment on the mess of your back seat. Simon opens your door when you arrive home. He had gotten out quickly once you parked and turned back to grab your things.

“Thanks, Simon.”

He got to the front door too, following like a cat as you drifted into your room. Standing at your doorway he stared as you started to remove your jewelry and shoes.

“The drinks were good.”

“Were they? I’m glad. I’m always a bit worried that they will come out terribly and that is why my shop draws in such a small crowd.” Pulling out your hair tie you run your fingers into your scalp. It had been up too long today.

“Can’t be the coffee.” With that he slips into the dark hallway, leaving you staring at the open door.

Gently closing the door you finish your routine, sliding into bed with the curtains blocking out the light of the rising sun.

When you head out to your car next you are shocked to find a full tank of gas where you had been hovering on E the night before.

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist

[candy69gurl]

POV: You are Sukuna's Vessel 3

Warnings- mentions of violence

wc- 2k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

The next morning, you awake with a start, your heart racing and your sheets tangled around you.

For a moment, you can't remember where you are, the fog of sleep still heavy in your mind.

"Why am I feeling so tired?" you wonder, your mind racing as memories slowly come back to you.

You sit up, your body aching in ways it shouldn't, and you realize something, you are wet. "How is that possible? Wet dreams?", you feel odd about the whole situation.

Steeling yourself, you push aside the lingering discomfort and join your friends for training.

Gojo stands at the front of the group, his eyes scanning each of you.

"Today, we will practice controlling our Cursed Energy," he announces, his voice carrying authority. "Remember, the key is to focus your energy and direct it."

You nod, trying to concentrate as Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi join you, their presence a comforting reminder of the life you've built here.

"Alright, let's get started," Yuji says, his voice confident and encouraging.

"Focus on your breath, let it guide your energy," Nobara adds, her voice steady and calming.

Megumi nods, his eyes focused on the task at hand.

"Remember, control is key," Gojo reminds you all.

As you begin to train, Sukuna's voice starts ringing in your ears "Oi brat."

"What?" you snap, your voice sharp and defensive.

"Nothing. Just enjoying the show," Sukuna's voice says, his tone smug.

"Let me focus on my training," you hiss back, your voice shaking with anger.

"Whatever," he replies, his voice dismissive.

You turn your attention back to the task at hand, but Sukuna is still lurking in the back of your mind, "Has he done something with my body last night?", you ask yourself.

"I can't wait to do more," he adds, his voice taunting.

You grit your teeth, your anger growing with each passing moment.

"What are you talking about?" you demand, your voice shaking with emotion.

Sukuna's laughter fills your mind, his response coming without hesitation.

"Nothing", he says, his voice filled with mischief.

"That's a lie," you snap, your frustration boiling over. "What did you do last night?"

Sukuna doesn't respond, his silence as telling as his words.

"Oi Y/N you talking to yourself again?," Megumi says, his voice calm and soothing. "Focus on your breathing."

Gojo claps his hands together, his voice ringing out across the room.

"Today, we will have a friendly competition between Kyoto and Tokyo branches," he announces, his eyes scanning the group. "The person who kills most curses, that person's team going to win" he continues, his voice filled with excitement,

You exchange glances with your friends, a mix of excitement and trepidation in your eyes.

"Alright, let's get this started," Yuji says, his voice determined.

The sun dips below the horizon, the forest casting long shadows that dance across the ground.

You stand beside your friends, the scent of the woods heavy in the air, an eerie quiet settling over the area.

"Ready?" Yuji asks, his voice a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

"Let's do this," Nobara says, her voice filled with determination.

Megumi nods, his eyes scanning the area, searching for any signs of danger.

"Remember, work as a team, and don't hesitate to call for backup," Gojo advises, his voice calm

"Got it," you say, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

"On three, we start," Yuji counts down, his voice confident.

"One..." he begins, clenching his fist, "Two..." his eyes scanning the area.

"Three!" he shouts, and you burst into action, your Cursed Energy flaring to life.

"Fucking brat, don't stress yourself so much", a deep voice rumbles in your mind, "let them do the hardwork".

You immediately stop in your tracks, "Shut up I don't give a damn about your opinion."

Suddenly you notice, you have lost track with your friends, "S-shit they got ahead of me. It's all your fault", you grit your teeth getting mad at Sukuna.

You push aside the nagging worry and focus on the task at hand, your Cursed Energy flaring to life as you search for curses nearby.

A low growl echoes through the trees, and a massive curse steps from the shadows.

"Well, well, well," Sukuna says, his voice dripping with amusement "Looks like you found yourself a big one."

You take a deep breath, focusing on the monster curse in front of you, ignoring Sukuna's comments.

"I'll handle this," you say, your voice firm.

"Of course you will, brat," he replies, his voice filled with skepticism.

You charge forward, your feet hitting the ground with a satisfying thud, your cursed energy gathering in your hand.

"Get ready to die," you say, your voice determined.

The curse roars, its body shifting and twisting as it prepares to attack.

"Just like that, brat?" Sukuna sneers, his voice filled with disbelief.

"Shut up!" you shout, your voice shaking with anger.

You swing your fist, your Cursed Energy crackling around your hand like lightning.

The curse takes a step back, its eyes widening in surprise as you strike.

"Not bad," Sukuna says, his voice surprisingly impressed

You ignore him, focusing on the creature in front of you, its body twisting and contorting as it tries to evade your attack.

"Come on, you can do better than that," he taunts, his voice filled with amusement.

"Shut up! Will you?" you snarl, your frustration mounting.

You dodge its attacks, your body moving with fluid grace, your Cursed Energy flaring to life with every strike.

"Keep going, brat," Sukuna urges, his voice filled with excitement.

"I know what I'm doing," you snap, your voice sharp.

With a final cry, you launch yourself forward, your cursed energy swirling around your hand.

The curse crumbles to the ground, defeated, its energy fading into nothingness.

"Nice job," Sukuna says, his voice grudgingly respectful.

You ignore him, your chest heaving as you catch your breath, your heart pounding in your ears.

As if on cue, more curses appear from the shadows, their hunger and malice clear in their eyes.

You take a deep breath, your focus shifting to the new threats.

Sukuna's voice fills your mind, his tone excited and eager. "Alright, let's see what you've got, brat," he says, his voice filled with anticipation.

You draw on your Cursed Energy, your power surging through your veins as you face the new threats.

Each curse falls swiftly, their bodies breaking apart beneath your onslaught, your power growing with each victory.

"Not bad," Sukuna says, his voice filled with approval,"keep it up," he urges, his voice excited

"Stop commenting", you yell at him.

"You are lucky that the king of curses, is complimenting you", he laughs.

"King of curses my ass", you laugh back.

"Oh is that so brat?"

A sudden surge of pain courses through your limb, your vision swimming for a moment.

"Damn it," you gasp, stumbling back as the curse looms over you.

"That's a Special Grade," Sukuna says, his voice grim.

You clench your jaw, fighting to regain your footing.

"I can see," you say, your voice tinged with panic.

With a snarl, you launch yourself forward, your cursed energy crackling around your hand.

The special grade curse takes a step back, its eyes narrowing as it realizes the threat you pose.

"You're not as weak as I thought," it says, its voice filled with amusement, its body twisting and contorting as it prepares for battle.

"Oh you can speak?," you snarl.

The curse towers over you, its body twisted and grotesque, its eyes filled with malice and hunger.

It resembles a humanoid figure, but it's far from human. Its skin is grey and pockmarked, its muscles bulging with unnatural strength.

Its eyes are a deep, burning red, like the fires of hell, and its mouth is filled with sharp, jagged teeth.

Despite its horrifying appearance, there's a sense of power and menace that radiates from it, threatening to overwhelm you.

"Yes, but don't need to speak to kill you," the curse replies, your voice shaking with determination

"I will not lose," you grit out, energy crackling around your hand, you charge forward, your body moving with surprising speed and agility.

The curse meets your attack, its strength overwhelming, its power a force to be reckoned with.

"This is not going well, brat," Sukuna says, his voice filled with concern

You ignore him, your focus solely on the battle at hand.

Your attacks falter, the curse's power overwhelming, its body twisting and evading your every move, its attacks growing stronger with each passing moment.

The curse lands a crushing blow, sending you flying into a tree, the impact knocking the wind from your lungs, making your rib bones shatter.

"No," you whisper, your vision swimming as darkness creeps in, "I-I have to call for backup."

The curse looms over you, its eyes gleaming with victory. You struggle to breathe, the darkness closing in.

"You're time is up, brat," Sukuna says, his voice cold and final.

As you slip away, you feel a shift, a presence taking over your body.

Your vision fades to black, the last thing you see is the Special Grade curse towering over you, its victory imminent.

Sukuna's consciousness slips into your body, his presence filling your with an odd sense of calm.

"Ah," he says, his voice filled with curiosity, "Now, its time to have some fun."

Sukuna steps forward, his body moving with an almost casual grace, his lips curling into a smirk.

"So, this is the great Special Grade curse who took down my vessel," he says, his voice dripping with condescension

The curse snarls, its body shifting and twisting, ready to attack.

"I thought we were on the same team.. But if you don't want it get ready to die," Sukuna fixes your disheveled hair.

With a flick of his wrist, Sukuna sends a blast of cursed energy towards the curse.

The curse stumbles back, its body shuddering under the force of the attack, its rage building.

Sukuna laughs, his voice filled with amusement,"Try harder (Ganbare Ganbare)" he taunts, his voice filled with malicious delight

Another blast of cursed energy erupts from his hand, the curse crumbling to the ground.

"What a disappointment," Sukuna says, his voice filled with contempt

He looks down at the fallen curse, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"You dare to attack the king of curses?" he says, his voice filled with venom

He steps forward, his foot coming down hard on the curse's neck, its body crumbling to dust.

Sukuna runs his hand through your hair, his fingers tangling in your hair "What a mess," he says, his voice filled with disgust "Gotta do something about it," he mutters, his fingers tightening in your hair.

Sukuna's cursed energy pulses through your body, the wounds from the battle healing in an instant.

"Hmph enjoyed my show huh?", Sukuna chukles, his eyes up in the night sky, spotting Momo Nishimiya, on her broom.

He watches as Momo disappears into the night, her broom a blur of movement as she rushes away,"...Sukuna inside Y/N's body? I need to tell everyone about it", her heart racing as she hurries to the seniors.

"Not so fast, little witch", Sukuna's voice flickers with amusement.

With a flick of his wrist, Sukuna's cursed energy surges forward, slashing through Momo's broom, and her body.

Momo screams, her body plummeting to the ground, her life force fading rapidly.

Sukuna's eyes squint, gleaming with malicious delight.

"I know vessel, you are going to be mad but we didn't want her to tell tales, did we?" he asks, his voice filled with mischief, "Time to switch now I guess."

As Sukuna retreats, your body collapses, you lay on the ground, unconscious, your body devoid of any wound.

TAGLIST: @moonlightazriel @cocoaxbunny @lotus-n-l0ve @rabbidbunwy @sweetchildcloud

Dividers from @cafekitsune

[yourlocaljonghoe]

Your Gentle Hands (Please Don't Ever Let Go Of Me Again). || Kim Hongjoong. [ Part 2 ]

Part 1 here.

Summary: meeting the local outcast shouldn't have ended with you slowly falling for him. yet you did, all while knowing you could never have this man, because you were already someones else's wife. two lovers, a dress shop, and a violent man between it all. we all know how this ends, right? ... right?

Pairing: dressmaker!kim hongjoong x fem. reader

Genre: angst, fluff, suggestive

Wordcount: 22.7k

Warnings: misogyny, mentions of (domestic) violence, injuries, wounds, scars, lots of tears and trauma, allusions to sex but cuts right before the actual act

A/N: all i have to say is... thank fucking god i finally finished it. i struggled so much, and though i still love it im also so sick of this fic haha. there are so many people i want to thank for listening to my rambling, brainstorming and constantly reassuring me: @ghstzzn, @skteezcursed, @xomakara and also to @pali-writes-atiny-bit who beta read the whole thing <33 please don't forget to reblog and like! divider credits as always to @firefly-graphics!

Available here on AO3.

“When you fall in love, it is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake, and then it subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots are to become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the desire to mate every second of the day. It is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body. No … don’t blush. I am telling you some truths. For that is just being in love; which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away. Doesn’t sound very exciting, does it? But it is!”

Captain Corelli’s Mandolin by Louis de Bernières

The room around you was quiet, save for the distant ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway. As a child, you'd hated this clock. Now, as an adult, you despised it.

Your hands rested in your lap, the delicate lace of the dress you loved so much pooling around you like the last remnants of a life that, albeit short, once felt full of promises. The world outside was moving on, the townsfolk bustling about with their daily tasks, their lives seemingly untouched by the darkness that has taken hold of your heart.

It was funny, hilarious even.

Because despite pretending not to, they all knew, bowed their heads in shame whenever you walked by.

Yet not a single soul had ever cared.

Not until a man was dead, and another one was jailed for his murder.

You leaned your forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching as the winter sun set over the distant hills, casting a golden glow on the town below. The streets were full of people rushing to finish their errands before nightfall, their faces etched with concern and urgency. None of them spared a glance in the direction of your family's old house, none of them knew the depth of your despair.

Or maybe they did. Maybe they just didn't care. 

It wouldn't be the first time.

The sound of the door creaking open drew your attention, but you didn't turn to look. You knew who it was. Your mother had a way of entering a room that felt like an invasion, like an unwelcome breeze slipping through a crack in the window.

“You’re still wearing that costume,” she said, voice low and disapproving. “That man. Hongjoong. You shouldn't-”

“Shouldn't what, Mother? Mourn the only person who ever truly cared for me?”

You kept your forehead pressed against the glass, your breath fogging up a small circle. The lace of your dress felt heavy now, like a shroud. Once, you had worn it with pride. It had been a gift from Hongjoong, back when his friendship, care and love felt like a lifeline. Back when you were still able to see him, touch him, kiss him-

“Why do you still have it on?” she continued, stepping further into the room. Her footsteps were slow, deliberate. “It's time to let go of the past.”

You finally turned to face her, your eyes cold. The sight of her stirred a boiling rage within you, a fury that had been simmering for too long. She looked at you with the same passive face she always had, the face of a woman who turned away from the truths she didn't want to see.

“You let him do this to me,” you said, your voice trembling with restrained anger. “You saw the bruises. You heard the screams. And you did nothing.”

She flinched, just slightly, but quickly regained her composure, fidgeting with her hands. You two had that habit in common. “I did what I thought was best. It was a different time-”

“Different time?” you interrupted, standing up. The lace dress flowed around you, the wind making it flare up. “You watched your daughter suffer, and you did nothing. That's not the past. That's just who you are.”

Your mother’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but you felt no pity for her. Not anymore. The betrayal was too deep, the wounds too fresh.

“E-everything's changed now,” she said softly. “He's gone. You’re free.”

“Free?!” you echoed, laughing bitterly. “Free to live in this prison of horrible memories? Free to be haunted by the faces of all the people who turned away? Free to watch the man I love be behind bars for a crime I committed?”

Silence fell between you, heavy and oppressive. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway seemed so, so much louder now.

“You need to let go,” she whispered, a plea hidden in her tone.

“And you need to face what you did,” you replied, your voice cold and unwavering. “Or, well, didn't do.”

With that, you turned back to the window, shutting her out once more. The sun had nearly disappeared behind the hills, casting long shadows across the town. 

You wouldn't stay here much longer. You had a plan, and soon, it would be time to carry it out.

But before that, you had to see your entire family again. And tonight, while celebrating another successful harvest season was the perfect opportunity. Even though the bond you once shared was inevitably broken, they were your family, your people, whom you once loved and shared many memories with.

One last time, you wanted to look them right in the eye.

Because afterwards, you vowed to never speak to them again.

“Miyeon isn't coming today?” you asked as you and your eldest sister set the table. Unfortunately for you, you had to take off Hongjoong’s dress for real this time. To keep the peace, your mother insisted.

“She's with child, Y/N. She can't travel that far. Unlike some of us, she actually fulfills her wifely duties”, she remarked snarky, her voice cold and arrogant. 

You didn't take her usual bait. “What a shame. May she and her unborn be healthy,” you whispered. You were being honest; you truly wanted that. Your middle sister was a good human, and you knew if she and her husband Gikwang wouldn't be away so much traveling the world, she would probably be the only family member you could truly lean on.

Unlike Jisoo, the eldest of you. Your relationship had always been strained, even as children. While you and Miyeon were close, Jisoo had always thought of herself as the best of the best, thus never bothering to actually spend time with you.

And when she married her wealthy husband, Juwon, her arrogance reached a whole new level. When your family's fortune went downhill and you had to marry below your status, her evil, cruel nature fully revealed itself to you. 

While she was always cordial with your parents and sister, in private, you were her personal punching bag.

Your sister's voice snapped you back to the present. “Father's been asking about you,” Jisoo said, arranging the cutlery with a meticulousness that bordered on obsessiveness. “He's worried.”

“Worried?” you echoed, suppressing a bitter laugh. “Funny, he didn't seem worried at all when he handed me over to a monster.”

Jisoo’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He did what he thought was best for the family. You were meant to secure our future.”

“And look how well that turned out,” you said, the sarcasm dripping from your words. “One dead, another imprisoned, and me... here, all alone.”

For a brief moment, you could swear your sister's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of something almost like sympathy crossing her features. “Y/N...”

But you weren’t in the mood for her half-hearted attempts at empathy. “Save it, Jisoo. You’ve made your feelings clear enough over the years.”

Silence fell over the room as the two of you continued to set the table. God, in moments like these, you really needed Miyeon. Or ‘Always the peacemaker Miyeon’, as you called her. Because now, this large dining room, once a place full of warmth and laughter, felt like a mausoleum, merely filled with the ghosts and memories of happier, easier times. The ornate chandelier above - one of the rare expensive items your family kept after your father lost his job and status -, the polished wooden floors, the family portraits lining the walls - they all seemed to mock the illusion of a perfect family that had long since shattered.

The room fell into an uneasy silence afterwards. Jisoo's meticulously manicured fingers continued moving with precision, setting each fork and knife in its place, perfectly in order.

“Y/N,” Jisoo began again, her voice softer this time. “I know you’ve been through a lot. But we’re still family. We have to… find a way to move forward.”

You looked at her, really looked at her for the first time in years. Behind the cold exterior, you saw traces of the sister you once played with in the gardens, the sister that, despite never being interested in the same things as Miyeon and you, tried her best to somewhat bond with you, all for the sake of the family. Before life had driven a wedge between you. Now, all those memories felt like they belonged to another lifetime, a dream you could barely recall.

“Moving forward,” you repeated, almost to yourself. “It sounds so simple when you say it.”

“It’s not simple,” Jisoo admitted, setting down the last knife and turning to face you fully. “But it’s necessary.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the sound of footsteps in the hallway made you pause. Your father entered the room, his once robust frame now slightly stooped with age and worry. His eyes, once so full of authority, now seemed to carry the weight of too many regrets.

He looked as miserable as you felt. 

“Y/N,” he said, “It’s good to see you. You've been hiding in your room every time I come back from the fields, I thought… I thought you were ignoring me.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak because yes, you totally were ignoring him. Your relationship with your father had always been complicated, and recent events had only made it worse.. He had been the one to arrange your marriage, to send you into the hands of the man who had caused you so much pain. Forgiveness was a luxury you couldn’t afford, not yet.

