#and we live in different countries so it’d never work out

[souvlakicocaine]

I think she got a gf

[asahicore]

we’ll always have this summer - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact pairing. sunghoon x fem!reader synopsis. Your mom ruins your summer plans by sending you to the equestrian center your grandmother owns in the south of France, wanting you to spend some time away from the city and take a break from your med studies. Although you’d been determined to spend the worst time ever there, you soon find out that maybe the cold but cute horse nerd next door who doesn’t want to talk to you might actually turn this summer into the best one of your life. genre. summer au, strangers to mutual dislike to friends to lovers ig, city girl x country boy type beat, mainly fluff and smut but also angst cause i love pain word count. 25.9k a/n. hi sisters i'm super excited to repost this, it was really fun rereading and editing it, and i hope that all of you who had enjoyed reading it last summer will still like it this time around and that those of you who hadn't read it will enjoy it now <3 i had also posted an sfw version, so if anyone would like that too, pls lmk! ok thats it let me know what u think love you bye

Sunghoon was going to have a very normal, uneventful summer. He would take a very much needed break from his studies and take care of the equestrian center he lives in, letting his parents take a breather and enjoy their summer. He’d wake up early and do everything he needed to, then spend the afternoon on horseback or sleeping in a random field. It’d be a routine his body is used to and likes, and he’d be able to let his worries go for a while. But then, you came along.

You, who’d had big plans for the summer. You, who should’ve been going on a two-week vacation with your friends to Mallorca as a treat for having aced your second-year medical school final exams and as a celebration for getting an internship in the hospital of your choice. You, who would’ve done nothing for those two weeks but sunbathe, read trashy romance novels, and get margarita-drunk at 2pm, and would’ve spent the rest of the summer hanging out with your friends in Paris, your home, and taking day trips to random French cities. This summer would be your last fun, carefree summer before you were thrown into real semi-adult life, and you were going to make the best of it. That’s what you had planned; to your utmost despair, your mom seemed to have other ideas in mind.

“We’ve gone over this a thousand times now, sweetie. You’re going. It’ll be good for you.”

“You know what will be good for me?” you say, close on her tail as you descend the stairs. “Relaxing and having fun with my friends for two weeks. Not cleaning horse manure and having to walk ten kilometers to get service.”

“It’ll be one or two kilometers at most, dear, not ten.” 

“Ugh!” you groan ostentatiously. Your mother only shoots you a don’t-be-so-dramatic look. You glare back at her.

“It’ll be good for you,” she repeats, turning back to whatever was occupying her in the kitchen before you started arguing with her as you plop down on one of the stools at the center island. “You’ve seen neither your grandmother nor the countryside in ages, so it’ll be a nice change. What’s more, they say the best doctors are the ones who’ve done different jobs, you know.”

“Who’s ever said that…” you mutter under your breath, a clear look of distaste on your face. “But anyway, I see Mamie every Christmas at Auntie’s in Perpignan, and even if I didn’t, whose fault is it I never go to the countryside? You never bring me there.”

Your mother lifts her head and looks at you. “I’m too busy to make the journey all the way there. You’ve seen it, there’s two trains and two buses, I can’t do all that. Which is why we settle for Marseille. Direct train, easy. You, on the other hand,” she says, pointing to you with her wooden spoon, “will have plenty of time this summer.”

“Yeah, time I could’ve spent on a beach in Spain or with my friends here!” You know you’re being annoying, but you can’t help it. You really want to go to Mallorca.

She sighs. “I just need you to trust me on this one, honey. You’ll have tons of other summers to do all that. Your grandmother is getting old, so I want you to have at least some memories with her before… you know. I know it’s our fault you didn’t see her more often, so this is our way of making up for it!”

Your father walks in the kitchen, materializing out of nowhere as he often does. “Your mother’s right, you know.” They both peer down at you, and you know then you really don’t get a say in this. “I had an amazing bond with my grandfather, and I want for you to have something similar with your grandmother. She’s the only grandparent you’ve got left, and I promise you, you don’t want to let that go to waste.” You still don’t look fully convinced, so he adds, “Plus, you already get along well, right? You always talk lots when you see each other at Christmas.”

Your father does have a point. You know the problem isn’t being with your grandmother, anyway. Truth be told, you were quite looking forward to spending more time with her. She had a great sense of fashion, and you were sure she had many stories to tell you. It was the fact that you had to spend your summer in a godforsaken town of Southern France where the nearest town was seven kilometers away and the nearest city almost a forty-minute drive. Where you lived in Paris, you had everything you needed in a five-minute walk radius, and you just needed to hop on the Metro or the train to go anywhere else. And it was an equestrian center, of all places. You didn’t even like horses.

“Also,” your mother starts, dragging out the vowel, “the family that lives in the house next door has a boy your age. I heard he’s cute.” She wiggles her eyebrows and you groan at her, which just makes your parents laugh more. You don’t want to stereotype, but you highly doubt a boy who lives in an equestrian center in the middle of God-knows-where is anywhere as handsome as the boys you see everywhere in the capital city. Hot people live in cities; to you, that’s always been a fact.

And as if a stupid boy could make this any better anyway.

-

Your mother wasn’t lying when she said the journey was long. You took the Metro from your apartment to the train station, then a rapid train to Perpignan, a regional train to Argelès, and a bus to the town of Laroque-des-Albères. And that wasn’t even it - there could’ve been a second bus, but your grandmother had arranged for the neighbors’ son to come and pick you up and drive you to the small commune named La Pierrerie where the equestrian center was. 

To your dismay, there was another thing your mother had been right about; the neighbors’ son being cute. When you get off the bus, you look around the almost empty parking spot with no idea of who you’re supposed to look for. But he must see your lost expression and all your luggage and assume you’re the one he had come to pick up, so he calls out your name. Your head snaps towards the direction of the voice, and the moment your eyes settle on him, you have to hold yourself from gaping at him like a dead fish. For someone who supposedly spends his weekends and vacations outside, taking care of horses, cleaning stalls and doing handiwork, his features are… delicate. The perfect blend of sharp and soft - a round face contrasted by a knifelike jaw, plump lips, his eyebrows forming a straight line over his almond-shaped eyes. But you find roughness on his face is in the crease of his eyebrows as he peers down at you. You haven’t done anything yet, but he already clearly disapproves of you.

There’s a scowl on his face - he may be pretty, but he’s definitely not welcoming. You walk towards him, dragging your luggage behind you, and he doesn’t move to help you until you reach the car, and finally he opens the trunk and hauls one of your suitcase in. 

“Thank you,” you breathe, looking up at him, “um?”

A beat passes as your eyes lock, and he looks so bored you think he might not even bother to give you his name, but thank God he does. “Sunghoon.”

You decide not to let his rudeness get to you and put on a bright smile, but by the time you’re done saying “nice to meet you,” he’s already gotten in the driver’s seat. He starts the car without another word, and your efforts at any sort of conversation are so fruitless that you give up after two minutes of asking questions that are only met with two-word sentences. You can only hope that his family isn’t as unfriendly as he is, otherwise you’d be in for one hell of a summer.

When you arrive in La Pierrerie, it’s almost nine p.m., and you’re exhausted from your long journey and from carrying around such heavy suitcases. Still in complete silence, Sunghoon takes two of your bags and heads towards what you can only assume is your grandmother’s house. You go to follow him, but you soon notice your grandmother and another woman, who you guess is Sunghoon’s mother, sitting at a table, sipping on some lemonade. As soon as they see you arrive, they rush towards you (well, the woman does - your grandmother walks as fast as she can), helping you with the rest of your baggage. They kiss you on both cheeks as a greeting, starting from the right but you’re used to starting from the left, which almost makes your lips bump into each other. Thankfully, they laugh it off, and you make sure to remember the local custom to avoid future potentially awkward encounters.

The woman introduces herself as Mrs Park and tells you she lived next-door to your grandmother, just like you’d guessed. She says that she’s happy to meet you and hopes that you had a nice trip and that you weren’t too tired for the meal she and your grandmother had prepared for tonight. You like her instantly - her kind eyes and warm smile make you feel at home right away. 

Your grandmother hugs you too, and you had to admit it felt nice seeing her after such a long time. Such a sweet welcome revives you a bit, and a nagging voice in your head tells you, see, this isn’t that bad, this summer might be good after all, but you quickly shut it down. Your stubborn nature wants you to hate this for at least a little bit, especially after the excruciating car ride you just had to sit through. You won’t show it to your hosts, obviously, because you want to be respectful, but you can at least scowl and curse your parents when nobody’s looking.

There’s no time for awkward silence and looking back and forth between the two women because as soon as the greetings are over, Mrs Park announces she’ll go heat up the food and get the last things ready while your grandmother shows you around her home, which would be yours for the next two months and a half, and lets you unpack for a bit.

Your grandmother’s house is on two floors. The ground floor is basically one big room, which the front door leads directly into. There’s the kitchen, the dining room and the living room. It’s all very open and bright, and you can tell it must be very warm when the sunlight poured directly through the large windows into the room at the right time of day. It’s simply decorated, with furniture that probably hasn’t been updated in a while but that is well maintained and looks cozy enough. Black-and-whites and photographs of fuzzy quality are hung on the wall of the dining room and you’re eager to take a closer look at them later on.

Upstairs are two bedrooms and the bathroom, as well as a mezzanine that’s a few steps lower than the rest of the floor and that looks over the living room. This is where your grandmother keeps her books and her trophies from her past very successful horse riding career. There are a couple armchairs in the corner and a window to bring more light in, and you’re sure this would make an amazing reading nook for late evenings or stormy afternoons. 

Your room is not much more than a double bed, a chest of drawers, a cupboard to hang your clothes in and a few empty shelves. Your grandmother had told you you were welcome to bring any kind of decoration you wanted to make this room yours for the summer, so you’d taken with you a few posters and framed pictures as well as some babbles you liked looking at. She’d picked out some daisies from her garden and made a bouquet out of them, livening up the vase on your bedside table. 

She sits on your bed as you put your clothes away (which you had brought so many of, you weren’t sure there’d be enough room to put them all in) and tells you how she’d come to live here with the Parks. This is something you like about her - she has many stories to tell, each more fascinating than the other, and she’s always willing to tell them.

Your grandmother had actually grown up not too far from here, on the other side of town. Her parents had signed her up for lessons every Wednesday afternoon for a few years, until her instructor recognised her potential and told her she could ride professionally if she wanted. So, she started having two-hour lessons four times a week. When she started winning local, then regional, then national championships, she moved to Perpignan to be taught by more qualified instructors in a more renowned riding club.

Years forward, she got pregnant and her career as a rider was over. When her kids were old enough, she got a job as an instructor and even managed a few athletes of the club in Perpignan, but she continued to visit her old club in Laroque once in a while, as she always did throughout her career. She’d seen it wear down and lose customers over the years to the point that at the end of the nineties, it was under threat of closing down. Her old teacher had long passed and her son and his wife had taken over. This son, who was a bit older than your grandmother, had worked there his whole life, but it wasn’t what he wanted to do - as the only son, he’d had no choice but to stay and take care of the club. However, he hadn’t wanted it to close that way, and he was still desperate to keep the club alive, especially because his own son truly loved it and wanted to take over and manage it once he was done with high school.

Your grandmother, with more money than she needed from her successful career and the inheritance she got from her husband’s passing, offered to buy the club from the Parks and manage its finances while they took care of the horses and of lessons. Her only condition was that she could move in in the other house on the property that wasn’t inhabited and needed a few renovations. They agreed immediately.

Mr Park graduated from high school in 1998, got married to the now Mrs Park in 2000, and they had their first child, Sunghoon, in 2002 - the same year as you. His parents moved out to the city and got new jobs that they liked a lot more while the club, thanks to your grandmother’s donations and Mr and Mrs Park’s hard work, prospered once again. It did help that an Olympic rider sometimes helped out with lessons and gave out advice for aspiring athletes.

And now, here you are, twenty years later, visiting her for the first time since you were probably six. You don’t have many memories from those few times you’d been here, so it was all new to you. Especially that Sunghoon boy, whom your grandmother was sure you would get along with based on how chummy you were back in 2008. When you were both six. You didn’t have the heart to tell her how he had been with you in the car.

“Sunghoon’s a bit shy, but once you get to know him, he’s a really good kid. Very passionate and hardworking. So is his sister Yeji, but she’s got different ambitions,” your grandmother muses.

“Oh yeah? What does she want to do?” you ask, genuinely interested, as you try to somehow fit another t-shirt into one of the drawers. You’d started out by folding them nicely but you’d soon given up and started stashing them into the corners.

“She wants to become a professional rider. Says she wants to become like me,” she explains with a small chuckle. “Well, she’s definitely got what it takes. I got her a spot in that bigger club in Perpignan I told you about, so she goes there after school twice a week, but she still trains here with me every weekend.”

“You give her lessons?” you ask, some surprise in your voice, which makes your grandmother laugh.

“What, you think I’m too old?” she jokes and you shake your head rapidly, but she doesn’t take any offense to it. “I can’t stand for hours and shout like I used to, but I can sit in the center of the riding hall and watch, then tell her what she needs to work on and what she’s doing well. She says it helps her, so I’m happy to do it,” she adds with a shrug. You nod as you open another drawer and decide this one will be for your underwear.

“What about Sunghoon?” You can’t help but ask, a bit curious about him. You doubted you could really chalk up his impoliteness to shyness, but you could still listen to what your grandmother had to say about him.

“He’s more like his dad, wants to take after the club. But he’s a very decent rider, too. If his sister hadn’t said she wanted to go pro so early on, I’m sure he would’ve. You know one thing that’s great about getting old?” she asks suddenly.

“No?”

“You observe people a lot more, and you understand them a lot more too. Well, now that I think about it, it might be just me,” she says, making you chuckle. “I don’t have a lot going on in my life, so I have more time to be nosy and see what others are up to. He’d never admit it, I don’t think, that he gave up on a potential riding career for his sister. He’s the type to make quiet sacrifices, and he loves his sister to death. He’d rather take over the club and watch her be happy than the opposite.”

You nod, an approving expression on your face. “Sounds like a good guy,” you say honestly, surprised that someone supposedly so kind could also be so rude.

“He is. Handsome, as well, by the way, as I’m sure you’ve noticed,” she adds, a knowing smile playing on her lips, but you just roll your eyes playfully.

“That’s what mom said,” you reply, not wanting to admit that they are both right on the matter of Sunghoon’s handsomeness. 

Sunghoon’s the one who opens the door when you and your grandmother knock. His expression when he sees you is the same as earlier, but you don’t have the time to ponder over his behavior, because quickly enough, two figures appear behind him. He steps to the side, letting enough space for you to come in, his harsh gaze never once leaving your face. You turn your attention to the figures, namely his father and a young girl who you guess is Yeji, and, thank God, they’re looking at you with wide smiles.

“You must be Y/N!” his father beams, and you nod, returning his smile and saying hi. He kisses you on both cheeks, and this time you remember to start from the right. “Welcome. We’re very happy to have you here, aren’t we, Sunghoon?”

He seems oblivious to his son’s clear distaste of you as he loops an arm over his shoulders, happily shaking one of them under his grasp. “Right,” Sunghoon says, voice monotone. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply with a slightly confused tone - what the hell was his deal? Usually, whatever energy someone gave you, you’d give it back to them. You’d have no problem being as rude to Sunghoon as he was to you if only his family didn’t seem so nice.

“I’ll go help Mom in the kitchen,” he announces and walks away. His father turns back to you and gives you an apologetic smile.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just shy. He’ll warm up to you eventually.” You nod, saying it’s okay. 

Yeji then takes a step towards you, introducing herself as she goes in for the usual two kisses on the cheeks. “Hi, I’m Yeji!”

“Hi, so nice to meet you!”

“Me too, I’m really happy you’re here! It’ll be nice being with another girl,” she says, gesturing towards her oblivious brother with a tilt of her head. It takes a lot more effort to be nice than to be rude, you think, side-eyeing Sunghoon in your head.

“Are there not a lot of girls that come here for lessons?” you ask as she leads you inside the house, showing you where to take off your shoes and jumper.

“There are, but they only come here once a week and stay for a few hours, so it’s not the same. I’m stuck with my anthropoid of a brother most of the time,” she says, lowering her voice to make sure only you can hear what she says. You both laugh at her diss; nothing like bonding over hating boys with another girl. You can already tell you’re going to like her.

You ask if there’s anything you can do to help, but the Parks tell you to not worry about anything and sit down. You and Yeji join your grandmother who’s already sitting at the dinner table, and the three of you chat, or rather, you and Yeji chat while your grandmother listens. Or maybe she isn’t listening, you’re not sure. 

Yeji is in her first year of high school. The prestigious riding club she is being taught at doubles as a school, so that’s where she’s been studying for the past few years, and she boards there as well, coming home every weekend unless she’s got important competitions coming up, in which case she stays there for a few weeks. Competition season is about to start, so she’ll be spending most of her time there this summer.

“And do you like it there?”

She looks slightly taken aback by your question, as if she’s not quite used to being asked about that. “I mean, yeah, yeah, I do. It’s nice being able to ride so often, and not having the stress of needing to figure out what I want to do next. But it is… you know,” her voice gets quieter, “a lot of pressure sometimes.”

Sunghoon walks in then, plates and cutlery in hand, and starts setting the table. Yeji’s face lights up at her brother’s arrival, using it to change the topic. “Sunghoon is studying to become a vet. He’s finished his two years of preparatory classes, so now he’s going to a vet school in Toulouse.”

He glares at his sister, but she doesn’t pay him any mind. “He graduated top of his class, you know.”

“Why are you telling her about me?” he interrupts.

Yeji just shrugs. “I’m telling her about us.”

“Well,” he says, putting down a plate in front of you and a fork and knife on each side of the plate, “she doesn’t need to know about me.” You can’t see his face but the cold tone of his voice and his presence right behind you are enough to send shivers down your spine. What the hell is his deal?, you wonder.

You look at Yeji, a confused look on your face, and she rolls her eyes as a dismissal of her older brother’s behavior. “Don’t ask me, cause I don’t know what his problem is, either,” she says, and you can’t help but chuckle.

Mrs and Mr Park walk in then, bringing in the main dish of duck confit as well as roast potatoes, vegetables and some bread. Mrs Park gives you the biggest chunk of meat and a load of sides, saying you must be famished after such a long trip even though you tell her you’d brought things to snack on. She says she’d hesitated between cooking Korean food or a typical French Southwestern dish but had opted for the latter, wanting to welcome you properly in the region. You thanked her and told her it looked amazing.

When everyone is served, you wish each other ‘bon appétit’ and start eating. You’re chewing on your first mouthful of duck and potatoes when Mrs Park asks you what you study. “Your grandmother said you were a med student?” she asks with a smile. Everyone looks at you except for Sunghoon, who only has eyes for his food.

You nod, waiting to swallow before answering, and Mr Park tuts his wife for not letting you eat. “I am. I passed my second year,” you say, earning yourself some congratulations, “and I’m starting my residency in a hospital in Paris next semester.”

“Do you know what part of the hospital you’ll be in?” Mr Park asks.

“We get to do turns, so we can see what we like. We give our school our top five choices, and then they put us in three departments for three months each, and then choose our favorite one based on the offers we get for the summer. I’m in the children’s ward first, then cardiology, then reeducation. We’ll also get to watch over surgeries.”

He nods, humming at your words. “And is that what you want to do later? I mean, work in one of those departments?”

“I’ve got time to change my mind, so I guess it depends how much I like being at the hospital, but I think I’d rather have my own cabinet after some time. I feel like overtime, you build more of a relationship with people, and it’s a lot less stressful, too,” you add with a chuckle.

Mr Park smiles and nods again. “Ah, I see. That’s nice. And would that be in Paris?,” he asks, and this time, it’s his wife that tells him to leave you alone, but you say it’s okay.

“Probably. It’s the city I know best, but nothing is set in stone.”

“You should come here!” Mrs Park perks. “Most people who live here are quite old - no offense, Nadine - ” (“None taken,” your grandmother says with a smile), but we’ve only got two doctors, and one is probably retiring in the next six to ten years.”

“You tell me to leave her alone, and then you tell her to move here,” Mr Park mutters, earning himself a small slap on the arm. They start bickering, and your grandmother just sighs and shakes her head.

“Young love,” she says, making everyone laugh. Even Sunghoon cracks a smile, and you get a glimpse of his dimples. As soon as he catches your gaze, his smile drops, and you turn your eyes away, your cheeks heating up. Yeji starts a new topic and soon enough you’re all chatting again. If it wasn’t for Sunghoon making it very clear he didn’t want you here, you’d already feel at home, just sitting at this dinner table.

When dinner is over, you insist on clearing the table and doing the dishes, saying you felt bad not doing anything. “I need to earn my keep,” you tell Mrs Park with a smile.

She laughs and says, “Oh, no need to worry about that, with Sunghoon showing you the ropes the next few days, you definitely will.”

Sunghoon perks up at the mention of his name. “What’s this about?” he asks, that crease still in his eyebrows. You find yourself wanting to stroke them with your thumbs and brush that frown away, but you quickly snap out of it. He may have a pretty face, but from what you’ve seen, that’s about all there is.

Mrs Park lets out a small puff of air through her nose. “We’ve talked about this, dear. You’re showing Y/N around the club tomorrow and Monday. It’s so you know how everything works before summer lessons start,” she explains, turning towards you.

“Why does it have to be me, though?” Sunghoon almost whines, and you want to scoff at him.

“Because your father and I said so,” his mother says, ending the conversation there, and you’re reminded of your own parents.

Sunghoon looks at you and frowns, so you raise your eyebrows back at him. It wasn’t your fault you were here or that his parents had designated him to show you around, so there was no reason you should make yourself small or apologetic for him. He scoffs and looks away. “Just be outside by eight a.m. tomorrow morning, okay?”

He doesn’t let you answer, just gives you one last hard look and walks away.

-

“Why are you wearing a dress?” Sunghoon asks as soon as you step outside the next morning.

“Good morning to you too, Sunghoon,” you reply sarcastically. You roll your eyes when he doesn’t say anything, just stands there, arms crossed over his chest, so you add, “Because it’s going to be hot today. And because it’s pretty.”

“This is an equestrian center, not a fashion show. You won’t be comfortable. Go put on a t-shirt and some shorts or some leggings. And wear sneakers, not sandals, Christ.”

You scoff and mirror his posture. “You don’t get to tell me what to wear, you know.”

He lets out a dry chuckle and rolls his eyes, a disbelieving smile on his face. “This might be a holiday for you, because it’s sunny and there’s nature everywhere, but this is work we’re gonna be doing. So, for your own sake, wear the right kind of clothes. But if you want to get horse saliva on your dress or step in horse shit wearing those shoes, be my guest.”

You glare at him for a few seconds, realizing that he’s right, and huff out an annoyed “fine,” stomping back into your grandmother’s house. “Be quick!” he calls after you.

You come back out five minutes later, wearing a tank top you usually use for sleeping, a pair of denim shorts and old sneakers your mother had told you to pack. “Took you long enough,” Sunghoon says, a true ray of sunshine, but you decide it’s better to ignore him. He barely talked to you yesterday, but now that it’s just the two of you and he has to, his words are somehow more annoying than his silence.

You stare at him unfazed and ask, “So, what’s first?”

He raises his eyebrows, seemingly surprised, but answers anyway. “Right. Follow me.” He heads towards a part of the farm that is attached to the riding hall and that your grandmother had pointed out yesterday evening as the reception and office area. 

Sunghoon fishes a keyholder out of his jean pocket and slides open the door using one of the many keys he has. He goes to stand in front of a postboard and points to it. “This has the daily and weekly schedule on it. It’s a routine, so things don’t change much, but when they do, we add a post-it to the board. For example, the blacksmith is coming next Thursday to check horseshoes. That’s a post-it. Today, we’re cleaning out all the stalls and adding fresh straw. We do that every Monday, so it’s on the schedule. No post-it.”

“Right. That makes sense,” you nod. “Is that all we do today?”

“We do rounds first, but basically, yeah, because cleaning takes a long time. And Monday is technically our day off. No one comes in for lessons so we use that free time to clean out the stalls.”

You nod and Sunghoon chuckles at you, but you don’t have time to question him about it because he’s already off and you have no choice but to follow him. He leads you to a part of the farm on the other side of the courtyard and pulls out another key, pushing the door open to a wide three-and-a-half-wall room with rings attached to the walls every few meters. Three and a half because behind that space on each side are stalls, as Sunghoon points out.

“This is the prep room, where we get the horses ready before a lesson.”

“What do you do to get them ready?” you ask, looking around the room.

“You clean their coat and their hooves, brush out any tangles in their manes and tails, then saddle and bridle them. The club saddlery is over there,” he says, pointing to a door on your right. “Horse owners have their own stuff in lockers in another room.”

Apparently, you’re not checking out the saddlery today, because Sunghoon is already walking over to the stalls. 

“Hi everyone,” he greets softly. You follow him closely as he walks on one side of the stables, petting each horse as he walks past them or peering over the door to see how the sleeping ones are doing, and then does the same thing on the other side. He greets each horse by name, and even though it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he remembers each and every one of them, it still does. You tell him exactly that, and he chuckles.

“What would you think of a teacher that doesn’t know their students’ names? This is kind of the same,” he explains. He shows you the stacks of hay and straw at the end of the stables, and explains that they bring it here from the fields every once in a while because it’s more convenient, and that this is what you’ll be using later.

When he’s checked that everything is okay, he opens the door on the other side of the room leading outside. On your right stands a huge pile of manure, and you can’t help but make a stank face at the odor hitting you right in the nostrils. Sunghoon chuckles again (can he please stop chuckling at you for no reason?) and reassures you by saying they’re emptying it soon. “The farmers use it for their crops,” he explains.

On your left, there’s another barn that you guess hosts more horses. He gets out yet another key and pushes the door wide open. Light fills the barn instantly, making the dust particles in the air visible, and you hear a few grunts and huffs from the horses - of annoyance at Sunghoon waking them up or of happiness at seeing him, you’re not yet qualified enough to say.

There are two other smaller, one-sided stables next to the riding hall where he takes you and does his rounds again. When he’s all done, you follow him to the riding hall where he opens two doors on each side, that way you can walk through it to get to the pastures in the back rather than walk around the whole center, and takes down the electric cables that serve as an entrance to the pastures. He doesn’t explain any of this, however, so you sort of have to guess. Wordlessly, you head back to the last stables you were in and there, he throws a bunch of what you think are harnesses at you.

“What are these?” you ask dumbly, looking at the thing in your hand.

“They’re halters,” he says, and when you just stare wordlessly, he adds, talking as if it were obvious, “you put them around the horse’s head so you can take them places?”

“Right. Can you show me how to put one on?”

He sighs but obliges; he doesn’t have much of a choice anyway. Not your fault that he’s lived here all his life whereas you’ve encountered a horse maybe three times in your twenty years of life. 

He demonstrates how to put a halter on and watches over you as you practice it on an old and tired-looking white horse. When you manage to do it somehow quickly, he says, “there you go,” and you’re surprised to not hear any sarcasm in his voice. However, when he pats the horse’s forehead, you have a feeling the praise was more directed towards her than you.

You walk side-by-side to the pastures, you with the white horse, whose garrot reaches your shoulder, and Sunghoon leading a small pony in each hand. They have to walk quickly to keep up with his strides and you can’t help but laugh at their cute swaying hips.

“How old is she?” you ask Sunghoon, head tilting towards the horse you’re walking with.

A soft smile cracks on Sunghoon’s lips, perhaps the first smile you’ve seen on him today. “That’s Nellie,” he answers quietly, looking at the horse in question. “She’s turning 20 this December. We were only born a few days apart.”

“Wow, so you grew up together, that’s pretty cool,” you say honestly, and Sunghoon’s eyes settle on you for a few seconds, eyebrows raising a bit as if surprised by your words. 

“Yeah, it is,” he says, looking back in front of him. “My parents taught me how to horse ride with her. And she’s the only horse that belongs to the club whose papers actually state that I’m her owner. All the others have my parents’ name or the club’s on theirs.”

“Ah, so she’s your horse,” you say, looking at Nellie and smiling. You’d have imagined a much taller, handsome and dark-haired horse for him, but this somehow matches as well. It makes Sunghoon appear sweeter, for some reason.

“Yeah,” he says simply, but you don’t miss the small smile on his lips. So maybe there is a way to get to know Park Sunghoon, you think.

Once in the pastures, he shows you how to release a horse safely in case they get excited about being outside and hurt you accidentally or run away. Thankfully, these horses know better than to do that sort of stuff, so it’s very unlikely that anything will happen, he explains, but you’re always better safe than sorry. You head back to the stables in a silence a bit less awkward than before and do the same things with the three other horses in those stables. Not much is said, but you don’t want to force the conversation. He just explains to you that these few horses work well together in the pastures, but that it’s not always this easy.

“Horses have a herd instinct, so they need to be with each other, but also not with anyone. You know how wolf packs have alphas and betas and stuff?” he asks, and you nod. Your friends and you had an obsessive Teen Wolf phase when you were in middle school. “Well, horses kind of have that too, because there’s a hierarchy in their herds. So there’s usually one leader, a mare, and some others that just get along.”

“How do you know which horses get along, though?”

“You just have to observe. You can tell pretty quickly which horses are going to have a leader or a follower type personality. Just put two leaders together, and they’ll clash instantly. It can get pretty bad pretty quick, so the first few times you put certain horses together outside, you really have to watch over them and be careful.”

“That’s so interesting,” you say after a few moments. “I never knew horses to have such complex relationships,” you say, and he smiles.

“Horses are really cool,” he says, and immediately grunts. “That was such a loser thing to say.”

You can’t help but laugh at his self-realization, but quickly reassure him. “No, it’s not. It’s something you’re passionate about, of course you’re gonna find them cool,” you say, and the smile he gives you as an answer shouldn’t make your heart beat that much faster, but it does, and you don’t know how to feel about that. You’re just glad he’s being nice to you - bare minimum, but still, a small victory.

“Time for the hard part, now,” he says when all five horses are happy in the pasture. You follow him to a toolshed where they keep tools, of course, but also two empty wheelbarrows and snacks for the horses like grains, carrots and salt blocks. He tells you to grab a shovel as he rolls out a wheelbarrow and you head back to the stalls together.

There’s nothing complex about shoveling dirty hay and horse shit into a wheelbarrow, but by God is it a draining task. The shovel itself is heavy, so having to pick all that stuff up, heave it back into the cart, and then repeat for who knows how many times is a real burden on your poor back and arms. You definitely let Sunghoon know how hard this is for you, what with all the sighs and loud breaths and grunts you’re letting out. You’ve barely finished cleaning one stall out when Sunghoon is starting his third, and you can tell he’s not happy about it.

“If you complained less, you’d work faster, you know,” he says, that scowl back on his face.

“I can’t help that I’ve never done anything like this in my life,” you chide back, out-of-breath and wiping some sweat from your forehead.

“Yeah? All the hard tasks usually done for you, princess?”

His scowl turns into a small smirk as he looks at you, and you curse your heart for doing a flip when he chuckles at your dumbfoundedness. It’s just a stupid nickname, you tell yourself, no need to get so worked up over it.

“I’ve never had any hard tasks like this in the first place,” you say, moving on to the second stall. “My body isn’t made for it.”