Not ever, maybe.

“Father,” you finally managed, your voice tight. “Jisoo and I were just finishing setting the table.”

He glanced at the table, then back at you, his eyes searching your face for something, anything - understanding, perhaps, or absolution. “Thank you, both of you. It means a lot to have the family together again, minus your lovely sister of course.”

Jisoo moved to stand beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm. “Are you worried? She's in good health, father, the delivery will surely go well.”

You tried so hard not to get upset at the scene unfolding in front of you. Seeing him so worried about Miyeon stung, because when has he ever shown you this kind of emotion?

He nodded, but his expression remained troubled. “Where’s your mother?”

“In the sitting room,” you replied. “She’s... resting.”

The truth was, you had left her standing in the middle of that room after yet another argument, lost in her own guilt and sorrow. But you didn’t have the energy to explain that to your father. 

“I’ll go get her,” he said, turning to leave. “Dinner will be ready soon. Jisoo, get your sons from the garden.”

As he walked away, you felt a pang of something close to pity. For all his faults, your father was still trying to hold the family together, still clinging to the hope that things could return to some semblance of normalcy. But you knew better.

Jisoo’s voice pulled you back to the present. “We should finish up. Mother won’t be happy if everything isn’t perfect.”

You nodded, moving mechanically as you placed the last of the plates on the table. The scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread wafted in from the kitchen, mingling with the tension in the air. This dinner, this facade of normalcy, felt like a cruel joke. But for now, you played along, if only to keep the peace a little while longer.

Dinner was… a strained affair, to say the least. Your family gathered around the table, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on faces that had grown distant and unfamiliar. Your mother, seated at the head, looked as if she were holding herself together by sheer force of will. Beside her, your father’s attempts at small talk fell flat, met with monosyllabic responses and uncomfortable silences.

Jisoo, always the dutiful daughter, tried to keep the conversation going. “Father, have you heard from the merchants about the new trade routes? I read that they’re opening up opportunities in the south. It could be good for the farm, we could get more profit and such.”

Your father nodded, seizing on the topic like a lifeline. “Yes, I’ve been in contact with a few of them. They say the prospects are promising. It could be a chance to recover some of what we’ve lost.”

You listened with half an ear, your thoughts all over the place.

You wondered what Hongjoong was doing at this very moment. Was he getting enough food? Was the little prison cell cold? Was he… Was he thinking about you, just like you were thinking about him? All you could think about was the memory of his touch, his voice, once your only source of comfort, now a constant torment. He was the only person who had ever truly understood you, and now he was paying the price for your actions.

“Y/N?” your mother’s voice brought you right back to reality, “Did you hear me?”

You blinked, realizing she had been speaking to you. “I’m sorry, Mother. What did you say?”

She sighed, a sound full of frustration and sadness. “I asked if you had any plans now that... now that things have changed.”

You knew what she meant. Now that your husband was dead, now that the scandal had rocked your family to its core. “I haven’t decided yet,” you said carefully. “There’s a lot to think about.”

Your mother nodded, her eyes flickering to your father, then back to you. “Just remember, we’re here for you. No matter what.”

You wanted to believe her, but the years of neglect and indifference had built walls that were impossible to tear down. “Thank you,” you said, though the words felt hollow.

As the meal wore on, the conversation thankfully turned to more mundane matters - Jisoo’s children, Miyeon’s pregnancy, the upcoming harvest celebration in town. It was as if everyone was trying to pretend that nothing had changed, that you were still a family bound by more than just blood and obligation.

But you knew better. And as you looked around the table at the faces of your family, you couldn’t help but wonder if they felt that, slowly but surely, you were no longer a part of them.

Later on, as everyone else was lingering in the living room already, you turned around to your mother, now all alone with you in the kitchen. “Mother?” you asked.

“What is it?”

“The bread you made… can I have some more of it? It was… very good.”

For a split second, she looked you right in the eye. 

“...Sure, my daughter.”

She knew something was up.

But maybe, maybe, not intervening with your plans was her way of finally apologizing to you.

The small police station was cold and dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. As you stepped inside, Officer Kim, one of only four officers in your town, looked up from his desk, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity as he spotted you.

“Mrs. Y/N,” he greeted, standing up. “What brings you here at this hour?”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. “I need to see him,” you said, your voice cold and determined. “I need to face the man who killed my husband before he is executed.”

Officer Kim’s eyes widened slightly, but after composing himself, he nodded. “Of course. Just... be careful. He’s not in the best of moods.”

You forced a tight smile. “Thank you, Officer Kim. I brought this as a token of my appreciation.” You handed him the neatly wrapped loaf of bread. “It’s from my mother. She insisted.”

He accepted the gift with a nod. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s very kind of you.”

As he led you down the short hallway to the cells, your heart pounded in your chest. The air grew colder the more you entered the building. At one point, it was so cold you felt multiple shivers run down your spine. God, Hongjoong must have frozen to death here. 

You shook your head, taking another deep breath. You had to act, and act well, for your plan to work.

“There he is,” Officer Kim said, nodding toward the second cell. Hongjoong sat on the narrow cot, his head bowed, his hands clasped together. At the sound of your approach, he looked up, his eyes meeting yours instantly.

You saw the turmoil of emotions behind his eyes. Guilt, sorrow, and so much relief to finally see you again.

“Y/N,” he began, but you cut him off with a glare.

“Don’t you dare say my name,” you hissed, stepping closer to the bars. “You have no right to speak to me.”

Hongjoong’s eyes widened, but he quickly masked his emotions. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes.

“I needed to see you,” you spat, your voice dripping with venom. “I needed to look into the eyes of the man who murdered my husband.”

Officer Kim shifted uncomfortably beside you, clearly uneasy with the tension. “I’ll give you a few minutes,” he said, retreating back to his desk. “But don’t take too long.”

You waited until his footsteps faded before turning back to Hongjoong, your expression softening. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I had to make it convincing.”

Hongjoong reached through the bars, his fingers brushing against yours. “What are you doing here?” he asked again, his voice trembling. He looked unwell; skinnier than ever before, his eyes sunken in and some torn, old clothes on his shivering frame.

“I have a plan to get you out,” you said, glancing over your shoulder to ensure Officer Kim wasn’t coming back just yet. “The bread I gave him... it’s poisoned. Not enough to kill, just enough to make him sick. When he’s down, I’ll get the keys and we’ll leave. Together.”

Hongjoong’s eyes filled with a mix of admiration and worry. “You’re risking everything for me.”

“I’d risk anything for you,” you confirmed, your voice breaking. “You’re the only person who’s ever truly cared for me. I can’t lose you.”

Before he could respond, you heard a muffled groan from the direction of the desk. It seemed as if officer Kim was already feeling the effects of the poison, his footsteps stumbling as he tried to return.

“Now,” you whispered urgently. “We have to go now.”

You hurried back to the entrance of the cells, finding Officer Kim slumped over his desk, groaning in pain. He looked up at you, confusion and betrayal clearly visible in his eyes.

“Mrs. Y/N... what...”

“I’m so, so sorry,” you said softly, reaching for the keys on his belt. “I had to.”

You returned to Hongjoong’s cell, unlocking the door with trembling hands. The door swung open with a creak, and he stepped out, his hand immediately finding yours.

“Let’s go,” you said, pulling him toward the back exit. “We don’t have much time.”

“Wait,” he said, and halted his steps. Before you could fully turn around and ask what's wrong, he was all over you. 

His arms wrapped around you in a fierce embrace, pulling you close as if he were afraid you might disappear. You could feel his heartbeat, fast and erratic, echoing your own.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he murmured into your hair, his voice choked with emotion. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

You held onto him just as tightly, savoring the warmth and solidity of his body against yours. “We don’t have much time,” you whispered, even though you wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms forever. “We have to go.”

Hongjoong nodded, pulling back slightly but keeping a firm grip on your hand. Together, you made your way out, your hearts pounding with a mix of fear and exhilaration. The night was cold and still, the moon casting a pale light over the deserted streets..

“We’ll head to the forest,” you said, squeezing Hongjoong’s hand. “I hid a few resources for us by the tree where we first met. Along with… along with some evidence. Against my former husband.”

“You want… you want to prove my innocence?”

You looked at him, and nodded. “You are innocent after all. And… and I am too.”

Hongjoong’s grip tightened on your hand as the two of you made your way through the dark, narrow streets. “I have someone who can help us,” he whispered urgently. “Someone… powerful.”

You glanced at him. “Who?”

“I can't tell you yet. But trust me, she can definitely help us.”

She?

You nodded, but your mind raced. “...Alright, let’s get to the tree first. We need those resources.”

The two of you moved down the all too familiar path. The town was quiet, the only sound the occasional bark of a distant dog or the rustle of leaves in the wind. Beside you, Hongjoong wasn't as quick as he'd usually be; the weeks of solitary confinement, barely enough food and cold temperatures were clearly evident, yet he did not once fall behind. You reached the tree where you and Hongjoong had first met, a towering oak tree.

The place where it all started.

“There,” you whispered, pointing to a hollow at the base of the tree. Hongjoong knelt down, reaching into the hollow and pulling out a small bag. He opened it, revealing the few precious items you had hidden: food, water, a change of clothes, and most importantly, the evidence that could clear Hongjoong’s name.

“These letters,” you said, pulling out a bundle of crumpled papers. “They’re from my husband. Threatening me, detailing his abuse and plans to ruin our family if I didn’t comply. They’ll prove what kind of man he really was.”

Hongjoong nodded, his eyes hardening. “We’ll make sure everyone knows the truth. But first, we need to get out of here.”

“Don't you want to rest?” you asked, clearly worried about his current state.

He just took your hand and placed a chaste kiss on it. “Later. I have to make sure you're safe first.”

“And you, too,” you added.

“And me too,” he repeated.

So, the two of you set off again, moving through the shadows, your hearts pounding in unison. As you reached the main street, you were determined to make it as far as possible, as quickly as possible. But as you rounded a corner, you came to a sudden halt.

A carriage awaited you, its dark silhouette looming in the moonlight. And standing beside it, his expression grim, was your father.

“Father,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped forward, his eyes locked on yours. “I… had a feeling you’d try to run,” he said quietly. “And I couldn’t let you do it alone.”

You stared at him, confusion swirling in your mind. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I’ve made many mistakes, Y/N. So, so many mistakes. But letting you suffer in silence was the worst of all. I’m not here to stop you. I’m here to help you. Even if it means I'll never see you again.”

Hongjoong stepped protectively in front of you, his eyes narrowed. “Why should we trust you? You never protected her before, why now?”

Your father met his gaze steadily. “Because I love my daughter.”

“You're a liar,” you whispered, hot, angry tears threatening to escape your eyes.

He fiercely shook his head. “I'm a bad person, Y/N. I do not want to earn my forgiveness with this. But I'm not a liar. Never that. Take this carriage and go, wherever you two want to.”

You looked at Hongjoong, then back at your father. “And what about you?”

He shook his head. “I’ll stay behind and livel with the consequences. It’s the least I can do.”

Tears filled your eyes as you stepped forward, embracing your father tightly. It was the first hug you shared in a long, long time, and also the last one. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He held you close for a moment, then gently pushed you toward the carriage. “Go. Be safe. And don’t look back.”

You and Hongjoong climbed into the carriage, the soft leather seats a stark contrast to the cold, hard ground you had just left. As the carriage began to move, you looked out the window, watching your father’s figure grow smaller and smaller until it fully disappeared into the night.

The carriage rattled along the narrow, winding road, the wheels clattering over the uneven stones. The night was cold, the air crisp with the promise of frost. You wrapped a blanket around yourself and Hongjoong, sharing the warmth as best you could. The lantern hanging from the carriage’s front swayed with each bump, casting erratic shadows that danced across the landscape.

The path ahead was long and treacherous, leading through dense forests and over rocky hills. Every so often, the carriage would hit a particularly deep rut, jolting you both almost freaking the horse out numerous times.

Luckily for you, Hongjoong was some kind of animal whisperer and managed to calm the horse pretty quickly each time.

As the hours passed, the moon climbed higher in the sky, its pale light filtering through the bare branches of the trees. The forest around you was alive with nocturnal sounds - the hoot of an owl, the rustle of leaves, the distant cry of a fox. You kept a wary eye on the shadows, aware that danger could lurk in the darkness.

Dawn was beginning to break when the carriage crested a hill, revealing a panoramic view of the valley below. The first light of day painted the landscape in soft hues of pink and gold, the rolling hills stretching out like a patchwork quilt. It was a moment of fleeting beauty, a reminder of the world beyond your troubles.

“It's so pretty here,” you whispered. Hongjoong hummed in return, his gaze slowly becoming more and more unfocused.

He was tired, and in desperate need for some rest.

“Let me drive for a while,” you said softly, touching Hongjoong's arm. “You need to rest.”

Hongjoong shook his head, though his exhaustion was evident. “I’ll rest later. We need to put as much distance between us and the town as possible.”

“Please,” you insisted, your voice gentle but firm. “You’re no good to me if you collapse from exhaustion. Let me take over until we find an inn.”

He hesitated, then finally nodded, knowing you were right. The carriage came to a halt, and you swapped places. As you took the reins, Hongjoong settled into the seat, wrapping the blanket tightly around himself. His eyes closed almost immediately, the tension in his body easing as he finally allowed himself to rest a little.

You guided the carriage along the winding road, the rhythm of the horse’s hooves a steady, comforting beat. The landscape around you began to change as the sun climbed higher, the dense forest giving way to open fields and distant mountains. 

Hours passed, and you kept a vigilant eye on the road ahead. Occasionally, you would glance back at Hongjoong, who slept fitfully, his brow furrowed even in rest. The evidence you had gathered against your husband lay safely tucked away, a lifeline that could clear Hongjoong’s name and secure your future together.

As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the fields, you spotted a small village nestled at the base of the mountains. It was far enough from your town that you felt safe enough to stop for a while. The village appeared peaceful and quiet, only a few people out on the street at this hour.

You gently shook Hongjoong awake as the carriage rolled to a stop at the edge of the village. He stirred, blinking groggily. “Where are we?”

“A village,” you replied, helping him down from the carriage. “We can rest here for the night.”

He nodded, too tired to argue. The two of you made your way to the inn, a modest building with a welcoming glow emanating from its windows. 

The inn's common room was a bustling hub of activity, filled with the sounds of laughter and the clinking of mugs. The innkeeper, a plump woman with kind eyes and a warm smile, greeted you as you approached the counter.

“Good evening, dear,” she said, her voice soft and welcoming. “What can I do for you?”

“We need a room for the night,” you replied, glancing back at Hongjoong, who was leaning heavily against the wall, fighting to stay awake.

The older woman nodded, her eyes flickering to Hongjoong before returning to you. "Of course, dear. We have one room available, but it only has one bed. I hope… that’s alright?”

Her eyes flickered towards your hand. There was no ring on it and so, if you took that single bed room, it would be quiet… frivolous.

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks. You yearned to be close to him, to feel his warmth and comfort, but after everything that happened, the thoughts of sleeping close to someone terrified you. And, most important in this current situation; you weren’t married yet. 

Hongjoong, sensing your hesitation, stepped forward. “That will be fine,” he said softly, tired eyes settling upon your figure. “Thank you.”

It seemed you were the only one caring about appearances.

The innkeeper's smile widened, and she quickly handed you a key. “Room 3, just up the stairs. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask.”

You nodded, taking the key with trembling hands. “Thank you,” you managed.

You carefully led Hongjoong up the narrow staircase. The wooden steps creaked under your weight, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. It seemed that with your arrival, the sound of previous laughter had fully died down. Or maybe the ringing in your ears was too loud for you to notice any other noises. When you reached the door to your room, you hesitated for a moment before unlocking it and pushing it open.

The room was small but cozy, with a single bed pushed against one wall and a small window that offered a view of the village below. The bed was covered with a thick, quilted blanket, and a simple wooden chair sat in the corner.

Hongjoong sank onto the bed with a sigh, his eyes already half-closed. You stood awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do next.

“Y/N,” Hongjoong murmured, his voice gentle. “You can take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor.”

You shook your head, stepping closer. “No, you need to rest properly. We'll share the bed. It’s... it’s fine.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and gratitude. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, though your heart was pounding in your chest. “Yes. We'll manage. I trust you.”

And you did. What you did not trust though were your inner demons.

Hongjoong fully collapsed onto the bed, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. You sat beside him, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “Rest now,” you whispered. “We’ll figure out the rest in the morning. I'll go ahead and fetch us something to eat, okay?”

He nodded, his eyes already closing. You stayed by his side for a few minutes, then quietly left the room to look for food you both desperately needed.

After finding some bread, cheese, and a couple of apples in the inn's small kitchen, you returned to the room. The scent of the simple meal filled the space, mingling with the comforting warmth of the inn. Hongjoong stirred as you entered, his eyes slowly opening.

“Food,” you announced with a soft smile, sitting down on the edge of the bed and handing him a piece of bread. “It's not much, but it's something.”

He took the bread with a grateful smile, his fingers brushing against yours. “Thank you,” he murmured, taking a bite. “This is perfect.”

You both ate in silence for a while. Despite the simplicity of the meal, it felt like a feast after eating little to nothing the past few days. Hongjoong's presence, his gentle smile, and the way he looked at you with such trust and affection made the food taste even better.

As you carefully cut and shared the apples with him, your fingers occasionally brushed against his, each touch sending a small shiver down your spine. The tension of the past days seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and connection. You found yourself laughing softly at the way Hongjoong tried to juggle the uncut apples, almost dropping them.

“You're hopeless,” you teased, giggling as he finally managed to catch them.

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I'm just a man hopelessly in love,” he corrected, his tone playful yet sincere.

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn't help but laugh, a genuine, carefree sound that you hadn't heard from yourself in a long time. It felt good to laugh, to share this moment of lightness with him.

As the meal came to an end, you both settled back on the bed, the small space forcing you to be close. Hongjoong's warmth radiated against your side, his arm brushing against yours. Despite the comfort of his presence, your body immediately tensed.

The last time a man laid next to you, he'd done unspeakable things to you. 

But this… this was Hongjoong. Your Hongjoong.

You trusted him.

Yet at the same time, you were still terrified.

You tried to focus on his steady breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, but your heart raced, and your skin prickled with unease. You felt a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach, your muscles tightening involuntarily.

You couldn't breathe.

Hongjoong sensed your discomfort, his hand gently covering yours. “It's okay,” he whispered, his voice soothing. “I'm here.”

You nodded, but his reassurance did little to calm the storm inside you. Your mind was flooded with conflicting thoughts and emotions. The warmth of his body was both a comfort and a reminder of all you had endured. You wanted to relax, to let go and feel safe, but your body wouldn't allow it.

Your breathing quickened, your chest tightening. You could feel your pulse pounding in your ears, each beat drowning out every other sound. Your hands trembled, and you clutched the blanket tightly, trying to ground yourself.

“Breathe,” he murmured, his voice soft and steady. “Just breathe with me.”

“I can't,” you sobbed.

“Shhh. Just close your eyes.”

You did as he said, focusing on his voice, his warmth. Slowly, you matched your breathing to his. The tension in your muscles began to ease, though the fear still lingered at the edges of your mind.

Hongjoong's hand never left yours, his thumb tracing soothing patterns on your skin. “You're safe,” he whispered, his voice a balm to your frayed nerves. “I won't let anything happen to you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. You squeezed his hand, finding strength in his presence. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle embrace. You felt the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest grounding you. “We'll get through this,” he murmured. “Together.”

“You know,” you slowly began, carefully turning around. Now, face to face with him, you carefully lifted your fingers and started tracing husband features; his acquainted eyebrows, over husband prominent cheekbones to his soft, plush lips, where you remained a little longer.

“I don't think I'd be alive without you, Kim Hongjoong. For that… for you, coming into my life and selflessly saving me, I am beyond thankful. But at the same time… at the same time, I can't help but think that if you'd never met me… you could still live your normal life. Sometimes… it gets all too much.”

You held his gaze, your fingers repeating your previous actions of lightly tracing the curve of his lips. “You’ve given me so much, Hongjoong,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “More than I ever thought I deserved.”

His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. “You deserve everything, Y/N. More than I could ever give.”

The sincerity in his eyes made your heart ache. “I don't know what I'd do without you,” you said, your voice breaking. “You've been my rock, my savior. I... I don't know if I can ever repay you.”

Hongjoong's hand moved to the back of your neck, his fingers gently kneading the tension there. “You don't need to repay me. Just being with you is enough. Seeing you smile, hearing your laughter... that's all I need for the rest of my life.”

You closed your eyes, savoring the feel of his touch. His fingers were warm and strong, yet so gentle. It was a stark contrast to the harshness you had known before. 

“You shine so bright, Joongie. Like the sun. My sun.”

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. “And you will shine like that too again. Soon,” he breathed, his lips brushing against your skin. The intimacy of the moment made your heart race, but it wasn't fear this time. It was something else, something deeper.

Something only Kim Hongjoong could make you feel.

You opened your eyes, finding his face so close to yours that you could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. “Hongjoong,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I'm scared. Not of you, but of losing you. Of the future. Of what might happen if they find us.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering. “We won't let that happen. We're stronger together. They won't find us. Once we're in the capital, I’ll handle everything, okay?”

His words gave you strength, and you found yourself leaning into him, your lips brushing against his in a tender, lingering kiss. It was slow and gentle, a silent promise of your love and devotion towards each other. His hand slipped into your hair, holding you close as your lips moved together, exploring and savoring each other.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathing heavily, your foreheads still touching. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice filled with pure, raw emotion.

Hongjoong's eyes softened, his thumb tracing your jawline. “And I love you,” he replied, his voice just as tender. “More than words can say.”

You stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten. In his embrace, you felt safe, cherished, and deeply loved. The fear and anxiety that had plagued you began to fade, replaced by a warmth that spread through your entire being.

“Let’s rest now,” he whispered, his voice a soothing balm. “Tomorrow is a new day, and we’ll face it together.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. “Together,” you echoed, your voice steady.

He gently guided you down onto the bed, pulling the blanket over both of you. His arms remained around you, holding you close as you settled into the warmth of his embrace. 

As you drifted off to sleep, you felt his lips press a gentle kiss to your temple, his breath warm against your skin. “Goodnight, my love,” he murmured, his voice a soft caress.

“Goodnight,” you whispered back, your heart full. 

That night, you finally had a good, peaceful sleep.

“How long until we arrive at the capital?”

Hongjoong was leaning against the carriage window, his eyes scanning the horizon. A storm would be coming soon, he said.

“Two more days, if we keep this pace,” he replied, turning to face you. “The storm may slow us down a bit.”

You nodded. The journey had been long and exhausting, the constant tension of being on the run making you an anxious mess. But with Hongjoong by your side, you felt a strength you had never known before.

The carriage jostled along the uneven road, the sounds of the wheels clattering against the stones a constant reminder of the distance still left to travel. You glanced at Hongjoong, his face etched with determination despite the exhaustion that lingered in his eyes.

“We’ll make it,” you said softly, more to yourself than to him. “We have to.”

He reached out, taking your hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We will,” he affirmed, his voice steady. “And once we’re there, we’ll find a way to solve all this mess. To start over.”

You leaned against him, drawing comfort from his presence. 

You traveled through several more small villages, their inhabitants just beginning to stir. Farmers led their livestock out to pasture, and shopkeepers opened their doors, the smell of fresh bread and morning fires wafting through the air. The sight of these simple, everyday routines filled you with a strange sense of peace, a reminder that life went on, and that, maybe in the future, your life may look like this too.

Simple yet happy and fulfilling.

And then, you arrived. 

You gasped as the large gates of the city appeared in front of you.

The capital was a sprawling maze of streets and alleys, bustling with activity. Everything here was just so much larger, louder and generally more impressive, a stark contrast to the quiet, simpler life you had known. The noise and commotion seemed to close in around you, but Hongjoong’s steady presence kept you grounded.

“It's a lot to take in, right?” he asked.

You nodded, mouth opened in awe as you took in your surroundings. “It's huge. I can't stop looking everywhere!”

He laughed, gently squeezing your hand. “We'll have plenty of time to explore everything once we've settled in properly. I'll show you all my favorite places, okay?”

You smiled at him. A gentle, real smile. “Okay!”

Hongjoong looked around, his eyes bright with excitement despite the exhaustion. “Luckily for us, two of my closest friends live here. They’re good people, and I’m sure they’ll offer us a place to stay.”

You felt a wave of relief wash over you. “That would be wonderful. I can’t wait to meet them. You haven't told me much about your past, so I’m really excited, Joongie.”

“In the future, I'll tell you everything you want to know. My past, present and future are yours, Y/N.”

Your heart fluttered, and a deep blush coated your face. A sheepish smile stole its way onto your lips.

Hongjoong led you through the bustling streets, expertly navigating the maze of alleys and markets. After a few twists and turns, you arrived at a modest but welcoming home. 

He hastily jumped up the carriage and then held his hand out for you to take it. You smiled at him. Your lover was a true gentleman, and it made you feel all giddy inside, even at such a small gesture.

Hongjoong knocked on the door, and moments later, it swung open to reveal a tall, athletic man with sharp features and an inquisitive look.

“Hongjoong?” the man said in surprise, his eyes widening. The first thing you noticed was his clothes. They looked… expensive. And yet, he lived in such a small home.

You wondered what his story was.

“What are you doing here?”

“San, it’s a long story,” Hongjoong replied, pulling San into a hug. “We need a place to stay. Is Wooyoung home?”

San nodded, stepping aside to let you both in. “He’s in the kitchen. Come in.”

As you stepped inside, you were immediately greeted by the comforting smell of home-cooked food. A few moments later, another man appeared, carrying a tray of freshly baked bread. He had a playful sparkle in his eyes and a welcoming smile on his face.

“Who do we have here?” Wooyoung asked, setting the tray down and wiping his hands on a towel.

“Wooyoung, this is my friend,” Hongjoong introduced you. “She's been traveling with me.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened in surprise and then softened. “Well, any friend of Hongjoong’s is welcome here. Please, make yourself at home.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at their genuine hospitality. San and Wooyoung led you to a cozy living room where a fire crackled in the hearth. You sank into a comfortable chair, letting out a sigh as your aching muscles relaxed.

“Sorry for the sudden arrival,” Hongjoong said, his tone sincere. “We didn’t have time to send word ahead.”

San waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. We’re just glad you’re safe. What’s going on?”

Hongjoong looked at you first, before briefly explaining: “It's too long of a story to share in detail. But, we had to flee from where we came from and are now on a mission to… clear up some misunderstandings. I can promise you two that you'll be kept out of any trouble. I just… need a safe place, especially to keep my woman safe.”

San nodded, curiously glancing towards you as the words ‘my woman’ left Hongjoong’s mouth. You smiled awkwardly at the man. “We have a spare room you can use, Hongjoong.”

Tears of gratitude welled up in your eyes. It wasn't much, but just having a place to stay, surrounded by people you knew Hongjoong trusted, was enough to make you feel all sorts of emotions. 

“Thank you,” you said, your voice choked with emotion. “Thank you so much.”

Hongjoong squeezed your hand again, his own eyes full of gratitude. “We’re going to be okay,” he whispered softly. “Wooyoung and San are good, nice people. How about you just relax and befriend them while I'll do the work, hm?”

“I couldn't possibly-”

“Oh, but you can”, he interrupted you, playfully playing with your hair. “My Y/N should never worry her pretty head about anything again now that she's with me.”

You giggled sheepishly. “Oh Joongie, you're such a flirt!”

“Ahem.” A voice interrupted you and suddenly, the bubble around the two of you burst and you were reminded that you were not alone but, in fact, in the house of two men who were now very openly staring at you.

One who was cackling behind his hand like a menace - Wooyoung - and the other one who did not know where he should look. You, or the very interesting ceiling?

“So, ‘my woman', huh?” Wooyoung teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Since when did you become such a romantic, Hongjoong? And most importantly: where’s our invitation to the wedding?”

Hongjoong’s ears turned a deep shade of red, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Wooyoung, now’s not the time…”

“Oh, but it’s always the time for love, Joongie!” Wooyoung replied with a dramatic flourish. “Here we were, thinking you were just wandering around from city to city and selling your dresses, but no, you were secretly out there sweeping a lovely lady off her feet!”

San tried to interject, a desperate attempt to hold the man beside him back. “Wooyoung, maybe we should-”

“San, don’t be a killjoy,” Wooyoung interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “This is the most excitement we’ve had in weeks! Besides, our Hongjoong, who couldn't even look a woman into the eye the last time we saw him, has finally grown up. We must celebrate!”

“I'm older than both of you, Wooyoung!”

Hongjoong buried his face in his hands, clearly embarrassed. You couldn’t help but giggle at the situation, feeling a bit more at ease in the presence of the two strangers now.

“Y/N, you should know,” Wooyoung continued, leaning in conspiratorially, “Hongjoong here is quite the catch. He’s a gentleman, a true and talented dressmaker, and apparently, a poet. ‘My woman’, indeed.”

San finally managed to find his voice. “Alright, Wooyoung, give them a break. They’ve had a long journey, and they need rest, not your joking.”

Wooyoung pouted dramatically. “Fine, fine. But don’t think this conversation is over, Hongjoong. We need all the juicy details later.”

Hongjoong groaned, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. “You never change, do you, Wooyoung?”

“Never,” Wooyoung replied proudly. “And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

San shook his head, though a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Let’s get you both settled in. You can rest, and we’ll talk more later. Until then Wooyoung, behave yourself.”

Wooyoung saluted playfully. “Aye, aye, captain!”

Later that evening, after a hearty meal and much laughter with Wooyoung and San, you were led into a small, cozy room. The modest bed in the corner looked incredibly inviting after the long journey. You quickly freshened up, San kindly lending you some spare clothing for the night, before returning back to the room. Hongjoong was already there, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling lost in thought. You quietly slipped in beside him, the bed creaking softly under your weight.

He turned to you, his expression softening as he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. “How are you feeling?” he asked gently.

“Tired,” you admitted, snuggling closer to him. 

Only then did you realize that, despite sharing the bed with him multiple times now, this was the first time both of you wore proper sleeping clothing. Therefore, both of you were a bit… more exposed than usual.

Suddenly, you were very, very aware of the naked skin his hand was occasionally touching.

And your heart skipped a beat. This time, not of the usual warmth Hongjoong ignited within you all the time.

No, this time, there was also a hint of fear rushing through your veins.

You closed your eyes for a moment, savoring the softness of his touch, yet the past clung to you like a shroud, and you felt a flicker of hesitation within you.

“Y/N,” Hongjoong’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, low and soothing, “you can trust me.” There was an earnestness in his tone, a promise that echoed in the silence of the room. He shifted closer, his body radiating heat and a sense of safety that beckoned you to let go of your fears and open your eyes to meet him.

Nothing but sincerity and love greeted you in his gaze.

As his hand traced a gentle path along your arm, you shivered at the sensation. It was a touch that was so different from what you had known, devoid of the harshness that had once marred your skin and spirit. His fingers danced lightly over your wrist, and you felt a rush of warmth that sent a thrill through your heart, igniting a yearning you had thought was lost forever.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. You nodded carefully. It was a struggle to separate the innocence of his affection from the painful memories that tainted your every being. You could feel your breath quicken as he leaned closer, the scent of him - fresh and comforting - surrounding you like a soft embrace.

Hongjoong’s fingers slipped beneath your chin, tilting your face towards his. The way he looked at you, with such reverence and care, made your heart ache. “You’re safe with me,” he murmured, and it felt like a balm to your soul. You had craved this kind of tenderness, and even though the man in front of you was willing to give it to you, to give you his all, a remaining feeling of panic remained deep inside of you.

“I'm sorry you have to deal with this again. One may think that after we slept side by side so many times already I would get used to it. I don't know why I'm so pathe-”

“Princess, don't you dare finish this sentence. You're incredible and don't have to apologize for a single thing.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips softly against yours, a gentle caress that sent shivers down your spine. It was a kiss that said so, so much, a kiss that was patient and completely unhurried. You melted into him, feeling the warmth of his body envelop you like a protective cocoon.

You did your best to believe in his words.

That night, nothing more happened. 

Hongjoong knew that it would take you a long while to truly let go of your fears.

And, while tracing more gentle kisses along your skin, all he said was: “I don't need you to give me your body to know that you are already mine and I am yours.”

The next day, as you slowly woke up and blinked the tears away, you noticed two things immediately: winter was coming, and the temperatures were dropping quickly and, most importantly; Hongjoong's side of the bed was empty.

There was no logical explanation for the panic that immediately set in, yet you felt your chest tightening and your heart pounding quickly. You rushed out of bed, almost stumbling over your own feet as you slipped into the soft pantoffels San provided you with, and sprinted down the stairs. 

“Woah, what's the rush-”

“Wooyoung”, you interrupted the man with sleepy, still half-closed eyes, “Where's Hongjoong?”

He scratched the back of his hand. “He left when you fell asleep last night. All he said was that he had some matters to take care of and would be back early in the morning. He… isn't back yet?”

The weight of Wooyoung's words hit you like a train. If Hongjoong had promised to be back by morning, then where was he? The sun was already peeking through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room, and there was still no sign of him. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to make sense of the situation.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as the panic threatened to overwhelm you. “No… he isn't back yet,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt foreign on your tongue. 

Wooyoung's expression shifted from confusion to concern. “Maybe he got held up somewhere? You know how he is… always taking on more than he should.”

You shook your head, refusing to accept that as the answer. “He wouldn't just leave without telling me. Not like this.” 

But what if he would? 

The unease in your chest grew stronger, the fear tightening its grip around your heart.

Wooyoung reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Let's not jump to conclusions. Maybe he's on his way back right now.”

But you could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the doubt he was trying so hard to hide. The pit in your stomach deepened, and you knew you couldn't just sit around waiting, hoping that everything would be okay. 

“I need to find him,” you said, determination lacing your voice. You quickly turned on your heel, heading for the door without another word.

"Wait!" Wooyoung called after you, but you were already halfway out the door, your mind set on one thing: finding Hongjoong.

And then you pumped head first into San.

“Careful, little one. What's the-”

“Have you seen Hongjoong?” you blurted out, your voice trembling as you nearly collided with San.

San’s usually warm expression was replaced with a frown. “No, I haven’t. What’s going on? Why are you in such a rush?”

You hesitated, your mind racing. Should you tell them? Would they even understand? Hongjoong hasn't told them anything concrete about your situation as of now, and you weren't sure if you should tell them without him present.

“He’s… He’s not back yet. Wooyoung said he left last night, but he should’ve been back by now.”

San’s eyes widened. “And he hasn't said where he's going?”

You shook your head, fighting to keep your voice steady. “No. But I... I can’t just sit around and wait. I need to find him.”

San looked conflicted, glancing over at Wooyoung, who had followed you outside. “But you don’t know your way around the capital. You could get lost or… worse.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but San gently placed a hand on your arm, stopping you. “I get that you’re worried, but let’s wait a bit longer, okay? He wouldn’t want you getting into trouble trying to find him.”

The thought of sitting around doing nothing while Hongjoong was out there - somewhere - felt unbearable. He was shouldering all your problems alone, and it made you both guilty and mad that he didn't even tell you a single thing. 

Reluctantly, you nodded, and San led you back inside the house. The atmosphere was heavy as the three of you settled into the living room, the clock on the wall ticking away the minutes in agonizing slowness.

“So… uh…”

Awkward silence set in, both men looking at each other concerned. Wooyoung, trying to lighten the mood, leaned back on the couch and stretched.

“Uh.. Did you know that San literally can't sleep without hugging something? And with something, I mean me - like, this man doesn't know how strong he is and literally suffocates me every night!”, he laughs.

You glanced at San, who looked somewhat mortified, a blush creeping up his neck. “Wooyoung…” he muttered, giving him a half-hearted glare. Unfortunately, his joke did nothing to soothe your nerves. If anything, it only made the awkwardness more palpable. “Uh, that's… interesting,” you mumbled, not really knowing what else to say. You liked them both, but conversations with them always felt like you were navigating a minefield, unsure of where to step. 

Especially now that Hongjoong wasn't here with you.

San rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. “It's not like that, really. It's just… a comfort thing, I guess.”

You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, stealing glances at Wooyoung and San, who were both trying, in their own ways, to lighten the atmosphere. They were being so kind, so patient, but it only made you feel worse. You weren’t used to this. It was foreign, almost suffocating, in a way you couldn't quite understand. 

Wooyoung cleared his throat, breaking the silence, seemingly ignoring that you still haven't said anything to his joking attempt to lighten the mood. “So, uh, have you had breakfast yet? I can make something if you’re hungry.”

You shook your head, though the thought of eating made your stomach twist in a knot. “No, I’m… I’m not really hungry.” 

“Coffee, then?” San offered, trying to keep the conversation going. “Or tea? I think there’s still some left in the kitchen.” 

You hesitated, not wanting to seem ungrateful. “Maybe… tea?” It felt like the right thing to say, even if you weren’t sure you could stomach anything right now. 

San nodded, giving you a small, encouraging smile. “Tea it is. I’ll be right back.” He got up, his footsteps almost too loud in the quiet room, leaving you alone with Wooyoung. The silence between you and the other man was thick, both of you unsure of what to say. You could feel his gaze on you, but you kept your eyes fixed on the floor, afraid that if you looked up, he’d see just how out of sorts you really were.

Wooyoung shifted in his seat, clearly trying to come up with something to break the tension. “You know, I don’t think we’ve really had the chance to talk much… Just us,” he said.

“Yeah,” you murmured, feeling your cheeks heat up. You wanted to be able to talk to him, to say something normal, but the words just wouldn’t come. It was frustrating - feeling like you were locked inside your own head, even when you desperately wanted to reach out. He leaned back, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I get it, though. Meeting new people can be… overwhelming.”

You looked up at him. “It’s just… I’m not really used to this. To any of this,” you admitted quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Wooyoung nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, I figured. But hey, no pressure. We’re just… trying to make you feel welcome, you know? You're Hongjoong's girl, after all.”

“I know,” you replied quickly, feeling a pang of guilt. “I really appreciate it. I do. It’s just… hard, sometimes.”

He didn’t press you, just nodded again, his eyes soft. “It’s okay. We’re not in any rush. We’ve all got our own issues, you know?”

Before you could respond, San returned, holding a steaming mug of tea. He handed it to you with a small, reassuring smile. “Here you go. It’s chamomile - good for relaxing.” 

“Thanks,” you whispered, wrapping your hands around the warm mug, letting the heat seep into your skin. 