“Well, it’ll have to get used to it.” Yesterday, his mother had also told you you’d get used to it, as a way of reassuring you; but Sunghoon’s words are a far cry from his mother’s, and are more of a threat than anything.

Another few minutes and you’re done, Sunghoon watching you as you finish cleaning your designated stall. You dump everything at the manure pile, then head to the straw pile and fill the wheelbarrow to replace the dirty straw with fresh one in the stalls. And then, you only have to do that four more times. Easy enough, right?

No. Not easy.

The only semi-easy part is taking the horses out of their stalls and tying the rope that are attached to their halter to a ring in the prep room, except some horses are less compliant than others and you end up having to call Sunghoon a couple times so he can take care of them for you.

The whole time you’re heaving manure into the wheelbarrow, you’re complaining. At first, it was the stank that had really gotten to you - as one can imagine, hay infused with horse piss and shit doesn’t smell like fresh linen. But somehow, you got used to it - maybe the physical exertion forced you to forget about the smell and focus on the pain taking over your whole body. 

You huff and puff as you feel the heavy weight of the shovel in your arms and shoulders every time you need to lift it up and bring it back down. The pain in your upper back from years of carrying your backpack on one shoulder makes itself known, and after half an hour you’re whining that you can feel muscle scores coming in your whole body.

“They’ll probably stay for a whole week too,” you mumble to yourself, but still loud enough for Sunghoon to hear.

“You’ll get used to it, I told you. In a few weeks this will feel like nothing.” When you only grunt in response, he adds: “I usually do this on my own, you know. You’re lucky you’re only doing half of the work. Or more like one fourth, with the speed you’re going at.”

“Why don’t your parents or sister help you out?” you ask as you lean against the stall wall, using the distraction of a conversation to take a break.

“My parents already work all week when I’m not there, giving lessons and taking care of the club, so it’s the least I can do to help out on weekends and during my breaks. And my sister already works hard enough at her school so I want her to relax when she’s here,” he replies, never stopping his shoveling.

“But you work hard too, don’t you? I mean, your sister said you were top of your class. You should get a break too.”

His movements halt for a split second only. If your words have any sort of impact on Sunghoon, he doesn’t want to let you know.

“I just study hunched over my desk all week. It’s nice to do something physical, and I don’t mind the time alone.” You’re not sure whether this is an excuse he’s come up with for himself or if he’s telling the truth, but his tone is so final and you understand that he’s done with the conversation, so you pick up your shovel and get back to work. You don’t complain for the rest of the morning.

When you’re finally done with the stalls, you bring back the horses you had walked to the pastures so that others can enjoy the free space and green grass. That’s when you run into an obstacle.

No matter how much you pull, coax, or stare impatiently, this horse won’t budge. Sunghoon rests his back and one foot against the plastic half-wall of the riding hall, chuckling at how awfully you and Dona are getting on. He’s already brought back the other five horses to their stalls and has nothing better to do than be useless, apparently. 

After a few minutes of you trying to negotiate with Dona, to no avail, Sunghoon finally speaks up, just loud enough for you to hear. “Stop staring at her. Horses get nervous when you stare too much.”

You scoff. “But she won’t move! I’m trying to show her the desperation in my eyes!” you shout back, and turn to the horse who only peers at you with empty black eyes.

“Don’t shout. Horses don’t like it when you shout,” Sunghoon simply answers, propping himself off of the wall and taking his sweet time walking towards you. When he reaches you and Dona, he takes the tether from your hands and says, “C’mon, Dona,” without even looking at the horse, who immediately follows, no questions asked.

You stand there dumbfounded and mouth O-shaped as you watch the two of them stride away calmly, running after Sunghoon when your shock dissipates. “Don’t run,” he says when he hears your quickly approaching footsteps, “horses don’t like it when you run.”

“My God,” you say, already out of breath, “how many things do horses not like?”

“Quite a few,” he answers matter-of-factly, although you meant your question more rhetorically than anything.

“How did you do that, anyways?” you ask when your breathing returns to normal.

“Well, mainly, it’s just because she knows me and knows to listen to me,” he explains, turning his head just a bit to look at you as you walk back to the main stables, the sun making itself shy behind the tall trees even though it’s nearing midday. A warm breeze blows, sweeping your ponytail to the side and rustling the leaves on the trees. “But also, horses need to be told what to do, not asked. Your attitude needs to be, ‘we’re going back now,’ not, ‘hey, wanna go back?’” You nod slowly at first, then faster when the words start making sense in your head. Sunghoon wants to make fun of you but finds it sweet that you’re at least trying to understand.

“Right,” you say after a few moments. “It’s not very nice, though,” you add, causing Sunghoon to tilt his head and frown his brows, silently asking you to go on. “Well, I’m sure Dona would like a say in the matter.”

He once again contains his laughter because you look so serious and he doesn’t want to make you feel bad, but ultimately fails and snorts at your comment, making you look up at him, bewilderment written all over your face. “What? I’m being serious!”

“I know you are,” he chuckles, “but don’t worry, Dona doesn’t mind having to go home. And if it was up to her, she’d stay out all night.” 

Sunghoon tells you some anecdotes about the club and its occupiers on your way back, making you giggle at some of the mischievous things the horses have gotten up to. He’s more talkative than this morning which takes you slightly aback, but you’re not going to complain about the change. You were dreading having to spend your summer annoyed at a cute boy you’d have to see every day, so you’re glad his first impression is drastically different from what he’s actually like.

You and Sunghoon part ways a bit before noon, and you plop down on the couch as soon as you get to your grandmother’s house. “Tough morning, huh?,” she calls from the kitchen. You only have enough energy left to hum a small “yes” back. She chuckles at you, then tells you to take a shower before having lunch. You spend the rest of your day sunbathing on a deckchair in the backyard, taking some time to relax before what you’re sure will be a tiring week.

-

One thing you learn during that week and the weeks after that is that Sunghoon has his fair share of fangirls. As a female-dominated hobby, most of the club members are teenage girls who love horses and cute boys.

Tuesday morning before lessons start, he shows you basic things like how to properly groom a horse and how to put their saddles and bridles (which is actually a lot harder than it looks - putting your thumb in a horse’s mouth seems a bit counterintuitive), just in case you ever need to get a horse ready for whatever reason. You’re going to be here for two months, so might as well learn things like these. 

While you help him walk some horses to the pastures, he explains that summer lessons are different in that instead of learners coming once or twice a week, they come all day from Tuesday to Friday and then pass an exam on Saturday morning if they want to. Since both his mother and father teach, they’re able to have two separate groups, one for riders who come for more laidback lessons with games and walks in the fields nearby, and one for those who want to improve their skills in an intense week of both practical and theoretical lessons.

There isn’t much you can do on your own, so after you’ve gone around the stables giving grains to the horses that need them, you join Sunghoon outside in the courtyard as he cleans and greases some saddles and bridles that are starting to wear out. It’s fairly easy to do and he lets you help out, so you sit outside together in silence, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your face. That is, until you start noticing the girls.

You don’t want to pay them any attention, but what with the way they wave shyly at Sunghoon and giggle when he waves back, a smile you can’t describe as anything but dazzling adorning his lips, it’s impossible not to. Some of them even call out his name, saying “hi” in the sweetest way they can. You don’t blame them: had you been fifteen and seen a boy as pretty as Sunghoon, you probably would’ve acted similarly, especially if you got to see him on a regular basis. 

What gets on your nerves, however, is how much Sunghoon enjoys it: you can tell by the smirk that won’t leave his face the whole time or the way he makes them all swoon by remembering their names. Bare minimum, you think to yourself once again, but you don’t say anything. Even if slightly infuriating, it’s also entertaining, seeing Sunghoon enjoy himself this way. You would’ve thought he was the type to want to be by himself at all times, unbothered by anyone, yet here he was, blushing at all the attention he was receiving.

After a girl who had come up to him (sparing you a confused “hi” when she saw your unfamiliar face but quickly turning her attention back to Sunghoon), wanting to know how his year at school had gone, skips giddily away, you can’t help but tease him.

“I can’t believe you’re liking this so much,” you say with a smile, keeping your attention on greasing the leather parts of the bridle.

Sunghoon looks up at you, a semi-offended look on his face. “I’m just being nice.”

“I didn’t know ‘just being nice’ entailed letting yourself be showered in compliments and winking at fifteen year-old girls. Aren’t you turning twenty?” 

“I’m not- I didn’t- Whatever,” he gives up, a pout on his face as he returns to work. You nudge his shoulder, making him crack a smile, and you feel like you won the Grand Prix of something.

Another thing you learn that week is that there’s a lot of going back and forth with Sunghoon. One minute he’s laughing at your jokes and acting like a normal human being, and the other he’s giving you the cold shoulder as if he suddenly doesn’t want you around anymore. Sometimes, these changes in his attitude are so quick, they give you whiplash.

You learn to not pay too much attention to these mood swings, not wanting to create any problems for yourself. He seems to be happy when you ask him about horses, so you often come up with the most random things you can think to ask, and he always patiently answers even the dumbest of questions. However, his patience is much quicker to run out when you complain about any task you’re given, so you settle on glaring at the back of his head.

Thankfully, you’re actually a lot less busy than you thought you would be. Your tasks consist mainly of cleaning the stalls, feeding the horses, and taking care of the ones who are too old or have some kind of illness and can’t be mounted. You bring them to the pastures, where they spend a lot of their time, then brush out the dirt and dust embedded in their fur after rolling around on the ground. These horses are often the most affectionate, gently nuzzling your hands when you try to clean their face and huffing happily when they see you arrive.

You do this a couple times a week and Sunghoon often joins you, bringing Nellie out and attaching the rope of her halter next to the horse you’re taking care of so he can groom her as well. These are the moments when he’s in his best mood and he lets you blabber away, talking about random things and concerns in your life as he listens and nods, sometimes sharing some of his as well, letting you take a peek into his closed-off world. You find that you have actually quite a lot in common, with you being in med school and him in vet school, which are both intense and high-pressure. Yet, there’s always something that’s quite surface-level about these conversations; students will always easily bond about the stress of deadlines and horrible professors. You want to dig deeper, but something tells you that Sunghoon will quickly shut you down, and you’re okay with waiting for a bit. You’re just glad he hasn’t been the way he was with you that first day the whole time and that he’s actually talking to you and even sending a smile your way once every now and then.

You also hang out with Yeji quite a lot. Even though she’s on her summer break, competition season means she spends four days a week at her boarding school to train and the other three days at the club, trying to enjoy her summer like any other normal high schooler as best as she can. She doesn’t say much more on how she feels about training so much, only slightly hinting at her level of stress and fatigue like she had done at the dinner table, and you can tell it’s a touchy subject, so you don’t pry.

It does take your body a few days to get used to being outside in the sun and walking around all day, so your first week at the club, you head home as soon as you’re done with your tasks and take a shower then help your grandmother with dinner, spending your evenings reading or playing Scrabble with her (she’s an impressive player, by the way, and has taught you many words). Every Sunday night, you have dinner with the Parks, although Mrs Park also sometimes urges you into her house at one p.m. with the promise of delicious food.

On your second Wednesday there, however, you feel like going out in the evening. After a really hot week, it had stormed during the night that made Tuesday turn into Wednesday which had made the air feel less heavy and more refreshing, so doing anything was a lot less energy-consuming than it had been before. It’s nine p.m. and the sun is low in the sky when you tell your grandmother you’re going to explore the property some more. You know there’s a path that goes behind the pastures to a forest and that is used for horse rides and walks, so you make your way there and follow it.

The mud is still a bit soft from all the rain of the night and morning and you can tell apart footsteps as well as hoof and dog paw prints. The trees on each side on the path are so full of leaves that they make a sort of arch overhead, barring any of the remaining sunlight from entering and casting a shadow all over, and you wish you’d have brought a thin jumper with you. It feels nice to be outside when the sun isn’t making you feel like your skin will melt right off of your body, though. 

You’ve been walking for about fifteen minutes, stopping here and there to look at a flower or snap a shot of the clouds you can see through the trees when you reach a clearing. It’s completely empty, the trees making way for a vast patch of just grass and small daisies, so of course you see him immediately.

A couple hundred meters away from where you’re standing is Sunghoon on a tall, ginger horse, galloping in circles. You don’t know much about horse riding, but you can tell that he knows what he's doing from the way he holds himself and directs the horse. His back is straight and his legs are pressed against the horse’s flanks, his hips moving in perfect synchronization with the horse’s strides so that he stays seated on its back rather than bounces like you’ve seen many less advanced riders do. The horse’s neck rounds and its head stays down, making its steps light and refined, and Sunghoon holds the reins long and low on each side of the horse’s garrot so he can gallop in a continuous circle.

The sight is breathtaking.

You’d always thought that horses had a certain grace to them, especially such tall and slim horses like the one right in front of you, and Sunghoon, with his perfect stance and control, somehow brought even more of that grace out. It was clear that it took a lot of work and talent to reach such elegance.

Although he seemed highly concentrated on what he was doing, Sunghoon noticed you after a minute of you standing there, all but gawking at him. You see him chuckle as he subtly changes his position on the horse and slows to a trot, heading towards you.

“Hey,” he calls out when you’re within hearing distance of each other. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just… taking a walk,” you say, pointing to the path behind you with your thumb but your gaze not leaving Sunghoon, still wearing an expression of astonishment on your face. “Sunghoon, that was- I mean, just, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. You looked amazing,” you say, unable to keep your honesty at bay. If the girls from the club had seen him ride like this, then you were definitely starting to understand why they were so smitten over him - you felt almost starstruck.

He chuckles again and looks down bashfully, hoping the dim light hides his growing blush from you. “Thanks. I wasn’t really doing anything special.”

“Not anything special, are you kidding? I’m serious, that was awesome. It was like- like a figure skater gliding, or like a ballet dancer doing turns or something,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief.

Your grin gets even wider when he lets out a giggle at your words, immediately covering his mouth with his palm when he hears the sound he’s made. He really does have a thing for being paid attention to and praised, you note.

“So you were just on a walk?” he asks awkwardly as a way of changing the subject, scratching the back of his head.

“I needed some fresh air, I guess. Plus, I’ve only been staying in the club, so I thought I’d take a walk around.”

“I can show you around when I’ve got time this week, if you want.” His offer seems to come as a surprise to the both of you, but you nod anyway, grateful for the extended hand.

“That’d be nice,” you say. You’re not sure what’s happening when you two stay there for a few seconds, just smiling shyly at each other, but you don’t hate it. 

“Have you ever been on a horse?” he asks, breaking the silence first.

“Well, just a couple times, but it wasn’t lessons or anything, so I don’t know if it counts- wait, wait, what are you doing?”

A sudden mischievous smile has made its way to Sunghoon’s features as he dismounts, bringing the horse next to you. “Wanna try, then?”

“No,” you say with a pointed look. “No way. That horse is taller than me, Sunghoon, I’m not getting on him.”

“Oh c’mon, I promise you it’s not scary, and I’ll be holding onto the reins the whole time. We can just walk back to the club like this.” His eyes are working hard to convince you, and his small pout makes what little resolve you had crumble.

“Fine. But you better not let go of that horse.”

“I won’t,” he says, and something about his tone makes your qualms dissipate.

You walk over to where he’s standing on the left hand side of the horse and hook your left foot in the stirrup. Sunghoon instructs you to place your hands on each end of the saddle and hoist yourself up. It requires a lot more arm strength than you’d have imagined after seeing so many riders do it effortlessly, but Sunghoon is there to help you up as soon as he sees you struggling, two strong hands coming up to hold you at the waist and lift you onto the horse. You tell yourself it’s the physical exertion and not his touch that renders you breathless.

“Wow,” you say when you look around you, almost two meters above ground.

“Pretty cool, isn’t it?”

A small giggle escapes your lips. “Yeah. Pretty cool.”

“How does it feel? Are you sitting okay? Here, I’ll change the stirrup length so they fit you. Or we can just cross them over the saddle, since you won’t really need them, anyway.”

“No, I’d rather wear them, please,” you say, and your slight anxious tone makes Sunghoon chuckle.

When he’s done adjusting the stirrups for you and made sure you’re comfortable, he shows you how to hold the reins properly and tells you how to get the horse to start walking. “We usually teach beginners that you knock your heels against their flanks, but because Flame has only been mounted by more advanced riders, he might not like that. Don’t panic,” he reassures as soon as he sees your eyes go wide, “just press your calves against him instead of using your heels. Here, see? I’m holding him by the front of the reins, so he won’t run off.”

“Right, right,” you breathe out. Sunghoon’s right there, so there’s no reason to stress about this.

“Good. Just a small pressure from your calves, and we’re good to go.”

Flame is very reactive, already started walking when you’ve barely squeezed your legs against him. With Sunghoon practically directing the horse for you, you realize there’s nothing for you to do but enjoy the ride.

“This feels nice,” you say as you try to get used to Flame’s quick but steady rhythm. Sunghoon’s smile is better than any other spoken answer he could’ve given you. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you decide to speak up.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Sunghoon replies, looking up at you.

“Why were you so mean to me the first night I got here?”

He seems slightly taken aback by your question, but you get a glimpse of a guilty expression before he looks back down. “Right, sorry about that. I’ve kind of been feeling bad about it all week, but I was scared to bring it up.”

“It’s okay, I’m just curious about the sudden change is all,” you say.

“I just-” he starts, but then seems to think for a bit. “I’m not the best with strangers, for one. Plus, you were going to stay for the whole summer. I’ve built a routine for myself every summer here, and I don’t like it when something, or someone, disturbs my peace. Also, no offense, but I’m not a huge fan of you city folk. So many people at school have this weird prejudice against me for being from the middle of nowhere, so I’ve kind of got a low tolerance for them. So before I even met you, I didn’t really like you. Sorry, that’s harsh.”

You tell him not to worry about it. His words make you understand him a bit more, and you’re glad it doesn’t seem to be anything too personal against you. You tell him to go on and he sighs. “And you know, I talked with my parents and they told me it’ll be nice to have someone else around to help, and that your grandmother always talks highly of you, and that it was stupid to have decided in advance I wouldn’t like you, and I sort of agreed, but I couldn’t bring myself to be okay with it all. It’s like, we’ve been fine all this time, so why bring in someone new? My parents told me that technically this whole property belongs to your grandmother, and that she could bring anyone she wanted, and I couldn’t really say anything against that. But anyway, I told myself that if I just was cold and pretended you weren’t here, that it’d be fine. But then I- I saw you, and…” his words trail off here and he looks down as if embarrassed to say what comes next.

“And?” you pry, too curious not to.

You really have to focus to hear his words because of how low he mumbles them. “And you were really pretty…”

This confession that seemingly comes out of the blue makes your heart swell with satisfaction and you can’t help but tease him about it. “What was that? I didn’t hear you clearly.”

“Oh c’mon, you heard me. Don’t make me say it again.”

“I want you to say it again, though.”

He sighs and gives in. “Fine. I said you were pretty.”

You laugh, way happier than you should be at his words, and he whines at you to not make fun of him. “So you were mean to me because I was pretty? Doesn’t make much sense,” you taunt.

He sighs again, shaking his head a bit as if in disbelief he’s actually talking about this. “It’s just that… I wanted to be nice, I promise you I did, but I just… I’m not even sure myself. I think it just pissed me off even more, because it wasn’t like having to ignore some rando, it was having to ignore a really pretty girl, which obviously I don’t really want to do,” he says, and you laugh again. “But then you ended up being really nice as well and even funny, and I felt like an asshole for being mean. Which I should never have been in the first place, I know. I’m just… bad with strangers, like I said. Not used to them. It’s not an excuse for my behavior, though, so I’m sorry.”

You look at him with a smile and thank him for apologizing. Sadly, it’s a lot more than most nineteen-year-old boys would do, so you appreciate it. You spend the rest of the ride teasing him about how he thinks you’re pretty and how he was really acting like a tsundere, earning a few embarrassed chuckles from him. Something about getting him flustered just gets you going: his shy smile that reveals a pair of dimples and another of fangs, the blush creeping on his cheeks as he looks down at his feet. Too adorable.

When you reach the entrance to the club, he helps you get off the horse, holding you when your knees almost buckle at the impact of your feet against the ground. For some reason, you weren’t expecting to be so high up, even though you had been on a nearly two-meter horse for the past fifteen minutes.

“You know, I could teach you how to mount, if you’re interested,” he says as you brush some horse hair from your leggings.

That’s the second offer Sunghoon makes you tonight; he’s really showing you his nice side now, you realize with a flip of your stomach. You could just say yes, that sounds fun, but instead, you decide to annoy him some more. “Didn’t know I was so pretty that the Park Sunghoon would offer to give me lessons!”

He rolls his eyes playfully and starts to walk away with Flame. “Forget it then.”

You giggle as you catch up to him and nudge his shoulder with yours. “I’d love to.” 

-

From that day on, it’s a lot easier to be around Sunghoon. He still doesn’t let you complain, and you can tell the walls he’s built around himself have only shrunk by a few bricks, but at least his attitude doesn’t flip around anymore. He reveals a side of himself that’s goofier than you’d have imagined, cracking random dad jokes and making side comments that never fail to make you laugh. He’s also quite sensitive to your teasing, always looking away with a blush, mumbling a small whatever at your words, but his shy smile lets you know that he doesn’t actually mind it.

The riding lessons usually happen in between work breaks or at the end of the day, and after a few of them, you know how to get a horse to start, turn, and stop, and you don’t like a complete fool when the horse’s pace goes up to a trot, having mastered the art of sitting and standing at the right time. Sunghoon had shown you a few horses you could practice on and you’d gone for a piebald horse named Picasso whose garrot reached your chin, because the agglomeration of white hairs at the top of his otherwise black head formed a small heart.

Although you’d noticed from the get-go that Sunghoon was nothing less than gorgeous, it hadn’t hit you in the face until now that you could call him a friend, and every time he smiled or that the light hit his eyes a certain way, your heart skipped a few beats. At first, you told yourself that that was it - you found him pretty. That didn’t mean much more than you being able to recognise beauty, and it certainly didn’t mean you actually liked him as anything else than a friend.

That was until this one day, when he was giving you a lesson after everyone had left the club. In the south of France where temperatures often rise to the high thirties in the summer, heavy storms are bound to break out. This was one of those days - it had been raining the entire day, but it had calmed out a bit at the end of the afternoon which was why you had gone ahead with the lesson. However, twenty minutes into it, the rain got heavier again and thunder suddenly rang, loud and resonating in the emptiness of the fields. Horses are generally skittish creatures, and Picasso was no exception, the sound frightening him so much that he took off in a rapid gallop. In less than a fortnight of lessons you hadn’t developed the strong legs and quick reflexes of an advanced rider, and you were unable to keep up with him, falling off of him with a yelp, everything happening in the fraction of a second.

You fell right on your butt, the pain shooting off from there and spreading to your whole body and taking away your breath for three long seconds. You had barely the time to register what had happened that Sunghoon was already next to you, frantically asking if you were okay and telling you to stay still. He pulled his phone out and called Yeji, telling her to come to the riding hall quickly. 

From your peripheral vision you could see Picasso pacing back and forth at the other side of the hall, as if to calm himself down. Sunghoon held you up with one firm hand planted on your back, his other hand resting on your arm as his thumb brushed your skin comfortingly. He helped you regain a normal heart rate by making you mirror his long and controlled breaths, worried eyes never once leaving your face. 

Yeji got to the riding hall in no time and immediately spotted you sitting on the floor and Sunghoon crouching over you, but her brother asked her to please take Picasso back to his stall before she could walk over to the two of you. She nevertheless asked if you were okay and you nodded, trying to give her a faint smile that reassured both her and Sunghoon.

“You feeling better?” Sunghoon asked when your tears had finally stopped falling, wiping away the ones that had rained down your cheeks and reached your jawline. 

You nodded, taking a deep breath through your nose that turned out to be useless when you opened your eyes and realized how close Sunghoon was, face merely inches away from yours and arms wrapped around you, taking your breath away more than the pain had. “Y-yeah, I’m fine, more shocked than anything.”

He let out a chuckle of relief and brushed the hair away from your face, fully putting your heart and lungs out of order. “I’m glad. Falls always happen when you first start out riding, but they’re still really scary. I was worried you got badly hurt for a second there,” he says simply, and before you can even process his words, he asks, “Are you feeling ready to get up?”

You can only nod, looking up at Sunghoon like he saved you from a near-death experience as he helps you up. If he notices your gawking, he doesn’t say anything, and you’re thankful for it. In your three weeks of knowing each other, you’ve been the one to tease Sunghoon and make him unable to say anything. Even just in general, you’re used to being the flirt that makes boys blush - very rarely were they able to do the same to you, even though they all tried their hardest. Yet Sunghoon, without even realizing it or doing it on purpose, had just made your heart flutter and your brain draw a blank. You wished you could blame it on the shock you just had and the pain still making your legs weak, but you’re reminded of all the times a simple smile or passing touch had put you in the same state, and you know you’d be a fool to continue on ignoring them.

It takes you literally falling flat on your ass to realize you have feelings for Park Sunghoon.

-

Unsure what to do with this newfound information, you decide to keep things between you and Sunghoon as they were. You’ll be leaving at the end of August anyway, no need to make things awkward for the remainder of your stay. Although some moments make you wonder if he might feel some kind of way for you too, you try not to think too much of them and enjoy your friendship as is. 

When you’ve reached a level where you being on a horse isn’t a danger to yourself or those around you, Sunghoon keeps his promise of showing you more of the premises and you go on horse rides together, allowing you to discover random creeks and benches that were placed in the middle of nowhere. You go on these a few times a week when you’re all done with your tasks of the day and the raging heat of the sun has somewhat calmed, and to your surprise, you actually really enjoy being out in nature, even though bugs are still a very much unwelcome part of it.

One day he mentions vet school and you’re reminded of your grandmother’s words on your first night here about how it wasn’t particularly what he wanted to do, so you ask him about it. He turns to you with a stunned look on his face. “I didn’t know she knew about that.”

“She told me she noticed a lot of things like that.”

He turns his head again and gazes up at the sky. “Well, she’s not wrong. It’s my parents that wanted me to go to vet school. I’d be happy just taking care of the club and making a living that way, but they say they don’t need my help year round and that it’s better for me to take up a better job.”

“For someone who doesn’t want to do it, it’s very impressive that you’re top of your class.”

He chuckles shyly and a blush appears on his cheeks. “Did Yeji say that? I only got the top grade for a couple of subjects, not all of them,” he says, making you scoff as if to say ‘still, very impressive.’ “And you know, I still like it and find it interesting, and if I’m doing it, might as well give it my best and make my parents proud.”

“Yeah, I get that. My parents are both doctors so there was never any doubt in either their or my mind that I’d become one too, until I started my first year and realized that maybe I could’ve done something else.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

You turn your head to look at him and he mirrors you. “Cause if I’m doing it, might as well give it my best and make my parents proud.”

You both look away with a chuckle. “Guess we’re more similar than I thought we were,” he says, taking you aback, but you’re very glad he thinks that way. You turn to your side, leaning against your elbow as you peer down at him.

“What about a riding career? Had you ever thought about that?”

“God, yeah,” he answers without any hesitation. “My parents signed me up for a few competitions when I was younger, and I won a couple. It made them happy, so I was happy, but I also actually really liked it. My parents never really asked how seriously I wanted to take it, though, and I didn’t say anything, so when Yeji started showing a lot of interest in competitions and becoming a professional rider they focused their attention on her and assumed I didn’t really mind, I guess. I never tried to prove them wrong. As I said, I’d be fine just taking care of the club.” He sighs and pauses for a second. “She was really young when she said she wanted to have a horse riding career, and my parents just ran with it. Now that she’s older and it takes up basically ninety percent of her life, I can tell it’s a lot of pressure on her. But it’s too late to switch places and she’s the same as me, doesn’t want to let down our parents. I just hope she won’t push herself too much, you know.”

You nod, listening intently to his words. “I’m sure you’ll be there to watch over her if she ever does. You seem like a good older brother.”

He smiles and looks up at you. “I try to be.” He reaches a hand up to your face and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The sudden, unfamiliar and intimate gesture takes you by surprise and as soon as he registers your wide eyes and agape lips he retracts his hand, apologizing. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to be weird, I just- I don’t- I’m sorry,” he stammers, looking away with a blush.

You don’t say anything for a few seconds, too stunned by what just happened, and he looks back at you, calling out your name in a small voice. His worried expression immediately crumbles when you start laughing. “It’s fine,” you say between giggles. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief and smiles again. “Sorry, I just did it without thinking. My friends and family are always super touchy so I’m just used to that sort of thing.”

“I’m the opposite,” you say, and Sunghoon raises his eyebrows. “My parents aren’t very affectionate. I mean, they tell me they’re proud of me, and buy me gifts and stuff like that, but we never hug, or say we love each other. You’ve seen my grandma, right? The only time she’s hugged me in the almost three weeks I’ve been here was the very first day, and that’s because we hadn’t seen each other in six months.”

Sunghoon nods and hums at your words. “Yeah, now that you say that, your grandma isn’t the type to hug, or, I don’t know, pet your hair or anything, even though I’ve known her basically my whole life. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he says, and you shake your head.

“No, don’t worry, you didn’t. It was actually… kinda nice,” you admit, looking away from him quickly.

“Really?” he asks with one of the widest grins you’ve ever seen on him, and you can’t believe this is the same boy that glared at you as he opened the door just a few weeks ago. You look at him from the corner of your eyes for a few seconds, trying to hide your smile, but give in and nod.

He opens his arms wide and says, “Come here,” and you look at him in disbelief.

“As in…” you say, pointing with your index finger to his chest, and he nods, blinking slowly. You scoff but do it anyway, resting your head on his chest, and a weird but warm bubble envelops your insides as he circles your waist with an arm and caresses your hair with his other hand.

“Is this okay?” he whispers, sending shivers down your spine.

“Yeah,” you whisper back. “This is okay.”

-

One Friday morning when he’s grooming Nellie and you’re braiding Picasso’s mane, he tells you he’s driving to the city tonight to meet up with his friends. “We’re just going to McDonald’s and then the cinema… and they’re kinda losers, you know, but it’d be fun if you came too. If you want to, I mean,” he offers, his shyness preventing him from looking you in the eyes. When you say you’d love to, his whole face lights up.

The day passes and when the clock strikes six p.m., you walk out of your grandmother’s house and find Sunghoon who’s waiting for you, back resting against his parents’ car. Hands in his pockets and sunglasses on, you can tell he’s trying to look cool and it makes him all that much more endearing to you. He fixes his posture and takes his sunglasses off when he sees you approaching, as if trying to get a better look; he’s seen you wear cuter outfits than tank tops and denim shorts for the dinners with his family but you’ve never worn such a pretty dress, and his heart speeds up at the mere sight of you.

“Like what you see?,” you say when you’re closer to him, twirling around in your dress.

“You look beautiful,” he says, and the look on his face must not be far from the one you wore when you saw him with Flame in that clearing a couple weeks ago.

His honesty makes you a bit shy, and you thank him as you ruffle his hair on your way to the passenger seat of the car. He stands there dumbfounded for a second until you call out his name, getting him back down to reality.