San settled back into his seat, the three of you once again falling into a somewhat awkward silence. You sipped your tea, the warmth soothing your throat, but it did little to calm the turmoil inside you. They were trying so hard, and that only made it worse. You could see the effort in every glance, every word. They didn’t know your past, your struggles, and you didn’t know how to tell them - didn’t even know if you should. And so you stayed quiet, trapped in your own thoughts, feeling like an outsider despite their best efforts.

“I guess… I’m just not good at this,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“At what?” San asked gently, leaning forward slightly.

“Talking. Being around people. Making… friends I don’t know how to…” You trailed off, unable to find the right words.

Wooyoung chuckled softly, not in a mocking way, but as if he understood more than you realized. “You’re doing just fine. We’re not exactly pros at this either, you know. Most of the time, we’re just winging it.”

San nodded in agreement. “He’s right. It’s okay to not know what to say. We’re just… glad you’re here.”

Their words made something inside you ache. You still weren’t used to kindness without strings attached, to people caring just because. It felt undeserved, even after Hongjoong showed you that you did in fact deserve it, and that made you even more unsure of how to act. 

“Thanks,” you whispered, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you. You wanted to be better at this, for them, for Hongjoong, but you didn’t know how.

Wooyoung grinned, nudging your shoulder lightly. “No need to thank us. We’re all in this together, right?”

You nodded, managing a small smile in return. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And that was enough for now.

If someone would've told you that you'd ever be genuinely mad at Kim Hongjoong, you definitely would've laughed right in their face. Because Hongjoong was the kindest, sweetest man you'd ever known, so what would ever make you angry at him?

“Ah, look who's back,” was all you said as you heard the door close behind you.

You had never imagined feeling this way toward Hongjoong, the man who you grew to love so much. But now, as you stood in your shared living room, hearing the door close behind you, that anger burned hotter, fueled by the fear and helplessness that had consumed you all morning.

You didn't turn around to face him immediately, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. Your mind raced with thoughts, each one only making the knot in your chest tighter. 

The sound of his footsteps approaching filled the room, and you could feel his presence behind you, close enough to touch. For a moment, you considered letting it go, just brushing it all under the rug like you’d done with so many things before. But this was different. This problem wasn't just his alone; this was your life too, your problems, your fears, and he had just walked away, leaving you in the dark.

Hongjoong hesitated. “I’m sorry I was gone for so long,” he began, but that was all it took to make you whirl around, your emotions spilling over.

“Sorry? You’re sorry?” The words came out harsher than you intended, but you couldn’t stop them. “You left without saying a word, Hongjoong. I don't even know where you went! You promised you’d be back by morning, and then you just… didn’t come back. It's almost midnight now! Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

His eyes widened, clearly taken aback by your outburst. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” he said, his voice softening, but you could see the guilt in his eyes. “I just had to take care of some things-”

“But why alone?” you interrupted, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. “Why do you always do this? You think you have to handle everything by yourself, like I’m some fragile thing that needs to be protected. But this is my problem too, Joong! I have a right to know, to help, to be there with you! Because…” your voice broke, and you looked at the floor as you wiped a tear away, “because the guilt is eating me alive, Joong. Without me… without me, none of this would have ever happened. It all began with me, so I should… I should take responsibility too.”

Hongjoong’s expression softened as he saw the tears welling up in your eyes. “Hey, hey, no,” he murmured, stepping closer and reaching out to cup your face, but you took a step back and shook your head silently.

“Don’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Don’t act like this is just something we can brush aside, like it’s no big deal. You think you’re protecting me by keeping things from me, but you’re not. You’re only making it worse. I can’t keep doing this, Joong. I can’t keep pretending that it’s okay for you to shut me out. For you to shoulder everything alone.”

Hongjoong’s hand dropped to his side, his face crumbling with regret. “I never wanted to shut you out. I just… I didn’t want you to worry, didn’t want you to feel like you had to carry this burden. You're still so… hurt. I thought I was doing the right thing by handling it on my own.”

“But it’s not just your burden to carry!” you cried, your voice breaking. “We’re supposed to be in this together, Joong. You don’t get to decide what I can or can’t handle. You don’t get to just leave me in the dark, wondering if you’re okay, wondering if you’ll even come back. I was worried sick the whole day!”

His eyes were filled with a pain that mirrored your own, and for a moment, he looked like he didn’t know what to say, like he didn’t know how to make this right. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt you. I’m so, so sorry.”

You shook your head, tears spilling over your cheeks as you looked at him, at the man you loved more than anything in the world, the man who had somehow become a stranger to you in this moment. 

“I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight,” you mumbled. “You may talk to me again when you're finally ready to include me in your plans. Until then… good night, Joong.”

“Y/N, wait-”

But the door shut close behind you before he could finish his sentence.

“H‐hey, I'm sorry, I really didn't want to eavesdrop, but I heard you two arguing...” San’s voice trailed off, his gaze meeting yours. The moment your tear-filled eyes locked with his, the emotions you’d been trying so hard to keep in check threatened to overflow.

For a second, you hesitated. You weren’t close to San - not really. He was still more of a stranger than a friend, someone who was kind and caring but still somewhat distant. But right now, you felt like you were drowning, and he was the only solid thing within your reach.

Without thinking, you moved towards him. As soon as you reached him, you hesitated again, but before you could pull back, San’s arms wrapped around you in a warm, protective embrace. You buried your face in his chest, and the dam inside you finally broke.

Tears poured down your cheeks as you cried against him, the sobs you’d been holding back all day finally breaking free. San stiffened for a moment, clearly caught off guard, but he quickly relaxed, his hold tightening slightly as he let you cry it out.

The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear - it was the first comfort you’d felt all day. But even as he stood there comforting you, you still felt torn. The only person you'd ever fully confined in was Hongjoong. This was new territory for you, and it was both comforting and terrifying at the same time.

San didn’t say anything, just stood there quietly, holding you as you trembled in his arms. His hand moved slowly to your back, rubbing gentle circles as he tried to soothe you. His touch was hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing.

As your sobs subsided, leaving you with shaky breaths and red, tear-streaked cheeks, you slowly pulled back, wiping your eyes. You were still in his arms, but you felt the awkwardness creeping back in, and your gaze wandered again, not knowing where to look.

“I… I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying. “I didn’t mean to…”

San shook his head, his gaze softening. “You don’t have to apologize,” he said quietly. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s okay to break down sometimes.”

You managed a small, shaky smile, but the uncertainty was still there, lingering between you. “I just… I don’t know what to do, San. I feel so lost. Hongjoong… he means everything to me, but he’s shutting me out. I know he has only my best interest at heart, but… This is my story, too. And I don’t know how to handle that.”

San hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. “I’m not gonna pretend I know exactly what you’re going through,” he began, “but I do know that Hongjoong cares about you - more than you probably realize. He’s just… used to handling things on his own. ”

You nodded.

“You’re… you’re really kind, San,” you murmured, your voice still trembling. “But we barely know each other. I don’t want to burden you with my problems.”

San’s expression softened even more, and he gave you a small, reassuring smile. “You’re not a burden. We all have our struggles, and sometimes it helps to have someone to lean on, even if it’s someone you’re not that close to… yet.” He added that last word with a gentle emphasis, as if offering a bridge to something more.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and for the first time, you felt a small crack in the walls you've built around yourself. 

And so, in the heat of the moment, you told him everything. San brought you to the living room, where he carefully sat you down and wrapped you in a blanket, and as Wooyoung joined you two, you told them everything.

About your marriage, your family, your town - and about the man who took it upon himself to save you from this cruel fate.

The tension between you and Hongjoong had been unbearable for days. Ever since that night, neither of you had spoken more than a few words to each other. 

You had thrown yourself into anything that could keep your mind busy - cleaning, reading, anything to avoid thinking about the rift that had formed between you and the man you loved. 

Then, one evening, as you sat alone in the living room, lost in thought, you heard the front door creak open. Hongjoong stepped in, his presence immediately filling the room with the weight of everything left unsaid. Your heart clenched at the sight of him - he looked exhausted, worn down by the stress of the past few days.

He stood there for a moment, just looking at you, as if trying to gauge your mood, before finally breaking the silence. “We need to talk.”

The words sent a chill down your spine, but you nodded, too tired to resist any longer. “Okay,” you said quietly, standing up from the couch and facing him.

Hongjoong swallowed, his throat bobbing as he struggled to find the right words. “I know you’re still angry at me,” he began, his voice low and strained. “And I understand why. I learned my lesson, Y/N. But now… now I wanna include you. If you… if you want that.”

You didn’t say anything, just watched him, your heart beating faster as he continued.

“There’s someone we need to see,” he said after a pause, his eyes searching for yours. “Someone who can help us, who can clear my name and… maybe, just maybe, give us a chance at a life without all this running and hiding.”

You blinked, not sure if you’d heard him correctly. “Who… who are you talking about?”

Hongjoong took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. “The Queen,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s the only one powerful enough to undo this mess. I’ve been trying to arrange a meeting with her for days, but she’s… she’s not easy to reach. But now… now we can finally meet her.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “The Queen? As in… the Queen?” 

The Queen was a figure of almost mythical power, someone so far removed from your world that the idea of asking for her help seemed as impossible as wishing on a star.

But Hongjoong’s expression was deadly serious, and you could see the determination burning in his eyes. He wasn’t just grasping at straws - he truly believed this was your last chance, your only hope to end the nightmare that had taken over your lives.

“The Queen,” he confirmed, his voice steady, though his hands were shaking slightly as he reached out to you. 

“You know… I… I’ve worked for her for years, Y/N. I made her gowns, her dresses, the wedding dress she wore when she married the King… that was mine. She told me once, when I presented it to her, that if I ever needed anything, anything at all, she would do her best to help me. And I never thought I’d have to take her up on that offer, but now… I have no other choice.”

“The Queen… oh my God,” you whispered. “This is… insane.”

The reality of what Hongjoong was saying began to sink in, and your mind spun with the implications. The Queen, the most powerful woman in the kingdom, someone who could alter the course of your lives with just a single word… It was overwhelming, to say the least. You’d grown up hearing stories about her, tales of her beauty, wisdom, and strength. But those were just stories. The idea of meeting her, let alone asking for her help, seemed impossible. Yet here Hongjoong was, standing in front of you, serious and resolute.

“I know it sounds insane,” Hongjoong said, his voice breaking through your thoughts. “But this is our best chance, Y/N. Maybe our only chance. And we have evidence. The letters, remember?

“-And the scars on my body,” you whispered. 

Hongjoong bawled his hands, his jaw clenching immediately. “You never… told me you had remaining scars.”

You nodded. “Ignoring them is easier. I try to… forget them entirely when I can.”

Without a word, he moved closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in a silent gesture of comfort. You leaned into him, the warmth of his body making you relax immediately.

After a moment, he cleared his throat, shifting the focus back to the task at hand. “We need to get ready,” he said, his voice steady. “If we’re going to meet the Queen, we can’t go in looking like this.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“There’s no time to waste. I have to make something for us,” he said, determination flashing in his eyes. “We need to look elegant. I might not have my supplies here, but I can work with what we have.”

Your heart raced at the thought of him making outfits from scratch. “Are you sure you can do that?”

He nodded firmly, already moving toward the small room where you were temporarily staying in Wooyoung and San's house. “I’ll figure it out. Just give me a minute to gather some things.”

You watched as he began searching through the limited fabric and materials you had, his hands working swiftly. He rummaged through the closet, pulling out old sheets and any leftover clothing you had brought along. You felt a mixture of admiration and anxiety as you realized the weight of what he was attempting to do.

“What do you need me to do?” you asked, stepping closer to him.

“There's a shop nearby that sells fabrics,” he said, already rummaging through his pockets for money, “I need you to buy me some. Can you do that?”

Your heart raced at the urgency in his voice, but a wave of uncertainty washed over you. “Uh, sure, but... I’m not sure where it is,” you admitted, glancing out the window. The sun was starting to set, and you were acutely aware of the time slipping away.

“I’ll draw you a quick map,” he said, moving quickly to grab a scrap of paper and a pen. He sketched a simple layout, marking the route to the shop with clear, careful lines. “You can do this, Y/N. Just follow the map, and don’t let anyone see you.”

You nodded. “What do you need me to get?” 

“Just some quality fabric, something that looks nice but isn’t too extravagant. Maybe something dark for me, something light and flowing for you,” he instructed, glancing up at you. “Can you remember that?”

You took a deep breath, nodding again. “Yes, I can do that.”

“Great,” he said, folding the paper and handing it to you. “I’ll need you back as soon as possible. We don’t have much time.”

“I’ll be quick,” you promised. As you turned to leave, you caught a glimpse of him, already immersed in his work, the fabric and thread strewn across the table like a chaotic canvas. 

As you stepped outside, the cool evening air hit your face. You followed the map he had drawn. The shop wasn’t far, and soon you found yourself standing in front of a small fabric store, the sign creaking softly in the breeze.

Once inside, the overwhelming scent of textiles filled your senses. Bolts of fabric in every color and texture lined the walls, and the shopkeeper gave you a curious look as you stepped in. Remembering Hongjoong’s instructions, you immediately focused on finding something that fit his descriptions. 

After scanning the shelves, you spotted a soft, flowing fabric in a light cream color that seemed perfect. You could almost picture how beautiful it would look on you. With that in mind, you also searched for a darker fabric for Hongjoong. You settled on a deep navy blue, rich yet understated, that would complement the cream tone perfectly.

With your choices made, you approached the counter, your heart pounding as you handed over the money Hongjoong had given you. The shopkeeper smiled and carefully wrapped the fabric. 

“Thank you,” you said, clutching the bundle tightly as you headed back outside. 

As you stepped through the door of Wooyoung and San's house, you saw Hongjoong still working diligently. He looked up, his eyes lighting up as he saw the fabric in your arms. “You did it!” he exclaimed, taking the fabric from you. “This is perfect!”

You smiled, relieved to see his excitement. “I hope it’s what you wanted. I wasn’t sure…”

“It’s exactly what I needed,” he said, moving quickly to lay the fabric out on the table. “Now, we can start putting everything together.”

Hongjoong spread the fabrics across the table, eyes gleaming with purpose. “This is going to be incredible,” he said, barely able to contain his excitement. You watched him with admiration as he quickly sketched designs in his notebook, his mind racing with ideas.

The first night stretched on, the room dimly lit by a single lamp casting shadows on the walls. You could hear the rhythmic hum of the sewing machine as Hongjoong lost himself in the work. 

Time blurred as the night turned into dawn, and you found yourself falling in and out of sleep. The only sounds were the soft whir of the machine and the occasional rustle of fabric. You’d occasionally catch Hongjoong stealing glances at you, and though he was clearly exhausted, there was a fire in his eyes that wouldn't die down.

By morning, the first pieces of your outfits began to take shape. “Look at this,” Hongjoong said, holding up the bodice of your gown. His excitement was contagious, and you couldn't help but smile. “It’s coming together beautifully, don’t you think?”

“It’s stunning, Hongjoong,” you replied, your heart swelling with admiration. “I can't wait to see the final piece.”

As he set it down and returned to his work, you noticed how hard he had to concentrate just to keep his eyes open. He was clearly pushing himself to the limit. You wanted to urge him to take a break, to rest for a moment, but you hesitated.

Hongjoong moved with practiced precision, cutting and sewing and cutting and sewing; repeating the same routine over and over again.

Yet, as the hours ticked by, his pace slowed down more and more.

“Hongjoong,” you finally said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Maybe you should take a break. You’ve been at this for so long.”

He paused, looking at you with those tired yet determined eyes. “I can’t stop now. We’re so close. I just need to finish your gown, and then I’ll rest, I promise.”

You sighed. “Okay, but promise me you’ll take care of yourself too. I don’t want you collapsing from exhaustion when we meet the Queen.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, but the laughter quickly faded as he nodded. “I promise, Y/N. Just a bit longer.”

A bit longer turned out to be one more day full of work.

On the evening of the second day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Hongjoong finally stepped back, surveying the gown he had made for you. The fabric flowed beautifully, a soft cream color with delicate embroidery that accentuates your figure. It was breathtaking.

“Look,” he said, gesturing to the dress. “It’s finished.”

“It doesn't matter how many dresses of yours I'll see, I'll always be amazed… you're so talented, Joongie,” you said, slowly stepping between his legs and carefully combing through his hair.

Hongjoong slung his arms around your waist and laid his head on your stomach, closing his eyes for a few minutes.

You took a deep breath, letting the warmth of his reassurance settle within you. “So, how exactly will we get to the palace?” you asked, trying to shift the focus from your worries to practical matters.

He pulled away slightly, his eyes brightening as he began to explain. “The Queen’s servants are discreet and efficient. After I sent word to her, she agreed to send a carriage for us. It should arrive tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow?” The reality sent your heart racing again. “Do we have everything ready? What if something goes wrong?”

Hongjoong chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Don’t worry. Everything is in place. The only thing we need to do is stay calm.”

The following morning arrived way too fast. You woke to the sound of birds chirping outside and a warm breeze entering your room through the window.

Hongjoong was already up, carefully folding the outfits he had poured his heart into over the past two days. You stood up and approached him, placing a gentle hand on his back. “Are you ready for this?” you asked softly.

He nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied, offering you a small smile. 

You gave him a reassuring nod yourself, though your own nerves were starting to fray. The idea of meeting the Queen, of putting your fate in her hands, felt surreal. But there was no turning back now. You quickly changed into the gown Hongjoong had created for you, the fabric cool against your skin, yet surprisingly comforting. It fit you perfectly, accentuating your form in all the right ways, the soft cream color making you feel both elegant and ethereal.

Though the dress Hongjoong created back in your hometown, the one so blue it reminded you if the sea itself, would always be your favorite, this one was nonetheless nothing but breathtaking. 

When you finally emerged, Hongjoong’s breath caught in his throat. He stared at you for a long moment, a proud smile stealing its way on his lips. “You look… beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Just like I imagined.”

You smiled, stepping closer to him. “You look amazing, too.”

Hongjoong's gaze softened as you stepped closer. All that mattered was him, standing before you, his eyes tracing every curve and line of your face.

You reached out, your fingers trembling slightly as you brushed a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. His breath hitched at the simple touch, and you could see the raw emotion in his eyes, the love, the desire, and the lingering regret of the days you'd spent apart. 

His hands found your waist, pulling you gently but firmly against him. The heat of his body against yours sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest, 

Hongjoong’s eyes searched yours, silently asking for permission, for reassurance. You didn’t need to say a word - your eyes told him everything he needed to know. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

When his lips finally met yours, the world around you seemed to disappear. The kiss was slow, almost hesitant at first, as if he was savoring every second. His lips were soft, warm, and as they moved against yours, you felt a deep, aching need stirring within you, a need that had been building for days, weeks, months.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Hongjoong responded in kind, his grip on your waist tightening as his other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to gain better access. The kiss grew more intense, more passionate, as if all the emotions you'd both been holding back were pouring out in this one, desperate act.

You could taste the urgency on his lips, feel the way his heart was racing just as fast as yours. His tongue brushed against yours, sending a wave of heat through your body that made you feel like you were melting into him. The kiss was everything - sweet and tender, yet fierce and consuming.

Hongjoong’s hands roamed your back, pulling you even closer, until there was no space left between you. You could feel the strength in his arms, the way his muscles tensed under your touch, and it only made you want him more. 

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. Hongjoong’s eyes were half-lidded, his lips slightly swollen from the intensity of the kiss. He looked at you with an expression that was equal parts awe and desire, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real, that this very moment here was real.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I love you so much.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you cupped his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs gently across his cheeks. “I love you too, Hongjoong. I always have. I always will.”

He smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. And then, without another word, he leaned in and kissed you again, slow and deep, as if he had all the time in the world to show you just how much he loved you, how much you meant to him.

“You ready?” he asked as he took a step back. You instantly missed his lips on yours, but you nodded nonetheless. 

He offered you his hand, and you took it without hesitation.  

As you stepped aside, clearly overdressed in this rural neighborhood, the carriage was already waiting, a sleek, black vehicle with the Queen’s crest emblazoned on the side. The horses were well-groomed, their coats gleaming in the sunlight. A stern-looking driver stood by, his expression unreadable as he held the door open for you. With one last deep breath, you and Hongjoong climbed inside, settling onto the plush seats.

The carriage began to move slowly, the sound of the wheels clattering against the cobblestones filled the silence. You glanced at Hongjoong, who was staring out the window, his jaw clenched. 

For a while, neither of you spoke. You simply watched the world pass by outside. 

Finally, Hongjoong broke the silence, his voice low and contemplative. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

The question caught you off guard, and you turned to look at him, surprised by the sudden change in topic. But as you met his gaze, you could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, a softness in his eyes that you hadn’t seen in days.

The sudden shift in conversation caught you off guard, but a small smile crept onto your face as the memory came flooding back. “Of course, I remember,” you replied, chuckling softly. “How could I forget that? Ah, Django… I miss him… And Benji… oh God, my little Benji… I hope they're all well.”

“They are, my love. I'm sure they are.”

And then, as the carriage rounded a final bend, the palace finally came into view. It was a magnificent structure, with its white marble walls glowing in the fading light. The Queen’s residence was every bit as awe-inspiring as the stories had said, its towering spires reaching towards the heavens.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight, and you felt Hongjoong’s grip on your hand tighten.

As the carriage drew closer, you could see a group of palace guards standing right outside the gates, their armor gleaming under the soft glow of the lanterns that lined the pathway to the grand entrance. The carriage came to a smooth stop, and the driver emerged, opening the door for you and Hongjoong.

You took a deep breath. Hongjoong stepped out first, offering his hand to help you down. As your feet touched the ground, you felt a shiver run down your spine.

The grand doors of the palace opened with a slow, deliberate creak, revealing a tall, elegant woman dressed in a deep burgundy gown. Her presence was commanding, yet her expression was kind as she approached.

“Welcome,” she said, her voice smooth and authoritative. “The Queen has been expecting you.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Hongjoong, who gave you a small nod, before you both followed the woman inside. The interior of the palace was just as breathtaking as the exterior, with high ceilings adorned with various paintings and chandeliers that sparkled like diamonds. The floor beneath your feet was made of polished marble, and the soft click of your shoes were echoing through the halls.

As you walked deeper into the palace, the grandeur only increased. Walls were lined with portraits of past kings and queens, their eyes seeming to follow you as you passed. 

Finally, you were led to a pair of ornately carved doors, which the woman pushed open with ease. Beyond them was a grand chamber, bathed in the warm light of a thousand candles. At the far end of the room, seated on a throne that seemed to be carved out of pure gold, was the Queen herself.

She was as regal as you had imagined, with an aura of quiet power that made the room feel smaller, the air more charged. Her hair was a rich, dark color, intricately braided and adorned with jewels that sparkled with every movement. Her eyes, sharp and intelligent, fixed on you and Hongjoong as you entered the room.

“Your Majesty,” Hongjoong said, bowing deeply before you had a chance to follow his lead.

The Queen’s gaze softened as she looked at Hongjoong, a small smile playing on her lips. “Rise, Hongjoong,” she said, her voice warm but firm. “It has been a long time.”

Hongjoong straightened up, but his grip on your hand tightened. You could feel the tension in his body as he struggled to maintain his composure. The Queen’s eyes flicked to you, her expression unreadable. “I see you have brought someone with you, Hongjoong. Please, both of you, come closer.”

You nodded, bowing deeply in respect. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Majesty,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the anxiety that almost made you fall ill.

The Queen studied you for a moment before her gaze returned to Hongjoong. “I understand you’ve come to ask for my help?” she said, her voice carrying the weight of authority.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Hongjoong replied. “We’ve found ourselves in desperate need of your help. I’ve brought evidence to prove our case, but… there is also something that only Y/N can show you.”

The Queen raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “And what is this evidence?”

Hongjoong hesitated, glancing at you before speaking. “Your Majesty, before I ask Y/N to show you the evidence, I feel it’s important for you to understand her story - our story - in its entirety.”

The Queen nodded, her expression growing more serious as she settled back into her seat, indicating for him to continue.

Hongjoong took a long, deep breath. “Y/N came from a decent, middle-class family. They lived comfortably - not wealthy, but certainly not poor. Her future should have been secure, perhaps with a marriage that would maintain or even improve her standing in society. But things took a dark turn.”

He paused, glancing at you as if seeking your permission to continue. You gave him a small nod, and he went on, his voice heavy with emotion.

“Her father… he made a decision that changed everything. He married her off to a man well below her status - a drunkard, a violent brute. This man - he was no husband. He was a monster. He raped and beat her almost every day, treating her worse than a common servant. She was trapped in a nightmare, until she… until she had to kill him in self defense to save the both of us.”

“And to protect me,” you chimed in, your desperate gaze finding the woman before you before you continued: “J-joong- I mean, Hongjoong took the blame upon himself. He… he was about to be beheaded for a crime he didn't commit, so I… I took it upon myself to release him and flee with him.”

“We are here to plead our innocence, and to ask for a royal pardon of you, your Majesty,” Hongjoong spoke, standing proud and tall beside you, like the safe haven he always was for you.

“A royal pardon, you say?” she asked.

“Yes. Since no one in our town bothered to even investigate, we ask for you to review all evidence and overturn the decision.”

The Queen’s expression remained inscrutable, giving away nothing of her thoughts. Silence stretched in the grand chamber, broken only by the faint crackling of the candles and the distant echo of footsteps in the vast corridors beyond.

At last, the Queen rose from her throne, the jewels in her hair catching the light as she moved. She descended the steps from the throne with grace 

“I can see the truth in your eyes, but understand this - granting a royal pardon is not a decision I take lightly. There must be undeniable proof,” she said.

She turned to you, her sharp gaze assessing. “Y/N, I need you to show me the evidence Hongjoong mentioned. Whatever it is, it must be enough to convince me beyond doubt.”

You reached into your cloak, pulling out a stack of worn, yellowed letters tied together with a frayed ribbon. Your hands shook as you untied them, revealing the harsh, almost frenzied handwriting of your late husband. You could feel the Queen’s eyes on you, her gaze intense, as you stepped forward and placed the letters in her outstretched hand.

“These letters,” you said, struggling to keep your voice steady, “are from my deceased husband. In them, he admits to everything - his abuse, his threats, and… even his intent to kill me one day. They are his own words, Your Majesty. Written in moments of drunken rage, or cruel clarity. He was proud of what he did, and he never hid that from anyone. But he was also reckless, and he left these behind, never thinking they might be used against him.”

The Queen’s expression remained unreadable once again as she began to read the letters. The room was silent save for the sound of rustling paper. With each page she turned, you felt your heart pound louder, your hands clasping Hongjoong’s tighter.

After what felt like an eternity, the Queen looked up from the letters. Her gaze was more somber now, tinged with something that might have been pity, or perhaps understanding.

“These letters are indeed compelling,” she said slowly, “but it alone is not enough. The word of a dead man, though through his own admission, cannot fully clear your names. I need more.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Your Majesty,” you began, choosing your words carefully, “the whole town knew what was happening. They turned a blind eye, because… because they didn’t want to get involved. I don’t know if I can rely on their testimony. But… my parents, though they looked away for so long, showed great remorse before I fled. They knew what was happening, and they did nothing to stop it. I… though I can never reconcile with them, I have no choice but to trust them this one last time.”

The Queen’s gaze softened slightly as she regarded you. “And you believe they will speak the truth, even now?”

You nodded, though you felt a knot of uncertainty in your stomach. “Yes, Your Majesty. They have to.”

The Queen considered this for a long moment before nodding slowly. “Very well. I will send for your parents and have them brought here to testify. But… there's another thing you want to show me, right?”

You swallowed hard. The letters had made an impact, but the Queen needed more, something undeniable. Your heart raced as you prepared to reveal the evidence that you had hidden for so long, even from yourself.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” you replied, your voice trembling. “There is… one more thing I can show you.”

The Queen's eyes narrowed slightly. You hesitated, glancing at Hongjoong, who was watching you, his eyes telling more than words ever could. His presence gave you the strength to go on.

“My body bears the scars of my husband's cruelty,” you said quietly, “Scars that… tell the story of what he did to me.”

For a small second, something in her eyes flickered - perhaps sympathy, perhaps disgust at the thought of such brutality. But it disappeared as fast as it appeared, and she composed herself quickly. “Very well,” she said, her voice low and measured. “Show me.”

But before you could move, the Queen raised a hand to stop you. “Hongjoong,” she addressed him firmly, “you must wait outside. As you are not married, it would be inappropriate for you to remain here.”

Hongjoong looked like he wanted to protest, but he caught himself, understanding his words would make no impact. He nodded and gave you a reassuring look. “I’ll be right outside,” he said softly. “You’re not alone.”

You nodded, trying to offer him a smile. “Thank you, Hongjoong.”

As he was escorted out of the room, the Queen waited until the door closed before turning back to you. The room felt emptier without Hongjoong by your side, but you tried to stay calm nonetheless. 

As he left the room, the Queen gestured to a few of her attendants, and a group of maids quickly approached. Your dress was elegant, more elaborate than you were used to, and you realized you would need help to reveal the scars that were hidden beneath its layers.

The maids moved with practiced efficiency, unfastening the intricate clasps and loosening the delicate fabric of your gown. You felt a wave of vulnerability wash over you as they carefully peeled back the layers, revealing the faint, jagged lines etched into your skin. 

The Queen stepped closer, her gaze intense as she examined the marks. She didn’t speak, but her silence was heavy.

After a long moment, she stepped back, her eyes closing for a moment. “These scars… they cannot be ignored.” She turned to one of her attendants, a stern-looking guard who had been standing by the door. “Send for a scrivener,” she commanded. “These letters and the scars on her body must be documented.”

The man bowed and hurried out of the chamber, leaving you alone with the Queen and the maids, who carefully refastened your dress. The Queen’s eyes softened slightly as she looked at you. “Hongjoong has been a long confidante of mine, so naturally, he has my trust” she said, “But there is still a process that must be followed. The evidence will be recorded, and your parents and anyone else willing to testify will be brought before me. Until then, I must uphold the law.”

Once the scrivener arrived and began documenting the evidence, the Queen addressed you again. “You will be given quarters where you can rest,” she said, her tone kind but firm. “And I will ensure that you have everything you need until the trial begins. Be strong, Y/N. The truth will come to light.”

You bowed deeply. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

And with that, the Queen turned and left the chamber, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Now all you could do was wait.

“Y/N,” Hongjoong's voice reached you the moment you stepped into the tower room. But before you could even respond, you found yourself distracted by your surroundings. For a place meant to imprison you, the room was unexpectedly luxurious - far more so than anything you'd ever experienced. The walls were draped with rich tapestries and the bed was covered in soft linens. A large, plush rug covered the stone floor, and the air smelled faintly of lavender.

You paused, blinking in surprise at the sight. This was supposed to be your prison? It surely made you feel out of place, like it belonged to a royal guest chamber rather than a cell.

"Are you alright?" Hongjoong’s voice broke through your thoughts, concern etched in his features as he took a step closer to you. But before you could answer, the door behind you creaked open again, and a small group of maids entered.

“Your bath is ready, my lady,” one of them said with a polite bow, her voice soft yet firm. “Please, come with us.”

My lady?

You looked at Hongjoong, startled and confused. He gave you an encouraging nod, though he looked just as confused as you.

“Go on,” he said gently. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Reluctantly, you allowed the maids to lead you away, down a small corridor that connected to an adjoining room. The room was even more elaborate, with a large copper tub set in the center, already filled with steaming water that scented the air with rose petals and herbs. Thick, fluffy towels were neatly stacked nearby, and a selection of fine soaps and oils were arranged on a small table besides.

They helped you quickly undress and step into the bath. The warm water immediately melted away the tension from your muscles. As they poured fragrant oils into the water, your eyes closed and you sank deeper into the water. The maids worked in silence, their hands gentle as they washed your hair and scrubbed your skin with fine soaps. Eventually, the bath was over, and you were lifted from the water, wrapped in a thick, warm towel. The maids dried you off and led you to a big mirror where they brushed your hair and dressed you in a white nightgown that felt impossibly soft against your skin.

Once they were done, they stepped back, quietly observing you. You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, almost not recognizing yourself. The nightgown was simple yet elegant, the white fabric almost transparent against your skin. It flowed down to your ankles, delicate lace trimming the neckline and sleeves. It made you look delicate and almost… sensual. 

Still deep in thought, you were guided back to the main room where Hongjoong was waiting. As you stepped into the room, you saw him pacing near the window, lost in thought. The moment he heard your footsteps, he turned around, and his breath hitched in his throat when he saw you.

For a long, long moment, he simply stared at you, his eyes wide as they traveled over your figure. His usual calm and collected demeanor seemed to crumble as a faint blush colored his cheeks. He quickly looked away, his jaw tightening as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“You-” Hongjoong began, his voice strained as he took a step closer, his gaze flicking back to you before quickly averting again. “You look… beautiful.” His words were quiet, and you could see the internal battle playing out within him as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

You could see the way his eyes darkened whenever he sneaked a glance at you, something that made your heart skip a beat. His fingers twitched as if he wanted to reach out and touch you but was holding himself back. The air between you was thick with unspoken tension.

Hongjoong cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure, but the way he avoided your gaze told you that he was struggling. “I… I didn't mean to stare,” he muttered, his voice rougher than usual. "I just… You-”

You took a step closer. Hongjoong's eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment, you saw a flash of something raw and intoxicating in his expression - something that sent a shiver down your spine, something that made your mouth dry and your heart beat faster.

“Hongjoong,” you said softly, the sound of his name breaking the silence that had settled between you. “I'm fine. You can-”

“Sir, your bath is prepared as well,” one of the maids said with a polite bow. “Please allow us to assist you.”

Hongjoong stiffened slightly at the offer, clearly taken aback. “Uh, that's not necessary,” he stammered, his usual confidence faltering as a blush crept up his neck. “I can manage on my own.”

The maid, seemingly unfazed, simply nodded. “Of course, sir. But if you require anything, we will be right outside.” With that, she and the others gracefully exited the room, leaving the two of you alone once more.

Hongjoong let out a quiet sigh of relief, running a hand through his hair as he glanced back at you. “Well, I suppose I should... take that bath now,” he said.

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “I'll wait here,” you said softly, trying to ease the tension in the room.

He stood there for another moment, as if he wanted to say something more, but instead, he simply gave you a nod before retreating into the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Desperately, you tried to distract yourself from the fact that the man of your dreams was completely bare just a few feet away. But just after a few minutes, you had to admit that it was pointless, and so, your feet took you to the bathroom once again.

You hesitated outside the door, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew this was a bad idea, that you were crossing a line, but curiosity got the better of you. Slowly, you pushed the door open just enough to slip inside.

Hongjoong was sitting in the tub, his back to the door, the water lapping gently around his figure. Steam filled the room, the scent of the same herbs and soaps you previously used in the air. His head was slightly bowed, his eyes closed, and he seemed lost in thought, completely unaware of your presence.

For a moment, you just stood there, silently watching him. His usually sharp features were entirely relaxed, his shoulders sacked as he soaked in the water. You couldn’t help but admire the way the droplets clung to his skin, the way the muscles in his back moved with each breath he took.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you silently crossed the room. The soft pads of your feet made no noise on the stone floor as you approached the tub. Without thinking, you reached for a cloth that was hanging nearby, dipping it into the warm water.

He still hadn’t noticed you as you knelt beside the tub. Your hand hovered for a moment before you gathered the courage to press the cloth gently against his back.

Hongjoong stiffened immediately, his eyes snapping open as he realized someone was there. He turned his head sharply, his eyes wide as he met your gaze.

“Y/N?” His voice was breathless, and he immediately tried to shield his naked body from you. “What are you doing?”

You bit your lip, trying to fight back the blush that was creeping up your cheeks. “I thought… I thought I’d help you relax,” you said softly, your voice trembling with nerves.

Hongjoong’s gaze flicked down to the cloth in your hand and then back to your face. His expression was unreadable, but you could see the way his breathing had quickened, the way his muscles tensed under your touch.

“Y/N… you don’t have to…” He trailed off, his voice faltering as you began to gently scrub his back, your movements slow and careful. You could feel the tension in his body slowly melting away under your touch.

He let out a shaky breath, his head dropping forward again as he allowed himself to relax. “You don't have to do this,” he murmured, though he didn't sound entirely convinced either.

You smiled a little, continuing your work, the cloth gliding over his skin in soothing circles. “Maybe not,” you whispered, “but I wanted to.”

Hongjoong’s breathing was uneven, each exhale shaky as you worked your way across his shoulders, the cloth tracing the lines of his muscles. You could see the way his body tensed, his fists clenching against the edge of the tub as if he was trying to control himself. 

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, almost pleading. “W-we should really stop… I-”

You gently pressed a finger against his lips, silencing him almost instantly. “Hongjoong,” you whispered, “I want to… I’m ready.”

His eyes found yours, wide with surprise and something else - something deeper. His gaze searched yours, as if he was trying to find any hint of uncertainty, any reason to stop this before it went too far.

But you didn’t waver. You had been through so much, had faced so many demons from your past, and now, standing here with him, you felt a sense of clarity you hadn’t in a long time. You wanted this, wanted him - wanted to break down the walls you had built so carefully around your heart.

Slowly, you leaned in closer, your breath mingling with his as you pressed a soft kiss to his temple. His eyes fluttered shut at the contact, a shiver running through his body. You could feel his resistance, the way he fought to hold himself back, but there was also something in the way he leaned into your touch, a silent plea for more.

Your lips traveled from his temple to his ear, brushing against the sensitive skin as you whispered, “I know you try to hold yourself back for my sake. But I’m not scared, Joongie. Not anymore.”

Hongjoong’s eyes were locked on yours, the intensity in his gaze making your breath hitch. Without breaking eye contact, he stood, water cascading off his naked, sculpted body, droplets glistening on his skin in the soft, dim light of the room. 

Before you could say anything, his arms wrapped around you, lifting you effortlessly from where you stood. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled you close, his wet skin soaking through your clothes as he carried you out the room. 

He reached the bed and gently laid you down on the soft sheets, the fabric cool against your heated skin. You looked up at him, your heart racing as he knelt beside you, droplets of water still clinging to his skin, his hair damp and falling into his eyes. He was completely bare, his body on full display, and yet his focus was entirely on you.

Slowly, he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a slow, passionate kiss. His hand slid up your side, fingers grazing your ribs, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The kiss deepened, his tongue teasing yours, fighting your own in a battle of dominance you quickly lost.