On your way to Perpignan, he tells you about his friends Heeseung, Jay and Jake, and how they all met two years ago. He shared a dorm with Jay and Jake in their first year of preparatory classes, and Heeseung, in the year above, was assigned as his mentor. They all clicked instantly and have been practically inseparable ever since, although they all live quite far away from each other, which is why it’s easiest to meet up in Perpignan when they’re on break from their studies.

“Heeseung’s girlfriend will also be there. Her name is Yunjin, she’s really nice, so if the guys get annoying you two can just talk together.”

“Why, do you guys have a tendency to get annoying when you’re together?,” you ask lightheartedly, making Sunghoon chuckle.

“Not always, but it’s a possibility. They’re nice though, so don’t worry. Jay and Jake especially are outgoing, even though Jay kinda ruins the mood sometimes cause his jokes are just awful. Heeseung is a bit shy though, just don’t take it personal if he like, doesn’t really talk to you or anything.”

“That’s funny, that reminds me of someone,” you say with a smile, unable to stop yourself. Sunghoon just replies with one of his famous whatevers.

It takes you about an hour to get to Perpignan. When you arrive, his friends are waiting outside of the McDonald’s, the boys waving with their whole arms in your direction while Yunjin watches them cross-armed, a smile on her face. “Oh, God,” Sunghoon murmurs, already embarrassed by his friends. “They’re not always like that, I promise,” he says as you walk over to them.

“Really,” you deadpan when they’ve started chanting Sunghoon’s name, watching as his face turns a deeper shade of red.

“Hi guys,” he greets them, bro-hugging Heeseung, Jay and Jake and kissing Yunjin on each cheek. You remind yourself once again to start from the right and not the left, and greet the boys first. They all say “hi, Y/N” and give you their names, and you’re quite flustered that you don’t need to tell them your name.

“Sunghoon’s told us a lot about you,” Jake says with a knowing expression, and you all chuckle when Sunghoon mutters “shut up, Jake.”

You go to greet Yunjin next and you’re surprised when, rather than simply pressing the corner of her lips against your cheek like most people do when they greet someone they’re not particularly close to, she actually kisses your cheek, an extra-friendly gesture. “I was so relieved when Sunghoon said he was bringing a girl,” she confesses, reminding you of Yeji, “I can’t deal with having to babysit these four all the time. Look at them,” she says, gesturing towards the quartet with a nudge of her head. They’re sizing Sunghoon up, ruffling his hair, pinching his cheeks and brushing away invisible creases in his t-shirt as he tries to swat their hands away, to no avail, and you can’t help but laugh at them along with Yunjin.

You all head inside the McDonald’s, getting into pairs of two to pick your order on the giant touch screens. You choose a McChicken, potato wedges and ice tea, and Sunghoon chides you for getting wedges instead of fries.

“People who get those think they’re better than everyone else,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Because we are,” you say with a smile. You touch the screen to get to the payment page but Sunghoon goes back, saying he’ll order too.

“But I need to pay?” you say, looking up at him questioningly.

“I can pay for the two of us,” he says nonchalantly, and you tease him with an ‘ooh.’ “Shut up,” he mutters, already blushing, “just let me do something nice for you.”

“Fine,” you smile, nudging his shoulder with yours a bit. “Thanks. I’ll get the cinema tickets then.”

He turns to you abruptly, his eyebrows drawn in together. “But then that cancels out me paying for this…” he whines, and you give him a look as if to say, “yeah, exactly.” 

“I don’t mind getting the tickets,” he says. “I get paid for my work at the club but I never spend any money, so, you know, I can get this for you. It makes me happy,” he mumbles, avoiding your teasing gaze.

“Thanks, Hoon,” you say, the nickname escaping your lips before you can stop it. He doesn’t seem to mind it; if anything, his blush gets deeper. You think he might end up eternally red at this rate.

“Of course.” He orders a double Big Mac, fries and a coke, and you tease him for getting such a boring meal. “They’re classics for a reason,” he defends himself. 

You swear you’ve never seen him so red and so stuttery as when you get on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek as a thank you for paying, and you think there’s no way he could get any cuter than this. His friends don’t miss it and Jake punches him very obnoxiously in the shoulder as what you can only assume is a weird congratulatory gesture.

His friends are a bit annoying, but in a funny way, so it’s okay. You’re so unaccustomed to their very unique sense of humor that everything they say and do makes you laugh, whereas they’re used to behaving like that and don’t even question their weirdness anymore. Contrary to what Sunghoon told you, Jay’s jokes land with you every time, even when the whole table grunts. 

Most of the conversation, to Sunghoon’s dismay, is spent telling embarrassing stories about him, which his friends have a lot of after having seen him drunk so many times. Heeseung asks you about how it’s been being with Sunghoon at the club, and you don’t really notice the sly smirk on his and Jake’s faces until you’re done answering. You tell them about all the things he’s made you do, but when you notice him about to complain, you add that it’s also been nice, learning how to ride a horse and spending time in the countryside.

“So you’ve seen Sunghoon ride, then?” Jake asks, and Heeseung’s snort tells you it’s not an innocent question.

“Yeah, I have,” you say, but it comes out more a question because their behavior confuses you.

Jake gives you a pointed look. “And, what did you think? I mean, it’s not the coolest sport out there, is it?” he asks, and the way Sunghoon looks down at his half-eaten burger is enough for you to put the puzzle pieces together.

You frown slightly. “Well, I think it’s a lot cooler than running after a ball and pretending like you’re gonna die when you twist your ankle,” you reply, remembering Jake’s mention of him playing soccer. Jay is quick to diffuse the tension when he sees Jake about to bite something back, saying to just talk about something else. You back off and look at Sunghoon, who seems to have completely spaced out and left the conversation. You rest your hand at the top of his knee, his attention snapping back towards you and he gives you a small smile, then turns to his friends and the conversation starts again as if nothing had happened. You’re thankful for it, because you don’t wanna create trouble the first time you meet them and make it awkward, but you really don’t appreciate his friends making him feel like he’s not “cool” because he’s a horse rider; there’s already enough stigma about it being a girls’ sport, he doesn’t need any added pressure from them.

The rest of the meal goes well, Heeseung and Yunjin throwing fries at each other, and the table making fun of Jay for eating his McFlurry so messily. Apart from the horse riding comment and the fact that they love teasing him (which you do too, to be fair), Sunghoon’s friends are nice and make him laugh, so you relax around them once again, although you and Jake exchange a few tense eye contacts. You won’t feel sorry for defending Sunghoon, even if you’ve known him for three weeks and Jake has for two years. 

When you’re done eating, you walk to the movie theater that’s just two minutes away, the boys ahead and you and Yunjin in tow. “I’m really glad you spoke up for Sunghoon earlier, and I’m sure he appreciated it too,” she says, just loud enough for you to hear. “I’ve tried speaking about it with Heeseung, but he and Jake just don’t seem to get that it actually annoys Sunghoon and they say it’s just for fun. I did horse riding when I was a kid, so I know how hard it actually is, and Jay is just a bit more mature than them, so we try to get them to stop, but they still do it a bit. Their humor is basically just making fun of everyone in their group, so sometimes they don’t know when to stop.”

You nod at her words, the situation a bit clearer now. “He should bring them to the club and show them how good he is,” you say. “Or better yet, make them get on a horse so they can see firsthand that it’s not the horse doing all the work like everyone says.” Yunjin laughs and agrees, saying she’d pay to see those boys on a horse. 

You reach the cinema as you make a note to talk to Sunghoon about this later before you can forget. You ask Yunjin what movie you’re seeing, realizing you had no idea, and she rolls her eyes. “I wanted to go see the new Marion Cotillard movie, but the boys said it looked boring, so we’re going to watch some horror movie. I don’t even know the name, but I’m sure it’s just a rehash of the same tired haunted house plot.”

While Sunghoon gets the tickets, you sneak to the food counter and get two bottles of coke and a large popcorn to share with him. He complains that he could’ve gotten that but you shut him up with a tut. 

“Are you good at watching horror movies?” you lean in and whisper when you’re seated and waiting for the movie to start while ads play, and you see him shiver slightly, but that might just be because of the aircon in the theater and not your proximity.

“What do you mean, am I good at watching them? Do you mean if I like them?” he asks, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he looks at you.

“No, I mean if you get scared easily. You can like them and watch them a lot but still get scared. I feel like you’d scream at all the jumpscares,” you add that later part just to tease him, and you know you hit bullseye when he looks away with a scoff, straightening in his seat.

“I guess they’re fun to watch, but no, I don’t get scared. And I’m definitely not going to scream.” He looks down at you with a smirk, his confidence hitting him out of nowhere as it sometimes does. “But I know you will, so feel free to hold onto my arm when you get scared,” he says, and it’s your turn to scoff and look away.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be alright,” you say just as the lights start to dim and the movie starts playing.

It takes a while for the movie to pick up, so the first half hour, you’re not really into it, paying more attention to the way your hand brushes against Sunghoon’s whenever you reach for the popcorn at the same time rather than to what is happening on screen. However, when a ghost with a very unpleasant face suddenly pops out, you can’t keep yourself from jumping in your seat and letting out a small gasp which Sunghoon would’ve made fun of, had he not been twice spooked as you were, the pieces of popcorn he was about to eat discarded somewhere at his feet because of the jumpscare.

You share a look with Sunghoon and when the both of you realize the other was completely bluffing, you burst into quiet giggles. He offers you his arm to hold onto again and you roll your eyes but take it anyway, glad for the reassurance his warmth brings you. You wrap one hand around his bicep and place the other in his hand, interlacing your fingers together, and for once you’re the shy one and can’t look him in the eye, keeping your gaze on the screen when you feel his eyes on you, surprised but pleased by your cute action.

You spend the rest of the movie like this, bodies turning towards each other every time something scary happens on screen as if instinctively going to the other to find comfort. If you weren’t in a public place, you probably would’ve ended up in his lap. Or he in yours, perhaps.

The loss of his warmth when the movie ends and the lights turn back on makes your heart a bit sad, and you already find yourself waiting for the time you’ll get to feel him next to you again. When you walk out of the theater, the sun’s finally set and the sky is starting to get dark. You all walk back to the parking lot, Heeseung, Jay, Jake and Yunjin ahead, talking about the movie excitedly and recalling their favorite scenes, but you and Sunghoon hang back a bit. He’s silent and for a second you’re worried all the hand-holding has made him awkward but when you look up at him, he gives you a smile that calms all your nerves in an instant.

Jake suddenly turns around to face you, walking backwards. “What did you two lovebirds think?” he asks.

“It was alright,” Sunghoon answers. “It had some scary scenes but I couldn’t really get into it.”

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause you two were too busy being all- ow!” Jake starts but is interrupted by a kick in the shins, courtesy of Jay.

“Can you read the room, just once in your life, bro?” he says, and Jake rolls his eyes but turns back around anyway, leaving you and Sunghoon to laugh at his friends’ antics. 

When you reach the parking lot, you say goodbye to everyone, saying it was nice meeting them and you hoped to see them again soon. “If you can, you should try and visit the club at some point, it’d be nice seeing you there,” you tell Yunjin as you hug her goodbye.

The car ride home is silent at first, betraying both your and Sunghoon’s shyness. “Tonight was nice,” you start, wanting to start a conversation after a few minutes of just looking out the window.

Sunghoon responds immediately as if he’d been waiting for you to say something. “Yeah? I’m glad. I was scared you weren’t going to like my friends or something…” he says, glancing at you with a worried expression on his face.

“Well, I really liked Yunjin and Jay…” you trail.

“But?”

“But…” you sigh, too late to turn back, but unsure whether it’s your place to bring this up. “Heeseung and Jake were nice, you know, but that comment they made about you horse riding really brushed me the wrong way.”

“Aww,” Sunghoon coos, and you roll your eyes at his fake saccharine tone. “Did it make you upset for me?”

“It did!” you say, wanting Sunghoon to know you were serious. “Friends shouldn’t make fun of your passions. Plus you’re really good at it, and I’m sure they’d be impressed by you. I talked about it with Yunjin, you know,” you add before he can cut in. “She said it happens all the time and you’re used to it, but it’s not something you should have to put up with. You should have them over at the club some day.”

Sunghoon hums, pouting his lips a bit. “I don’t know… It’s not that big of a deal. It’s how we mess with each other.”

“You looked really down when they were saying those things, Hoon. You’re allowed to say when something bothers you. And if they don’t listen, then they’re assholes. I know you’ve been friends for a while now, and I’m not trying to make you cut them off by any means, but I think you should talk to them. If they’re good friends, they’ll understand and not want to say something that hurts you. At least I hope so,” you say, looking out the window again to hide how upset this truly makes you. Sunghoon’s next words come as a surprise to you.

“Thanks, Y/N.” You look back at him with a questioning look, wordlessly asking him to go on, and he sighs. “I’m sort of used to keeping everything for myself. Taking a step back so I don’t take things personally, not complaining and just doing what I’m told even if it’s not what I want to do, stuff like that, I’m used to it. I just- I don’t wanna bother anyone, you know. I think you’re the first person who’s ever told me I’m allowed to voice things out.”

You don’t know what to say for a few seconds, shocked by this revelation. It’s very fitting of him - sacrificing his potential career for his sister, going to vet school to please his parents but taking care of the center whenever he’s on break. You didn’t know this behavior went deeper than that, and it was ingrained in him to just take it all and never put up a fight.

You say, “You’re allowed to put yourself first, you know. Sometimes, you even need to,” and it’s an unfamiliar breath of fresh air that blows away some of the weight on his shoulders, hearing those words. He chuckles a bit, hoping that the tears pooling in his eyes don’t accidentally overflow.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to do that, but it’s nice knowing I have the option. Thank you, Y/N,” he repeats, and you smile at him, relieved when he smiles back.

The rest of the car ride goes by in a flash as you make fun of each other for being so scared of the film and jump from topic to topic like frogs bouncing around lily pads, somehow neither of you ever losing track of the conversation. You tell him someone with such a boring McDonald’s order doesn’t deserve to have opinions and he says that of course you’d think that since you chose potato wedges instead of french fries.

Without noticing it, you soon reach the center, and Sunghoon walks you to your doorstep after parking the car. You stand in front of each other at the door, and you seriously feel like the main lead in a teen rom-com, butterflies in your stomach and all the works as you look up at him, expecting a little something.

“So…” he starts, pressing his lips into a flat line to hide his smile.

“So…” you repeat, nudging your foot with his as you both look down.

“Tonight was nice,” he says sheepishly and you can’t help but laugh, him soon imitating you.

“It was. But we’ve already established that, I think.”

“Right.” His gaze finds yours, and the look in his eyes makes your heart feel like it’s on an acid trip. You stare at each other for a few seconds, unable to look away, and you’re about to run off into the house, the tension too much to handle, when his eyes finally drop to your lips. Knowing him, he probably won’t do much more, so you take a small step towards him and raise your lips towards his, closing the distance between the two of you inch by inch, getting closer, closer, closer, until-

“Sunghoon!” Yeji’s voice rings out in the night, taking you aback as you gasp and stumble a few steps back, not wanting her to see you almost devour her brother’s face. Sunghoon closes his eyes and shakes his head, then lets out an exasperated “what.”

“I can’t believe you went to see that new movie without me. I saw it in Jay's story. I told you I wanted to go see it!”

He sighs and looks at you, mouthing a “sorry” before walking towards her, hooking his arm over her shoulders as he walks her back to their house. 

“Sorry, lil sis. We can go watch it together, I don’t mind seeing it again. Also, why do you follow Jay? Unfollow him,” he commands, and after that you can’t hear anything because they’re too far away. You watch them walk with a smile on your face, appreciating their little moment together, and your heart does a little somersault of joy when Sunghoon turns around to wave at you from his door.

-

After that night, you’re more determined than ever to turn that almost-kiss into a actually-happened-kiss. However, your resolve soon seems to have been for nothing when Sunghoon tells you about how he wishes he didn’t have to leave with his parents, but they won’t let him stay, and you’re reminded of the Parks yearly vacation that starts the next day, exactly three days after the night out.

It’s a late Sunday afternoon and you’ve done everything you needed to for that day, so you and Sunghoon went off on a horse ride as you often do, deciding to take a break when you reach a field in which a bunch of haystacks rest. You only had to exchange a look to understand the other immediately, so you tied your horses to a tree and raced over to the closest stack, helping each other get to the top and laying there.

“I wish you didn’t have to go either,” you say, playing with a loose strand of hay peeking out from the stack in the small space between you and Sunghoon.

“You gonna miss me?” Sunghoon teases, grinning as he lightly nudges your shoulder.

“As surprising as it sounds, I think I might,” you say, and from the corner of your eye you see his grin get wider.

“I think I will too,” he replies, and he giggles when he sees you try and fail to suppress a smile. “Actually, I definitely will,” he adds just to see you smile bigger, and it works.

“When are you leaving again exactly?” you ask to change the subject.

“Early tomorrow morning. I still haven’t packed,” he says and sighs.

“We should head back so you can pack,” you say even though you don’t want to do that at all.

“Yeah, we should, but I don’t want to,” he replies, practically reading your mind. “I wanna stay here for a while.”

A small silence settles between the two of you, but it says more than a thousand words. The tension that has been hanging over your heads for a while now but only thickened after Friday night is almost palpable now. You’re laying so close that your arms are almost touching, occasionally brushing when one of you shifts, and if you turned your head, his face would be right there, which means his lips would be right there. Well, one of you is going to have to do something about this tension, you think, and it’s definitely not going to be him.

“Sunghoon?” you call out, turning your head towards the boy next to you. He does the same and your eyes meet. In this late afternoon hour, the sun is right behind you and he has to squint a little bit and use his hand as a shield to look at you properly. He looks a bit stupid like that, but you think he’s cute.

“Yeah?”

The warm feeling that spreads over your whole body at the sound of his voice is what gives you the confirmation that you want to say what you say next, and the courage to do it.

“Can I kiss you?”

His eyebrows raise slightly but he’s quick to hide his surprise and starts grinning instead, revealing those fangs of his you love so much. You have a feeling they’d leave the cutest marks on your skin. “Sure,” he says, letting his eyes drift down to your lips just like that other night.

So you do.

You lean in close enough to press your lips onto his, letting them touch for a brief second before leaning back again. A small pout forms on his lips at the fleeting contact. “That’s it?”

You could just eat him whole, you think. A kiss will have to do. “What did you want?” you ask, trying and failing to hide a smirk.

“That wasn’t a proper kiss.”

“Yeah? What’s a proper kiss then?”

He looks away with a huff. “I’m sure you know what a proper kiss is. Why would you ask to kiss me if you’re not even gonna do it properly…”

“How about you show me then?”

This makes him look promptly back at you, his eyes a bit wider. When he just gulps without saying anything, you add: “Or should I try again? Properly this time?”

He nods, eyes set on your lips. He’d always found them pretty and inviting, and he’d caught himself daydreaming about this exact moment a few times, but now that it was right in front of him, his brain was short-circuiting. All he could do was close his eyes and wait for you.

You find it cute how he screws his eyes shut before you’re even kissing him, making him look like a k-drama female lead during the first kiss scene. You can’t help but smile a little even as you bring your lips to his once again, this time a bit firmer, a bit deeper. He waits for you to move your lips against his before he does so too, but once he’s started, he’s unstoppable.

In fleeting conversations and off-hand comments, you’d learned that Sunghoon had had a couple girlfriends but that it always ended after a few months. When you’d accused him of “virgin behavior” after he did something embarrassing for an almost twenty-year-old, he’d fervently defended himself of very much not being virgin and very much having had sex before, which you’d said was what a virgin would say, but you knew he was saying the truth because he wasn’t the type to lie, especially about this sort of thing.

What was sure was that he kissed you like he knew what he was doing, and he was doing it well. His shy demeanor from a minute ago is completely gone as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, holding you tight against him. His hands were shy at first, but when yours made their way to his hair so you could gently tug at the strands there, he understood he didn’t need to be so polite. One of his hands found your waist while the other cupped your cheek, his thumb coming under your chin to tilt it up towards him. 

Your lips move against the others’ like you’d done this your whole life, and you’re unable to keep it Disney-friendly for long as your feelings and the fact that you were finally touching each other like you’d been wanting to take over any reason you had left. The kiss turns hungrier, needier, hotter, as if catching up on all that time you lost to dilly-dallying around each other. It’s easy to slip your tongue inside his mouth and you swear you hear him moan when your tongues come into contact, the small sound making your brain turn into mush and giving you one goal, and one goal only: hear him again.

You pull away and press a palm to his shoulder, and he lets you push him down on his back as you straddle his lips, positioning your core right over his growing erection and watching with a smirk as he bites his lips and furrows his eyebrows, humming at the feeling of you against him. You press your lips back against his and note with satisfaction that his movements are messier than before, kissing you mouth open and letting you take full control of the kiss, almost unable to focus on kissing you and on feeling you grind very lightly, almost teasingly against him. Slick pools in your underwear at the angelic sounds he’s making, and you’re very happy he doesn’t seem to be shy about being vocal because his moans are the prettiest sound you've ever heard.

You move away from his lips and trail wet kisses on his cheeks and jawline, moving down to his neck and his Adam’s apple, gently biting and sucking the skin at the base of his throat, enough to make him squirm underneath you but not enough to leave a mark, even though you’d love to, the thought of other girls seeing him all marked up because of you filling you with a sense of pride you didn’t know you could have.

You find his sweet spot at the juncture of his neck and his shoulder, so you kiss him more there, tracing the other side of his neck with your fingernails. He’s so sensitive and those actions alone are enough to have him whine a small “fuck, Y/N, that feels so good,” and you think you might actually go insane with lust for him. 

You’ve just started kissing him on the lips again, his hands holding your hips so tightly you think they might almost bruise your skin and his kisses desperate and needy, when his phone buzzes. Taken aback, you pull away quickly, and he whines at the loss of contact. He goes in to kiss you again but you tut and tell him to check his phone in case it’s important. You note that he does what you say, and you wonder whether that’ll hold up for other situations. You observe him as he unlocks his phone and reads the text, and you curse yourself for waiting until he leaves to do this. You could’ve had him heaving, cheeks rosy, lips slightly swollen and eyes blown out for some weeks now, but your hesitation prevented you from doing anything, and now you’ll have to wait ten more days to see him like this again - that is, if he wants to do it again.

“It’s my mom,” he says with a sigh, snapping you out of your reverie. “She says I need to come home and pack my bag and have dinner.”

You pout at each other and he sits up, wrapping his arms around your middle and nuzzling his face in your neck. The rather intimate action surprises you a bit, but mostly you find it endearing, and it was pretty obvious Sunghoon would be the clingy type. You’re happy he feels comfortable enough around you to show this side of him - plus, it makes him ten times more adorable than he already was in your eyes.

“I want to go even less now,” he murmurs, voice muffled and you giggle at him as you caress his head.

“Same. But ten days will go by quickly, right? And I’ll be right here when you come back,” you say, leaning back so you can cup his face in your palms and look at him, his cheeks a bit squished. “You’re so cute,” you whisper with a smile, and the compliment makes his cheeks heat up but for once he doesn’t look away and keeps your gaze locked in his.

You peck his lips quickly and get off of his lap. “Right, we should go then,” and when he whines in protest, you add, “your mom will be mad, Hoon,” which is enough to convince him.

You head slowly back to the center and walk the horses to their stalls, talking about this and that as you often do, but you grow silent as you near his house, dreading having to say goodbye. The only difference with Friday night is that you’re standing at his door and not yours; the tension and heart-fluttering awkwardness are the same. Well, maybe not exactly the same, because you had your tongue down his throat just fifteen minutes ago.

“You’ll be alright when I’m gone, right?” he asks, taking your hands in his and letting them hang between you two.

“Yeah, I will. Plus, your parents’ friend is coming to take care of the club, right? I’ll help her, and I’ll hang out with my grandma while you’re on vacation and the ten days will be over before we know it,” you say, more trying to reassure yourself than him.

Sunghoon sighs but nods as if trying to convince himself too. “Right.”

“Right,” you repeat, and look up at him with a smile. The thought that this might look completely dramatic to any outsider crosses your mind, but you ignore it because you’re really not looking forward to spending ten days without Sunghoon here. When he comes back, you’ll only have three weeks left, and that simple fact already makes your heart ache.

He takes you in his arms and holds you close to him for a few moments. “Okay. I’ll see you soon, Y/N,” he whispers in your hair. “Don’t miss me too much. But not too little either. Just the right amount,” he jokes, and usually you’d have punched his chest or something but right now all you can do is chuckle. He pulls away and pecks you on the lips, and when you take a step back, he opens the door and waves at you goodbye, then disappears inside the house.

-

Not to be dramatic, but those ten days are probably the longest of your life. The Parks’ friend, Madame Rasson, is nice enough, and you enjoy helping her out and having dinner with her and your grandmother every night, but she’s no Park Sunghoon. You don’t really have the urge to gallop away with her and kiss at the top of a haystack as the sun sets behind you, nor do you feel like a small part of your heart stays with her when you’re not together.

Sunghoon calls you every night under the pretext of wanting to know how the horses are doing, but you know Mrs Park and Mme Rasson are keeping in touch and that he just wants to talk to you. You don’t call him out on it though and let him tell you about his day when he’s done pretending he cares about who did what and who went where. After a few days, as you’re nearing the end of a call, he tells you he misses you then hangs up right after as if he hadn’t been basically crying into your shirt about how much he didn’t want to leave and how much he’d miss you just a few days prior, but you just giggle and text him that you miss him too, which he texts a heart back to.

Yunjin also comes around one day, saying she missed horse riding and wanted to hang out again, so you show her around the club and go on a horse ride together, taking her to all the spots Sunghoon took you to, pointing with a giggle to the spot where you made out. She gasps when she hears that and lightly slaps your shoulder. “You two made out?” she says, surprise and excitement all over her face. You only giggle some more and nod, face heating up.

“I mean, it was obvious it would happen at some point. You guys were giving each other major heart eyes the other day.” You roll your eyes and say you weren’t even though you know you very much were. “Plus, the guys send a lot of voice messages on their group chat and I sometimes listen to them with Heeseung. The way Sunghoon talks about you is so cute it makes me want to throw up sometimes.”

The thought of Sunghoon talking about you to his friends makes your heart jump and swell with pride a bit. “Really? What does he say?” you ask, not looking at Yunjin to hide the stupid smile you’re wearing.

“He just talks about your day and what you guys did, but he’ll focus on a random thing like the way you said hi to the horses or how you ate your food and he’ll be like, it was the cutest thing ever. He doesn’t go into too much detail cause he knows the guys will make fun of him but it’s still really sweet. Heeseung told me he’s never talked about any other girl like that, you know,” she says, looking at you pointedly. “And you probably also know Sunghoon isn’t the easiest to get to know. But he’s clearly let you in, and he really wanted you to meet the boys, so I think he really, really likes you.”

You give yourself a few moments to process Yunjin’s words, but all you can say in the end is “Well, I really, really like him too,” and Yunjin laughs at you.

She stays over for dinner, charming your grandmother with her jokes and willingness to help, and spends the night as well. You two stay up until late talking about your families, school, how she met Heeseung and how cute you and Sunghoon are, and the fact that you have to stay quiet so as not to wake your grandma up makes you want to laugh even harder. When she leaves the next morning, she mentions that she saw the sea was really nearby and asked if you’d been.

“I haven’t yet, but Sunghoon did say he knew a spot and would take me sometime… I’ll ask him about it again,” you say, and she nods fervently, saying she hasn’t been to the beach forever. You hug each other goodbye and you wave at her until you can’t see her car anymore, and you get that empty feeling of being alone again, so you go find your grandmother and bother her with tons of questions which she answers patiently. Five days to go until Sunghoon comes back.

And then these five days are over, and Sunghoon finds you in the middle of the afternoon, taking a nap in your grandmother’s backyard and oblivious to the fact that the boy you like the most is back. He wakes you up by taking your sunglasses delicately off of your eyes and pressing his lips to the top of your head. You frown and open your eyes bit by bit until you recognise the boy hunching over you and then open your eyes all at once, sitting up in your lounge chair and wrapping your arms around Sunghoon’s neck, pulling him down towards you.

“Hi,” he giggles, chin hooked over your shoulder.

“You’re back!”

“I am.” He pulls away to peck your lips, and it’s like he hasn’t even left a day. “I’ll go get changed and check on Nellie and then we can go for a horse ride, if you want?”

You nod excitedly. “Sure. I’ll go get the horses ready.” You both rush to your respective destinations and meet again fifteen minutes later in the grooming hall just as you finish buckling Picasso’s saddle. Sunghoon pecks your lips once more just because he can, and then you’re off.

Sunghoon’s prepared a blanket so you could lie in the grass in the clearing. On your way there, you ask him about his vacation and he admits it was actually really fun. They drove down to Spain, spending a couple days in Barcelona and then a week in a smaller seaside town. In terms of weather and landscape, it wasn’t very different from their hometown, but the food was amazing and the people very welcoming, and Sunghoon and Yeji could finally put their years of learning Spanish in school to the test.

“I took a lot of pictures because there were so many things that reminded me of you or that I thought you’d like,” he admits bashfully, taking out his phone from his bag once you’re settled on the blanket. You rest your head on his chest and rest your hand on the side of his stomach, feeling the vibrations of his laughter against your ear and commenting on the pictures he shows you, giggling when he starts rapidly scrolling through fifteen consecutive selfies.

You try to keep up a conversation but it’s a bit hard to do when his neck is right there, close enough for you to press kisses on or to nuzzle your face in if you just lifted your head a bit, and his skin is soft and warm and you want to feel all of it under your palms. Even Sunghoon, who usually never shuts up when he’s with someone he’s comfortable around, is quiet. His sigh when you trail your hand up from his waist to his shoulder tells you he’s probably thinking the same as you, and as soon as you graze your fingers through his hair, he’s rolled you onto your back and his lips are on yours, kissing you with all the need that’s built up over the past ten days. You have a feeling just kissing won’t be enough to satisfy either of you today.

There’s a sense of urgency to all of your movements, the way all four hands are restless and travel each other’s body tirelessly, pulling on the other’s hair, kneading the skin here, caressing it here. Sunghoon bites down on your lower lip and the action makes you moan, so he takes that opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your kisses are open-mouthed and wet and messy, but you wouldn’t have it any other way because they translate all the desire you have for him and you want him to know exactly just how he’s making you feel.

You remember how much Sunghoon likes it when you compliment him, or tease him using your words, so you decide to do just that. When he starts trailing kisses your jaw, then sucking and biting at your neck, leaving tiny marks there, you whisper his name, making him hum. 

“Hoon. I want you so fucking bad.” 

You feel him trembling at your words and he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, whining as he continues pressing wet kisses there. He ruts his hips into yours, seemingly more by reaction than deliberately. “Want you too,” he murmurs, and slips his hands underneath your t-shirt, the flesh on your stomach burning everywhere his hands touch it. You lift your arms so he can take the piece of fabric off, and he’s quick to find the back of your bra as well, unclasping it and revealing your breasts to him.

In no time he’s already delving into your body, pretty pink lips circling and sucking on one of your nipples and deft fingers playing with the other, warmth spreading all over you at the intense pleasure he’s finally giving you, wetness already starting to make your underwear stick to your core.

Your fingers find purchase in his hair, pulling whenever it feels particularly good, and he seems to like the pain that comes with it because it’s enough to have him moaning around your nipple. “Fuck, Hoon, that feels so good,” you breathe out. Despite your praise and to your confusion, he pulls away, trailing kisses down your stomach until he reaches your shorts and looks up at you when his fingers are around the button, asking for confirmation to go further. He whispers “thank God” when you nod your head yes.

“Wanna make you feel good,” he says as he drags your shorts and underwear down at the same time, eyes fixated on your glistening folds.

You hold yourself up on your elbows, admiring him and his blown-out pupils and disheveled hair - he’s never looked hotter. “You already were, baby.”

“Wanna make you feel even better,” he says before diving right into your pussy, giving you no time to get used to the feeling as his tongue licks up a long stripe up your folds before finding your clit, alternating between giving it kitty-licks and sucking it. You’re a moaning mess in an instant, pulling even harder at his hair and sometimes holding onto his shoulders as if your body might start levitating at any moment. As if that didn’t already feel good enough, he then adds a finger, and quickly a second one into your hole, his thin and long digits feeling better than yours ever have. He must be some kind of fingering expert because he finds your g-spot in thirty seconds, pressing the sensitive spot again and again until you come apart for him in an embarrassingly quick orgasm, moaning his name and how good it feels like a broken record.

That doesn’t seem to be enough for Sunghoon, however, who doesn’t relent and sends your body into overstimulation until you find the energy to tell him to stop. “Was that good?” he asks innocently when his lips find yours again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Was it good?” you repeat, almost scoffing. “Baby, it was amazing.”

“Really?” he asks, a childlike grin on his face that is worlds away from the things he just did to your body.

“Really. Let me show you how good it felt,” you say with a mischievous smile, pushing his shoulder down so you switch positions and he’s the one laying, back against the blanket. “Let’s get this all off, yeah?” you say, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt, and when that’s gone, with the band of his sweatpants and underwear. He gulps when he’s fully naked under your curious gaze, but he’s brave and his eyes don't leave your face, patiently waiting for what you’ll say or do next.

“So pretty, Hoon,” you purr as your hands trail from his thighs up to his neck, applying some pressure there, not enough to cut off any oxygen but enough for him to feel it. “And all for me,” you add as you mark his neck just like he did yours, before pushing yourself down his body until your face is level with his now fully hard cock. You press wet kisses to his thighs and hear his breaths get shakier when your kisses get dangerously close to his crotch. “Haven’t even touched you, and you’re already this hard, baby?” you tease, and chuckle when his cock twitches at your words.

“Please,” he implores, voice small.

“Just a second, baby. Be good for me, yeah?” you ask and he nods, eyes screwed shut as if in pain. You had a feeling that Sunghoon might like to give control rather than have it, but you hadn’t thought he’d let you have full power over him like that. You can’t say you dislike it, though.

You don’t want to make him wait for too long, and the sigh of relief he lets out when you finally place your tongue on the base of his shaft and lick a stripe up is worth it. Your baby is loud and lets you know exactly what he likes, and what he likes is when you pay attention to his tip and his sensitive balls at the same time. You alternate between having your lips around his tip, hands massaging him, and your palm circling his tip, taking his balls in your mouth and letting them out with a pop. In just a few minutes, his whole body is shaking under your touch and his moans are getting louder and louder, almost shout-like. He calls out your name and pleads with you to stop, and you look up at him with a worried expression. Before you can ask if he’s okay, he says, “Wanna cum inside you,” and how can you refuse him when his blush has spread to his whole face and his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration and pleasure, trying his best not to cum?

“Of course, baby.”

He sits up and you straddle his lap, telling him you’re on the pill when he’s about to pull out a condom he’d sneakily brought from his bag. “Fuck, okay,” he says, voice shaky at the idea of feeling your bare walls around him.

You raise yourself over him, your arms wrapping themselves around his neck and his around your waist, you line your entrance up with his dick and then sit back down onto his lap, his cock stretching you out in the best way possible as it slips right in, your wetness serving as natural lube. You waste no time before moving your hips against his, first rocking them back and forth and then raising them up and down, the both of you letting out loud moans and breaths at the pleasure taking over your bodies.

“Y/N, feels so good, gonna cum quick,” he breathes out into the crook of your neck, biting the flesh there which feels surprisingly good.

“That’s okay baby, you’ve done so well, cum whenever you want.”

“Want you to cum too, though,” he whines, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“You already made me- fuck!” you scream out of surprise when Sunghoon’s hands suddenly grip your thighs tightly and he holds you steady like this as he ruts his hips up into yours, the angle hitting right where it needs to. Your brain can’t form sentences that make any sort of sense so you’re left blabbering praises and curses at the same time, feeling your second orgasm rapidly approaching.

“Fuck, baby, just like that, fuck- so close, Hoon…”

The feeling of your walls clenching as your high washes over you is enough for Sunghoon to tip over the edge as well, your releases mixing together in a loud and sticky mess. You’ve never felt closer to heaven as you do now.

The seriousness of it all soon starts to fade as you and Sunghoon lock eyes and burst into giggles, breathing still heavy and irregular. You help clean each other up and put your clothes back on, but you don’t head home until the sun has long set, feasting on the snacks and water he’d brought along.

You check the time before you go to bed that night. 00:57, Thursday 11th August 2022. Twenty days left with Sunghoon. 

-

Eighteen days left with Sunghoon. Your last days together feel like a montage, like you’re watching a movie in which you play the lead role and you know the ending credits will have to start rolling at some point. You hate to be thinking that way, but the first thing you do when you wake up every morning is check the date and tell yourself how many days you’ve got left with your summer love. 19 days, 18 days. If Sunghoon feels a change in your attitude, how your gaze lingers more, how your touch softens, he doesn’t say anything.

You mentioned how you and Yunjin would like to go to the beach, so he called up his friends and got them to drive all the way over here. He said another time when you told him this is the perfect opportunity to show them his horse riding, and you didn’t push it.

He drives you all to what he calls ‘his’ beach spot, and indeed, it feels like it’s yours and yours only. It’s a bit of a trek getting there, having to walk up a dirt road and climbing some rocks before heading down to a small sandy beach where the sand is so hot it burns and the water only feels refreshing for two minutes, but you love it. He side-eyes Jake and Jay when you take off your dress and reveal your bikini-clad body, and barks at them to stop salivating even though they weren’t looking at you.

Yunjin on Heeseung’s shoulders, Jake on Jay’s and you on Sunghoon’s, the six of you play a tournament of who can make the others fall faster. Your boy has amazing balance, robust legs, a strong core, and decent (surprisingly impressive) arm muscles, so you win, a victory peck turning into a makeout session that everybody groans at, except for Jake who whoops. 

You apply sunscreen on each other’s backs and complain that evening when you’ve got weirdly-shaped sunburns anyway, you along the lines of your swimsuit and him on the back of his knees. You eat the watermelon Jay brought and the boys spit black seeds at each other, not daring to do it to you or Yunjin after the stank look you gave them.

When you get home and everyone has driven off, neither of you is quite ready to call it a night yet. Sunghoon eyes the backseat of his car and you understand what he wants immediately. His skin smells like sun, sweat, sunscreen and sea water, and it’s all so him. It smells so good, it’s almost intoxicating, and you think you’ll never be able to get enough of his scent, of him. You won’t be able to look up at the bright star in the day sky or at an orange bottle of sticky sunscreen the same way ever again. 

You’ve had many things in your life. You’ve had dolls, and you’ve had books and CDs. You’ve also had and still have friends, sometimes even boyfriends. You’ve had fun, and times that were not as fun. You’ve had sex. But you’ve not had anything like what you have with Sunghoon. He’s the one who gave you the intense feeling of truly loving and being loved, the insatiable craving of wanting more, the overwhelming need to see and talk to and feel and smell. 

He’s the one who gave you the best summer of your life, and it’s the best thing you’ve ever had. It overpowers everything you’ve ever had to the point that it feels like it’s the first thing you’ve ever had; it might be the only thing you ever have, because you don’t understand how you could want anything else now that you’ve had him. He’s all you need.

Seventeen days left with Sunghoon. You’re having your joyful weekly dinner with your grandmother and the Parks when you feel something hit your foot gently. You feel it again, and when you look up at the boy sitting right across the table from you he’s trying to hide a small smile, but you know him too well to miss it. His clothed foot caresses the ridge of your own and you suppress a giggle at the ticklish feelings. You tease him back, and you realize you’re playing footsies at the ripe age of twenty years old, but it doesn’t bother you. You both end up failing at not laughing and when innocently, his mother asks, “what are you two laughing at?”, he coughs and says it’s an inside joke.

Fourteen days left with Sunghoon. The last two weeks of summer lessons have started again and Sunghoon and you can’t run around and lay in random fields at any time of the day anymore, but you still try your best to spend every waking second of the day together, to the despair of his fangirls. However, you still find moments where it’s the two of you in an empty stall and one exchanged look is enough for you to push him against the walls, your lips finding his in the fraction of a second. Sadly, before it can get too heated, a nearby horse always neighs or huffs as if telling you to get a room.

Twelve days left with Sunghoon. Conveniently, Sunghoon’s sister and their parents are out for the night at a party in celebration of the competition season that’s about to end, so you finally get to spend the night in his room. You technically could’ve done it before, but the house is old and the walls are thin, and you didn’t need that kind of humiliation. 

Maybe Sunghoon feels that your time is slowly running to its end too, because as the days pass, he melts under your touch like a candle to a flame even more than before, he kisses your lips with more desperation and he holds your hips tighter as if you were going to disappear from between his hands at any moment. He always asks to please, please let’s cum at the same time and please, please say my name and you do it because you’d do anything for him.

You do it three times in a row, both of your bodies weak and sensitive with overstimulation yet unending desire, and you feel tears pouring down your cheeks as your third orgasm of the night hits you. There’s no way anything will ever feel as good as this. You tell him this, and he says, “I know.”

Seven days left with Sunghoon. He asks you what you’ll do when you go home, and you reply that you don’t know, because even though you’ve been thinking about what little time you have left together, you haven’t been thinking about the time after that, simply because it puts a bland feeling in your mouth whenever it crosses your mind. “I’ll start studying again and I’ll start my internship. I’ll get black out drunk at least once a month to forget all the stress and pressure of being a med student. I’ll think about you. That’s probably about it. What about you?”

“I’ll study too and I’ll have an assistantship at some point too. I’ll get drunk on Thursday nights and take care of the club during the weekends. I’ll think about you, too. More than you, I’m sure.”

“That’s not possible. You won’t ever leave my mind.”

“You won’t either,” he whispers.

Two days left with Sunghoon. He tells you you’re going camping for your last night together, not wanting to leave your side for even a second. “We’ve only got so much time left, we need to make the most of it,” he says, and you wished he knew that that had been your exact thought for the past twenty days.

That night, everything goes much slower than it usually does. You take your sweet time taking the clothes off of each other, reveling in discovering the smooth skin underneath the fabric as if you hadn’t seen it dozens of times by now. You find all of his moles and kiss them one by one, and he takes a full minute kissing down from your lips to your core. His thrusts are slow but deep, and your lips don’t leave the other’s the whole time.

-

Ten hours left with Sunghoon. You wake up the next morning when the sunlight the thin walls of the tent are unable to keep away gets too bright for your eyes’ liking. The warmth of this late August night has made you two drift apart while you slept, but you quickly find his body again and you wrap your arms around him, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck. He smells like sleep and like himself, which is comforting.

He calls out your name and you lift your head to look at him. When he doesn’t turn his head as well and only gives you his chin and jawline to look at, you know he’s about to say something important. Something he doesn’t dare to say while looking in your eyes. 

Your mind goes back to all the times you’ve laid down next to each other and you hope that those will be what you see whenever you think of Sunghoon in the future. The sun not quite ready to call it a day, a slight breeze picking up, the hay a semi-comfortable mattress that sometimes poked you at the back of your neck and arms. Sunghoon right next to you. You were always happy then, hoping you wouldn’t regret anything later. You wouldn’t have known what to do to prevent that anyway.

All you know is you don't want your memory of Sunghoon to be tainted by this moment right now, this moment in which he avoids your gaze and your heart feels heavy because you’re leaving soon and you won’t get to have him in your embrace like this. You want to be happy when you think of him; you don’t want to feel his absence.

“Yeah?” you answer. He still doesn’t look at you, and you get a bit nervous.

He sighs a deep breath like you’ve never seen him do before. “Is it okay if I say something a bit selfish?”

You love him so much. You realize that maybe that’s what you’ll end up regretting. “Go ahead.”

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” he says, and you almost laugh out of relief.

“That’s not selfish, Hoon. I don’t want to leave, either.” You reach for his hand and he lets you take it, your fingers intertwining immediately as if made to hold each other. To hold onto each other. He still doesn’t look at you, and you know there’s something more there.

“It’s selfish because I’m scared I’ll resent you for leaving,” he says, voice a whisper. 

Ah. There it is.

You squeeze his hand, wordlessly asking him to go on. He takes another breath, a shakier one this time, and he chuckles at the tears he feels pooling in his eyes. “You showed up here out of nowhere and you made me so, so happy. You listened to me and got me to open up, which I usually hate doing. You told me that I was good, that you were proud of me. And now you’re leaving and no one will tell me those things anymore.” The first crack in your heart happens when you hear his voice quiver at the end of his sentence.

“You don’t need me to tell you those things. You know them now, and you have yourself,” you try to reassure him.

The second crack happens when he finally turns to look at you, lips trembling and eyes full of tears. “But I want you to tell me those things.” It takes everything in you to not burst into tears, but you want to be strong for him. For the both of you.

“I can still tell you those things. Phones exist, you know.” A small smile appears on your lips as you try to alleviate the tension. Sunghoon’s eyebrows crease and he pouts his lips; you can tell he doesn’t want to laugh in this moment, but the nudge you give him and your smile make his facade break.

You laugh as he whines, telling you this is a serious moment and to not make him laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you say between chuckles and you wrap your arms around him, bringing him to lay his head on your chest. You kiss the top of his head and graze your fingers through his hair. “Laughing is all I can do to stop myself from crying, baby,” you whisper. When you feel a tear roll down your cheek, you add, “And it’s not even working that well.”

Sunghoon buries his face deeper between your breasts and sobs. No more, no less, he sobs, loud, choked sobs that make his whole body shake against yours, and you hold him as tight as you can so that they don’t break him in two. “I’m gonna miss you so much,” he manages to say, and that’s when the third and final crack happens and your heart shatters. It breaks into a million tiny pieces that fall all over your body; some of them make their way to your throat while others travel to the tips of your fingers and others lodge themselves behind your knees or in the pits of your stomach. Your heart breaks into sharp pieces and you feel them piercing under your skin everywhere. You feel like you’re gonna throw up.

You and Sunghoon aren’t even technically dating. You’ve known each for two months. You live far, but not halfway across the world; you can see each other again. You will see each other again. It’s not supposed to hurt that much, yet it hurts even more than that. 

“I know, baby, I know,” you whisper into his hair. “I’ll miss you so much too. But we’ll see each other again, right? Paris isn’t that far away.”

His sobs calm down and you hear him sniffle as he catches his breath. “Paris isn’t far away, but we’ll be worlds apart. You’re going to study and become a doctor, and I’ll stay here. You know what medical school is like, you’re going to be flooded with work for at least four more years. I can’t expect you to stay in touch all the time.”

“Well, it doesn’t need to be all the time, does it? I’d annoy you if it was.”

“You could never annoy me,” he says, and it makes you laugh. He’d never have said this two months ago.

“Plus, I’ll still get time off. I can come back next summer.”

He raises his head to look at you and you can see all the hope and sadness in his puffy eyes. You want to kiss away the tear stains on his cheeks. You want to right everything wrong just to see him smile again. “Next summer?” he echoes in a small voice.

“Next summer,” you promise, a smile you hope is comforting on your lips.

-

Next summer doesn’t work out. The one after that either. Your internship is going swimmingly, and so is his assistantship, and you simply don’t have the time to make a trip all the way down there. A part of you is also worried that if you see him again, you won’t have the force to leave.

Those years you don’t see him, you’re reminded of the ten days you were apart during that summer, and how you’d felt like he’d kept a small piece of your heart with him, because it still feels that way. There’s something that’s keeping you tethered to that summer, something that the strongest scissors or the sharpest knife in the world couldn’t break.

For a short period of time, he was all you needed. But reality quickly seeped back in, and now you needed good grades and then a good job, a decent flat, a decent income. You didn’t need anyone like you needed him, but you still wanted them because even if they weren’t as pretty, or as patient, or as kind as your Sunghoon, they were still good, and sometimes that was all you could ask for. You were always sorry that you couldn’t give them your whole heart, because a piece of it had stayed in the south of France and you didn’t have the courage to march down there and demand it back. Selfishly, you hoped you also kept a piece of Sunghoon’s heart in yours.

You did call once in a while, but those calls made both of you more sad than happy, and after a couple years the calls were so spaced out that they only happened on birthdays and special events. The next time you see him, it’s five years later, at your grandmother’s funeral. You can only stay for three nights and you spend most of your time there with relatives, celebrating your grandmother’s life, so you don’t see him much. When you do, you get to catch up for a few hours. He’s almost done with vet school and he’s specialized in equine studies. He’s an intern at the horse vet in Laroque which means he gets to stay in the center and help his parents out. Yeji is on her way to becoming one of the best in the country, he adds with a proud smile. You’re finishing up your last years as an intern in a Paris hospital, but you haven’t changed your mind about becoming a general practitioner, which you need just a few more years of experience for. You don’t miss how his face falls slightly when you tell him you have a boyfriend and that you’re thinking of getting engaged to him. He tells you he’s happy for you with the saddest eyes. The hug he gives you when you have to leave brings back so many feelings and memories, and even after all these years there’s nothing more that you want to do than stay in his arms and never move again.

You break up with your boyfriend as soon as you get home.

On a random Thursday, you’re done with your decade-long studies, and you’re free to go out into the world, a medical diploma in hand. You get a job in a cabinet owned by a friend of your parents, and you like the job, but you know you’re just passing the time until the opportunity you’ve been waiting for comes around.

Every week, you check whether a spot opens up for a general practitioner in the small town of Laroque-des-Albères. It doesn’t for about eighteen months, until suddenly it does, and in a week you’re packing your bags and taking that trip you took twelve years ago.

Sunghoon doesn’t even know. He could be married with a wife and three kids, for all you know, and it’s foolish but you hope he’s been waiting for you. He’s just finishing up a health check on some of the older horses when you get out of your car, eyes finding him immediately. From the other side of the courtyard, he smiles at you, and it’s like the summer you first fell in love all over again.

permanent taglist: @ozymandia-s @bbujiikseu @sd211 @lalalalawon @sunghoonmybeloved @w3bqrl

© asahicore on tumblr, 2023. please do not repost, plagiarize or translate my works. feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

[twitterpated-passion]

Forever and a Day | Monster Boyfriend

Everyone around you always told you you were crazy…that you’d never accomplish much. Not that you ever tried to prove them wrong. You only let them believe what they wanted to believe. Their opinion didn’t matter, because you weren’t crazy, and you could accomplish stuff that you thought was important.

It didn’t help your self-esteem though. It only got worse and worse with each comment. Well, until Kyna, a jackrabbit hybrid, appeared in your life. That’s when everything changed. That’s when your life turned around for the better.

He came into the coffeehouse you worked at one random day, and just like that…it was like a spark shot inside of you, blowing up in a million different fireworks. You fell quickly, but you never actually told him, appreciating his friendship far more than you cared about risking him not returning your feelings.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

You prepped the machine, already getting Kyna’s coffee ready for him before he came in. He ordered the same thing everyday: a tall coffee with three espresso shots, two pumps of vanilla, creamer and four tablespoons of sugar. He brought his own cinnamon, despite you saying that you had some you could add, but he’d only wave his hand in the air, add it and say something along the lines of ‘it’s different when you do it yourself’. You’d only laugh and take your fifteen minute break to hang out with him, spending what time you could with him before he had to head into work.

It was like clockwork when he’d show up and when he’d leave. You admired his schedule, but you also admired that he always seemed to drop what he was doing if you wanted to hang out. He seemed to live for you…and that in itself gave you something to live for in return.

Today was no different, you perked up when you heard the bell attached to the door ring and you watched as he walked in, large ears stood up on the top of his head like always, a chunky sweater swallowing his plush body whole as he donned his normal pair of cowboy boots and jeans. A walking representation of cozy country. You smiled when his eyes lit up at the sight of you and he rushed over, only to see you holding out his coffee. “You made it already?”

“You order the same thing, Bunny, kinda hard not to prep it.” Red tinged his tan cheeks at the nickname, something he used to hate being called, yet got soft on it whenever you said it, so it stuck pretty fast. “Don’t worry about paying either, I already put the money in the register.”

He pouted a little, giving you a small look before sighing and nodding. “Right. I’ll accept it, but only because I know you’re too stubborn to let me pay you back.”

Your smile widened. “Glad you’ve learned, Bun’.”

You watched as he shot you a small look, grabbing the coffee from your hand before tugging out that container of cinnamon from his bag, adding just a bit to his coffee before stirring it and sipping it, the smile on his face making your heart soar. Your eyes softened as you looked up at him, glancing over at your co-worker before she simply gave you a nod and you quickly went around from behind the counter, following him to his normal table like a lost puppy, sitting with him and letting him take your hand, enjoying the warmth of his calloused fingers, the roughness of his skin scratching at your skin, but you hardly cared.

“So, we still on for movie night?” Kyna asked after a moment of silence. You nodded, not wasting a second.

“Duh, you should bring that snack mix you make sometimes. It’s great and it’d suit binging bad movies until we can’t handle it anymore.” He smiled, scrunching his nose at you before nodding, squeezing your hand.

“Anything for you,” he said. There was a beat of silence between you two, but he ended it, opening his mouth and asking, “You got anyone new in your life?”

You snort. “Me? Oh, no, you’d be the first person to know and even then, I’d probably be kidding myself.”

“Yea, but I want you to get out there more, you’re great, anyone would want to be friends with you,” he started, squeezing your hand again. “And hey, maybe you might find a date? It wouldn’t hurt to try.”

You shook your head. “Nah, not really looking for someone. Sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

You were teasing, obviously, but he shook his head, smile faltering a little. “Never. You’re stuck with me and I’m stuck with you. Forever and always.”

“Forever and a day,” you mumble back, meaning it with your entire heart.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

Sitting down at a table, you scroll through your phone, a little smile on your face as you look through everything, only to jump when you feel a hand on your shoulder, your eyes snapping up, only to see Kyna there. “Oh, good, it’s just you.”

“‘It’s just you’? Ouch, hon, you’d think I’d get a better greeting, being your best friend and all.” You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, waving your hand in the air dismissively before standing and hugging him. “Missed you.”

“It’s been a day since we saw each other, Bunny.”

“A day too long,” He mumbled. You smiled at his words, squeezing him tighter. After a few seconds, you two parted and you both sat down, your phone’s screen facing the table as you put all of your focus on him. Though, that wasn’t anything unusual for you.

Kyna bit at his lip and reached out for your hand, gripping it as his thumb rubbed against your knuckles. Your eyes fell to your hand in his and you felt your cheeks heat up, taking the initiative to squeeze his hand. “You good, Bun’? You look a little nervous.”

He nodded, smiling over at you before squeezing your hand back. “I’m good. Work’s just been stressful recently.”

With a small pout, you nodded a little. “Sorry, Bunny.”

“You gotta stop doing that,” he said. “You keep apologizing for things that aren’t your fault.”

Your cheeks flushed further and you chuckled nervously. “Old habits die hard.”

“That habit should be sixty feet under,” he said. A smile appeared on your face, a wide, genuine one- one that made him smile too. “I’m serious, you need to stop apologizing for shit that isn’t your fault.”

“Yea, but then I wouldn’t see your ears flop like they do, or the way the space between your brow crinkles,” you said. Kyna’s smile widened, turning into a goofy, lopsided grin, making your smile widen, heart soaring at the sight. You bit down on the tip of your tongue, not hard enough to hurt, but just hard enough to suppress the laugh that wanted to leave.

You loved it when he got like that, all happy and carefree. It made him look younger…like he didn’t have as many worries as he did. And you loved it even more when you made him like that. It made you more happy than you could imagine, and despite it being impossible, every single time you got that reaction, you fell in love just a little bit more.

You blinked when Kyna snapped his fingers in front of your face, waving his hand afterwards. “You good, hon?”

With another blink, you nodded, getting out of your thoughts and waving your free hand in the air. “Yea, just thinking.”

“About?” He asked, smile still on his face.

“Don’t worry about it,” you responded, scrunching your nose at him. “It’s nothin’ bad, Bunny, promise.”

He seemed to relax at that, but you still felt the squeeze he gave your hand, calloused fingers digging into your skin a little tighter, a worried look in his eye. Your smile slightly faltered. “You alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just have this…look in your eye…I don’t know.” His grip got tighter and it was like the mood shifted ever-so-slightly. You were concerned, but he moved your hands, lifting it gently before intertwining his fingers with yours, a soft breath leaving him, his nose twitching. That when you knew something was up. “Kyna…what’s wrong? Don’t lie, your nose twitched.”

He sighed, lips pursing a little before he opened his mouth, then shut it almost immediately after. He shook his head. “Not right now, hon.”

“Later?” He nodded. You got the feeling he was telling the truth.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

You paid for the drinks and Kyna tossed down a tip before the two of you made your way out of the restaurant, his arm around your shoulders, your left hand lifted and holding onto his hand. “So, you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

He huffed out a breath and glanced down at you. “You really don’t give up, do you?”

Meeting his eyes, you shot him a look. “You know me. Do I ever give up?”

Kyna smiled, shaking his head. “Nah, you don’t. One of the things I love about you.”

Your eyes widened slightly and his smile grew, a scoff leaving him as he pulled his arm back and nudged you. “You really couldn’t tell?”

“Tell what?” You asked, but you knew what he meant. You just wanted him to say it. You needed him to say it.

One of his brows raised and you grinned up at him, flush touching your cheeks when he tilted your head up when you two got to the curb of the sidewalk, your back against the streetlight before he leaned down and pressed his lips onto yours. Letting out a muffled sound, your eyes fluttered shut and you were quick to kiss him back, arms throwing themselves over his shoulders, pulling him deeper into the kiss.

He loved you. He loved you. He loved you.

He knew you loved him too.

When you two parted, you slowly opened your eyes, smile on your lips as you caught your breath. He looked down at you, the same goofy grin on his face as he asked, lips brushing against yours, “You know what I’m talking about.”

Your smile grew and you kissed him again.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

You breathed out a huff, shoving the last box into the unfurnished living room, standing up straight and wiping your forehead free from the sweat that sat on it thanks to your adventure into moving. Kyna walked out to the living room, not looking any better as he lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face and you couldn’t help but stare at the pudge of his stomach, resisting the urge to grab at it and love on it. Your eyes fell to the way his sweats hung on his hips, catching some of his tail sitting on his back.

“Enjoying the show, love?” You heard him ask, snapping out of your mind before flushing and going back to the boxes. He snorted, walking over to you with a little hop and pressed a kiss to your head. “You’re not slick.”

“Shuddup,” you responded, burying your head against his chest when he pulled you into his arms, kissing your head again. “I just…”

“You just what?” Kyna asked teasingly.

“I like your body,” you muttered against his shirt. “It’s soft.”

His expression softened and he squeezed you. “I like your body too, love.”

He felt the smile you made against his body, squeezing you once more before letting go and lowering his hand to give you a little swat. “Let’s unpack.”

You shot him a shocked look, eyes wide and lips parted before running after him, letting him let out a yell and watching him hop into a run down the hall and up the stairs of your shared house, his laugh contagious as you ran after him, laughing at him as he traps himself in the bedroom, slamming the door shut.

God, you loved him.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

Walking into the house, you had a smile plastered on your face, nudging the door shut with your foot and calling out towards Kyna, knowing he was home from work already, “‘M home, Bunny!”

“Bedroom!” Kyna called in response and you nodded to yourself, setting the paper bag you got from the farmer’s market down, setting your keys beside it before shrugging out of your -his- hoodie. You tossed it on the couch and jogged down the hall and up the stairwell, slowing to a walk as you walked in your room, only to stop five steps in your and Kyna’s room, eyes wide and quickly welling with tears.

He was on one knee, holding a ring in his large hand, pinched between his thumb and pointer finger. His ears were straight up and he was wearing that sweater he knew you loved. He gave you a soft smile, moving on his other knee, holding the ring towards you, urging you to take it. “Marry me? Please?”

You felt tears run down your cheeks and you nodded, letting him slip the ring on your finger before wiping your tears, accepting your hug when you practically threw yourself onto him, smothering his face with kisses. You held onto him tightly, hands digging into his sweater, face buried in the crook of his neck as he held you silently, kissing your temple and letting you calm down.

You did, eventually, pulling away from him and grinning up at him, sniffling before kissing him again. “Love you,” you mumbled against his lips.

“Love you more,” he teased, kissing you again, holding your left hand. “Now we can really be together forever.”

Your grin grew and you nodded. “...Forever and a day.”

Kyna beamed, tears pricking his own eyes as he nodded. “...Forever and a day, sweetheart…”

He hugged you again, squeezing you tightly, like he didn’t want to let go. Then again, neither did you, especially when he kissed your cheek and mumbled, “I can’t wait to love you for the rest of my life.”

That only made you start crying again. Something he immediately tried to stop, shushing you and wiping your tears, despite his own rolling down his cheeks as you two took in the moment. Completely in love and so, utterly ready to take on the rest of your lives together.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

You look through paint swatches, sighing and leaning against the couch, tossing them on the kitchen island and dropping your head in your hands. You felt hands on your shoulders, thumbs digging into your shoulders and easing out the tension as Kyna kissed your head. “Why don't you take a break, love?”

“We have nine months until our wedding, Bun’, I can’t.” You looked back up at him, relaxing nonetheless when you looked up at him. There was a beat of silence, but when you glanced back at the paint swatches, you sighed again. “...Maybe I should.”

He smiled, obviously proud of you before pulling you off of the stool and into his arms. “C’mon, we’re taking a nap.”

You leaned into his body, nodding with a small noise. “Please,” you said.

His thumbs rubbed your body gently and he kissed your nose, carrying you up into your room and laying in bed with you, letting you curl your body into his. “...I can’t believe we have less than a year until we’re married.”

Kyna hummed in agreement. “I know, love, it’s getting closer and closer. But, when we’re married, we’re taking that honeymoon and enjoying ourselves and then we’re gonna come back here and be a real, responsible married couple.”

You hummed back at him, eyes looking up at him. “I love you.”

He smiled at the confession, kissing your forehead, grabbing your hand as the other wrapped around your body. “I love you more.”

“I love you the most,” you responded, mumbling as your exhaustion came over you, forcing your eyes shut and your breathing to slow. Kyna squeezed your hand, smiling down at your sleeping form before tossing a leg over yours and falling asleep with you, pulling you closer to his body, feeling your hands sleepily grip his shirt.

God, he loved you so much.

Hours later, you woke up to him making dinner, a color scheme he knew you’d like laid out on the kitchen island, staring up at you when you looked at it. “You should’ve woken me up when you woke up.”

“You’ve been stressed with work and the wedding. I wanted you to get your sleep,” he said, glancing back at you. You gazed up at him, a soft, sleepy look on your face. “You look like you need more sleep.”