Hongjoong’s hand moved under your gown, and with a gentle tug, he began to lift it, his fingertips brushing against your skin as he pulled it over your head. The cool air hit your newly exposed skin, making you shiver, but the heat of his gaze warmed you instantly. He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you, his eyes so full of love and lust it made you ache.

“You’re so, so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. He leaned in again, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving soft, lingering kisses as he made his way to your collarbone. Each kiss sent a jolt of electricity through you, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you felt him explore your body with his lips, his hands, his entire being.

He moved lower, his hands sliding over your skin, slowly. You shivered under his touch, your hands gripping the sheets as you tried to steady yourself, your heart pounding in your chest.

His hands moved delicately, tracing the lines of your body, exploring every curve, every dip, every inch of your skin. He was in no rush, savoring it all; every moment, every touch, every breath you took. The way he looked at you, the way he touched you, it was as if he was worshiping you, as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him.

“Y/N,” he whispered against your lips, his voice shaky, filled with emotion. “I want this to be perfect for you… for us.”

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your eyes meeting his with a soft, reassuring smile. “It already is,” you murmured, your voice filled with the same emotion you saw reflected in his eyes. “You make everything perfect for me, Joongie.”

He smiled, a tender, almost shy smile that made your heart flutter. “I’ve wanted this for so long… wanted you for so long,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I know,” you whispered back, your fingers brushing through his damp hair. “I’ve wanted this too… I’ve wanted you.”

His breath caught in his throat, his eyes darkening with something deeper, more intense. “I’m scared… of hurting you,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “Of moving too fast.”

You shook your head gently, your hands moving to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. “You could never hurt me,” you assured him softly. “I trust you, Hongjoong. I’m ready… because I know these hands of yours could never hurt me like he did.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to steady himself. When he opened them again, they were filled with an intensity that took your breath away. “I want to love you… properly, Y/N.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love and adoration for the man above you. “Then love me, Hongjoong,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. “Love me the way you’ve always wanted to. Make me yours.”

He chuckled, before slowly lowering himself into you. “Silly woman. You've been mine the moment I met you.”

If anyone would've told you you'd ever see your parents on their knees, begging for mercy in front of you, you would've laughed right in their face.

But here you were. Witnessing it at this very moment.

Well, technically it wasn't in front of you - but the Queen, who was looking at them with intense, cold eyes.

You stood to the side, Hongjoong right beside you, close enough to witness every detail, yet far enough to keep the emotional distance you needed to not break down in tears.

The Queen's voice cut through the silence. “You have been called before the court to deliver your testimony. If you lie, it will have severe consequences,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “We have gathered here today because a man was killed. Without any evidence or witness testimony, it was decided that Kim Hongjoong was the one responsible and would be hanged for it. Now, after careful investigation, I and everyone else here is fairly confident that this is not what happened. The man who died abused his wife L/N Y/N for close to a decade. And everyone supposedly knew. On the night of the alleged crime, it is to be assumed he came home to beat her once again. Kim Hongjoong was just there at the wrong time. Y/N had to kill her husband in self defense to protect the both of them,” the Queen continued. 

The whole room was deadly silent. Only the occasional sobs of your mother could be heard.

“Now I ask of you to truthfully answer my questions”, she said, looking at your parents directly, “is it true that you knew your daughter was getting abused?”

The silence that followed the Queen's question was suffocating, each second stretching into an eternity. Your father kept his gaze fixed on the floor, his hands trembling slightly as he knelt beside your mother. 

You remembered the last time you saw him. The moment where he apologized, where you saw the pain in his eyes. But would he also admit to his faults in public?

The Queen's eyes bore into them. She was not just asking for a simple answer; she was demanding the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. And there was no escaping it.

Your father was the first to speak, his voice barely above a whisper, rough and strained. “We… we knew,” he confessed, the words stumbling out of him like a boulder finally giving way to gravity. “We knew what was happening, Your Majesty.”

A collective gasp rippled through the courtroom, but you remained still, your heart pounding in your chest as the truth you had been denied for so long was finally laid bare. Your mother’s sobs grew louder, her hands covering her face as if to shield herself from the reality of what was happening.

The Queen’s gaze did not waver. “And yet, you did nothing to help her?” she pressed, her tone hardening. “You allowed your daughter to suffer for years, without lifting a finger to protect her? Knowing that one day she could possibly be killed?”

Your mother finally lifted her head, her face streaked with tears. “We… we were afraid,” she stammered, her voice shaking with emotion. “We didn’t know what to do… We thought… we thought it would be worse if we intervened.”

A bitter taste filled your mouth as you listened to their excuses. They had left you to fend for yourself in a nightmare, and had turned their backs on you when you needed them the most. 

Even after you tried for months, years to come to terms with their betrayal, it still hurt deeply.

The Queen narrowed her eyes, but her expression gave nothing away. “You thought it would be worse?” she repeated, “Worse than watching your daughter endure unimaginable suffering? Worse than allowing her to be beaten, night after night, while you did nothing?”

Your mother’s tears flowed uncontrollably now, her sobs wracking her body as she nodded, unable to form any coherent response. Your father remained silent, his head hanging low, as if the weight of his guilt was too much to bear.

The Queen’s gaze flicked to you for a moment, her expression softening just slightly as she took in the sight of you standing there, silent and strong beside Hongjoong. 

This wasn't the first time you saw that expression on her face, and for a second you were left wondering if, maybe, she understood your pain. Really understood.

From woman to woman, from victim to victim.

“Your Majesty,” your father spoke again, his voice hoarse with emotion. “We… we failed her. We know that now. We were wrong, and we are deeply sorry.”

For a second, his eyes found yours. And though you knew you could never forgive them, you saw nothing but love and guilt in your father's eyes.

Maybe in another life, where you as a woman would have more rights, you all could have been a happy, normal family.

Maybe.

“But… There is one last thing I want to do for my daughter,” he whispered. “Your Majesty, if I may…?”

Her gaze flicked towards you. You clutched Hongjoong’s hands tighter, before giving her a final nod.

“Go on,” she said.

Your father hesitated for a moment, gathering his courage, before speaking again. “I brought them here, Your Majesty,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “The rest of the people who stayed quiet. I brought all of them here today.”

The Queen raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking between your father and you. The courtroom seemed to hold its breath, waiting for her decision. Your eyes widened and you immediately felt a lump form in your throat. 

Finally, the Queen nodded, “Bring them in.”

She turned towards the grand double doors at the back of the room, and with a slight motion of her hand, the guards opened them. One by one, a dozen people began to file in, their faces pale and solemn. You recognized each one of them - neighbors, former friends, even the local shopkeepers who had all turned a blind eye to your bruises and hushed cries for help. They looked as though they were walking to their own execution, eyes downcast, hands desperately clutching their clothes.

As they entered, they arranged themselves in a line before you, and then, as if guided by an unspoken command, they all began to bow. The sight of it - the people who had once ignored your pain now bowing before you, in front of the Queen herself - struck you like a blow to the heart.

You tightened your grip on Hongjoong’s hand, your breath hitching as the overwhelming weight of the moment began to settle over you. Tears welled up in your eyes, and no matter how much you tried to hold them back, they eventually began to spill over, silently tracing lines down your cheeks. Hongjoong’s hand remained warm and steady in yours, his presence grounding you as you struggled to process the scene before you.

Slowly, an elderly woman who had been your neighbor for years, stepped forward. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “Y/N… we have no excuse for what we did, or rather, what we didn’t do. We failed you, just as your parents did. We saw the signs, but we chose to look away, to pretend it wasn’t our business. And for that… we are truly sorry.”

As everyone in line took their turn to speak, offering their apologies, their regrets, and their shame, the emotions you had been holding back for so long finally broke free. You wept openly now, the sound of your sobs filling the otherwise silent courtroom. These were the apologies you had never expected to hear, the recognition of your suffering that had been denied to you for so many years.

Hongjoong wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, and you leaned into him, burying your face in his neck. The tears kept coming, and you let them. 

After each person spoke to you, they all remained bowed, waiting for your response. The Queen, too, seemed to be waiting, her gaze fixed on you.

You took a shaky breath, wiping your tears with the back of your hand as you tried to find the right words. But there were no words that could truly capture the enormity of what you were feeling. So instead, you simply nodded, acknowledging their apologies once and for all.

“Thank you,” you managed to whisper, your voice raw and hoarse. “Thank you for saying what I needed to hear… even if it’s too late.”

There was a collective sigh of relief from the crowd, but the weight of the moment still pressed down heavily on you. The Queen stepped forward, her presence immediately commanding everyone's attention. “You have all acknowledged your failings here today,” she said, “A man has died, and even if Y/N pulled the trigger, everyone here knows that at the end of the day, she remains an innocent woman. A woman who had to save herself because no one else did.”

As her final words settled over the courtroom, you felt a deep, heavy relief wash over you. The people who had failed you had spoken their apologies, and though it could never erase the pain you endured, the recognition of your suffering soothed your wounded soul.

Hongjoong kept a protective arm around you as you walked outside. The air outside the courtroom was crisp, the world feeling both too small and too vast after what had just happened. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, when you heard a familiar voice calling your name.

“Y/N!”

You turned just in time to see your sister Miyeon rushing towards you, tears already streaming down her face. Her belly was still slightly rounded from her recent pregnancy, and in her arms, she cradled her newborn, your tiny niece or nephew, who was bundled up warmly against her chest.

Miyeon threw her arms around you, careful not to hurt her child, pulling you into a tight embrace as she sobbed uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry,” she choked out between sobs, her voice filled with guilt and anguish. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know everything that was happening. If I had known, I would have been there for you. I should have been there for you!”

You held her tightly, your own tears spilling over once more as you buried your face in her shoulder. “Miyeon, it’s okay,” you whispered, even as your voice trembled. “I know you would’ve helped me if you could. You were far away, and you had no idea. You were also preparing to be a mother… I never wanted to burden you with my pain.”

“But you’re my sister,” she cried, pulling back to look at you with red, puffy eyes. “I should have been here. I should have done something, anything, to protect you. How could I have let this happen to you?”

You shook your head. “You couldn’t have known, Miyeon. None of this was your fault. I don’t blame you, not even for a second.”

Before you could respond, her husband, Gikwang, who had been standing a few steps behind her, joined the two of you. His expression was filled with compassion and guilt as he handed you a small, trembling bundle. “We… we brought something for you,” he said gently. “One of Hongjoong’s neighbors found him in his house and thought you’d want him back.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he placed the tiny, trembling creature in your arms.

“Benji!” you cried out.

The moment he was in your arms, the dam you had been holding back broke entirely. You clutched him to you, your sobs echoing through the quiet corridor as you cried even harder than you just moments before.

Hongjoong stood beside you, his hand on your back, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears as he watched you cradle Benji. Miyeon wrapped her arms around both you and Benji, and for a long, long while, you simply stood there, the three of you wrapped in a comforting embrace. As you finally pulled back, wiping your tears away, you looked at Miyeon and Hongjoong, then down at Benji, who was now purring softly in your arms, and also at Gikwang and their newborn child.

With a trembling but genuine smile, you whispered, "Thank you, Miyeon. Thank you for being here. And thank you for bringing him back to me."

Miyeon nodded, her own smile breaking through her tears. "I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. No matter what. You and I will keep in contact, right? You'll come visit me and I'll visit you, right? And… and you and Hongjoong will be happy together, right?”

As you wiped the last of your tears away, you gave Miyeon a firm nod. “Yes,” you replied, your voice steady for the first time in what felt like an eternity. “We will keep in contact. I’ll visit you, and you can come visit us. And yes… Hongjoong and I will be happy together. We’ll find a way to move forward.”

Miyeon smiled through her tears, her grip on her newborn tightening slightly as she nodded back. “Good,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion. “That’s all I want for you, Y/N. To be happy. You deserve that more than anything.”

Gikwang placed a reassuring hand on his wife's shoulder. “You’re strong, Y/N,” he said softly. “And even if your parents and Jisoo aren't included, you have us that care about you, no matter how far apart we may be.”

You took a long, deep breath before looking down at Benji, who was still purring contentedly in your arms, then up at Hongjoong, who met your gaze with a look of unwavering support and love.

“Let’s go,” Hongjoong murmured, his hand gently squeezing yours. “It’s time to head home.”

You nodded. Turning back to your sister, you reached out and gave her one last, lingering hug. “I’ll see you soon,” you promised, “until then, take care. And also of your bab-”

“Jihoon. His name is Jihoon,” she whispered, carefully cradling the baby in her arms.

You smiled warmly at her and her child. “Take care of Jihoon too, okay?”

With that, you and Hongjoong turned and began to walk away, Benji still cradled safely in your arms. 

“Hey, Joongie?” you asked.

“Hm?”

“Do you think Django is doing well?

He laughed. “Oh, I know he is. That damn goat is probably terrorizing the whole town by now.”

My Dearest Husband,

I hope this letter finds you well and you are not too weary from your travels. Though I'm proud the Queen has once again asked for one of your dresses, the house feels a little quieter without you here, though Miyeon, Gikwang, and little Jihoon are doing their best to fill the void. You wouldn’t believe how much he’s grown since you last saw him – he’s already running around like he owns the place. God, I’ve had to take more breaks than usual chasing after him. I’m sure you can guess why.

Miyeon has been a great help, though, and Gikwang even managed to fix the squeaky gate that’s been bothering you for months. We spent yesterday walking along the shore, Jihoon squealing with delight every time the waves came in. It made me think of how much you would’ve enjoyed the sight with him together. The sea is as beautiful as ever, though not nearly as beautiful as it is when I get to share it with you.

Oh, our little shop is thriving more than I could’ve imagined. Your teachings on sewing have paid off wonderfully, and the people can’t seem to get enough of the dresses I make. I'm so honored, though I still try and convince them yours are so much better. They keep saying how elegant the stitching is and how there’s something special about each piece. I always smile and tell them it’s because they were made with love – a love you taught me with every thread and needle. Though I do admit, I’ve had to slow down a bit these days. The shop misses you, too, but it’s running smoothly, and I can’t wait for you to see how well it's been going. 

I know you were worried about leaving me alone, but honestly, my love, you overthink too much. I think you forget sometimes just how capable I am. I may be waddling more than walking at this point, but I can still manage just fine, especially with Miyeon here to keep an eye on me. But I can’t help but smile when I think about how you’re already fretting over our little one, even before she’s born. You and your little princess – I can just see it now, the way you’ll spoil her rotten with all those tiny dresses you’ve been making. If she’s anything like her father, she’ll be quite the charmer, and I can’t wait to see you two together, hand in hand, as you show her the world.

She’s been kicking more these past few days, and it hurts like crazy. I can't wait to finally meet her. I’m already dreaming of the day when we’ll finally get to meet her. I know you’re just as eager as I am – I can see it in the way you smile whenever you talk about her. Our little princess. I think she knows, too, because she always seems to calm down when I think about you.

So, my love, don’t worry too much about us. We’re safe, happy, and counting down the days until you’re back home. The sea is waiting, the shop is thriving, and most importantly, your little family is here, eagerly anticipating your return. I’ll keep everything running smoothly until you’re back – though I must admit, I’m looking forward to resting when our little one decides it’s time to make her grand entrance.

Take care of yourself, and don’t let business keep you away for too long. We miss you dearly.

With all my love,

Your Wife

[mxiaogod]

— 15. [FANTOMĂ] GHOST / SIMON RILEY  X FEM! AFAB READER

WARNING : MANHANDLING, DEGRADATION, PRAISE, FEAR PLAY, DOUBLE PENETRATION, KNIFE PLAY, BONDAGE, SPIT PLAY, MASK KINK, IMPACT PLAY, OVERSTIMULATION, BLOOD, PRIMAL PLAY, SIZE KINK, DARK CONTENT! NSFW, (DNI IF YOU AREN’T 18+)

A/N : The story will be substantially altered, and certain portions may not be linked to the original lore of COD. I do not play the game, nor am I educated in the military field; this is simply self indulgent. ALL OF THIS ARE A WORK OF FICTION AND IS LABELED AS DARK CONTENT, PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

And a big thank you for 342 followers.💐

— Ghosts are a tale, a haunting narrative; some may find them symbolic, but they are essentially a mental construct; some may believe in them, while others do not. They are terrifying, instilling fear in the hearts of those who cross them.

Your trembling fingers grasp the firm soil beneath you, gripping it with might. The thumping of your heart synchronizes with the heaves of your chest, under your nails are caked with dirt, twigs and dead leaves entangling with your hair. You’ve been running for what felt like hours now, you’ve fallen and got back on the soles of your bare feet more times than you can count, your frail fingers grazing the tender bruises trailing down your thighs as you  try to ignore the constant throbbing in your skull.

A twig snapping causes your head to snap up, wintry wands, waved by nature's hand, take on a bold black silhouette in silvery air; a sob caught in your throat. You get up by the palms of your hands, sliding your back up against the tree as you run, tears blurring your vision by the sheer fear that has its grip in your heart. Multiple debris has dug into your foot but you paid no attention. Through the dance of fog, the  twirl of mist, a small, cozy cabin sits atop of firm land, big enough to play cat and mouse with whoever is running after you. You immediately seek shelter, your frail body slamming the aging, oak door. You slam it shut, pushing an old book case to block the door with whatever strength you had left.

You grab ahold of the ends of your dress, wet from the rain and caked with mud, wringing it with your hands. You start to look around, a measly wooden chair and table sits on the corner, spotlighted by the moonlight, book shelves after book shelves that are littered with rubbish. Your feet thud against the wooden floor as you near the lone desk. A wall of newspapers, pages torn from magazines and books are slacked onto the peeling walls. You grab one that piqued your interest, ripping it off the wall and reading it with trembling fingers.

As you take in the information, a prickling sensation by your nape alerts your senses, tears brimming your eyes as your gut drops. The paper crinkled in your hand as you fell to your knees. “No, no, no!” 

“Found you.” Strong arms held you by your armpits, lifting you into the air. A scream tore from your throat, pain spiraling up to your spine by being slammed onto a shelf. “Fuck! What do you want from me, please let me go!-” You were interrupted by a pointer finger touching your cold lips, “Shh” he said. You finally had the courage to open your eyes, widening as you were faced with a man bigger than you, his face concealed in a skull mask, eyes blown with primality. Your mind, hazed from previous events, is confused by the calmness emanating from him, but the danger was overpowering.

Your whimpers subside as tears lick the flesh of your cheeks. He brings you into the bathroom, tying your arms to the shower head with a crimson rope he picked up on the way.

He steps back and admires his work as your chest heaves from the intakes of air, nervousness and fear wrapping it hands and gripping your throat, along with your heart.

"What did I say, hm?" He inquires gently, his deep voice rumbling deep within his chest. He's so large that you had to bend your head back to face him. As a display of defiance, you shake your head and purse your lips.

“I asked you a question, love.” He repeats, “To- To stop roaming these forests.” you respond, voice steadying. “Right, and you didn’t listen.” you can’t help but feel ashamed for defying him at his disappointed tone. “You said I can’t be here because there are dangerous people around, but you’re lying, I haven’t seen anyone around, except you.” 

“Exactly.” His tone is gruff as he tears your dress off down the middle, ridding you of clothes except your underwear. You gasp and cross your leg, tugging your arms down in an attempt to cover yourself.