“I’m fine,” you said, shaking your head before walking over to him and wrapping your arms around him, kissing his back. “Thank you.”

“For?” Kyna asked, confused as to why you were suddenly thanking him.

“Just being you,” you said, kissing his back again. “I just…I love you so much…I’m really happy you love me back.”

He smiled softly, turning to face you, pulling you into his arms. “I couldn’t not love you, sweetheart, you’re my favorite person in the world.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, looking up at him and resting your chin on his chest. “You mean that?”

“With all of my heart, love. I couldn’t imagine anyone else being my favorite person, the love of my life…my future spouse.” Your smile grew and he lowered his head down to kiss you. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you responded, looking up at him happily. “For forever and a day.”

His smile widened at that. “Good. Good. Because I’ll love you for forever and a day too.”

You knew he meant it.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

You rushed through the door, plastic bag covering your wedding outfit in hand and a grin on your face. You couldn’t wait to show Kyna. “I’m home, Bunny!”

There was no response. Which was odd, since he was home when you left, and you were only gone for twenty-five minutes to pick it up too.

Your brows furrowed and you set it down on the couch, setting your keys down in the bowl with his keys, walking around the house and checking each room, but Kyna was nowhere to be seen. Even weirder.

You looked out the window, confirming that his car was in the driveway, right beside yours. You turned around when you felt a hand touch you, jumping when you saw Kyna, watching him chuckle a little before giving you a small look. “You’re jumpy today, sweetheart. You good?”

“I couldn’t find you in the house. Like anywhere. I checked everywhere. Where were you?” You asked, trying to calm your heart, but when you saw the flash of fear in his eyes, and his nose twitched, you couldn’t calm your heart, not when you knew something was wrong. “Bunny?”

“...Love…hon…we…we need to talk,” he said softly, grabbing your hands. Fear flashed across your face and your mind started flooding with ‘what ifs’. He brought you to your bed and sat you down, tucking some hair behind your ear. “...You remember when we got together…when you asked if something was wrong?”

“That was almost three years ago, Bun-”

“I know…” he said. “...I…I never did actually tell you what was wrong.”

Your brows furrowed again. “...What?”

He squeezed your hands. “...Honey…I’m not…well…here…so to speak.”

“What?” You repeated. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not real, baby…” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Bunny- Kyna, this isn’t funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny…” Kyna said, pulling you closer. “...Sweetheart…that day at the restaurant…I…I had an accident at work. Someone didn’t put something on right and…well…I got the brunt of it…”

You swallowed thickly, shaking your head, but the look on his face…how serious he was being. Your heart almost stopped, tears pricking your eyes. “But…but you’re here. You’re with me. We’re getting married in three months…!”

“And if I was here with you…we’d be doing that…but I’m not, honey. I haven’t been for a long time.” He was crying, shoulders shaking as his hands gripped your hands tightly.

You felt tears run down your cheeks soon after. You felt like your heart was torn out, especially when he went over to his nightstand, opening it, tugging out an open envelope, something you don’t remember seeing. He handed it to you and you shakily took it. You opened the flap and pulled out a card, a sob ripping from your lips when you saw it.

It was a funeral invitation, done up in Kyna’s favorite color and flower, saying the date was the week after you two got together. “...I don’t remember getting this.”

“You blocked out everything about it…and I mean everything…it was like it never even happened for you,” he explained softly, sitting back down beside you and touching your hand.

“...So you’re not here…?”

“...Not physically, no,” he answered. “But…I’m always gonna be with you, sweetheart. I did love you…I always have…from the day we met. But I was a chicken shit and never confessed.”

“...Until that day…”

“...Until that day,” he confirmed. He grabbed your chin and planted a small, chaste kiss on your lips. “I will always love you. I promise.”

“...For forever and a day…?” You ask. He gave you a wet smile, nodding.

“...For forever and a day.”

[libraryofneith]

Out of Mind - Chapter 2 (Joel Miller x Reader)

Chapter 1 

Second chapter up already. I know right? Or should I say... I know write? Well at least I make myself laugh. Gonna try to upload fairly regularly (famous last words I know) but I’m very excited about this series and I wanna try to pursue it as much as possible but I crave validation so please like, reblog and share. Don’t forget to follow so you know when I update. 

Summary: Tess and Joel track down a thief.

Us. He didn't like that kind of talk, like they were on the same team even though this girl had stolen from them. He didn't like where this was going but he knew better than to fight her on it. Right now they had a criminal to catch.

Warnings/Tags for this chapter: [18+ minors DNI], fighting, Joel being a dick but reader can hold her own, reader uses she/her pronouns BTW, lots of swearing, mentions of pills and brief reference to addiction. 

Joel

"Don't know her name." Mark's knee wouldn't stop shaking and he wouldn't take his eyes off what must've been a fascinating spot on the ground. "Heard her call herself a bunch of different things but I seen her about. Bumping into people left and right, the next thing they know their pockets are empty."

"So she's a pickpocket." Tess fixed him with a look, clearly not happy that he'd been taken in by some common thief. "Oh she's a damn sight more than that. She can filch anything from anyone, even been known to slip in and out of FEDRA barracks." "On her own? No one's that good." "She is, if you believe her bragging." Tess had a different look in her eyes now, one that Joel didn't like. He knew where her mind was going: if they had those kind of skills they wouldn't have to trek across the country for contraband, not always at least. The rational part of his brain knew that it'd be useful to have someone like that on their team but that part of his brain was currently being drowned out by his wounded pride. "Where can we find her?" "Don't know where she lives but I know where she works. She works the streets near the centre of the QZ. Lots of people milling around there, crowds, not keeping an eye on their belongings." "Doesn't exactly narrow it down," Joel growled. Mark shrank back. "Best I can do. She doesn't exactly advertise her personal info." Truth was he'd been more help than they could've hoped for. Poor Mark may be scared of his own shadow but he wasn't an idiot. Probably the only reason he'd survived this long. "Thanks anyway." Tess slid the tea bags over to him. The pay was poor for what this info meant to them but Mark seemed to value them. "If you need anything else..." but they were already on their way to the town square. They kept to the shadows as much as possible, trying not to draw attention to themselves. They kept an eye on crowds, looking for any hands slipping in and out of pockets. Joel's heart leapt in his throat every time someone bumped into another person but it turned out there were a lot of fucking clumsy people in Boston. Then he saw her. She was running the exact same play she'd done to him on some other poor sucker. Looking at her work now, it seemed so obvious the way she rifled around in his jacket pocket but this guy was only focused on her smile glinting up at him, her hand trailing down his chest... "Please tell me you weren't that stupid." Tess's tone was joking but he could see somewhere, buried deep inside, hurt that he'd let some random girl flirt with him, hurt that me might've liked it. "I was too busy trying to get her damn paws off me." She looked slightly reassured but he wondered what she would've done if he’d said he’d liked it, if he'd flirted back. They hadn't put a name on whatever it was they had, never set ground rules for what they could and couldn't do with other people. Despite that, he hadn't slept with anyone else since they'd gotten together, and as far as he knew, neither had she. "Joel, she's on the move." They followed her through a series of winding streets and alleys to an abandoned warehouse district. "That was a long-ass route she took. I know this place, definitely quicker ways to get here." Tess hissed. "You think she knows we're following her?" "Might be. People like us need to know when we're being followed." Us. He didn't like that kind of talk, like they were on the same team even though this girl had stolen from them. He didn't like where this was going but he knew better than to fight her on it. Right now they had a criminal to catch. ---

You You winced as the warehouse doors creaked open. You knew they couldn't see you from your little nook in the roof but you still hated waiting like this. It made you feel like prey before the hunter attacked. "Looks like she split. Not exactly many places to hide here." Joel didn't look convinced, still fingering his trigger. "Holy shit, check out this hoard!" Your body tensed. If they take any of my shit I swear to God... "If she has split she can't have gone far. I wouldn't abandon all this." Now they were rifling through your pile. "Cigarettes, sweets, oh and look here," Joel held up the bag of pills. "Our stash." No no no no. Not that. Not tonight. "Great. We got our shit back, let's go." Joel glared at Tess in response, a glare that would've sent anyone else, maybe even you, scurrying. "We can't just let her get away with..." "We're not letting her get away with shit. We'll come back later, get the jump on her but right now let's just leave before anything else goes wrong." This was it. You moved now or they got away and you lost a major deal. So, gathering your courage you leapt... ---

Joel ... And Joel felt something slam into his back, knocking him to the ground. He fired his gun but he didn't know who or what he was firing at and the gun slipped out of his grip as he went down. He was back on his feet, the girl - who else would it be - still clinging onto him. He slammed them both into the nearest wall. He heard an oof behind him as the girl took most of the impact but she still held on as they both went down. Then there was the cool feeling of steel against his neck and his entire body stilled. "Let him go." If Tess was nervous she didn't show it. Her stance was perfectly still, her gun trained on the girl even as she held Joel up as a shield. "I said. Let. Him. Go." "So you can put a bullet through me? I don't think so." "Don't wanna hurt you kid. Just wanted to get our stuff and to tell you to never to put a hand on our shit again. So why don't you put my partner down and we'll be on our way?" "Not with my pills you won't." "Excuse you, those aren't your pills." "Right. How rude of me to steal what you'd already stolen fair and square." "Why do you need them so bad?" The girl glared down at him and tightened her grip on the knife.

"Don't remember saying you could talk. Why don't you let the grown women handle this." Patronising lil shit. "Answer me. Why do you need those pills? Most folk'd kill for the stash you got back there. If you got a pill problem you could easily steal it off someone else, so why can't you let us leave with that bag?" He could feel her whole body tense, the knife in her hand starting to shake a little as she clearly started to realise she was out of her depth. "Lemme guess, you're making a trade tonight?" "Shut up." "So you are making a trade. Who with?" "None of your business." "It could be," Tess said, her tone softening. "Gonna be real with you kid. You may be a good little pickpocket but you have no idea how to work these streets. Everyone seems to know who you are. Does that seem like a desirable trait in a thief?" "All the right people know who I am." "And you think you know how to deal with them? Take it from someone who knows, the better you are at what you do, the more people will be out to get you." "Fascinating. Is there a point to this?" "The point is we could help you." The girl snorted. "Gee thanks but I'm doing just fine on my own." "For now. What do you think's gonna happen if you show up to that trade-off with nothin to trade?" "Then give me my fucking shit back and I won't open your boyfriend's throat!" Clearly Tess had touched on a nerve. "How about you let us in on the deal since we're your unwilling suppliers and we split whatever you get?" "Fuck you." "Don't be an idiot, think about this. If you start dealing for us we won't just reap the rewards of your hard work. We'll give you a decent cut, we'll teach you how to look after yourself, hell we even have a spare bedroom at our place. You could sleep somewhere that actually has electricity and running water - most of the time." "Look, I don't know where you got off thinking... AAAAAH!" She'd let her grip on her knife loosen just for a second, a second too long. Joel grabbed her wrist and twisted. The knife fell from her hand instantly and Joel was on his feet, her wrist still firmly in his hold. "You wanna rethink our offer?" Tess growled, all traces of warmth gone. The girl looked at Tess, then back at Joel, no trace left of her bravado and sarcasm, just fear and pain. Then one last spark of defiance as she sank her teeth into Joel's hand. "SHIT! MOTHERFUCKER!" Joel wrenched his hand away and the girl was off like a coiled spring. Tess sighed, still unmoved from her spot through the whole ordeal. "Shame." "That's one fucking word for it." "She got you good?" "Better not have fucking rabies. Hope you're gonna give up on this stupid fucking idea of taking her on." "Not yet. I think we still have one card left to play."

[shiningwonderland]

Camus (All Star) Memorial

Translator: Mimi (Twitter: _mimisaurora)

Memorial 11 - Living in Different Worlds

“Have you finished your meal?”

“Yes. I’ve eaten everything today.”

“....How’s your fever?”

“Mild.”

“And chills?”

“Still getting them a little…”

“It’s because you don’t sleep warmly enough despite being sick. I will show you how we sleep in Silk Palace. This method allows you to maintain adequate temperatures and keeps your skin moisturized…” 

I grabbed a few bath towels, and Haruka grew a little flustered for some reason.

“I-I really appreciate the sentiment, but I think it’d be better to continue sleeping the way I do now.”

“Then do as you please.”

It’s been two days since Haruka passed out.

She’s still on the road to recovery, but her cheeks have begun to regain some of its blush.

I sat myself in a chair next to the bed and held out a gift bag.

“Shibuya came while you were sleeping. She said this was a care package for you.”

“Ah. Tomo-chan stopped by….”

Haruka happily held the bag in her hands and smiled. 

One visit from a friend was enough to make her look so happy.

By the look of it, the contents inside were CDs and sheet music.

“When was she here? I wish you had woken me up."

“I figured as much.  But the very stupid look on your face as you soundly slept was enough to make me think twice.”

“Gah. D-Did I really look that pathetic…?”

“Yes. The most pathetic I've ever seen.”

“Eh…”

Haruka held her head in her hands.

…I wish she didn’t take it so seriously.

“In any case, Shibuya would have yelled at me if I tried to wake you up. Recover quickly so you can go and meet with her yourself. She said she'd love to go shopping with you again when you're feeling better.”

“I-I will. I know, I need to get well soon.”

Haruka pulled herself together, laughed, and opened the gift bag. Sure enough, a CD sat on top.

It also looked very old.

“Wow. I’ve been wanting to listen to this one!”

“...Do you have no other interests besides work and housekeeping?”

“Besides work and housekeeping…?”

Haruka tilted her head.

It's honestly not a question worth repeating.

“I have no idea what you do when you're at home alone.”

“Oh, right. Well… Let me give you an example. This past Sunday, I…”

Haruka, in response to my question, began to share about her everyday, but abruptly cut herself off and tilted her head again.

“Um… Why do you ask? You’re not usually one to like to talk so much…”

“You’re asking why…?”

I was stumped for a moment on how to explain myself.

“H-Hmph. I asked on impulse. I truly have no interest in knowing what you do.”

I stood up and reached for the tray on the side table. 

The bowl I’d used to serve porridge was empty.

“Hm. It certainly looks like you finished it.”

“Of course. It was very delicious. You’re a great cook.”

“As a servant to the Queen, I am bound to acquire all manner of skills.”

“Actually…”

“What is it?”

“I'm sorry for only ever feeding you ordinary dishes…” 

“....”

I place the tray on her head. 

Carefully, of course. 

“You fool. I would never eat anything that tastes bad.”

“Um…. Alright.”

Haruka looked up at me from under the tray, her eyes a little worried as she asked.

“If I had to pick between it being delicious or terrible, your cooking would be the former.”

“T-Thank you.”

“It was just the choice between the two. Don’t get too excited. If it tasted bad, I'd have stopped you from cooking anymore. ”

“Ah, but… Cecil mentioned he cooked everyday during the master course, and how awful it turned out.”

“That was mentorship. That cat was living alone in a foreign country and couldn't do anything for himself. If he failed to learn then, he would have a difficult time in the future.”

Haruka gave a little laugh as I responded.

“...What?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking of what a good Senpai you are.”

“...It sounds like you're feeling a lot better.”

I smacked her on the head with the tray this time and she panicked like a little animal.

“Hmph. Everything I just told you was a lie.”

I spun the tray in my hands and the edges of my lips curled into a grin.

“I bullied Aijima into doing all the chores. Since I had been given the role of mentor in the Master Course, I had to act like it in front of Saotome once in a while, even if it was a pain.”

“W-What’s the truth…?”

“Hm. You tell me.”

I hold the tray again. It was probably almost time for me to go to work.

Haruka smiled at me as I was about to check my watch.

“The former was the truth.”

“...Your judgments are far too subjective.”

“You think so…?”

“You should learn that some people in this world are not trustworthy. I have to go to work. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will. Thank you.”

I wordlessly turned on my heel and took the stairs down to the living room. 

Alexander looked up and I lightly pet his head.

“Are you worried about Haruka? She’s fine now.”

I wondered what kind of impact this would have on her given that she was unconscious the entire night she passed out, but by the looks of it, she should be completely recovered in the coming days.

And when she does…

I still couldn’t bring myself to say that she return to the dormitory. 

“...Well, it’s fine.”

There is no need to make someone who is sick dwell on trivial matters. 

It can wait until after she’s better.

—After she’s feeling better.

—She's still recovering, so it's just a matter of time until she returns to full health.

—I’m leaving back to my home country anyway, so not yet…

DaRuma's report brought things to a head, and as everything caught up, the days passed by.

There were so many things to do that getting Haruka back home became an afterthought.

The more intel I can get before returning home, the better. 

I should be considerate to Agna Palace as long as I continue to ask for Aijima's help.

The issue is my job here in Japan. I cannot just quit the agency as there is a possibility Her Majesty may change her mind and order me to continue my work here.

And the solo song...

It was more convenient for us to continue living together, considering the solo song.

“Camus-senpai, can you guess what today’s dessert is?”

Haruka asked with a smile the day before I was to leave. After my return to Silk Palace was decided, she behaved brightly from beginning to end.

“If you have something you want to hide, you'll have to come up with something to keep the scent out.”

“Ugh… I knew you’d figure it out.”

“It’s chocolate.”

“It is! It’s chocolate fondue! Please feel free to have as much as you like.”

Haruka giggled and turned to head for the kitchen to prepare.

“Wait.”

“Yes?”

“Are you… not going to blame me for leaving such a dangerous perfume bottle out?”

Haruka blinked.

“It was scary when I believed the Queen might take over my body, but… now that you’re by my side, it’s fine.”

Did she really mean what she said? 

I genuinely don't know. Does she really not resent being involved in any of this?

As Aijima pointed out, did she not suspect that I had been trying to take advantage of her from the very beginning? 

Wasn't it frightening to witness something like magic in the first place? 

Reflecting on it, I don't think I've ever understood from the beginning.

How could she stick around after the way I was treating her? 

Why is she still with me even after I agreed to cooperate with her debut? 

Why is she smiling at me like this?

Haruka…

The answer was right in front of my face, and I dismissed it. 

I shouldn't even consider it.

She is perhaps like this to everyone. 

Kind, gentle, and unsuspecting. 

I once thought of her as like fresh snow…

“Not snow…. Snow is not warm like she is.”

“Camus-senpai?”

“It’s nothing.”

I shake my head and Haruka looks at me curiously before heading to the kitchen. 

As I watch her back, I think. 

If not snow, then what?

A.... flower.

A white flower which blooms in spring and withers away when the north wind blows. 

On the other hand, I am a mere sword.

I work for Her Majesty, who has no freedom. 

For her, I am willing to sacrifice myself and others. 

Ultimately, I don't know if Haruka is fit to serve as vessel or not. 

Now it is no use thinking about it. 

Yet, for example, if I had met Haruka unaware of everything prior to learning about Her Majesty and Saotome.

I would have brought her to Her Majesty with a smile on my face.

To become Her Majesty's vessel means to be deprived of their freedom and live in the Silk Palace far away from here.

I knew what it meant, and I obeyed Her Majesty's order to search for one. 

In the future, I will continue to use whoever I need to.

The count of several generations ago was once called the White Devil by people of other countries, and I will be the same if my master commands it. 

Then, of course, I must not ever be allowed to even be with someone as pure as Haruka.

“But… I will only for now.”

I will return to my country, come back for the song festival, complete the solo song and that will be the end of it all.

Just one song. I want to sing her song. 

I want to see her fulfill her dream and find success as a songwriter. 

And I know it's only because of these foolish feelings I have for her that I want that. 

I thought I had already suppressed these emotions once, but they resurfaced in the wake of the attack.

I will concede to this passion until the solo song is written. 

Beyond that, no more. 

I stared up at the ceiling and the words slipped from my mouth.

“...The Silk Palace. A paradise of permafrost. A cold but beautiful snowy kingdom shrouded in ice. Under the perfect and absolute queen, many noblemen gather…”

I may be the only person remaining in that country who can truly be called a nobleman right now.

No one else is trying to protect or save the queen. 

Not even my family..

Nevertheless, I cannot afford to back down. 

And for that, these feelings are unnecessary. 

The smell of sweet chocolate wafts from the kitchen.

I hear the sound of Haruka handling a knife. 

Until today. 

Today is the end.

Starting tomorrow, I will forget about these emotions. 

I will put them away, lock the door, and pretend it never happened. 

That would be the best thing to do.

This love has been nothing but a sin from the beginning.

[aaaa-ok]

You took a sip of your coffee, looking over the papers in your other hand. “I think I’ll be a baker this time,” you said, not looking up at me. 

“A baker? Seems a bit boring don’t you think?” By contrast, I always looked at you when you talked. There wasn’t any other way to make sure I’d hear you properly. You always complained when I missed what you were saying because I was looking somewhere else. Lovingly, of course. It was simply one of those you were better at than me.

“Well sure. I can fill the rest of it up with interesting things,” a beat passed as you thought of all the possibilities, “Like maybe I’m a baker who loves skydiving, or travel, or gardening,”

“Gardening?”

“Gardening can be interesting!” The tone in your voice was defensive but playful. It often was, but I suppose I could never count on it. There had been many times, across many lives, where I mistook genuine offense for playfulness. My saving grace was how you looked up at me when it was a joke. I could see it in your eyes. “Especially once you get into the plant splicing and stuff. I could make pomegranate-watermelons. Watergranates”

“Okay I concede, gardening is very interesting. But you could call them Pomermelons,” One thing that was always true, you made good points.  

“And then!” You went on, and I knew there was no hope in stopping you now. “You can be my grumpy bookstore-owning neighbor! It works out too. Book lovers are notorious fans of the Pomermelon and other baked goods.” Another good point. Barnes and Noble doesn’t have Starbucks’ built-in for nothing.

We laughed and I was careful not to choke as I took a sip of my water and picked up my pen, “Okay so you’re a baker and I own a bookstore,” I punctuated my last letter dramatically as I finished writing, making a point to look up at you. “So then where should our businesses be?” We had lived in lots of different places, but it never felt like we had been everywhere. The world was a big place after all, and we were small.

“Obviously we have to live in Indiana. In the US, I mean. It’s a big agricultural state. Plus it's ‘The Crossroads of America’..whatever that means,” You rolled your eyes, jokingly again.

“I think it has to do with it being in the middle of the country? Maybe something about the highways?” Making these decisions was never hard for you. Everything was so obvious to you. Obviously we would live in Indiana. Obviously gardening is interesting. I had a tendency to spend a longer time thinking about things. Weighing the options. Agonizing over it. 

You kicked me under the table, laughing, “You would know something like that. All the better ammo for our lives though. I can be from New York. I’ll be a city girl used to the hustle and bustle, but who craves a simpler life” You took another sip of your coffee as you got back to filling out your form, invigorated by our brainstorming.

I nodded as I thought about where I’d want to be from. This part was always hard for me. It was the living that I looked forward to, not the planning. I got bogged down by details. Nothing ever felt right until I was there and couldn’t remember any of the choices I made. Looking down at my paper, I scanned the information at the top, hoping to have the answers leap out at me.

“Carefully evaluate the available options for environments, relationships, and personal attributes, considering how each choice will affect the grander scheme of your future life. Confirm your selections with complete certainty to shape a meaningful and intentional next life, as all choices are final and irrevocable.”

When given so many options, it’d be crazy to not try to live differently every time. I had been a pirate, a farmer, a poet, and we had done it all together. But we quickly learned that some things could never change. The way my eyes would wander when someone was talking to me, or the way you were never a morning person, no matter how hard you tried. The way I always looked at you first, after a joke or when entering a new room it didn’t matter. That was a good one.

There was lots of talk down there, for all of time, about the nature of vibes and auras and essence, and what any one of those things meant. The reality of it was just as unexplainable and intangible as the theories. It was just the way one was. In our heart of hearts, in the deepest parts of our souls, some pieces of us would always remain. Knowing that made it easy to go back down and try new things, to be someone completely different, because I never could be completely different. I would still be me. And you would still be you. And even if I didn’t have to write you in on my forms, fill in the blanks where you fit best, I felt I could find you a million times over, through all the fine print. 

“Doesn’t it ever bother you?” I finally said. While the silence had been comfortable, it still felt broken when I spoke up. You must’ve heard something in my tone of voice, exasperation maybe, because you stopped writing and looked up at me, silently asking me to elaborate, “The repetition of it all, I mean. We live, we die, we pick a new life, and then we live exactly that. No mystery. No real excitement. It’s just exactly what we know it’s going to be,”

“But we don’t know what it’s going to be. We don’t remember anything when we get there,” 

“Well yes, I know. That’s a good point. I guess I just..” I took a breath, it was exhausting, expressing myself. “When we come back, it doesn’t feel...fulfilling. Like when you watch a movie you think you’ve never seen before, but by the end of it you realize you actually have seen it and it’s just been a while. I don’t know. Do other people feel this way?” I look away, towards the white void around us. I wished there were other people here. Granted, your company was plenty, and if I had to pick one person, it would always be you. But someone a little more similar to me would be nice on occasion. Maybe that was reason enough to go back.

You paused before answering, clearly putting a lot of thought into it, something I always respected about you. Most people wouldn’t have guessed you were so thoughtful from the way you commanded so much attention just by being in a room, but they hadn’t seen you in as many realities as I had. They didn’t know as many versions of You.

“Maybe they do, and maybe it does get a little boring sometimes” You shrugged, clearly not agreeing with me, but made sure to catch my eye again, knowing my mind would wander. “But this in-between stuff isn’t important. Sure, it’s timeless and infinite, but it loses meaning that way. We make decisions on these papers,” You held up your stack, crumpling it in the process, “But they’re just papers! What matters is what we do when we’re down there”

“But it’s predestined!” I moaned.

“That doesn’t matter. We’re still doing it, still living” You leaned back in your chair. There was something about your unflappable nature that often made me feel like everything was okay. It was grounding, and that’s a unique experience when you’re sitting in a void. “It’s like I said, everything here is just temporary. Ad-interim, if you will. It’s good to reflect about our past lives or whatever, to talk it out, but the meaning of life is to live. And I choose, everytime, to live it with you. I’d rather choose that then leave it to chance. Wouldn’t you?” Your voice was dripping with uncertainty as you leaned forward. I softened at the sound of it.

“Of course I would. Every time. It’s just exhausting having to make so many choices at once. It doesn’t feel that way, obviously, when we’re down there. You do everything over the course of your whole life. There’s no stupid form, no clinical void. It’s just..life. If there was a way to just let life happen, without having to pick it all ahead of time..” I sighed, looking up into the void for answers. Nothing ever changed in the space. We died, and we ended up here. I could accept it was a temporary necessity, to get us where we needed to be, but constantly coming back felt like so much weight for such an empty place. It would be nice if the weight was one I had given to it, and not just there by some universal cosmic forces.

 “You know, If we did leave it to chance..” My eyes roamed as I continued to look up, anywhere but at you. Even the afterlife can be a nervous place, I guess. “I could always count on seeing you here..when we were done.”

“Okay so… to be clear..you want to go into life blind, with no certainty that things will go any sort of way that makes sense or is fair, without being sure you’ll have learned any great lessons or contributed to the world. You would rather risk everything going to shit, not living with me, and fighting against so many forces outside of your control for however long you might be lucky enough to live, just so you won’t be bored?” I felt it was an oversimplification, but you hit the important parts.

“What’s more interesting than not knowing what’ll happen next?” I offered in retort.

“Hmmm, maybe gardening?”

“Good point.”

[orangespottedgiraffe]

I wanted to go ask a question during office hours and there was another student there asking questions about our presentation. You know completely different from homework questions. This kid I was with kept insisting we interrupt the other student to go sit down. Like i feel it’d be different if the other student was asking about homework but no they were talking about their project and he kept insisting let’s go inside. Bro as it is she is shy y would we make her uncomfortable by going inside and making her feel rushed.

Idk their white privilege is always present. Like it’s glaring and annoying. I have never hung out with legit ethnically Caucasian people before like back home yeah I know them say hi be friendly but like truly getting to know them is different. Like everytime he speaks I’m left like ok. Sometimes I’m talking to another student about something say clothes and he’ll join the conversation but just doesn’t think to try and continue it because they’ll center themselves and then change topic. Like we talking about theme parks and I wanted to ask another kid how was Disney Shanghai cuz he said he went. Why he just completely change topics to class work just to end the conversation. It be pissing me off cuz I’m like first I want to know more about the students in surrounded by. The foreign students are often quiet but like I want know more about where u from, what u do, how’s life back home, u miss it. All these things and he’ll center himself. Like ok it’s cool u have/ do that but let’s ask them too. Are u not interested in learning more about the other students, learning more about anything. Then he make weird backhanded comments. Like “idk why these kids are always late like…?” Boy if u don’t mind ur fucking business. Buying from Starbucks too like ugh.

Anyway it just bugged me today cuz I’m like why do u enjoy being the center of attention so much. Also there was a conference in a western Asian countries like by Kazakhstan we in the US mind u, he goes I wouldn’t be able to go I’m gay. Bro u can easily hide u gayness one and two ur white and u would be at an international conference i don’t think they’re gonna fucking shoot u on site. There are gay people in Kazakhstan too like idk. It was such a weird thing to say I was like u worried about that. It seems like he holds the few identities like that.

Like he be trying to compare his struggles as a gay man to a black student. What. How are u a white man trying to compare ur struggle to a black student…. In stem for that matter. We got two back students out of like 30. You need be fucking serious for like 5 minutes. Like it’s weird little tidbits like that where I’m like what it’s not very fun to talk with u.

This kid be pissing me off all semester sorry. He’s a good kid overall just annoying academically, and sometimes he says stupid shit where I’m like why are speaking. I guess he tries to make himself cooler than he seems but it just comes off as white man privilege-y.

And also u didn’t live in CA if u left at a young age. U lived majority of ur life in another state and that’s ok. Like I’ll be like oh I’m from ca and he’s like me too. No ur not ur from OK. That’s ok too like u white. Ur bro can claim he from ca cuz he’s old and lived there more. U need to claim OK. It’s ok. Idk shit piss me off

Also very speaking with white people like walking on eggshells u can be like “ugh white people” without them being like well actually I’m not 100% white 😐

[frozcnlight]

A witch.

Miran couldn’t help but blink surprised at the woman in front of her, who apparently knew her name. In her country, witches were only shown in picture books. She remembered those pictures, the nose big and sharp and their back round like an apple. But this woman… she was so much different. Miran couldn’t help but feel uneasy with that fact and she started to fumble with her fingers as she stared at the bright surface of the garden table between them. It wasn’t because of the witch, don’t understand her wrong. But more because she was reminded of the words her parents would throw at her, after they figured out that she was capable of healing others. In their eyes, such things as magic wasn’t something to hold pride in - it was something they tried to forbid. Which might be the very reason why she wasn’t a very good healer. It was something she had scorned for most of her life, held it back and never used it, unless it were on her siblings and secretly.

“The world is a scary place… and a lonely one as well.”, she tilted her head and gave a sad smile, “Miss witch, we humans are cowards. Or well, at very least I am. If I were to go back to life, I fear whatever would await me.”. Miran exhaled a shaky breath. Her family was killed by Regulus’ people and her hotel was destroyed. She could leave in freedom, but for what price? It’d be lonely and she would live with the guilt of her little sister never having been able to grow to an adult. Besides all that, she was in a country far away from hers. She knew nobody and at the same time she didn’t want to return to where she came from. The fear sat deep in her bones of what she would witness if she were to ever go back.

The blonde female hugged herself, azure eyes focused on the cup of tea - it reminded her of better times, but those were once. “I’m scared.”, Miran admitted with her voice barely audible, “I want to live. I really want to. But I’m afraid of a lonely future. I’m not capable of being on my own, nobody ever taught me the most important things to survive, I…”. Her gaze was glued to the white book.

“Pardon me, miss witch. It must be annoying to see how all I do is pity myself. When all I need to do is to work on myself. But what if I fail? All my life I had to be the perfect, little doll my parents wished me to be. It was my purpose in life. But now… I can just be the way I want to be and it’s overwhelming.”

“Your still alive …” She said to her, if she was dead, they would not be having this conversation right now, she reached out through the void before she had passed and was merely delaying time and nothing more, time here flowed different in the real world, she had little to be concerned about, so she can enjoy her tea, and her cake, enjoy the conversation with someone who did not seek out a way to harm them and use them in any dangerous plots and schemes. “The sword saint is still alive.” As she hummed and sipped. “Not quite easily killed, I predict he is going to reach you before you pass.” If she knew anything about sword saints, and she knew a great deal, having faced against the first sword saint four hundred years ago, is that they don’t let people die when they are around. “Have you given up, on living?” As she asked.

“His powers only work, if he loves you, or what he believes love is, almost like a child in a way, the watered-down version of love, like it is written on a sheet of paper, that holds no meaning at all.” As she told her the truth, she was doomed from the start, because Regulus, would fall for anyone that meets his standards and that would be it, there was nothing to stop him then, once he loves you, your heart is taken and then it is all over for you, the only way to truly stop a monster like that, would be if you are willing to become a monster yourself and try and find his hidden heart and slay it, but then again, who was going to massacre hundreds of ladies, held hostage by him.

“The witch Pandora, never was interested in teaching them anything.” As she hummed. “A monster is not born into the world, it has to be created from something living, it works best, if the person is beaten, broken, worn down, alone and in need for something, which is what lead to this.” How Regulus and the others had been created.

“Humans, are not meant to have a witches power, you have seen the results.” As she would lean forward. “I am a witch, love is a idea, a concept, something to study, research, learn and then use, I was killed before I ever had the chance to truly experience it myself, a pity for the man that loved me, I was starting to believe I might have loved him back.” What did it matter anyway, as she would remove, a white book from her lap and place it onto the table and slide it across to her.

“You might have seen this before with him and his followers.” Only those books, are black. “Inferior copies, stolen from my work, controlled by someone else and ensure devotion, faith and blind loyal dogs.”  That Pandora, was writing there future for them and ensuring everything they do was for her.

“Miran, do you want to live or die, I can aid you with either one if you ask?”

[tharizdun-03]

Love Live! Sunshine!! Season 1: EP 8-13 Watchthrough

EP 1-7 Watchtrough: https://www.tumblr.com/tharizdun-03/721223136709935105/love-live-sunshine-season-1-ep-1-7?source=share

#8: "Isn't It Frustrating?"

ZERO??? Not a single person voted for them? Not one? Jeez.

wasting paper tho, when you could've emailed

Thirteen million people in Tokyo? That's like, a whole third more than my entire country. But it is also a huge city. Stockholm, the biggest city here, is 188 km². Tokyo is 2 194 km².

Yeah, I guess that makes sense. If they kind of jump started the whole trend, of course it'd be way more difficult now.

god the seniors' conflict is presented so dramatically i love it lol

this is great. Riko rushing out for Chika cause she's scared she drowned herself, them being gay in the water, and Chika's outburst. Honoka was never vulnerable like this, she would've just brushed it off, so this makes the drama in sunshine!! a lot more effective.

#9: "Young Dreamer"

THAT WAS SO GOOD! The drama has always been melodramatic in Love Live, but it really worked here. It feels totally earned, it's gay as hell, and that final reveal with Dia, dude. AAAAH!!

sunshine!! is so fucking good. the only reason i forgive it for not branching out from its predecessor too much is just because it's taking everything it did and executing it so much better, everything works here.

the other series in the franchise gotta do something different, cause they perfected the formula here ngl.

#10: "We've Got Stewshine"

THEY ARE SO GAY

listen, the series is never gonna like make a textually explicit romance, because the japanese market is still too socially regressive for a big name franchise to capitalize on that, but i know the artists want to, and they're putting as much gay as they can for us fans!!

these two are so cute

the seniors, along with yohane, are fucking insane lol. massive, massive dorks all of them, and i love the energy they're adding now that they're properly part of the cast.

I must say, Sunshine totally puts me in the headspace that I was in when I watched K-On!! It, along with Bocchi has been the most effective at carrying its spirit, although in different ways. I am having such fun.

coincidence that both K-On!! and Sunshine!! have two !! in their names? no, the staff knows, they know.

#11: "Aye Aye, My Friend"

oh my god you literally imagining different ways to confess to chika

they are getting away with as much as they possible can

and as per usual, the best solution to any love triangle is polyamory. go for it girls.

also, she's super cute in this get up, please have her in sloppy pajamas and glasses more like???

also, i know i'm freaking out over the gay stuff a lot (but honestly, it's just super gay, like even the original didn't have that much subtext) but the storytelling in sunshine!! overall is a lot smart and emotionally complex. it's just great stuff.

#12: "It's Time to Fly"

Okay, what the fuck even is Honoka??? In the movie, we met like an adult version of her, and now there's a kid version of her in Sunshine? Does being a school idol just eventually give you magical time travel powers or something?

Love Live always had trouble closing its seasons, cause it just got too indulgent in its own mushy sentimentality and vague metaphors (Honoka's insistent jumps over puddles, for example) and Sunshine kinda did the same thing here, but we arrived at an appropriate conclusion.

Aquors need to be their own thing. They can't be like μ's. And the message itself is kinda obvious and whatever, but it did make me realize, I don't really want a cameo (another, at least. fucking honoka). Let Aquors be its own thing the second season onwards.

On MAL, Sunshine is listed as a sequel to its predecessor, but the other Love Live series aren't, so I assume the staff realize they'll be too shackled if they don't fully let go.

#13: "Sunshine!!"

yeah... that just wasn’t very good. basically just a long recap of what the girls went through which... i mean, i saw it. you don’t need to recap it for me lol. shame, but expected the season finale to be underwhelming. doesn’t take anything away though, but it’s an episode i’d skip on a rewatch.

Overall Thoughts

Love Live Sunshine!! Season 1 managed to improve on pretty much everything the original did. It can still get a bit self indulgent (especially by the end), but the comedy is snappier than ever and the drama plenty effective. I’m actually REALLY surprised by how supremely structured everything was. The Chika/Riko/You arcs were fantastic, and I thought characters like Yohane and Hanamaru both got great introductions as well. This feels like the Love Live formula perfected.

[anthonybialy]

A Taxing Day

Numbers are tricky for advocates of sanctioned looting.  Fans of the IRS can’t even understand calendars.  The pillager on behalf of counterproductive claptrap is beloved by statist goons who treat January 6 like September 11 and Tax Day like their birthdays.  The unnecessary evil of making a rather mandatory payment should stick with coerced participants for the rest of the year.  We’re paying all that time, anyway.

Levy haruspices examine sheep entrails to determine your burden portion.  The utter randomness of determining returns sums up government work in its way.  Guessing how much you owe leads to a different answer every time and depending on who prepares it, which keeps life surprising.

Any figure is guaranteed to be wrong.  The ability to interpret the code like a painting is great news as long as you work for an entity determined to use the alleged rule of law to grab as much as they please.  Capricious rulers use Alice in Wonderland as a guidebook.

You’re not allowed to know you ever had those funds in a rather obvious trick.  Losing access to all those bills will hurt less if the bookie takes the vig instantly.  Withholding means 

never seeing what’s yoinked, which is the sneakiest way to steal.  The mob specialty becomes lawful once cabal members get elected and proclaim such.

Grabby collectivists think currency can never be private property.  The ghastly mentality fits right in with every other horrifying notion about how our loving leaders see peasants as hosts.  Using the excuse of wartime to withhold a massive chunk was a knee-jerk solution to current events that naturally never expired.

Keeping currency someone else gave you for your tasks is just like any other right.  Federal goons should have to justify what they take.  By contrast, the autonomous don’t need to provide a reason for using free speech to describe their guns in a dwelling with no cops prowling about.  “Free people” is redundant even as grabby politicians try to make living costly.

Only one way can make thieving worse, namely framing what’s plundered as inadequate.  Giving away the booty from an unfathomably high percentage of work hours comes nowhere near paying for all the useless waste inflicted.  Preeners about governmental intervention boast of helping others and communalizing responsibility, which are nice ways of framing how awful people won’t do nice things voluntarily.  

Taxing consumption and not income is the least worst option even though they of course both suck.  Noting we get ripped off to fund dreck shouldn’t be breaking news.

There’s a better solution to fund the worst government.  A national sales tax is hideous and also marginally less repulsive than the present system of guessing one’s way out of an audit.  If we have to pay something, make it almost nothing.  Get the vampiric draining over with at the time of purchase.

Shutting down the IRS is only the start of the fun.  Firing agents will create far more employment if you want an investment that’ll pay off.  Crazy dreamers want to figure what you owe using math so simple that even Democrats can comprehend it.  Remind them most fancy modern glowing screen phones are equipped with calculators.

All of what you earn is yours.  That shouldn’t be controversial.  Galt’s Gulch residents want a crazy liberty-based country where the results of valuable toil are no longer seized so hideous autocrats can overspend on garbage you don’t want or need for your benefit.

It’d be paid.  Your federal financial burden ought to be right there on the receipt.  Ask for one printed out to keep records while helping the paper industry.  A flat percentage would result in the fairness Democrats always claim they crave.  To class warfare warriors, everyone should end up equally poor in order to have a just society.

The philosophical benefits of free people taking home what someone gave them monetarily in exchange for labor match the practical effects.  The huge spike in economic activity would be a sign to meddlesome politicians, namely that they’re worse than useless.  Anything that makes what should be temporary governmental workers fear unemployment helps everyone else.  There’d be enough prosperity from full paychecks to make it harder to suffer in poverty, which scares dispensers of compulsory aid.

Liberated funds would make the living wage preeners always demand possible.  Compassion junkies don’t grasp the irony of making it more difficult, which makes it like everything else.  Legislators and executives don’t need to keep yanking up the minimum hourly rate to compensate for financial woe.  We have to keep explaining to liberals how the economy will improve once they stop trying to improve the economy.

A retail tax would same percentage for everyone, which should have been the goal all along.  By contrast, punishing those who make more brings down more than envy.  Proclaiming that rich bastards can afford it is lame justification for legal thieving from criminal allies who have done the same with the formerly illegal version.  Taking at a higher rate because that currency should belong to all of us is the same excuse used for confiscating all rights, so at least beliefs are stable.

Seeing just how much all this government costs should be much easier.  Besieged Americans construct lives based around budgeting in order to fund a leviathan that never bothers.  A direct bill would spur spending people actually want, what with the novel concept of seeing the price.  The percentage listed of how much they’re getting ripped off would stand in contrast to the items taken home from the cart.

The downside is a benefit.  Taxing purchases is going to look like a fortune.  And it should.  Sanctimony about relinquishing funds to fund more of it should be much harder to pull off.  Seeing just how much those who exploit authority charge for the privilege will keep the cut low.  Market incentives are the last thing your rulers want applied to levies, which is why we should implement them dozens of Tax Days ago.

[simthorium]

Kamaria stood in front of a large diorama of Sim City, stroking her chin as she thought deeply about improvements she could make to her home town. Being mayor was as difficult as it was rewarding, but she knew she could make her city great, and wanted to work hard to do so. Today’s meeting was to discuss the implementation of a high-speed rail that connected all of the many different neighborhoods of Sim City: Pleasantview, Downtown, Midtown, Bluewater Village, Belladonna Cove, West Valley, Sedona Heights, Strangetown, Desiderata Valley, Veronaville, and Riverblossom Hills. It was an ambitious project, but Kamaria was passionate about it, and she wanted it to be her legacy.

Her team was comprised of some of the smartest minds in the city, and she felt grateful to have them by her side. Her office was small, and she liked it that way; she knew there was a portion of the city that resented that descendants of the Zarro family wielded so much power in the city, and thought it was best to pare down on extravagances in that respect. “A bullet train would never work,” said Tim, an architect brought on for the project. “We’re talking about a multi-million dollar, decades-long project!” “We might not even still be in office by completion,” said Farrah, Kamaria’s chief of staff. “Who’s to say the next administration won’t abandon it?” “Or take the credit,” added Jen, another office worker.

“Guys!” Kamaria exclaimed, stopping the chatter in the room. “This is bigger than one administration, it’s bigger than all of us. Sim City has to opportunity to be one of the best cities in the country, and the luxury of getting us there falls on us. I know it’s not going to be easy. It’s gonna take years, decades even. And it’s gonna cost a hell of a lot of money. But if we’re successful, it’ll be one of the biggest accomplishments this city has ever seen.”

“And if it’s unsuccessful?” Tim asked. Kamaria crossed her arms. “It won’t be,” she said. “How can you guarantee that?”he asked. “I can’t,” Kamaria said. “But I think it’s a good idea to go into this project with a positive mindset. I’m not saying we should ignore the risks; it’s important to keep those in mind every step of the way and create a plan to mitigate. But this is life-changing stuff we’re talking about, people.”

Kamaria grabbed Jen’s hand and pulled her to the diorama.  “Imagine how easy it’d be to be to go from Pleasantview to West Valley in under an hour,” Kamaria said, waving her hand through the air for dramatic effect. “Or how convenient it’d be for college kids to visit their families back home on weekends. We’d be changing lives.”

“It’s just a train,” Farrah muttered. “It’s not just a train,” Kamaria said. “It’s a vehicle that would open up access to the entire city. If you have a car, it’s easy to forget just how difficult it is to traverse this city by foot or bus. Right now, if I wanted to get from my cousin’s house in Pleasantview to...well, another cousin’s house in West Valley, without driving, it’d take over 4 hours. I’d have to take 3 different buses, walk a few miles, and then take another 2 buses. That’s ridiculous! Not to mention how much pollution such a journey would cause.”

“You really wanna do this, huh?” Farrah asked with a smile.  “I really do,” Kamaria said. “And I really need my team behind me. I can’t do something this big without you.” The team looked around at each other, all weighing the pros and cons of such a large-scale project. “We’re in,” Jen said to cheers and applause of her colleagues. 

Long after her staff had gone home for the day, Amar popped into her office. “I feel like you’re one step from asking me to put a bed in here so you can be at the office 24 hours a day,” Amar said, playing with the diorama. “Don’t tempt me,” Kamaria muttered, typing furiously on her laptop.

“I knew I’d find you here,” Shea said, waltzing in soon after her dad. “Am I really that predictable?” Kamaria asked. She looked out the window to see it was pitch black outside. “Yeah, pretty much,” said Shea. “But, at least we have a mayor that gives a damn about the city now, so I guess I can’t complain too much.”

“Is this the train idea you’ve been talking about?” Amar asked. Kamaria smiled and hopped out of her chair, rushing over to show her family the details. “It is!” she said. “We’re finally gonna have a train system that hits every single neighborhood in Sim City. It’ll be a huge project, and honestly it’ll mean more hours at the office, but it’s going to be amazing!” “I’m proud of you, mom,” Shea said, beaming at the way her mom’s face lit up while she talked about the project. “Me too,” said Amar. “And the two of us are here for you, whatever you need.”

[amateurd18]

Hii Ami!! Secret Santa here!! Happy Tuesday!! Hope your weekend was a relaxing one, hun!! ✨

My week has been going well so far. Passing by faster than I had expected for a week that’s a little stressful in terms of having to go to the airport later this week. If there’s nothing I dislike the most is the airport 🫠. The one thing I’m excited for is that while in PR, im going to a concert for a reggaeton duo called Wisin y Yandel. I’ve been listening to their music for almost as long as I can remember! They’re a big part of my childhood so being able to see them one more time before the end of the year is something I’m excited for, definitely! Around this time, it’s still relatively hot, but not as hot as it gets within the months of May-August!! Still hot during the day, but a lot cooler at night. Regardless, it’s really cold where I live so it’s gonna be great to get out of it for a while 😅.

Priorities indeed lol!! I’d do that, yeah!! My spoken Spanish is t the best, be I can help you understand it just a bit more, if that helps!! I know European Spanish is a little different than Caribbean Spanish, but we can give it a go!! I also love that Spanish has so many different ways to call things, so I’m always curious how different Spanish-speaking countries call things.

You got to watch Louis livestream? Love that for you! I was at work while it was happening, so I only got to see the photos that get released on tumblr about what was going on at the time. I heard nothing but good things about his show!! Did you notice the rainbow lights?!? That’s all we could talk about in the gc I’m in!! 🥺✨

More speed round questions!! Are you a coffee or a tea person? When I was younger, I was neither!! But now, I’ve grown to have an appreciation for the two in different scenarios!! But if I had to choose, it’d be coffee (never black coffee tho!!). Do you know any other languages? I know you’re learning Spanish atm, but are you familiar with anything else?! What do you enjoy doing on a rainy day? I tend to just stay in bed and watch a comforting tv show/movie or play video games. The true key to my heart: video games lol. Do you have a favorite number? Very silly question lol. Mine’s 20. 🎄✨

Hello hello! I'm so sorry this is so late. Real life took over, then we had a few dinners with friends and things and I've been exhausted. But I'm back! How are you?

Speed round answers: tea / coffee - both! And hot chocolate! Which i pick kinda depends on my mood, but i don't have a major preference one way or the other

I speak a few of the Indian languages, but outside of those, nothing else. Spanish is a wip learning, but i wanna learn more languages too, at some point.

I'm very much a chai (made the Indian way) and curl up with a movie on a rainy day person.

What's your fav video game? And i don't really have a fav number but if anyone asks I always say 4, so there's that.

[darlingshane]

Expensive Delights: Part 4

Julian Kaye x F!Reader

— Read below or at AO3.

Summary: Julian didn’t know how heavily that was weighing inside him. He doesn’t give it much thought nowadays. Hearing you say that, only validates those restless nights in prison that had him wondering if it was his fault or not. He wondered if he should have gone into a different direction after being released, instead of falling into old habits. But he promised himself that it'd be under his own terms this time. 

Word Count: 22,3k (7 Chapters)

— Rating: 18+

Warnings!!!! Explicit, Smut, Male Escort, Voyeurism, Sex, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Menstrual Sex, Public Sex, Public BJ’s, Mild Anal Play, Attempted Sexual Assault, Mention of Attempted Sexual Assault, Murder, Attempted Murder, Mention of Grooming, Mention of Underage Sex, Mention of Past Abortion, Kidnapping, Sex Club, Trauma, PTSD, Smoking, Guns, Non-Con Touching, Non-Con Drug use, Non-Con Kissing.

A/N: This part came out very dark, angsty, and with a lot of warnings. They're all listed above, make sure to go through those before jumping into it.  Julian and Reader go through a lot, so buckle your seatbelt and read with caution. Also, this might contain 2 potential spoilers. I've made up the plot of this part out of tidbits of information about the show, and I'm predicting that at least one of those will happen.

Links: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Series Masterpost / AO3

Chapter 1: Exposé

 “How well do you know Julian?”

It's a question you've been fearing. It comes out of one of your best friend's mouth. The three of them– Eve, Sasha, and Yvonne sat you down when you went back to Portland to collect the rest of your belongings and sort some things out in your old apartment.

It was official. You were going to move permanently to Los Angeles, and you couldn't afford to keep a lease to a place you barely lived in anymore. So, after finishing your tour on the east side of the country, you went back to Portland.

Before you could attend to any of that, you found yourself in the middle of an intervention that your close-knit group of friends staged. They found out what Julian truly did for a living and ganged up on you, trying to convince you to really think things through before moving away for good.

They explained that someone recognized Julian in one of the photos Von had on the display wall in her studio. It was a former classmate, Claire from high school, who came into her shop. According to this woman that you’ve only talked to twice in your life, she had a friend who worked with Martina Duvall– young billionaire extraordinaire, big LA socialite, and heir to Duvall Cosmetics along with her three sisters. Claire boasted about being invited to Martina’s 25th week-long birthday party in a yacht and the set of boy toys the billionaire had hired for her and her friends’ entertainment. One of them was Julian– Martina's personal favorite.

Not only that, but they went further and searched for anything on him and discovered about his time in prison too from old news clips on the internet.

It’s not the fact that they found out about Jules that's bothering you. Had it been up to you, you would’ve told them the truth a long time ago, but it was never your truth to tell. It was his. And he chose to keep it a secret for this exact same reason.

The judgmental look on their faces, plus the earnest sympathy for you cause they think he had duped you somehow, and the time they put into investigating him, is what truly shocks you. You’ve always had very open-minded friends, but at this moment they’re showing just the opposite.

“He never lied to me,” you have to explain, “I knew who he was from the beginning and I know what I’m getting myself into.”

“Okay, so he’s an escort, that’s fine. We can look past that,” says Sasha, “but he’s also a murderer. Doesn’t that worry you?”

“No, cause he isn’t. He was set up.”

“That’s what he told you?” Von scoffs, “are you hearing yourself? He was set up. That’s gotta be one of the oldest excuses in the book, along with my dog ate my homework.”

“That’s the fucking truth,” you mutter, exasperated, with an eye roll.

“We’re just looking out for you, hon. You have a tendency of picking the wrong guys.” Eve words out in a condescending tone, “And right now, you’re about to do something drastic you might regret one day. We’re just asking you to really think it through before it becomes another Logan situation.”

“Fuck you, Evie!” you breathe fire through your mouth and nose at the audacity of her trying to compare this to what happened with your ex, “this is nothing like Logan’s.”

“You haven’t been the same since,” Sasha adds, “and you don’t seem like yourself right now… I mean, you even blew that meeting with that agent I set you with the other day. You’ve never done something like that.”

“Are you serious right now? That meeting was a joke,” you pause, “I didn’t blow it. That agent was a fucking sleaze bag. He got all over me in the first five minutes and wanted me to blow him off. How’s that? Do you think I shoulda stay, huh?” you pause again, and swallow, showing a firm hand, “that’s really unprofessional of you to bring that up in the middle of this, Sasha. This is not the place.”

She stares at you, perplexed, and suddenly her gaze falls to the ground, mumbling her apologies.

“If you guys were truly looking out for me, you would ask about how I feel. You’d listen to what I’m saying cause it’s really not sinking in… I love Jules, and he loves me. He’s nothing like Logan. He’s never lied to me or hurt me. And the only thing I’ll regret one day, is doubting myself and not moving out faster.”

This argument was just the cherry on top after the disastrous trip you’ve had. You were prepared to have some setbacks, but everything went from smooth sailing to dire straits the second you flew to New York and then came back. You didn’t have time to recover from nearly being sexually assaulted when you were forced to sit and listen to all this. You haven’t even told Julian yet cause didn't want to do it via phone.

With a heavy heart, you pack half the stuff you had left here and donate the other half.

You were supposed to stay for another week but as soon as the paperwork is done, and all your things are sorted, you just want to go back to your new home. So, you book the first fly available that you can find.

After handing out the keys and leaving the building for the last time to wait for your cab, Sasha shows up.

“Hey, can we talk?”

“I don’t have much time,” you stand on the stoop, clutching the handle of your suitcase in your fist.

“Look, I'll get straight to the point,” she draws some air and gestures with a hand, “I talked to the agency and told them what that creep Gillespie did to you. They just called me back, apologized, and said that they're still interested in meeting with you. They're sending someone new here if you want.”

“Why are they doing that?”

“What do you mean, why, babe? You're killing it right now. They're not dumb. Just tell me when you're ready, and I schedule it for you. It'll be someone legit this time. I'm making sure of that.”

“Thanks. I uh, I owe you an apology…” you look down for a beat, “you’ve been asking me for months to get off duty and I haven’t listened. It was really easy for me just to work with you, cause I’ve known you forever.”

“No need to apologize. I love working with you, but there are some barriers I can’t cut through like someone who’s an actual agent would… I’ve been winging it, really.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re doing amazing. And whoever they send, they'll never be as good as you.”

“So, we're cool?”

“We're cool.”

“Wait…” she then notices your baggage next to you, “you’re leaving already? I thought you were staying a few more days.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Because of our conversation the other day?”

You nod, “there’s nothing to think through. I already did… for months. It’s not a decision that I made overnight, like Evie said. I love Julian and I know what I’m doing. You don’t have to like it, or him. You just gotta accept it. And if I changed somehow… it wasn’t because of him. He’s not manipulating me in any way… this all just me, finally doing what I always wanted to do.”

“That’s the other thing I came here to say. I’m sorry too… It wasn’t right the way we cornered you like that… or how I brought the meeting up without talking to you first in private, that was only our business. I’ve been thinking about what you said… and even though I can’t help worrying about you… I do trust you, and I accept that you’re doing what it’s best for you. I’ll always have your back a hundred percent.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, keeping tears away from rolling down your cheeks.

“I know you do, you always had… and I’m sorry about the way I reacted. I didn’t wanna keep that from you. I can only tell you that Jules has never fooled me and I’m fully aware of what I’m getting into.”

“So, you really love him?”

“I do,” you sigh, watching the cab pulling up at the end of the street.

“Do you wanna talk about what happened in the meeting?”

“No, not now. Cab’s here.”

“Well, call me then.”

“I will.”

She hesitantly extends an arm in your direction, and you release the handle of your suitcase to give your friend a tight hug before parting.

“Don’t be a stranger, hotshot,” she kisses your cheek and lets you go.

By the time you arrive at Los Angeles it’s already night and Julian picks you up from the airport.

Even though you made up with Sasha, you’re still emotionally drained from everything and barely have anything to say during the ride. He knows about your friends, but you still haven't built up the courage to tell him about what happened in New York, and it keeps gnawing at you.

Back home, you change into comfortable clothes, order some food and sit at the breakfast bar to have your meal.

“Are you mad that they found out about me or what they told you about what happened at the yacht?”

“Neither,” you say, playing with your fork, tidying your thoughts, “it's the way that they chose to share that with me… made me feel like a child who didn't know any better.”

“No matter how you look at it, there's no right way to tell someone something like that.”

“Are you taking their side?”

“No, baby. The only side I'm taking is yours … I'm just playing devil's advocate here. I'd like to have friends who cared about me like that. And if I were in their shoes, I'd worry too about seeing you dating someone like me.”

“You're sweet,” you extend your hand to the side and pet his hair, “I wish they could see this side of you.”

“Just give them time to adjust. They'll come around like Sasha did.”

He's right, sooner or later you'll sit down again with them and probably laugh about the whole thing, but right now it still hurts a little.

“Oh, I forgot to show you something,” he licks his thumb and rises from the bar stool to procure his phone.

On the screen, he shows you a picture of a dog, an adult Siberian Husky, with five newborn-pups curled close to her.

“They’re Bailey’s,” he explains, “you said once you wanted a dog, and she’s given them for adoption. Asked her if she could save one for you if you want.”

You stay silent, staring at the lovely picture.

“You don’t have to decide right now… they gotta stay at least another month or two with their mom.”

“No, I’ve always wanted to have one,” you glance at him, as he lays his phone down on the counter, “I’d love to, but… are you sure we’re ready to have a puppy right now?”

“It's not like we’re having a kid.”

“Still, it is a big step.”

“Bigger than you moving in with me?”

You shake your head, and exhale, “can I think about it?”

“Yeah, take your time, baby.”

After dinner, you fall half-asleep on the couch watching TV while he does the dishes.

“C'mere, sweetheart,” Julian carefully picks you up and transports you to bed.

Curling to your side, you tuck your arms to your chest, as he settles behind you, hugging your body.

He then kisses your ear, having his hand nicely massaging your bare thigh in circles, switching from using his fingers to knead and brush his knuckles afterwards. You try closing your eyes but instead of lulling you to sleep it evokes your mind and body to wake up.

“Hmm, Julian, baby, you're turning me on.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing,” he scoffs, and nips at your neck just to tease you further.

“It is. I got my period yesterday.”

“You know, I don’t give a fuck about that.”

“I know you don't,” you smile to yourself, sending a hand back to caress his head, “but last time we did, we made a mess out of the sheets. It looked like a crime scene.”

His laugh is printed on your skin before pulling his head back, “you want me to stop? We have all the time in the world, sweetheart.”

You glance over your shoulder to find his eyes, “no, I don't want you to stop.”

His head bows to capture your lips slowly while his hand slips between your legs. You're so sensitive, he doesn't have to press hard to have you bucking against his hand.

When you press your ass back against his crotch, you feel him swelling. You push harder, earning you a groan that vibrates into the kiss.

“Wanna take your cup out, honey?” he purrs, and pecks your lips twice more, sending a shiver down your spine.

How does he even make that sound sexy is unbeknownst to you.

You comply with his wishes and disappear into the bathroom to remove and clean your menstrual cup while he lays a couple of towels on the bed.

Admittedly, no matter how messy it gets, some of the best orgasms you've had were during your period. Especially with him. You've never had a boyfriend who was as ready to go with your flow as Julian is.

Sans clothes now, you climb into bed with him and return to your former position, lying on your side, with your back leaned on his chest.

“This is how you want it, sweetheart?” Jules peppers your neck with kisses, letting his palm mold the bared plane of your curves.

“Yeah,” it comes almost in a half gasp.

Your body temperature seems cooler than your center, and you drape a thin sheet over your body while he adjusts your top leg, so he can penetrate you better.

“Go slow, baby,” you request as he lines up and breaches your entrance smoothly.

“Like this?” His hips sensually wave, slipping in and out gently out of you.

“Yeah… that's perfect, Jules,” your lips part against the pillow, as your top hand clutches to his muscled thigh, following his movements.

His warm breath covers the curve between your neck and shoulder with sweet praises and I love yous, as his hand massages your tender breasts with great care.

Your thighs are quickly coated in a layer of your fluids the more he moves. When you're close, his fingers travel between your legs, blindly finding your clit. He easily tips you over the edge and has you moaning at his name with gentle circles, and the twitching of his cock.

It feels really intense, and somewhat oddly amazing when your walls clench around him.

He carefully slips out, letting the hot mixture of you and him gush down your leg. You feel it at the back of your thigh and reach with your hand to wipe yourself with the towel and roll the fabric around your waist. Mess avoided.

He wipes his fingers and cock and engulfs you in his arms once more.

“You're so beautiful like this,” he coos, kissing your jaw, reiterating, “so damn beautiful.”

You huff a breathless laugh and tilt your head to the side, so you can see and seize his plump lips.

Sighing pleased, you capture his mouth with love, exploring his kiss as you keep melting, and falling deeper for him, if that's even possible anymore.

Chapter 2: Deep Waters

A few days after you've fully settled, things start looking up again… for a millisecond. This hasn’t been your month so far, and no matter how happy you are when you’re with Julian, there are things happening outside the world you’ve made with him that could burst your little bubble of happiness.

Julian is reclined on one of the loungers by the pool in the patio, clad in flowered-trunks, an unbuttoned shirt, and aviators, reading the paper like an old man while you swim laps.

“Hey,” you stop after a few minutes and splash some water on him to claim his attention, “are you gonna come in, or you're just going to sit there looking pretty all morning?”