“You look so beautiful like this, all filthy and afraid.” As his fingers caress the apple of your cheeks. You flinch from his touch, turning your face to the side. “You scared of me love?” he says, almost humorously. “Isn’t that the reason you come here, everynight? To come see me? Because you know you’ll only get that fear you crave from me.” 

“Does it make you wet, knowing that people fear me? Knowing that you’re the only one who has gotten close enough?” He chastises, “Your curiosity will get you in danger, my love.” Your stomach caves, thighs pressing together as you try to resist the nature of your very being. You tried, tried to resist the chase, the thrill, the fear that this man has brought to you, but it had gotten so addicting, so inhabitable to the point you live and breath for it.

You tell yourself that it’s wrong, so wrong to be living like this, living with threats behind, chasing after you but you couldn’t resist the temptation, couldn’t stay away from him, so raw and untouched. 

His face had gotten closer, you could feel his hot breath on your cheek through his balaclava, your lips part open as you welcome all the ugly parts of him, all the sick and twisted elements that you’re willing to take from him, and he knows that with how you bare yourself to him, like an offering to a god. “Please.” One word was enough for him to kiss your lips through his mask, your hips immediately rutting against his thigh. “I’m going to fuck you til’ sunrise.”

His big hands grip the plush of your hips, helping you to tilt your hips back and forth in his thick thighs until he sees you forming a wet spot on his combat pants. “Look at that, grinding on my thigh like a little slut. My little slut.” He moves high thigh away, and you give him a desperate whine in return. 

A sharp, glinting metal trails from your sternum, to your hips, a sharp cry escaping from your lips as it digs through skin, just light enough to leave a scar. The knife moves to the side of your hips, tearing through the thin fabric of your underwear, baring your swollen cunt to him. 

He circles your clit with the rubber handle of his knife, spelling his name, you couldn't decipher it with your hazy mind, pleasure rolling off in waves. He trails it back up your torso, your slick sticking to your skin. “Spit on it.” He instructs and you do, sticking out your tongue and letting your saliva drip into the handle while maintaining eye contact. Your arousal and your saliva mix together as he inserts the handle into your cunt, your legs automatically widening to welcome his assault. “Feel so good” you moan through heaving breaths, he smiles under his skull mask, kneeling down on his knees as he lifts half of his mask, exposing his red lips, parted open and wet with his saliva as he sucks your clit into his hot mouth. You throw your head back, hips gyrating on his face as the knife pumps in and out of you, his hands that grips the sharp end of the knife, digging into it, his crimson blood trailing down his forearm dripping down his elbow onto the bathroom floor. Your eyebrows knit and your eyes close in pleasure, your hips shaking from the stimulation. He spits into your clit as he rubs it with his other hand, his eye trained on your face, there’s nothing he loves more than seeing your face contort with pleasure.

“Look down so you can see how I’m on my knees for you, bleeding and desperate to taste you, look and cum for me.” He stated firmly, you trail your eyes down and meet him and it was a sight you’ll never forget, pleasure climbs up your spine, coursing through your veins, consuming you whole.

“That’s it, scream for me, sounds so beautiful.” You come down from your high, head lolling to the side. He nips and sucks you clean until he’s satisfied, “That’s my good pussy, yes it is.” He coos. . 

He stands back up, throwing his knife to the side as he turns you around, the rope twisting harder into your wrist as you wail in pain. His combat boots kick your left feet to the side, widening your legs for him. He grabs ahold of your waist, his other hand pressing down your lower back, arching you beautifully.

He presses his hips into your bare ass, humping and thrusting as he releases groans beside your ear, you bite your lips as you thrust back, his movements getting harsher and harsher until you hear him zip his pants down, hurriedly taking his cock out.

You look back at him, stroking his cock, standing tall with his tip swollen and dripping with pre cum, veins bulging as he grabs himself at the base, his hips rutting into his palm. “Please- want it so bad.” You plead, throwing your ass back onto his hips as he catches it with his palm, steadying you as he guides the head in. “Fuck-”

“Does that feel good?” He asks as he pulls out, and thrust back in. “Oh I bet it does.” He pants as he thrusts his hips, making you take the entirety of his length. A beaded chain, wraps around your thighs, his hand curling against it as you feel it embed into your skin, the chain dangles as he fucks into you, his dog tag.

“Fuck, it’s too much, can’t anymore-” as your hands push his pelvic back.  

Smack!

“You’ll take it because I said so.” He said, thrusting harder, tilting his hips as he repeatedly hits your g-spot. “This is for doing a good job.” He whispers, wet lips ghosting the shell of your ear. You feel him spit into his hands, his thumb circling your puckered hole as he inserts it inch by inch, “And this is for being a good girl.”

“Gonna cum, gonna cum-” You warn as your head falls back onto his shoulder, he lifts both your legs up, lifting you as he continues to chase his high, his cock bulging out your stomach.

“So good love, so good, fuck, cum with me- now.” His ragged moan beside your ear pushed you to the edge, pussy clenching on his girthy length. His hot cum fills your pussy, your eyes rolling back, saliva dripping into the side of your mouth from the immense pleasure.

You feel your arms loosen, as he unties the rope that binds your hand. 

“Care for a bath?” He whispers, rubbing his warm hands on your lower back as he carries you bridal style.

“What’s your name, Ghost? Will you tell me?” You ask, doe eyes pleading.

Your eyes snaps open, jaw trembling from the cry forming inside your throat. You feel your hips itch as you scratch, your scar making an appearance.

S.R

Etched into the skin of your hips, your hair sticking to your neck from the sweat. You dreamt of him again.

But that’s all he ever was, a figment of your imagination, haunting your dreams, instilling fear into your heart.

A ghost, Fantomă.

[goldsbitch]

Right? p3

summary: Y/N is a photographer for McLaren F1 team. Hard working, goal oriented professional who would never put her career in jeopardy for some stupid crush, right?

That is until a photoshoot gets out of hand and there is no way to go but forward.

part 1, part 2

"Y/n!"

You slowly turned. The plan was to leave with the rest of the team, not staying behind with Lando - alone.

"I just have few ideas for the next phoshoot, if you'd like to talk about it," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Professional. "Of course!" And with that, the last person left the room and closed the door.

The media meeting room was one of the few rooms without glass doors or windows. The only light present was from the projecting screen, still showing a big photo of Lando fucking Norris.

He was leaning on the table, light reflecting in his face while he was observing the picture.

"Narcissist much?" you teased and also leaned next to him. It's like his body was sending magnetic signals to yours.

"Always. " He paused for a moment. "If I recall correctly, these were all shot in the forest." You chose not to react. He gave you a questioning look. "Where is the rest?"

You should have expected this. Wishful thinking was not working in your favor. Or was it?

"I'm missing the car pictures, the ones where you stood above me and perhaps even those where you sat on me. Am I right?"

You turned and looked him straight to the eye. If tension was a fog in the room, you'd be able to see at arms-lenght only.

"I guess the battery gave out sooner than I noticed," you replied nonchalantly.

Lando stepped into the projector light. "Yes, that must be it...Or, there is a reason why you don't want to show them."

He was standing way too close. You had no defense for his charm. The damn scent again. The only thing you had on mind was burying your face in his neck and leaving your own mark on him. Would he be the one to moan? How would that sound?

"You know, I also like to take photos."

"Is that so?"

He was facing you directly. With a noticable hasitation, he put his finger on your chin, tracing the lines of your jaw. He ended up with him finger and his eyes on your lips.

"I would love to be on the other side of the lens. Take photo of you for once."

We are sorry to inform you, that all traces of professionality have left the room.

He slowly traced your lips with his finger and while remaining direct eye contact, you opened your mouth and licked it. It was slow, with a little pause and then suddenly the mouth that kissed yours, like he had once in real life and several times in your dreams. .

Almost as if he had read your mind, he proceeded to kiss your neck, softly not to leave a mark, but enough for him to find out you in fact do moan. His hand, wrapped around your hips, squeezed you as a direct response to the soft sounds coming out of your mouth.

"Lando," you whispered.

"Yes, baby?" his voice was shivering as well. This should not make you proud. You should stop now, anyone could walk in. You managed to break out of your paralysis, even if it was the last thing you wanted to do.

"Lando, stop."

He stopped kissing you promptly. Your foreheads pressed together.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. You almost laughed. The only thing he should feel sorry for was the fact his mouth was not exploring your body anymore.

With heavy heart, you pulled away. This was probably a silly game for him, one with potentially horrible consequences.

"I can't risk my job like this."

He nodded. "I understand. I guess. I mean, I think the times are changing a bit."

"Like having an affair with essentially your boss is not bad anymore?"

"I'm not your boss."

Oh maybe he should be.

"You know what I mean. For me it's not just a job."

He took a moment to think. "That's probably the hottest thing about you. The passion. I can understand that."

Your stomach spun. Lando called you hot?

"It's impossible for me to keep passing you around as if it's nothing. Been too long." You remained calm, knowing well enough you'll have many night to think about this sentence.

"Do you say this to all the female staff?" you joked, but tiny part of you had a legitimate worry. You were not going to be one of many, too proud for that.

"I'd have to quit if there were even only two like you, one is enough to handle."

This time you approached him and kissed him first. A little bit slower than you kissed before. It was quick, as you heard some steps on the hallway.

"Let's go on a date. Privately. So we can think clearly," he insisted.

"I don't think other people are the reason why I'm not thinking clearly."

"Come on, say yes."

"Yes, let's."

Lando stepped away, becoming more of his work self again. You went to turn on the lights again. "We can either go and take photos of you for this time, or you can show me the ones you hid from others."

The door opened and you were relieved it didn't happened a minute ago.

"Yes, let's do another photoshoot," you smirked at Lando.

part 4

______________________________________________________________

@i-wish-this-was-me

[inbloomwriting]

Everything to me - Chapter 2

Chapter two - Blueberry & Kidney Bean

Chapter 1

Plot: Jamie Tartt is a lot of things: professional footballer, the island's top scorer .... sexually, extremly handsome. But one thing he never saw himself as was a dad. Too bad he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions. This fic follows reader and Jamie as they navigate life and turn from practially strangers to parents. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Pregnancy, swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, slight mention of sexual intimacy (nothing graphic), strained/toxic parental relationship Notes: 5.6k words. I do not have a set uploading schedule. Please bear with me as I work on this story. I know hardly anything about pregnancy, all my information comes from google. I tagged everyone who asked me to do it when I posted part 1. Please let me know if you want to be taken off or added to the taglist. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

The store smells like dust and cardboard and old carpet. It's not necessarily a bad smell, it just doesn't live up to her memories.

She remembers the perpetual scent of menthol cigarettes and some kind of cheap men's perfume wafting through the air. The store used to smell like her dad and now it doesn't. And that just makes it all even more real.

Boxes upon boxes litter the room, filled with records. Some older, some newer. Guitars adorn one wall while the others are covered in posters from tours that happened long ago, some even before she was born.

There is something comforting about being here. It’s like stepping back into the past. Long nights watching Dad and his friends play their guitars after store-closing. Discovering new bands whenever a new shipment of records came in. And yes - she is the first to admit that in her younger years, she mostly chose the records by how cool the cover looked. 

It’s also memories of Dad getting caught up in the after-hours jam sessions and forgetting about her dance recital and that one time he threw a guitar at the window out of anger that a shipment of records got lost. It took him months to get the window replaced. She could probably still trace exactly where the crack used to be. 

Being here is very reminiscent in all the good and bad ways. But it’s a warped version of the past. One that’s laced with all the knowledge she has now. Like a movie that you’ve seen a million times.

“I don’t think pregnant women are supposed to be doing that!” 

Jamie’s voice cuts through the nostalgia-induced fog like a sunbeam through the clouds. And it also gives her a little heart attack as the only sound filling the room up until now had been her moving around and the soft tunes of an Eric Clapton record playing in the background.

“Jesus fuck! You scared me. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to startle pregnant women either and give them heart attacks.” 

He looks at her with those big expressive eyes of his and a comically overdone pout on his lips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. But seriously give me that.” 

He’s so quick to take the box of records from her hands (Y/N) hardly has time to process what’s going on. 

Quite honestly, his worry is a bit misplaced here but she appreciates the sentiment even if he might be a little overly cautious at that moment. It feels nice to be cared for. 

“You know I’m pregnant, not sick, right? I can carry stuff.” 

“Yeah but why would you if you got me carrying it for you?” 

He has a point, she has to give him that. 

“Fair enough. Those go over there in the corner please.” 

Jamie follows her order without hesitation and, after setting the box down in its designated place, his eyes dart across the room and light up with childlike wonder and curiosity.

“This used to be your dad’s place, yeah? It looks really neat with all them posters and shit. Like stepping into an old person’s mind but like a cool old person that buys you alcohol when you’re 15 and lets you watch horror movies when your mum said no.” 

Of all the adjectives in the world, (Y/N) wouldn’t ever think of using the word “cool” to describe her dad. He was creative and fun and eccentric and stubborn — but cool? 

Then again he was her dad and no one ever likes to think of their own parents as cool. Oh god, will their kid think she’s uncool?! 

“Uh yeah, the shop and the apartment right above us. He owned it, now I do. I’m trying to get it all fixed up and ready to be sold.”

“What? Why?” 

There is something to be said about Jamie’s face and his absolute inability to mask his emotions. Everything he thinks and feels is mirrored twice as vividly on his face. He’s all furrowed brows and pouty lips. 

“I mean — it’s a record store. People don’t really buy records anymore. Be honest, when was the last time you bought one instead of just streaming the music?” 

“Like two weeks ago.” 

“Fuck off, no you didn’t!” 

“Uh — yeah, I did. Olivia Rodrigo if you must know.” 

A soft giggle falls from (Y/N)’s lips. How fitting for Jamie to buy an album full of teenage angst. 

“Well, you’re one of very few people though. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have to sell. I’d keep it open. Instead of selling instruments, it’d turn that part of the shop into a little stage with a coffee counter or a bar. Host open mic nights and shine a spotlight on undiscovered artists. But the world isn’t perfect and there is no way I can afford to turn that vision into reality so really there’s no use in letting myself get too caught up in it.” 

There is pity in his eyes and she hates it. She doesn’t want pity, not his or anyone else’s. Has seen enough of it, especially lately. If she had received just one more “Sorry for your loss” card in the mail from relatives she hadn’t seen in decades, she probably would’ve stabbed a fork in her own eye. Pity does no good to no one. 

“Anyway, Jamie. Not that I don’t enjoy hanging out with you, it’s kind of necessary if we want to get this whole beings-friends-thing right, but uh — what are you doing here?” 

“Jesus, can’t a guy just come around to say hi to his baby? “ 

She thinks the way he says the word “Baby” in his thick accent is surprisingly and undeniably adorable. As if it ends in an “eh” instead of a “y”.

“By the way, they’re as big as a blueberry now.” 

And the way he’s keeping track of the baby's growth gets her right in the heart. For some reason, this seems to come so naturally to him when it all still feels weird and foreign and surreal to her. As if it were happening to someone else and she’s just a mere spectator. The idea that something as small as a blueberry will one day turn into a proper baby, a child, a teenager … a whole ass adult - is so wild to her. Almost incomprehensible. A person with their own feelings and dreams and personality. (Y/N) wonders if at any point in this pregnancy, she'll wake up and it'll all just make sense or if that only comes once she's holding the baby in her arms.

“That's cute. Doesn't answer my question though. What brings you here?”

A shadow of something flickers across Jamie’s face. Something unreadable and unfamiliar. Something that makes (Y/N) feel a sense of dread bubbling up in her stomach.

“I uh — I can’t do this.”

And there it is. That unfamiliar shadow is now a metaphorical atom bomb, a mushroom cloud of all that could have been and won’t be.

“Oh okay. I mean no, not okay. This sucks actually. You said you wanted to be part of the baby’s life and now you’re bailing? That’s a shit move, Jamie. You’re a right prick for pulling that crap.” 

“What? Oh no!” his eyes widen as the realization sets in. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Well then what did you mean? Cause you’re truly giving me a heart attack right now. Second one for today. You really need to start working on your conversation starters.” 

She had given him the chance to opt out of being a dad, to not be a part of the baby’s life. It seemed like the right thing to do and, foolishly, (Y/N) had believed that she’d be okay with him doing just that. In this very moment though, she feels everything but okay. The idea of Jamie changing his mind is terrifying. 

Sometimes you don’t realize just how much you need something — or someone until you’re faced with the possibility of losing them.

“I mean, I can’t do this alone. I need to tell someone. All I keep thinking about is the baby and I feel like I am going to explode any second now. I know we can’t tell everyone yet ‘cause of — well you know, things going wrong and stuff. But I need to tell someone. You got to tell Rebecca and your mum, I think it’s only fair I get to tell two people as well, yeah?”

A sense of relief floods her. Starts in her toes and fills her all the way to the top of her head. He wants this — wants the baby. It’s not just her in this. It’s nice to know you have someone in your corner. It’s also scary. Because he deserves to know just whose team he’s on. And being vulnerable fucking sucks. 

“Jamie, that’s fine. Absolutely you can tell your mum.” 

“And Simon? You got two people so — “

“I didn’t though.” 

“Uh yes, you did. I know you told Rebecca.” 

“That’s right.”

“And your mum too”.

The silence that follows his words is deafening. Being vulnerable means also admitting guilt. It means owning up to all of your mistakes. Though we are not the sum of our mistakes, they are what help shape the person we become. And (Y/N) really doesn’t think they make her a very good one.

“And your mum too?” 

More silence.

“You didn’t tell your mum? Why not? “

To his credit, Jamie looks truly surprised and confused. There is no judgment there, just absolute bewilderment and that signature softness that rounds out his features and settles in his eyes whenever Jamie talks to her about something serious. Granted they’ve not had that many conversations but she hopes that softness stays. She hopes that maybe their baby can have those soft, gentle eyes too.

“I’m not sure. I think I’m scared. My mum and I have a — complicated relationship. I disappoint her, she judges me. You know, the usual.” 

“You think she’ll be disappointed because we're having a baby? Is it because of me?”

(Y/N) shrugs, breaking eye contact and fixing her gaze on the old grey carpet with the ugly 90s pattern. What if those soft eyes can look straight through her, see all the ugly parts and the insecurities? That’s too scary for now. Too much too soon.

“No, it has nothing to do with you. Think she’ll just be disappointed I didn’t get pregnant according to the timeline she dreamed up for my life when I was like 2 years old. Had it all planned out for me and I never stuck to it.” 

Jamie is quiet for a moment but (Y/N) doesn’t dare to look back up at him. She can’t deal with any more pity.

“Well if you want to practice telling a mum, we can start with mine.”

“Huh?” 

“You can come to Manchester with me if you want. To tell my mum. We’ll have one mum down then, makes it easier to do it a second time. It’s science.” 

Jamie has the fascinating quality of making you believe in his words just by being so undeniably charming and because he believes in them himself. He makes it look easy when it is everything but.

“And if things don’t go well with your mum at least you’ll know you have at least one mum you can rely on, even if it’s not your own. She raised me pretty much by herself so she knows a thing or two about babies and parenting and stuff.” 

The mocking raise of (Y/N)’s right eyebrow doesn’t go unnoticed by Jamie who opens his lips to a silent gasp and clutches his chest with an overly dramatic gesture. 

“What? You saying I didn’t turn out perfectly?”

“No,” she laughs, a lightness festering in her chest. Like the first rays of sunshine after a cold winter that never seemed to end. Like a glass of wine after a long day at work. Like your favorite song on the radio at the exact moment you need it most. “I think you turned out exactly the way you were supposed to.” 

“Thanks,” Jamie says with that cheeky smile playing on his lips that makes him look a little younger than he actually is. Then he dares to wink at her and it’s a little annoying but also insanely charming. “Not sure you meant it as a compliment but I am taking it. Now when are you free for a trip up to Manchester?” 

(Y/N)’s been on a lot of road trips around the country when she was younger. She’s even spent a whole summer traveling Europe, partially by train but most of the time was spent stuffed in a Fiat Punto with 3 of her friends and all their luggage. It was stuffy, it was chaotic and it was immensely fun. None of those road trips ever involved a shiny black Aston Martin Rapide though. 

Or a famous footballer dressed in the ugliest lime green sweater (Y/N) has ever seen. 

“That’s all the luggage you got?” Jamie questions as he moves the black shades off of his eyes and sets them on the top of his head, holding back some of his hair. It shouldn’t work so well but it does. 

“I mean, we’re only staying for a night right? Why? Should I have brought more? How much did you pack?” 

He glances at her, then towards the car, and back at her. A sheepish look crosses his face before being replaced by his childlike cheekiness. “That’s confidential. Don’t worry about it, yeah?” 

“I got my ginger lollies, that’s all that matters really.” 

“You feeling alright?” 

“Mh, I’m good. Just pregnant.” 

His eyes drop down to her stomach for just a second before he nods his head in what (Y/N) can only describe as a mix of pride and satisfaction. “Yeah, you are.” 

That’s new. Well not new-new but it hasn’t happened since the day of the funeral. That tingly feeling in her stomach that has fuck all to do with the baby and everything with how the baby got there. Yes, Jamie is hot and (Y/N) is the first to admit as much but there has been so much stress and chaos and she hardly had time to think about anything but surviving and making sure not to completely lose herself in bad visions of what-ifs that her brain has had no time to process any feelings of arousal or lust. That look he just gave her though, that one made her remember it for just a second.

“You sure you’re alright?” 

Jamie’s voice shakes her from her daydream and brings her back to the real world, her eyes focusing back on the obscene car parked in front of her tiny apartment building looking so insanely out of place.

“Uh yes, I’m fine. I just — sometimes I forget that you’re famous.” 

Jamie regards her for a moment before shrugging his shoulder and grabbing the bag from her hands. “I don’t. It’s fun. Now come on, let’s goooooo.” 

His voice is dipped in excitement and there’s a bounce in his step. If this is how the prospect of seeing his mother makes him feel and behave, she must be one lovely woman. Whenever (Y/N) thinks of her own mother her chest fills with tiny metaphorical icicles. Sharp and rough and painful. It’s all regret and judgment and disapproval. It’s “You gained weight”, “you look tired”, and “You should really look into getting a new job”. Daggers disguised as roses. Stabs right to the heart in the name of being honest. “I just care about you, because I love you, because I am your mother!” 

If there is one thing (Y/N) knows for sure, it’s that she will never ever find the need to resort to criticism and thinly veiled malice in order to show her child that she cares. They will know. Every single day. Because she’ll make sure to show them. Every single day in all the big and tiny ways a person can show their love. 

“Kidney Bean?”

“Kidney Bean. And apparently, the baby is sprouting webbed fingers and toes right now. Oh, and it’s starting to move!” 

“Can you feel that?” 

“No, not yet.” 

“It’s mental. Last week she was the size of a blueberry and now she’s a kidney bean. Kid’s growing up too fast.” 

It’s true. There is so much happening all at once and it’s almost impossible to really process it all. Suddenly there is a tiny spark of a human inside her. Not really a baby yet but a baby to her. And it's moving and developing and changing every second of every day. Fucking insane.

“Wait … you said she. You think it’s a girl?”

Maybe it’s the sunlight casting a glow through the windshield but (Y/N) is almost certain she can just about make out a blush dusting Jamie’s cheeks. 

“Dunno.”

“Jamie Tartt, do you want to be a girl dad?” 

He glances at (Y/N) through the corner of his eyes for just a moment but it’s enough for her to see the sincerity in him. This is something he’s thought about before. Learning new things about Jamie is fascinating.

“Ah,  it’s stupid, really. It’s — It’s dumb or whatever.” 

“No, come on, don't go shy on me now. Tell me.” 

He takes a deep breath. A moment passes then another. There is no rush. Sometimes silly thoughts are the result of harsh truths. 

“Told you my dad was a prick. Like the biggest piece of shit walking this earth, yeah? And I knew that all my life. Thing is I still tried to impress him. I just — I wanted him to like me so badly. Just felt wrong that me own dad didn’t care about me and that made me angry. And I kept that anger inside me for so long. Sometimes when I think about the baby and the future I am scared that if I have a son that anger will jump over to him. Like maybe all Tartt men are cursed or some shit like that. But if I had a little girl maybe that would make it easier for me to be a good dad. I don’t mind either way, obviously, but the idea of having a son scares me.” 

It’s the most vulnerable he’s been with her so far and by the way he clenches his jaw and grabs onto the steering wheel just a little tighter, (Y/N) can tell this isn’t easy on him. It means a lot that he shares this part of him with her anyway. It feels like they are actually becoming friends. So opening up to him in return is only half as horrifying. 

“When I was a kid, maybe 11 or 12, I wrote a short story for school and I won an award. They did this big ceremony thing where the 3 finalists got to read their stories out loud for an audience and then receive their prizes. My mum didn’t show up, not sure if it was because she stayed longer at the office and didn’t care enough to leave on time or if she just didn’t feel like getting out of the house. Point is, she wasn’t there. When I came home that night I was sad, obviously, and I was also pissed. Because why the fuck couldn’t she take one night off to come see me succeed at something even if it wasn’t something she deemed worthy of praise. 

So I yelled at her and I’m sure I said some hurtful things. But I was so devastated and angry and I needed an outlet for once. She called me ungrateful but I was used to that, she always called me ungrateful. Then she looked at me with that look of absolute resignation and malice and she said that she hopes I have a daughter like me one day and that she makes me realize how hard it is to love me. 

When I think of the baby, sometimes I see a little girl too. One that I will love so much she never has to doubt it for a single second. And I will also prove my mother wrong. Because it will be so easy to love my little girl and it would’ve been so easy to love me, her little girl.” 

It’s the first time she’s ever said those words out loud. Truly, (Y/N) had not expected for them to come out in an Aston Martin, on the way to meet her baby’s father’s mother but life doesn’t seem to care for plans very much these days.

Softly, as if to not startle her, Jamie places his hand on hers, squeezing gently.

“I think your mum is a right bitch.” 

“Thanks. I think your dad is a huge asshole.” 

“We’re gonna be better than them, right?” 

It’s not really a question. It’s more of a promise.

“We will. I know it.”

His hand doesn’t leave hers for a good long while. 

The nerves don’t hit her until they pull up to the quaint little house with the white front. There’s a rose bush to the side and some kids playing football just across the way. The nerves don’t hit her until Jamie puts the car in park but when they do, they hit her like a freight train.

“Woah, you alright?” 

“Huh?” 

“You look all pale and like you’ve seen a ghost or something. Do you have to puke?”

A chuckle falls from her lips at the absurdity of it all. In all honesty, she’s not met a lot of parents yet but the few she did meet were parents of actual partners. People she had been dating for a while. It was a natural progression of steps. This is all wrong and sideways and topsy-turvy. You’re supposed to meet the mum first and then get pregnant. 

Again with the life and the plans. 

“I’m fucking nervous.” 

“Hah,” Jamie laughs. The audacity of this guy. “You’re nervous to meet my mum? Why? She’s an angel.”

“Do you not know how intimidating that is? Like, if she was shit I wouldn’t care but she sounds wonderful and I want her to like me. No, I need her to like me. Desperately. And I can only imagine what she thinks of me already. Some floozy who gets knocked up and really just wants your money.” 

Before she even fully realizes what’s happening, (Y/N) feels Jamie’s hands on her cheeks, framing her face in warmth.

“Calm down, please. I promise it’ll be alright. My mum will love you, I know it. Probably more than she loves me. Actually no that’s a lie, but she will love you and she will love our baby. Promise.”

“She’s not gonna judge me for — you know. Getting pregnant even though we’re not dating or anything.” 

“My mum was married to my dad, worst person on planet Earth. Don’t think she’s in any position to judge you. It’ll be alright, trust me.” 

She hardly knows this man and yet she can’t help but do just that. Trust him.

The first thing (Y/N) notices about Georgie is her smile. A smile that is so familiar because it looks exactly like Jamie’s smile. Warm and radiant and true. A part of (Y/N) hopes that their baby inherits that same smile. Partially because it’s a really good smile and partially because maybe that could help Jamie realize that he is more than the sum of his father’s problems and mistakes. He is all his mother’s boy.

“Oh, I missed you, my baby.” 

Georgie wraps her arms around Jamie’s middle, getting swallowed by his frame for a moment. There’s no denying that part of (Y/N)’s heart breaks a little seeing how loving of a relationship these two have and wondering where she and her own mother went wrong.

And as it so happens with so many kids that have never been loved quite the way they deserved, (Y/N) can’t help but search for the problem in herself. 

“Yeah sorry for not visiting earlier. You know how it is with training and stuff.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I know my boy is busy being a star.” 

The words hold a slight mocking, never mean but in the way that only people who are close can tease each other. You know every word comes laced with deep affection, with pride, with love.

“And it’s so nice to meet you too. I’m Georgie.” 

It takes a second for (Y/N) to realize that Jamie’s mum is now talking to her directly.

“I uh — oh thank you. Nice to meet you too, I’m (Y/N).” 

Georgie smells like mint chewing gum and floral perfume as she pulls (Y/N) into a hug. She’s soft and gentle and it’s been the first hug from a mother (Y/N) has received in quite some time.

“Sorry, didn’t even ask if you’re a hugger.”

“Oh that’s alright, don’t worry about it.” 

She’s not a hugger, never really was, but there is something about Georgie granting her some affection that isn’t all that bad. Maybe their kid can have at least one grandmother who cares and who isn’t completely disgusted by the idea of showing any kind of positive emotions.

“Jamie never brings girlfriends around so I’m a bit out of my element here if I’m being honest.” 

“Mum we’re not — she’s not.” Jamie takes a big breath before starting again “(Y/N) and I are friends, yeah? Told you about it on the phone.” 

“Right, right. Well, you don’t bring around a lot of friends either so same difference, really. Now come inside will you, I’m sure we got a lot to catch up on.”

Oh if only she knew how true that sentiment really is.

There are pictures of Jamie staring back at (Y/N) from every corner of the house and Georgie leads them through the hallway and towards the kitchen. Every wall and every shelf holds a memory of him at one point in his life. Gap toothed with a football in hand smiling, surrounded by a field of tulips arm wrapped around his mother’s shoulder, his teenage self smoldering at the camera with an even more questionable haircut than the one he is sporting right now. Oh to be loved in a way that every past version of you is being remembered.

As they reach the kitchen a sweet scent fills the room when a man clad in an apron turns around and faces them with a huge smile playing on his face. He has a dorky kind of charm to him that immediately puts you at ease. Maybe it’s just the frilly apron, maybe it’s the big oven gloves, maybe it’s the smile. Either way, (Y/N) thinks that if they take the news well, her kid might have truly lucked out on one side of the grandparents department. 

“Jamie, welcome home.” 

“Hi Simon, thanks, mate. Glad to be back. This is (Y/N).” 

“The friend, right.” Simon says and shoots Georgie a look that neither of them misses. Subtlety doesn’t seem to be one of his best qualities. “It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you too. It smells amazing in here.” 

“I found this new recipe for honey blondies. Not sure if they'll be any good but I guess we'll find out. If you guys want to go have a seat, I'll come bring them over.”

“Actually,” Jamie speaks up while nervously fiddling with his hands. “I was hoping we could have a talk before we do anything else. There’s something I need to tell you both.” 

Imagining the hypothetical scenario of telling your mum you’re having a baby and actually doing it really are two completely different things it seems. Gone is all of Jamie’s confidence and replaced with a whole lot of anxiety. 

“You're worrying me, Jamie. What has you acting so serious? Did you get someone pregnant or something?”

Georgie's words are followed by a thick awkward silence. It's heavy and suffocating and it makes (Y/N) feel uneasy in both her heart and her head.

It doesn't take long for Jamie’s parents to realize what his silence means. Everything communicated by not saying a single word.

“Oh, fuck.”

And there's nothing to add to Georgie's reaction. It's the exact same one (Y/N) had when she first saw those faint blue lines.

Of all the possible outcomes and ways this day could’ve gone, (Y/N) had not expected to find herself staring at not only a curly-haired Roy Kent but also come face to face with two very persuasive arguments belonging to no other than Keeley fucking Jones. 

“This is surreal.” 

The posters stare back at her all crinkled paper and bleached ink, as if to mock her silently. 

“Ah, well I told them to redecorate when I moved out, think they just haven’t gotten around to it yet.” 

A light dusting of pink settles on the apples of Jamie’s cheeks as well as the tips of his ears. This man can’t hide his emotions for the life of him. It’s quite adorable really. 

“Do they know?” 

“Does who know?” 

“Roy and Keeley. Do they know you have their pictures up in your room?”

“Well no and It’s not my room anymore, is it? ‘S not like I have ‘em hanging at home. Put these up ages ago.” 

A giggle slips through (Y/N)’s lips at his desperate attempt to talk himself out of this situation. 

“It’s okay, Jamie. I won’t tell.” 

“There’s nothing to tell, alright?” he responds in mock offense before sitting down on his childhood bed next to (Y/N). “Just liked boobs and football and those two were the best those fields had to offer, yeah? Can’t really blame me.” 

“Not much has changed has it?”

He shrugs his shoulders in response “Nah. Still like boobs and football but no way I’d put up a poster of granddad’s ugly mug nowadays.”

From the few times they talked about his job, including his teammates and coaches, (Y/N) was able to gather that Jamie’s relationship with Roy is something special. Odd, but special. Maybe that’s what happens when you end up working with your childhood idol. Either way, no matter how much shit he likes to talk about him, it’s clear that Jamie respects and admires Roy a great deal still.

“And uh — and Keeley?” 

“What about her?” 

“Is she — are you — how are things?” 

She still remembers that crestfallen look on his face on the day of the funeral. That infinite sadness in his eyes. She hadn’t put two and two together at that moment but later that night it all clicked. Keeley was the woman he was in love with, the woman who did not love him back. And while (Y/N) knows that she and Jamie are only bound together by happenstance and fate — if one chooses to believe in that, and that there is nothing romantic about their situation, it does sting a little to know that the man you’re having a baby with is in love with someone else.

“We’re good. We’re friends, think that’s all we’ll ever be. Her and Roy, they’re happy and I don’t want to ruin it for either of them. Keeley and I just were not right together.” 

“And you’re okay with that?” 

He nods his head, a small smile playing on his lips “Yeah, I’m alright with it. If I hadn’t made a fool of myself at the funeral then you and I wouldn’t have — you know, and then we wouldn’t be having a baby. Little Kidney Bean.” 

“That’s true. Your mum seemed excited.” 

“Hah, sorry about her. She can be intense.” 

Intense might be the understatement of the century. It took her approximately 2.3 seconds to get over the initial shock of the announcement and really process it before Georgie let out a scream of pure excitement and joy and wrapped both Jamie and (Y/N) up in her arms. She didn’t fully let go for a good 20 minutes. It was intense. It was also phenomenal.

“Don’t apologize. I am so glad she took it so well, Simon too. At least now I’ll have the certainty that my baby will have one set of loving grandparents at least.” 

“Hey,” Jamie says and nudges her shoulder with his “We’ll sort out telling your mum next, okay. I’m sure it’ll go better than you think. And if not we can always call up my mum for some more hugs and a pep talk. Whatever happens, you won’t have to do it alone. I promise.” 

For what is probably the first time in her life (Y/N) lets herself believe that there truly is someone else having her back, undisputedly and all the way. It’s unfamiliar. It’s a little scary. It’s also wonderful.

“Thanks, Jamie. I appreciate it, I really do. Think so far we’re doing alright, huh?” 

“I’d say so. Two sexy parents and a little Kidney Bean.” 

Their laughter echoes through Jamie’s childhood bedroom for quite a while longer until at some point it stills and gives room to soft breathing and quiet snores. The bed isn’t meant for two grown adults and really Jamie truly meant to sleep on the couch but somewhere between talks of baby clothes and childhood memories, eyes grew heavy and tired, and soon enough both of them are fast asleep.

Just them and their little Kidney Bean 

— and a curly-haired Roy Kent 

— and Keeley’s boobs.

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[theemporium]

hihi! I LOVE ur writing! if it’s no trouble do you think you could do sub!james x reader where he’s getting overstimulated by reader! thank u sm xx

thank you, darling! and thank you for requesting!🖤

.

“You gotta keep quiet or they’re gonna hear you.”

He knew that. Merlin, he was so painfully aware of that simple fact and yet, lust seemed to cloud over any logical thought that James had. He didn’t care about his friends right now, and he sure as hell didn’t care that if he wasn’t careful, they could hear every single thing that was going on right now. 

It wasn’t unusual for you to spend the night in the boys’ dorm, cuddled up next to your boyfriend whilst his friends teased and chirped at him. And it also wasn’t unusual for you to draw the curtains around the bed in hopes of having some privacy in the shared dorm. However, you had always refrained from doing anything whilst either boy was in the room in fear of getting caught or heard. 

But James didn’t care.

He had been needy all day and you had known as much. But between classes and quidditch practices and everything else, you two had barely got a moment to breathe, let alone a moment alone. 

And now you were in bed together, and you were dressed in just one of his jersey with nothing else and James was just a simple man with simple desires. A simple man with simple desires that included fucking his girlfriend after having her ass pressed against his cock, grinding back on him for the last fifteen minutes when they were supposed to be falling asleep. 

“Fuck!” James hissed, his chest heaving and his fists clenching the sheets beneath him as you worked your hand up and down his cock, stroking him and squeezing him. 

“Shhh,” you murmured, your head tucked into the crook of his neck as you kissed and licked his skin until he was shivering beneath you. “I’m giving you what you want, baby, do you want me to stop?”

James quickly shook his head.

“Then be quiet,” you ordered before you leaned down to kiss his lips, muffling the sound of his whiny moans as you did so. 

His whole body felt like he was on fire and his muscles were tense and your thumb was circling the tip of his cock just right and James couldn’t help himself as he muttered a half-hearted warming against your lips before he came, spurting and squirting all over his toned stomach.

“You made such a mess, baby boy,” you teased softly, your lips right by his ear and it made him shiver. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” he panted, his eyes fluttering open only to quickly clench shut again. “I just—oh fuck!”

His hips bucked up into your hand, a pained whimper leaving his lips as you continued to stroke his cock, teasing the red, swollen head with the pad of your thumb. He reached down to grip your wrist but you batted his hands away. 

“This is what you wanted, baby,” you whispered to him, watching the way his body squirmed on the bed. 

“Too much,” he heaved, his cheeks flushed red and his glasses fogging up but he just looked fucking adorable, you couldn’t stop. “Please, it’s too much—” 

“I thought you were my good boy, Jamie,” you whispered. 

“I am,” he cried softly, his hips stuttering. “I am.”

You grinned down at him and his heart stuttered at the sight. 

“Then be a good boy for me and take it.”

.