He snorts, peeking at you behind the newspaper, “you're the one who wanted to swim.”

“Yeah, it feels good. You should try it,” you brace your arms on the edge of the pool and rest for a minute, kicking your legs slowly in the mass of water.

“I prefer watching you.”

“Oh, I see, you don’t wanna mess up your beautiful hair,” you keep messing with him.

His lips turn into a smirk and after a second he sets the paper on the floor, removes his sunglasses, and shrugs off his shirt as he stands up; making you regret your words by the way he playfully looks at you.

You push yourself off the edge and swim backwards, as he elegantly steps into the water by sitting on the edge first, and submerging himself fully before swimming underwater towards your direction.

When he reaches you, he grabs your waist, and pulls himself up, emerging to the surface in front of you.

“What did you say, again?” He breathes out.

Huffing a laugh, you push his hair off his forehead and link your arms around his neck.

“I said that you’re too vain for swimming.”

“Am I now?”

“Uh-hmm. I’m pretty sure you’ve never used the pool until I got here.”

His lips frown downward quickly, amused, as you kiss the bridge of his nose.

“C'mere,” he secures his feet at the bottom, grabs your legs, and tucks them around his hips.

Having his hands holding your ass, he licks his lips and cocks his head to capture your mouth. His tongue delves past your teeth and twirls firmly with yours.

You hum into the kiss, clutching harder to his neck as his bulge bumps with your center.

“Jules,” you mumble, noticing him getting a hard-on behind the fabric.

“What is it, honey?”

“People are going to see us.”

“You're getting shy now? Didn't you give me a handy in a restaurant once?”

“Ugh, don’t say handy like that. And that was different,” you chuckle, “these are our neighbors.”

“You should've thought of that before getting me to swim with you, huh?” he pushes you further back until you're pressed between his body and the wall of the pool.

All of a sudden, the wind is knocked out of you when he fuses his lips with yours, clearly determined and enticed on having you begging for more. Underwater, he presses and rubs himself against you, earning a moan out of you.

His lips then move away to nibble at your neck as one of his hands finds a way to curl beneath your leg and tease at your entrance over the fabric of your swimwear.

“Jules, baby, let's go upstairs,” you gasp, “please.”

“Yeah?” he gives a final lick to your neck and quickly ushers you out of the pool.

You can barely restrain from tearing each other's swimsuits in the elevator. As soon as you're inside the apartment, clothes fly off and with no time to get to the bedroom, he bends you over the back of the couch. He massages your clit with the blunt, hard tip of his cock before sinking into your opening. He frames your hips and slams into you with unbridled passion until you're filled with him.

It's not even noon when you relax on the couch and go at it once more. Slowly this time. Facing him, you drape your leg over his hip and guide his length into you.

Sharing his warmth breath, you nip at his bottom lip, as you rock your hips back and forth, swallowing him whole.

His top arm curls beneath your hip, extending his fingers to drag your juices to your asshole. He smears them around the sweet nerves of your tight orifice with a nice massage.

“You're gonna make me come,” you heavily pant.

“That's the idea,” he grins, pressing a little harder, “how does it feel?”

“Good… so fucking good,” your lips curve up, utterly mesmerized and overtaken by the electricity of his fingers exploring new places of your body.

“Oh God, I love you,” you moan as your walls flutter by surprise around his cock.

“Not as much I love you, sweetheart,” he exhales, removing his fingers off you, having his cock twitching in the middle of your orgasm, coating your walls a second time.

You’re both absolutely spent after that, and after lunch you take a little nap.

That has been the best part of your day so far.

Things roll into a different direction in the afternoon after Eli, Julian’s friend and associate, shows up, bringing Jules’ convertible from the car wash and his dry-cleaning.

“Can’t believe he makes you pick up his clothes too,” you say amused.

“Hey, he pays well.”

“I bet he does.”

You go out for a walk and pick up some groceries while they talk business.

When you come back, Eli is gone and Julian is tensely braced to the kitchen bar, staring at your phone.

“What's wrong?” you ask, leaving the grocery bag on the counter, standing on the other side of the bar, parking your ass on one of the stools.

“Who's Adam Gillespie?”

You swallow, as your stomach suddenly drops, “where did you hear that name?”

He points at your phone, frowning at you, “you left it here… it was blowing up, so I took the call and this guy started yelling like an asshole about getting fired because of you. He said that you were going to regret ever opening your mouth, and threatened to ruin your life for being a… so, I'm asking who's Adam and what the hell is he talking about?”

“I uh, this is not how I wanted to tell you,” you sigh, glancing at your hand as you anxiously scrape the skin of your thumb. “I didn't know he was fired… on my last day in New York I had a meeting with him, and we barely got to talk when he got…he got his hands on me and tried to kiss me…”

“Did he hurt you?”

Your eyes sting, welling up quickly, unable to put a sentence together.

“No… not physically… he said that… you know, the usual… that if I get to my knees and… he'd make sure I'd have a great career… I just… I pushed him off and ran… I told Sasha, and she called his agency, and I guess they weren't happy about it.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“I was going to… I wasn't ready yet.”

“Why not? Don’t you trust me?”

“Why are you making this about you? I just told you that I wasn't ready. I was embarrassed, and wanted to forget about it, alright?”

“I thought we weren’t keeping secrets.”

“That’s ironic!” your anxiousness suddenly snaps into anger.

“What does that supposed to mean? I’ve told you everything.”

“You think I don’t know that you’re texting and calling your clients when you’re home? How I’ve been pretending not to notice when you sneak out to smoke?”

“That’s different. That is for work.”

“Well, that was a business meeting for me, so how is it any different? And I've never given you permission to pick up my phone. I don't care if it was on fire, I never told you that you could.”

You stand up and storm towards the bedroom before letting him see you cry. You're not sure which part makes you angrier and sadder. The fact that he didn't react like you expected him to, or that he invaded your privacy like that. He knows about your ex, so he's clearly aware that picking up your phone wasn't the best idea.

You slam the door shut and bury your face in the pillow, wanting to scream your lungs out of your chest.

Julian, on the other hand, feeling like an asshole, stays unmovable from his position; chocked up and annoyed at himself from not handling that better. He was betrayed by his own insecurities that feared you were keeping this from him on purpose before he could process what was done to you. He couldn't even bring himself to yell at that asshole when he picked up the phone.

He’s now stunned by the thought of someone trying to hurt you, and gives himself a timeout to find the right words to say before talking to you again.

A beep goes off from his phone reminding him that he has to leave in an hour, so ready or not, he arms himself with courage and love and cautiously enters the bedroom. He finds you crumpled on your side of the bed, clutching the pillow.

You’re done crying, but you still refuse to look at him when you hear the door closing.

“Sweetheart…” you feel the bed shifting as he sits on the edge.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” it comes out watery out of your throat.

“I won't. I was just going to say that I’m sorry… You’re right. I shouldn’t have picked up your phone or pry that out of you in that manner. I just… I heard him say all those things about you and I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

“You thought that I’d lie to you?”

“No, it wasn’t that…” he pauses, “can you look at me, baby?”

You shake your head.

“Then, tell me what to do. I just want you to feel comfortable talking to me about anything.”

“I don’t know… It felt like you were judging me, Jules.”

“I wasn’t, baby. I swear. It’s not an excuse, but this, what you and I have, is very new to me… I've never lived with a partner before, and I have my insecurities too. But I didn't think for a second that you were making it up… you didn't deserve that… and if I could, I'd knock the lights out of that motherfucker right now.”

You sigh, processing his words.

“What are you insecure about?”

“That one day you'd realize that I'm not good enough for you, and see that there are better men suited for you out there. I still wake up every day wondering how I got you… you're everything I've ever wished for and more. And you’re absolutely right, I have my secrets too, and If I screw this up… I don't know what I'd do without you… did I screw up?”

“No, you didn't screw up. You just saved yourself,” you finally glance over your shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you swallow the knot in your gullet and tentatively reach with your hand.

“Can I touch you now?”

You nod, and he picks your hand, lifting it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

“What secrets are you keeping from me?” You wonder, and sit up, crossing your legs.

“There’s…” his voice wavers, “there’s something that I never told you about how I started, how I became an escort.”

“You said Anne introduced you to that world.”

“She did.” He pauses and exhales, “I don’t want you to think less of me if I tell you this.”

“Jules, I'm not gonna, I promise.”

“Okay,” he clears his throat and after a moment of gathering his thoughts he confides in you that he was groomed by Anne when he was only 16. She was 30, and he didn’t know how inappropriate that was, or had any notion of what grooming meant at the time. Being with an older woman was something he and his friends had been fantasizing about since they hit puberty, and he never thought twice of saying no to her offer. He used to clean her pool and care for her garden and plants, and one day she asked him if he wanted to make some extra money. That little extra took him to her bedroom, where she took the top of her bikini and asked him to give her a massage. The first few times, it was just that. Then, it quickly escalated, and eventually she became the first woman he ever had sex with, and the first who ever paid him for it. He was caught in her net and fell for it, completely. She taught him everything he knew, dressed him, and lavished him. But it wasn’t until he was 18 that she’d introduce him into the world, where she set him up with his second client right before he went to college. She even paid for half of that too to keep him close, he believes. And no matter if he did enjoy the experience, there’s no doubt in him that, as a grown ass man, he’d never do something like that to someone that age. It’s unthinkable to him. He got a few moments of clarity in prison, that was one of them. It was really fucked up, and kept him up at night for months.

You listen to it all, perplexed, and absolutely appalled at her behavior as he finishes telling the story…

“Sex and money were the same to me, she taught me that, and at some point I couldn’t have one without the other. Not until Michelle, and then… you. You both showed me what real love feels like, and that broke that idea that was implanted in me at a very young age. I guess finding out about Adam triggered something…”

You inhale sharply, having a huge knot building up in your throat.

“Please say something,” he pleads under his breath.

“I love you,” you say, plain and honest, extending your hand to caress his neck, “I’d never think less of you for that, Jules. It wasn’t your fault to be abused, the same way it wasn’t mine either. Nobody should be subjected to something like that.”

“But I couldn’t say no like you did.”

“Babe, you were a kid. We’re told that grown-ups know better since birth, and it isn’t until we’re old that we realized that half of them are fucked up. I saw how tense you were at the restaurant in Santa Barbara when we saw her; and the way she talked to you and called you Julie… it makes me sick to know that she used you like that and have the nerve to think that you'd even entertain the idea of working for her again.”

Julian didn’t know how heavily that was weighing inside him. He doesn’t give it much thought nowadays. Hearing you say that, only validates those restless nights in prison that had him wondering if it was his fault or not. He wondered if he should have gone into a different direction after being released, instead of falling into old habits. But he promised himself that it'd be under his own terms this time. To be honest, he doesn't believe he's that good at doing anything else, and likes both, money and sex, too much to give that up. He's living up to his promise, however. His work doesn't come first as it used to. His life with you is the most important thing to him, and given the chance, he'd go broke before letting go of you.

“Do you have any more secrets?” You ask, “maybe not as big as that one… if you do, I want you to feel comfortable talking to me too, y'know?”

“That was it. The things I do for work, they're not really a secret, baby. But I gotta keep those for your sake and their privacy. You have to understand that.”

“I do understand. I wasn't asking about work.”

He makes an effort to dive deep into his thoughts and shakes his head, “I got nothing else, then. Now you know everything about me. Is there anything you wanna tell me about?”

“Well… I guess it's only fair to tell you that I did something too when I was young that I never told anyone, not even my friends or my family.”

“What was it?”

“It wasn't anything bad. It was something very heavy and personal.” You grant yourself a couple of beats before uttering those words for the first time since it happened. It's odd to hear them out of your mouth, like it didn't happen to you, “I got pregnant when I was in college and I couldn't… I had an abortion as soon as I could. It really messed me out for a while. Though, I was positive that I'd never have kids, there were a few weeks when I felt like I'd done something really, really wrong.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No, not all,” you quickly emphasize, “I've never wondered what if. I know it was the right choice.”

“Were you alone?”

“No, I had a boyfriend.”

“What did he say?”

“Oh, he was very supportive. I was really nervous to tell him, but he stepped up and said he'd have my back no matter what I chose. He was with me every step of the way, and took care of me when I felt like a mess… I mean, It was as much his fault as it was mine. We were caught up in that haze of being so smitten with the other at the beginning that we ran out of condoms a couple of times and we both just said– fuck it,” you flicker a nervous smile.

“He sounds like a keeper. What happened to him?”

“Caught him cheating on me a year after that. Think he got another girl pregnant too… someone told me right before graduation.”

“Not a keeper, then.”

“Nope.” You smack your lips comically as the beeping of his phone goes off, “do you really have to go?”

“Yeah, it's one of my regulars. Why?”

“I just wanna keep talking to you like this,” you sit on your knees, link your arms around his neck, and kiss the corner of his mouth.

“I want that, too, sweetheart,” he palms your back. “It'll be only a few hours. Want me to wake you when I come back?”

You slide your palm around his head, having your fingers caught massaging his earlobe sweetly, “Yeah, I'd like that.”

That conversation feels like the most taxing thing you've done in a while. But it's gratifying to be open like that with him. You don't like keeping secrets, but there are still parts of you that you hold to yourself because you're often afraid of being judged. And so does he. You could tell he was apprehensive of sharing that with you.

After composing yourself, you work on your computer while Julian gets ready for work.

He kisses you goodbye, and you spend another hour finishing an article for a magazine you occasionally write for.

When you’re done, you decide to go for another swim. It relaxes you. You’ve been doing it every other day before going to bed, and it works like a charm. Especially when it’s this hot.

Mrs. Rosenbaum from 4C had the same idea as you, and you chat some with her before she goes back up to have dinner with her husband.

It’s already dark, and after several laps you catch your breath at the end of the pool where you can stand, listening to the music blasting from a car parked on the other side of the wall.

You swim two more laps, and when your head emerges from the surface at the deeper end, it's suddenly pressed down back underwater by an unwavering hand, or two, you assume by the force that's put into it. It grips at your hair, which makes it impossible for you to swim away.

You can still hear the music muffled underneath as you gasp for air, try to yell, kick your feet in the water as hard as you can.

There’s a distorted shadow on the surface of the water when you manage to look up once. You fight it and fight it, growing weak by the second until the little breath you have left is replaced by water and everything goes black…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

There’s a pressure on your diaphragm when your eyes open again, like a jolt, you start coughing up water violently. The burning that spreads through your lungs doesn’t ease up until you’ve expelled the tiniest drop that was clinging to your air passage. It leaves your chest hurting terribly bad.

Then, you notice someone talking to you, but you’re not sure who they are or what they are saying. They roll you to your side, soothing your back gently. You can only shiver and meltdown, unaware if this is a nightmare or if someone just tried to drown you for real.

You hear sirens, and suddenly you’re being moved again and checked out by the paramedics, you recognize, before they stretcher you into an ambulance.

After missing four calls from the lobby of the apartment building, Julian finally picks up the phone after stepping out of the shower. His heart almost shatters in his chest, hearing the night concierge giving him the news that one of the neighbors saw a man trying to drown you just minutes ago and that you were just taken to the hospital.

He doesn’t think twice. He quickly collects his car keys and hops into the convertible to drive back to Los Angeles. He’s an hour away and calls Eli to go check on you in the meantime.

With a steady lead foot on the pedal, he doesn’t stop until he’s at the hospital where they’ve taken you.

There are two officers that just took your statement who are heading out, and tell him what they know so far…

According to Robert, key witness and neighbor from apartment 2B– he saw a man holding you underwater from his window and ran down to your rescue. He alerted the concierge at the front desk, who called the police. By the time Robert got downstairs and out to the pool, the man had dragged your body out of the pool and was taking a picture of your almost lifeless body, stretched on the hard surface. The attacker was fully dressed in black, with gloves and balaclava masking his identity, and quickly climbed out the wall before they could get to him.

Your rescuers performed CPR on you, saving your life in a matter of minutes. They said you weren’t out for longer than two. Everything happened so fast, they couldn’t even tell.

It’s a relief to hear that at the end, but you’re still understandably shaken, and terrified.

Eli and his girlfriend haven’t left your side for the past hour, that has felt like a year. And when Julian comes into the room, you burst into tears.

He holds your hand, and you see his eyes become glossy under the fluorescent light.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says gruffly, gently wiping the tears off your cheek with his free hand. You can’t bring your mouth to say anything, so you just lean on his touch, and hold tightly to his hand.

Your friends quietly step out, giving you two a moment.

You pull his hand, and he settles next to you in the bed, cuddling you.

“I shouldn’t have left you.”

“You didn’t know,” you finally say, chocked up, “it could have happened anyway.”

“Still, I should’ve been with you…”

“You’re here now.”

He kisses your temple, feeling useless on how to comfort you better. The truth is that just him being here, holding you, makes you feel already safe.

Chapter 3: Kafkaesque

There are a lot of sayings about hope… right now, you only feel dread and despair making themselves at home in your chest. There are no feathers, or birds singing for you, only a shadow that shoves all promises and dreams deep into that pool along with you.

You can still taste the chlorine in your mouth when you wake up in the hospital bed. They kept you for the night to observe how your lungs and vitals responded before discharging you in the morning.

You dress up in clothes that aren’t yours, cause the only thing you had on when they brought you in was your swimsuit. It’s such a minuscule thing to care about; and when they hand you that piece of clothing in a hospital bag, you ask Julian to throw it away. That is a reminder you don’t want to hold on to.

When you arrive at the apartment building, you take the elevator straight up to the 8th floor to avoid bumping into anyone altogether. You don’t have much luck, though. When the doors open, there’s a determined woman poking around the hallway, waiting for you. A woman that seems to know Julian already.

“Mr. Kaye.”

“Detective Sunday.”

She then takes a good look at you, and her stoic expression grows more puzzled the longer she stares at you.

After a moment, she apologizes and introduces herself to you, badge and everything, telling you that she's been assigned to your case, and she'd like to talk to you.

“Now is not a good time,” Julian responds for you, keeping you close with one arm around you, as you make your way to the door.

“We can do this here or at the station. Whatever you prefer, ma’am.”

“It's okay, I'll do it,” you nod at Julian.

You'd rather not do this at all, but you wanna see that the person who did this to you is brought to justice.

Your boyfriend opens the door and gives the open space a glance-over before letting you in. He shows the detective to the dining table, where you can settle and talk. He brings you a soda and gets the coffee machine going, listening to you recount what you remember from last night.

Detective Sunday then explains that your file landed on her desk because she's been investigating a series of murders where women are being drowned. Her theory was very far-fetched when she drove here, but after meeting you, she's absolutely certain your attacker is the same who killed those women.

What surprised her a minute ago is the uncanny resemblance you share with the other victims.

Your throat tightly knots as she lays down on the table the pictures, showing the four women in just regular snapshots of their life before they were murdered.

“Do you recognize any of them?”

You shake your head, unable to pull your eyes away from the photos. You can see parts of yourself in these women. They all have a similar complexion to yours, same eye and hair color, features close enough in proportion; and all are roughly the same age.

“What does it mean?”

“We don’t know yet?”

“But you have a theory?”

“My best guess is that someone is infatuated with you.”

What leads the detective to that conclusion is that he not only let you live, but the attacker slightly changed his MO. The other women were drugged prior to being murdered. It’s almost ritualistic, she explains. They were first injected with the drug, then they were drowned and placed somewhere nearby outside the water in a very specific position.

According to your blood work from mere hours ago, you weren’t administered a sedative like they had. He wanted you to feel it for whatever twisted reason he made up in his mind.

There’s also the other factor that got her here–  your tattoo. The officer who took your statement at the hospital saw it printed on your skin and made a note about it on his report.

“Can you show me your arm?”

You lift your arm to let her see the dragonfly inked near your wrist, on the outer side of your forearm.

She proceeds to take a picture of it and question you when you got it and if it has any special meaning to you.

“I got it when I was 18. It was something my friend sketched that I liked,” you shrug and take a sip of your soda, “what does it have to do with all this?”

“Well, we've kept it under wraps, but the four women had the same tattoo temporarily placed on their arms.” She opens the folder placed between her elbows, “I'm going to show you another picture, and you tell me if it's the same or not.”

You nod, and she slides a photo across the table that shows a close up of an arm where you can clearly see the tattoo is basically a copy of yours.

Julian joins you at the table, placing a mug with coffee for the detective, and sits down on the chair next to yours.

“Why me?” You swallow and shift uncomfortably on your seat, glancing at their photos, “why them?”

“I'm not sure yet,” Sunday pauses to taste her coffee. “How long have you two been together?”

You look at the other and respond to a series of questions about your relationship.

“Do you have any enemies? A disgruntled ex-boyfriend, maybe?” she asks next, and you look at Julian.

“Tell her,” he utters, placing a gentle palm on your lower back.

Sighing, you proceed to tell her about your ex, Logan Palmer, and that psycho that called yesterday to say he was going to ruin your life. You doubt Adam Gillespie has anything to do with this, but the detective takes note of everything.

“When did you last see your ex?”

“Three years ago.”

“And you didn’t extend that initial restraining order?”

“No. Last I heard, he went back to Canada, and I didn’t think he’d be a problem anymore.”

“I’ll look into it. What about you, Mr. Kaye, did you make any enemies in prison?”

His lips frown downwards, “No. I kept my head down.”

The detective stays silent for a long moment, going through her papers.

“Why did he take a picture of me?” your voice trembles when you ask that out loud.

Julian’s hand soothes up and down your back.

“We don’t know yet. All women were found in a very specific position, like he was staging a photo, or a painting… and for your neighbor's statement, you were placed just like that.”

“Were they raped?” you question right after that.

Sunday shakes her head, “nothing indicated in the examination that they were forced into having sex.”

“But they could have.”

“For what the records show, they didn't suffer. They were treated gently; worshiped almost,” she says in the same stern, monotone voice.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” your voice breaks, “a psychopath held me underwater until I couldn’t breathe. That didn’t feel gentle… It was more violent than you can imagine.”

“No, you're right. I can't imagine. I'm sorry, ma'am,” you see the calculating woman hesitate for the first time.

You look to the side, swallowing a sob, wiping the tears sliding down your face.

“What now, Detective?” Asks Julian.

“She's our only lead right now. I'm going to put a detail on her until we get more information.”

“What about the security cameras?”

“My officers are on it right now, but this guy is highly skilled. He's managed to trespass any security system he's encountered, and there's no trace of him anywhere.”

“Have you checked into that? Maybe he's some sort of… hacker.”

“We're looking into every angle, Kaye,” she tucks everything back into her folder, “if you don't have any more questions or information, we're done for now.”

“Software engineering,” you mumble, without looking at her, “Logan. That's what he does. I'm not sure if that…”

“Got it,” the detective notes that, before reminding you lastly, “It goes without saying that what you just heard is all confidential.”

She leaves a card on the table with her contact information, and Julian shows her to the door.

You walk up to the balcony to see the patio far down below, where maintenance is cleaning the pool like nothing ever happened.

After the door is closed, Julian calls your name softly, and you turn your head to the side.

“You have to call Sasha,” he tells you.

“I uh… I’ll do it later.”

“Babe… you can’t put it off. It’s better if they hear it from you and not the press.”

“Why would the press say anything?

“This is LA, sweetheart. Everyone wants their pound of flesh. As soon as they find out, they’ll be lining up outside… I know it’s one hell of a thing to tell anybody, but your friends need to know.”

You gulp the knot in your throat and pick up your phone with much apprehension and call your friend Sasha.

Julian was right. Hours after you got home, news broke, and reporters started showing up at the doors of the building.

A week later, there are still a few showing up daily waiting for you to come out.

Given that you were the only one who survived out of the five, there’s been a lot of speculation in the news about you. You've kept the TV off, but according to Sasha, they’ve dissected any piece of your life they could find on the internet. Your online print has slowly grown in the past few months, so there’s a lot to dig into. Luckily, most of it is about your work, there are only a few real tidbits of yourself out in the open. Still, you have no interest in whatever the so-called experts in those crime shows have to say about you. And you cross your fingers, hoping this doesn’t splash or reflect badly on your friends or Julian. You’d hate to be the cause this interferes with their lives.

The phone hasn’t stopped ringing, either, to the point you had to shut it off for hours at a time.

It’s not something you're proud of at this moment, but after your identity was revealed, the book sales went off the charts, and suddenly everyone wants a piece of it. Because pain sells, you've been approached by more than one publisher that has offered insane amounts of money for a deal. It'd be great if any of them hadn't come with the pesky condition that in exchange you'd have to write an all-tell book about what happened to you. It might be naive and crazy to pass up an opportunity like that, but as tempting as it is, you don’t wanna cash in your trauma. It’s hard just to live with it as it is, and you’d never be comfortable selling that part of you.

On the other end, you got yourself caught researching the other victims, trying to find a link with them other than the obvious resemblance. Just a click away from your fingertips, you can easily find each of their names, their hobbies, where they lived, what they did for a living… It only serves to unsettle you even further.

You blame yourself for their deaths. Especially after that specific piece of information you got from Sunday. They were marked with the same dragonfly you have on your arm, as if someone was trying to make a copy out of you. For what purpose? You’re not sure. Maybe they’re just infatuated with you, like the detective said. Or perhaps they have a festering grudge towards you, and they’re trying to scare you.

Your mind unravels with all the information you get your hands into. If you had trouble sleeping, this just serves to fuel your restless state.

How does someone bounce from something like that unscathed?  You’ll probably need some help along the way. This has brought all the weakness to the surface you’ve worked so hard to push through, and they all paralyze you at once. It’s actually ridiculous, you can’t even take a bath without thinking of someone pushing your head underwater. You can’t sleep for more than an hour or two before reliving that in your dreams.

Detective Sunday calls a couple of times to give some information after digging into your former boyfriend; and Adam Gillespie. The latter has airtight alibis for each of the murders, and the night you were attacked. Logan, however, seems to be missing. He was in Ontario for a couple of years, but his current girlfriend, and mother to his one-year-old baby, reported his disappearance five months ago. It's really concerning given that's about the time when they found the first victim.

You haven’t left the apartment in 10 long days, though you had gone up to the rooftop, mostly at night with Julian, just to get some air and see the stars. He hasn’t left your side, either, other than to go pick up grocery deliveries and care packages your friends have sent. If something good has come up from this is that you’ve settled your disagreements with Von and Eve, and that’s been a huge help to get through this while the investigation is ongoing.

Julian has been incredibly patient and has put all his energy on making you feel comfortable that you feel that he’s put his life on hold for you, unconditionally. So, on the 11th day of your seclusion, you make an effort to get out of bed before he wakes up and prepare breakfast for him.

He's half awake when you carry the tray to the bedroom. His body stirs up at the smell, and turns to the side, and his mouth lovingly quirks up at the corners.

“Good morning, baby,” you whisper.

“Morning, honey,” he sits up against the headboard, and you place the tray on the mattress, so it’s hovering over his lap, “is this for me?”

Nodding, you lean closer and smooch his lips.

“Hmm, love some sugar in the morning,” she says gruffly, tracing your jaw with his fingers as you pull your head back. “Are we celebrating anything special?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Hm-huh,” you kneel by his side, let out a sight before rambling, “I just wanted to say thank you for taking care of me. You’ve gone up and beyond to make me feel safe, and I’ve been nothing but useless…”

“Babe-”

“No, let me finish, please… I’ve always been very independent, and now I feel like I can’t function if you’re not here, and it’s not fair to you or me… I know I’m going to be fine eventually. I just wish I could leap to the end. I hate feeling this scared all the time…”

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he opens an inviting arm, and you curl against his side as he presses his lips to your temple, “you don’t have to thank me. I’d do anything for you.”

“I wish we could just go somewhere and forget about this.” You contemplate, pillowing your head on his shoulder, having your fingers playing with his gold necklace.

“Yeah? Where do you wanna go, baby?”

“I don’t know… somewhere we can drink cocktails by the beach.”

“Hmm, I know exactly the place,” he picks up a piece of toast from the tray and starts devouring his breakfast with his free hand, “I’ll take you there for our anniversary.”

You smile to yourself and relax in his embrace while he finishes his food. You end up falling asleep. He rolls you carefully to the side and leaves you resting for a while.

A few minutes after starting his workout, he receives a message from Eli, who's telling him to turn on the news.

When he does, he’s absolutely dumbstruck by listening to the reported death of another woman in the same fashion as the other four. This one in particular, he knows personally. It’s his highest profile client to date– Martina Duvall. He was present during the extravagant celebration of her 25th birthday that lasted a week, and three other separate occasions she’d hired him.

Julian sits on the couch and watches Detective Sunday make a statement, announcing that she was found in her yacht, and confirming that it is the same MO.

One thing that puzzles him is that Martina doesn’t look anything like you. One would believe that it might be a copycat taking advantage of the open case to pin this on The Baptist– the name the media has chosen for the perpetrator. But Sunday herself wouldn't have made that official statement if she had any doubts. He trusts the detective surprisingly. Even if she was who arrested him in the first place 16 years ago.

His level of trust only reaches so far, and after turning off the TV, he texts Eli to come by. He needs to place a special order for something, a gun, and doesn't wanna ask over the phone.

He's not sure how deep this goes, but one thing he's certain is that he's going to do everything in his hand to protect you. If the killer has the intention of coming back here to finish the job, he's not going to get caught empty-handed.

It might not be the best idea, but he can't come up with anything better at this moment.

Julian looks out the balcony to see that the three reporters that were out in the street yesterday have multiplied again into 30 after Martina.

Then, he catches Detective Sunday making her way into the building, ignoring the questioning of the vicious attack of the press surrounding her.

Julian checks that you're still asleep and closes the bedroom door before having Sunday back in the living space.

She's not here for you this time, though. Her objective is questioning Julian after learning about his odd affiliation with Martina Duvall. She had him listed as her driver.

The detective confirms that Martina had the same drug in her system as the others, and the key temporary dragonfly tattoo placed on her arm. Those two clues haven't been made public, so certainly she can tell it is the same killer and not a copycat.

Sunday's theory veers into a different direction, however. She's not completely convinced someone is infatuated with you anymore. But without discarding that possibility, she plays with the idea of someone targeting you because of Julian.

There are a few other coincidences she’s discovered that have her believing someone wants to hurt Julian by going after you. The main reason being that a couple of hours ago, she found out that Martina was about to get married to someone twice her age. Nobody knew about it, except for her family and closest friends.

The man she was engaged to is about to make an appearance on TV, offering a 20k reward to whoever points them in the right direction of the killer.

His name is Richard Stratton, tech mogul and philanthropist, who was once married to Julian's old sweetheart, Michelle Stratton.

Julian told you about her a long time ago. They had an affair before he went to prison.

She visited him a handful of times at the beginning but after a few weeks, she moved to England, where his husband was expanding his business. From then on she'd sent letters that stopped after a while too. Much to his surprise, he received one 5 years ago when he was still in prison, where she explained that she had a kid and apologized for not staying in touch. He tried to reach back, but his letters were always returned. He figured she gave him a fake address, so her husband wouldn’t find out.

Like every flame, that one faded eventually. And Julian understood why she had to move on. They were nothing at all to begin with. He wasn't expecting her to wait for him those 15 years he spent locked up. It'd have been crazy if she had.

Not as crazy as discovering she died six months ago right here in Los Angeles in her house on The Hills. He saw her picture on the papers. Being married to Stratton took her to the front pages, but according to those, they were already divorced by the time of her death. Someone suspected foul play, and Stratton was investigated, but his alibi cleared him from suspicion.

They never said how she died, and Julian would’ve never imagined that today he’d find out she was found in her pool. She had hit her head on the edge and drowned for lack of assistance.

It was ultimately ruled an accident, but Sunday is not discarding any possibility right now.

If her new angle is correct, you might be in danger because of him, and he can’t have that.

Chapter 4: Between Two Lungs

You feel trapped in these four walls. They're like a cage. You could go outside if you wanted to. Nobody is stopping you; only yourself. You’re still too scared to do something as simple as taking a stroll or go swimming like you used to. You doubt you ever will again, at least not on your own. That’s how deep fear has reached you.

You’re holding your breath for this to be over, and you pray internally that it happens soon, so you can move on, start again, and do normal things you used to do instead of being obsessed 24/7 with the case. Every new piece of information just makes the puzzle more complicated. And after finding out about Martina and Stratton, you’re not sure what to believe anymore.

This evening, you shift gears and decide to have a little dinner date. An official one with candles, music, and wine.

You put on a simple wrap dress in your favorite color, and it helps to bring your old self back a little. It’s such a shallow thing to worry about, but you feel like you’ve been slowly disappearing into all those hours when you couldn’t get out of bed.

Julian reaches out from behind and loops the necklace he gave you for your birthday around your neck and clasps it at the back. It has a little half moon pendant that you touch for a moment, as his lips meet the curve of your neck.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he hums, and kisses the other side of your neck.

“Thanks, handsome,” you turn around to see him clad in jeans, and a black t-shirt that hugs his chest and biceps tightly. You smooth your hand on his arm, as you lean to capture his lips.

You have a lovely evening and enjoy a homemade meal you cooked earlier together for a change. You've been relying mostly on takeout for days now, and it feels nice to eat something you've prepared and has turned out to be good.

After dinner, with your hands clinging to his neck, you swing slowly to the music in the middle of the living room without shoes. His palms frame your hips, as his forehead touches yours.

His heart feels heavier than ever at this hour. You can feel it in the way he exhales and suddenly stops moving.

“I have to tell you something,” his voice comes lower than a whisper.

“What?” you scratch his nape softly.

“I uh… I bought a gun. Eli brought it this morning while you were sleeping.”

Letting the silence fill the room for a long moment, you close your eyes and process it.

“Why?” you simply protest, even though you know the answer to that.

“You know why.”

“Jules… I don't want you to get into trouble.”

“I won't. It's just a precaution.”

You inhale sharply, sliding your palms across his chest.

“Say something, sweetheart.”

“I just… I think you should give it back. I don't feel comfortable with it in the house.” While you can appreciate him wanting to protect you, you're not sure that this is the best way.

“It's locked in the safe. If everything goes right, it'll stay there.”

Taking a step back, and pulling away from his touch, you turn around and start clearing the table.

“What did I say?”

“Nothing. You're just not listening to me,” you go around the breakfast bar and put the plates in the sink.

“I’m listening… You want me to get rid of it and I can’t. It’s my job to protect you, and I’m simply not going to be caught off guard if anyone decides to come back and finish the job.” He braces his hands on the edge of the bar, watching you violently scrub the plates.

“That is not your job, Julian,” you counter, annoyed, “that’s what the police outside are for.”

“It’s just a gun. What is it really that you’re worried about?”

“It’s not just a gun. I’m worried…” you pause, take a deep breath, and turn off the faucet, “I’m worried that you’re going to get yourself hurt for me. All eyes are on us now… I hate it, but as long as they’re watching, nobody is going to try anything again… now tell me why you need to have it so badly.”

“I don’t need it. It’s just an extra measure,” he expresses, giving you only half the truth behind that choice of purchasing a weapon.

“Alright, don’t tell me,” you quickly dry your hands in a kitchen towel, and walk past him, heading towards the bedroom.

He swallows his pride and after a moment he trails behind you.

“Look, what do you want me to say? That I’m scared?”

“I want you to tell me the truth, Julian,” you respond quickly, having your voice wavering in your throat, “I know you’re as terrified as I am, but you’re playing with fire. The last thing we need right now is you getting caught with a gun.”

“Look, you’re right. I am terrified, but not for the reasons you think…” his head bows, taking a step forwards, so he can have you closer. He holds your face in his hands, meeting your gaze, as he utters, “I’m terrified cause I know this is my fault-”

“It isn’t,” you interrupt.

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t, sweetheart. But I’m not going to let anything happen to you, you got that?” he exhales, stating with passion, “nobody is going to put a hand on you again. So help me God… I don’t give a shit if I end up rotting in prison, as long as you’re safe. That's all that matters. Can you accept that? ”

“No, I can’t accept that,” your eyes well up, “I won’t have you doing anything stupid for me.”

“Well… what are you gonna do about that? How are you going to stop me?”

A tidal surge of mixed emotions makes your heart race between love and fright. It pushes you to lean and capture his lips to shut his mouth.

You anchor your hands to his sides as he lends you his breath and warmth. You feel it pass from his lungs to yours as the kiss grows more heated.

The pain ebbs at the edge of his kiss, and everything else fades as his tongue moves past your teeth.

“Hmm, touch me,” you urge, grabbing his hands and guiding them from your face to your hips.

He presses you against the wall, as his lips shift from sweet to vicious. He sucks your lip into his mouth, at the same time his hands blindly undo the strings holding your dress together and slip beneath the fabric to meet your skin. He smooths the plane of your body and grips at your ass, pushing his hips against yours.

As you circle your arms around his neck and find his tongue again, he molds your skin with desire, awakening your sex drive from slumber.

He hums and pulls away from your kiss, bringing his hands to remove your dress off you. Pushing it over your shoulders, it falls at your feet along with his gaze that scans your body, stripped to only your pair of panties now.

You shiver as his knuckles softly draw the curve of your breast, “so damn beautiful.”

He licks his lips, as one of his hands slide up to frame your chin, pressing your head carefully against the wall. His deep brown stare captures the gloss in your eyes, watching you gasp as his other hand slides under the elastic of your panties to massage your pussy.

“There’s my girl,” he purrs, collecting your arousal around his fingers.

You half-smile and trap your bottom lip under your teeth, holding for dear life to his neck, while he circles your clit with great skill.

His head bows to nip at your neck and capture your moans right from your throat when he presses a little harder.

His lips slide, descending from that point and down your body, stopping to kiss and lick your nipples before letting his tongue leave a wet trail to your navel. You can tell what his intentions are as he subtly gets down on one knee and pulls your underwear down.

Your breath catches as he glances at you with nothing but hunger for a beat before delving between your legs. He lifts one of your thighs over his shoulder, and blows some air on your slicked folds before tasting you.

You can't help but moan and grip at his hair as the wild swirl of his tongue touches every inch of your vulva before sucking your clit. It sends a shiver down your spine, and makes your back arch, pushing your center against his avid mouth.

His hands keep your jerking hips in place as he quickly drives you to ecstasy. The orgasm overcomes your body by surprise, and if he wasn't holding you, you'd totally fall on your face.

Julian gets to his feet without letting go of you. You link your arms around his neck, and he picks you up, bridal style, and carries you to bed.

As he lays your body down, you pull at the hem of his tee, and he takes it off. You extend your hands and undo his jeans before having Jules crawling on top of you. He pulls his bottom layers down, nestles between your legs, and you hug his torso as he tenderly brushes his plump lips over yours.

You're still very sensitive, but you tuck your hand in the small space between your body and his, grab his semi-hard length, and pump him leisurely until he’s fully grown. A pleasured hum falls from his lips as you guide him into your opening.

He catches you trembling as he slowly pushes into you.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Hmm, yeah,” you assure, palming the length of his back.

He pecks your lips, as you curl your legs around his hips. Then buries his face in the crook of your neck, fucking you ever so delicately, making you melt around him the longer he drags it out.

As much as you love having him inside you like this, in the middle of it you lose your focus and the pressing need for orgasm wanes out of the blue before even getting to that sweet edge.

He grunts and breathes against your skin, urging you to come with him, but you can't. You're too far away to bring yourself to orgasm again. Must be a first. It makes you anxious, cause he puts all his effort into it, and you can't even reciprocate when he spills inside you.

His breath steams the skin on your collar bones, and he stays there for a moment until he can speak again.

Clearing his throat, he props himself on one elbow, slips out of you, and reaches with his opposite hand to finish you off. He starts rubbing your folds, but you don’t let him finish.

“It’s okay,” you mumble, grabbing his hand and setting it aside

“You don’t want me to?” his brow creases. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, Jules. I… can you just hold me?” you let out a tired sigh.

He nods, and you shift together, turning to the side, so he can spoon you.

“It felt really good at the beginning,” you reassure after a moment, smoothing your hand on his forearm.

“Yeah?”

“Hmm.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to try again?” He insists, having his hand slipping down your body to grip at your thigh.

“No, it’s not gonna work.”

“Not gonna work? You’re hurting my ego, babe,” he quips, pressing his smile on your shoulder.

“You can tell your ego to go fuck himself,” you laugh softly, blindly finding his hand and lacing fingers with him.

“Listen, I think it’s time you and I get out of the house. Maybe just for a drive. What do you say? It’ll be good to clear our heads. Think about it.”

After long deliberation you decide that yes, it is time to leave the house, even if it's just for a little drive.

The next day, you step out of the apartment, filled with apprehension, for the first time in 15 days. It’s too hot during the day, so you wait for a milder temperature in the late afternoon, which is near to impossible. One of the things you miss about Portland, besides your friends, is the weather, and the smell of rain. Here, even the grass blades could burn your feet, especially in a summer blaze like this.

No matter what, he was right–  it's nice to be out and breathe the ocean breeze as he drives along the coastline.

Just like the movies, he has the hardtop of the convertible down, so you can feel the sun on your face, and the air blowing your hair. You relax on the passenger seat, having your heart calm the longer you’re out. It'll be nicer if you didn't have the undercover police car following you everywhere, but it's a small price for security.

Safety is an illusion, you realize. Here or at home, anything can happen anywhere, at any time. Being locked up has only given you more anxiety than you ever thought. At least out here, you’re not a sitting duck waiting for something to happen.

Your mind clears as you stop by the beach and watch the sunset peacefully going down before driving back home.

It’s the apartment that flips that internal switch in your head the second you’re inside and takes you to spiraling again. You anxiously sit at your desk and turn on your laptop to check your emails while Julian gets a beer from the fridge. Your phone is pretty much dead to you at this point. You rely only on the written word from your friends and the news. There’s a couple in your inbox from Sasha, the subject line screaming urgency in all caps. You open the first one, where she explains she’s been checking your Instagram and found a few photos you were tagged on at one of your first book signings in Los Angeles from a couple of months ago. There’s a few of you meeting people, reading, and signing some books. And she’s highlighted the ones where you can see the crowd at the back, and in a couple of them, she’s spotted a familiar face– your ex-boyfriend, who is currently MIA. On the second email, she dived further to all the signings you’ve done, and found some more from several cities where Logan followed along.

You’re unsure what her findings are making you feel… obviously, unsettled. Has he been stalking you all this time? You wonder. And if so, why did he wait all this time to try… whatever he had in mind? He was clearly in Boston and New York, where you went all alone. He could’ve easily taken the advantage of that, and he didn’t.

You show them to Julian and send them to Detective Sunday before calling Sasha.

Then you go through every memory you’ve collected of him. He was clearly disturbed, especially at the end of your relationship, but you’d have never pegged him as a killer. He couldn’t have, could he? Despite the way he treated you, you can’t bring yourself to believe this was him. But you’re not in the best mind set right now to form any rational assumptions. You haven’t seen in a long time either, so who knows what his game is.

It’s not the pictures Sasha finds that help crack the case, not at all. It only adds up to the pile of evidence Detective Sunday has come upon against Logan. Because the next day, while you’re taking a shower, Julian realizes that they’ve pulled the police detail off you without notice, almost 24 hours after you contacted Sunday. He runs downstairs and circles the block to see that none of the inconspicuous vehicles he's spotted for the last couple of weeks are anywhere in the vicinity.

“What’s wrong?”

You’ve just dressed yourself and come when you see him locking the bolt of the door and quickly grabbing the phone.

“The police are gone. I’m gonna…” he dials directly Sunday’s extension but doesn’t pick up on the first few tries.

You turn the TV on and flip from channel to channel until you land on the news to see they’ve apprehended their prime suspect, Todd Harrison, aka Logan, who has been using a false identity all this time. Someone saw him lurking around Martina’s yacht, and called in a tip. That’s all the media knows so far.

You don’t receive more insight until later, when Sunday finally calls and informs you that they're absolutely certain your ex was the one who tried to drown you and killed those women. They're still processing the amount of evidence collected from his place that included hundreds of videos and photos of all of you, the transfer tattoos, personal items of each of the victims…

The detective paints a pretty grim picture by the way she speaks. It looks like you were his main inspiration and was currently preparing himself for something bigger. He had your laptop hacked and wasn't shy on recording you using your own camera when you had the lid open.

None of this makes sense to you yet. It's hard to accept someone you dated was capable of something so heinous.

Chapter 5: Enmeshment

In the aftermath of Logan’s arrest, there’s no peace as you once knew it. You can’t find it in yourself yet. Him being in jail is supposed to make you feel better, but it doesn’t. Something is still off, and you can’t quite figure out what’s causing you to stumble into your every attempt of regaining some sense of normalcy because there isn't such a thing as normal, and that’s a fact. You’re still being watched and scrutinized, and the end of this is not coming as fast as you’d want to. The case continues unfolding, and the only coping mechanism to navigate all of that, is to put on a mask and pretend everything’s okay while you bury yourself in your work. Otherwise, you’d fall apart. It’s a lame coping mechanism, but it’s the only thing that keeps you afloat. It only lasts for so long. Soon, the mask starts to crack, and you find yourself acting up in ways you can’t even recognize.

You fill your wine glass a few more times than you’re used to for dinner. It helps you fall asleep faster, especially when Julian isn’t home. He goes back to his usual routine too, though he’s only working on weekends now. It makes you feel helpless having to have someone watching over you as if you were a fucking toddler. You pick up fights with him about nothing sometimes. It feels like the world to you in that very second, no matter how small it is. A minute later, you feel like the biggest asshole. It's very conflicting. At times, you can't leave his side, at others, you can't even touch him or look at him. You engage more often in sex, too, you've realized. On impulse. It has to be quick and rough. It's not like your libido has gotten stronger, it's that you'd kill to feel anything other than whatever is going on inside you.  

Any of this isn't right, you're barely aware of how wrongly you're losing control in very few moments of clarity. They pass just as fast as they come. You can't stop yourself. You've taken pride in always being put together, doing everything by the book, and following every rule that you were bound to break at some point. This is it. You're not processing everything that's been accumulating inside you and can't put it into words either. Not out of your mouth and not in your writing. It's like a void you can't escape.

Julian is not blind to it, he's been treating you with kid's gloves from the start, and he continues to do so. He indulges you, gives you space when you need, and it's always there to hold you afterwards. He also entertains any of your recently acquired bad habits without judgment. You truly don't deserve him. He casually mentions going to therapy a couple of times when you're calm. You've considered it… briefly. Your pride, ego, self-destruction, or whoever is in charge of you now keeps insisting that everything will pass on its own, that this is just temporary.

Your ex-boyfriend isn't speaking to the police. What they found in his possession speaks volumes for him, however. You had to go to the station to identify some items Logan had taken as trophies. You recognize your swimsuit, the one you were wearing that night and that you had Julian throw away.

You shouldn’t have, but you ask the detective to show some of the pictures he had taken of you. Most of them are just candid pictures in your daily life. Seeing through his vile eyes is absolutely terrifying and unnerving. The last one you see, though, that one takes the cake. You almost wanna throw up at the sight of yourself laying by the pool, soaking wet and lifeless. That’s the one he took that night. You’d tear it apart if you could, so nobody could look at it again. You gulp, turning it around and sliding it across the desk.

“Is he saying anything yet?” You ask.

Detective Sunday shakes her head, “word is he’s going to plead guilty.”

“Like he’s making a deal?”

She nods, “he’s got a good lawyer too.”

“Then, what am I doing here?”

“Procedure.” Sunday clears his throat, picking up the irritation in your voice, “listen, I hate this as much as you do, trust me. I’ve looked at these pictures more times than I can count. If it was up to me… he’d never see daylight again.”

Her words aren't very reassuring. You can't imagine what kind of deal he could be offered after what he's done, but no matter how many years he gets, it'll never be enough.

Your lack of judgment was truly poor when you met him. He was very sweet, you said. Nothing sweet about him anymore.

Julian is waiting for you in the parking lot when you get out. He has a cigarette between his lips, and you extend your hand, pick it up, and take a long puff.

“How did it go?”

You simply shrug, “he's making a deal or something.”

“That's batshit… they got him dead to rights. Why would the DA make a deal with him?”

“Beats me,” you blow out the smoke and pass the cigarette back to Julian, “he's got a good lawyer, apparently.”

You believe the absence of irrefutable physical evidence in the crime scenes is what might save the asshole. He really had this planned through and saw to leaving no trace. There's no digital evidence either, he's used his skills too to leave no mark, so anything in his possession is not comparable to what he could be charged with, had there been any of the mentioned.

They keep asking you if you remember seeing something that night. If only you had, this would be much different. So your testimony is pretty much worthless too.

As Julian sets the car in motion, it feels like someone else inhabiting your body when you reach with your fingers to curl around Jules' crotch while he drives out of the lot.

“Babe, you're playing a dangerous game there,” he gazes at you behind his aviators, then back at the road as you start pumping his length.

It's one of those impulses that shuts up all the unnecessary noise in your head. Keeps you distracted from going down on a spiral after what you've learned at the station.

“Let's go to Lorenzo's,” you propose. He's been wanting to take you to his friend's club for a while, and it has always intimidated you to go there. Not anymore.

“I thought you had to work.”

“It can wait.”

“It’s the middle of the day.”

“So? It is open, right?”

His head nods.

“C'mon, I wanna do something fun,” you insist as the car comes to a stop at a red light.

“We could go to the beach.”

“It's too hot,” hastily, remove your hand off him, “you know what? Forget it, let's go home.”

He sighs through his nose and thinks for a beat before grabbing your hand again and putting it back where it was.

“You wanna go to the club? Stop acting like a little brat and earn it,” he chooses to enable you.

You press your bare teeth on your bottom lip and fondle him softly. You don't want him to crash the car, either. You might be in the middle of a crisis, but you're not that far gone, so maybe there's still hope for you yet.

Enzo's club is not like any other club you’ve ever been. Let’s just say it doesn’t fit in the legal bounds of what constitutes a regular club. Part of it, at least. The bar side is legit. The gambling room at the back isn't however. And neither is the underground level, where he's created a safe space for casual sex, and prostitution. It operates closely to a kink club, where only vetted members can enter. Julian, being an old friend of his, has always had access to it. He's been wanting to get you here, partly cause he has been curious to see you in that ambience since the moment he met you and pegged you as a voyeur. There are a few rooms with one-way mirrors for people who like being watched and those who enjoy watching. He's always thought you might like that.

He's not wrong. You’ve been toying with the idea for months, and now you have nothing to lose. The worst thing that could’ve ever happened to you, it already happened. Maybe this is part of getting over all of it. Trying new things, and uncovering other parts of yourself you’ve kept mostly hidden.

You leave the car in a parking garage a block away from Enzo’s and walk the rest of the way.

Julian has an arm around your waist when you cross the door. There's not many people at this hour, so you're able to quickly get a drink at the bar for starters. The music has some people dancing on the dance floor. It's a very high-end space with a VIP section and a small stage.

You pick up your cocktail and since he refuses to dance with you, you stride alone towards the dance floor and have fun by yourself, swinging to the rhythm of a semi-upbeat song.

“Hey,” someone pats Julian on the shoulder while he watches you, and he turns his head to see hide friend Enzo, “never seen you here this early, Kaye.”

“It was her idea,” Jules points at you with the beer bottle in his hand.

“Is that your girl? The one from…”

“Yeah, that's her.”

“How's she doing?”

“She's really hurting right now,” he glances at you and sees you, trying to escape from all that pain by sipping your cocktail from a straw while you move, “she wanted to come here, do something different.”

“I bet. Are you staying long?”

“Yeah, for a while. I'm taking her downstairs.”

“That's good,” his friend nods, “you two have fun, yeah? I have a lot of work to do here today. It's nice seeing you.”

“You too.”

Afterwards, Julian finishes his beer and joins you, curling his arms around your waist from behind. .

“You ready?” he whispers in your ear.

“Hm-hm.”

Then, he guides you to a little hallway at the back, guarded by a security guy. Julian shows him some sort of pass, and he leads you into a room that looks like a coat check.

A woman behind a desk greets you and places a plastic box on the surface for you to leave your phones or any other recording devices. She recites a set of rules that boil down to no recording or photographing. No drugs or smoking allowed. No harassment and no interference with other people's activities. And several important rules about safety, consent, and protection.

You both place your cellphones in the box and check your pockets. You left your bag in the car, so you only have a small wallet that you keep with you.

She hands you a key after locking your phones in a square locker, and Jules tucks it in his wallet.

The receptionist presses a button and a door buzzes on the side. You go through it; it buzzes again as it closes behind you. You climb down the set of stairs to a small reception area with more security and a display of toys for purchase on the side.

You head straight to another door and Julian gazes at you before opening, “are you sure you wanna do this?”

“Hm-huh.”

He grins at you and opens the door to a much bigger space than you expected. You hadn't really pictured it in any way, but by the secrecy of it, one would think it'd be something more dungeon-like. It’s not like that at all. There's a plethora of things that shouldn’t go together, but somehow they do. It's all cream colors and red, neon lighting, with velvet curtains and leather couches in alcoves. There's a bar area and two separate hallways that lead to bedrooms behind those big curtains.

Mellow music playing in the background and a few people just hanging out in the bar. A group is casually conversing in one of the alcoves. Another one is occupied by a couple intimately touching the other. But your eyes are drawn to the man kneeling by an ottoman sucking a woman's toes in a different nook.

“Do you want another drink, sweetheart?”

“Uh… sure.”

You order another cocktail and take Julian's hand. He guides you through one of the curtains to show you one of the main attractions. It leads to a much darker hallway, full of windows on either side. Most of them are covered. There are a few people watching through the ones uncovered, where you can observe people having sex. The first one you pass by, there's a woman lying on her front with a mask on and four people brushing her body with feathers. On the second one, you see a man shoving his cock into his kneeled partner's mouth. The third one holds a picture of a woman with strap-on pegging a man. A fourth window holds a man walking slowly around a bed, observing the form of his partner, tied up to the bed. You stop at the fifth one, where a man is giving the pound of his life to a woman. He has her on all fours, punishing her ass with his hips, occasionally slapping her flesh with his palm, and yanking her hair. There's nothing special about it. It's just rough sex, and yet it evokes that something in you. Even though you can't hear anything that goes in there, they seem to be having fun by the way their faces contort.

“You like that, sweetheart?” One of Julian's arms circles your waist from behind while you sip your drink.

“Hmm.”

“What do you like about it?”

“I dunno… I guess they both seem detached from the other, like… she's acting for him, and he only cares about his own pleasure but not really wanting to connect on a deeper level. It feels… liberating.”

“Yeah?”

“I'm not sure that I've ever done that. You know, I can't fully commit to sex if I'm not cared for, and vice versa.”

“I know what you like, baby.”

“I wish I could do that sometimes… just not to care, you know?”

“But I love that you do so much, and that you have such a big, beautiful heart.”

“Well, it's broken right now,” you sigh, “I'm sorry, I'm such a downer right now. I just…”

“You wanna feel something different. I get it. Don't apologize to me. I got you, okay?”

“Okay,” you glance over your shoulder, smiling at him.

Watching other people having sex it’s entertaining, but not as much as you wanted it to be. Maybe in a different headspace, you'd be able to enjoy a little more being witness to those snaps of intimacy right in front of you.

Afterwards, you go back to the main space and take a seat on one of the alcoves.

“Who pays for all this?” you wonder, settling glued to Julian's side, draping your legs over his thigh.

“It relies on member fees and donations.”

“Hmm. But you don't come here often?”

“Yeah, I don't get as much here for a night as I do out there, but I still pay a fee. It helps keep it running. Make it safe and all for other people.”

“How much would you get here?”

“I don't know. Three or four hundred? Depends on the day.”

“And that's not enough for you, Mr. Greedy?” you utter playfully, “you rather take the risk out in the open?”

“Makes it more interesting,” he palms your denim covered thigh.

“Well, how about we make this more interesting,” you drink from your glass, settle it down on the table and tuck your hand in his pants' pocket to collect his wallet.

Julian stares at you, intrigued about what you’re concocting, as you take out a hundred dollar bill from it before giving his wallet back.

“Let’s say, for a hundred bucks you can do whatever you want with me,” you gesture with the bill in your hand, “what would you do with me?”

“You want me to pay to have sex with you?” he snorts.

“Would you?”

His head tilts to the side, considering, “I would… but a hundred bucks? You’re selling yourself cheap, sweetheart. I’d pay thousands to be with you.”

“What if I wanna be a cheap whore?” You fold the bill in your hand, slide under the hem of your v-neck blouse, and tuck it in one of the cups of your bra.

He clicks his tongue and sends one hand to hold your face, brushing his thumb ever so slightly on your bottom lip.

“Why do you wanna be a cheap whore?”

“Cause…” you exhale and pause for a beat, “I don’t wanna be me right now.”

“You can be whatever you wanna be, baby,” he sighs, pulling down your lip a couple of times, picking up on what you’re inquiring of him, “you want me to use you? Is that what you're asking?”

You nod.

“Yeah?” He brings your face closer, so you feel his warm breath on your lips, “want me to treat you like a little slut?”

Your cheeks heat up hearing him saying that, and you simply hum.

“You don’t mind people watching?”

You shake your head in his warm palm, spread across your chin now.

He quickly licks his lips and then swipes that same tongue on yours before ordering, “then get on your knees and earn that money.”

You swallow and slide between his thighs to kneel on the floor as he opens his fly and belt. You lean your head and kiss his bulge over his underwear.

You’re taken again by that urge of escaping from your entire being that you don’t give a fuck where you are or if there’s people around watching or not as you go down on him. You get lost in pleasing him, you exist only for that right now. And it’s easier to slip into that mindset than you’d ever thought.

You peel back his boxers, and watch him go hard in your fist as his fingers toy with your hair. Immersed in your role, you pump his length with ease, occasionally gazing at him. He bites his lip as you open your mouth to get a taste of his pre-cum with just the tip of your tongue. You swirl around his head, and trace his slit before wrapping your lips around the stately flared cock. Filling your mouth with hit, you bob your head, spreading your spit along his velvet skin. Julian hums and pushes your head down for you to go faster. It’s what you asked for anyway.

You rub your thighs together, feeling the arousal pooling between your folds as he mutters and praises what a good slut you are.

His cock twitches between your teeth, and he buries a grunt deep in his throat as he feeds you his warm load.

You suck him dry, swallowing every drop of him as if it was sweet honey. Pulling your head back, you lick the remains that stick to your lips under the sultry shadow of his stare.

While he catches his breath, he brings his hand closer and inserts two fingers in your mouth, slipping them in and out, as if he was still fucking your lips.

“You're something special, sweetheart.”

Playing your part, you hum pleasantly around the motion of his fingers, shamelessly blowing them off until he pulls them out, letting your spit dribble down your chin.

“Did I taste good?”

“Hmm,” grinning, you reach for the napkin near your cocktail to clean your mouth, as he tucks himself back into his pants,

You get on your feet, and he pulls down onto his lap, sideways, letting his hands roam your body, and his lips nibble your partly-exposed chest while you hug his neck.

You tilt your head back as he covers more ground, noting his hand sneaking under your blouse at the back. His fingers press and glide with electricity all over the plane of your skin, as his opposite hand grips viciously at your ass.

The scent of your skin intoxicates him, making him groan at the top of your breasts.

“Can we get a room?” you pant.

“Yeah, we can get whatever you want, baby.”

He pulls his head back and holds your face momentarily as he kisses your lips. Then, you both shift and stand up to get a key from the bartender.

You hit the ladies' room first while Julian settles himself in the bedroom. He moods the LED lights to a soft purple and lets the curtains cover the mirror, cause he’s not sure if you wanna be watched or not. He also makes sure that everything is cleaned and that they’re stocked with the complementary condoms, lube, and wipes in the nightstand. Everything’s perfect as he waits for you.

After ten minutes, he starts to worry that you’ve suddenly gotten sick, or have changed your mind when you don’t show up. He lets another two or three minutes pass by and then peeks out the hallway to see if you’re close. You’re not. He strides promptly back to the main space, and heads straight to the restroom. He calls your name, knocking on every stall’s door, asking if you’re okay, but there are no signs of you in there.

A woman coming out of one of the stalls gives him a look, and he apologizes. He’s about to get out when he glances at the floor and sees the half-moon necklace you were wearing. With a deep crease in his brow, he picks it up and swallows. Something it’s wrong here, he realizes all of a sudden. He inspects the bathroom further and sees a small trail of blood on the side of one of the sinks.

You’re dead. It’s what first crosses his mind. He’s let his guard down, and he’s killed you.

Julian rushes out of the bathroom and starts asking about you to everyone in his way. The bartender plainly tells him you just left, but he doesn’t buy it.

He makes another swipe around the lower level before heading up. A woman stops him and tells him that she saw you passed out, being carried by one of the security guys, and that you had blood trickling down your temple.

Rushing up the stairs, he collects his cellphone and yours and steps once more into the club. His eyes frantically search for you all around, but you’re still missing. Then, he notices security keeping an eye on him, and there’s no doubt in his bones that there’s been foul play in your disappearance. Someone has taken you. He’s sure.

Julian makes a quick decision and dashes straight to the employee's closed area, and enters Enzo’s office, locking the door behind him before anyone can get to him.

“What did you do with her?” he questions his friend, and quickly eyes a flashy gun with a gold finish on top of a filing cabinet.

“What are you talking about?”

“You knew exactly who she was when you looked at her… Nothing happens here without you knowing it. Who did you call?”

“She’s been all over the news. Everyone knows who she is.”

“Bullshit.”

Suddenly, there’s a relentless banging and pushing on the door behind him.

“Tell them to stop.”

Enzo pulls his palm up calmly and raises his voice to tell his men to stand back.

“Look. The best thing for you to do know it’s to get a drink, calm yourself, and go home, Julian.”

There’s a pounding in his chest that urges him to grab Enzo’s arm, twist it to his back, and push his front flush against the wall.

“What the fuck did you do?” Julian mutters, having Enzo pinned with all his force.

“I had no choice,” Enzo struggles to speak, “I owed a lotta money.”

Julian keeps him secure with his dominant hand, and reaches with the other to pick up the gun he saw before, cocks it and puts it against Enzo’s nape

“You fucking sold her?”

“I didn’t… someone was already after her.”

“Yeah, he’s in jail.”

“No,” Enzo tries to shake his head, “that wasn’t him. Logan was set up, just like you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It doesn’t matter. She’s already gone… she's untouchable now.”

“Give me a fucking name!”

“You know his name.”

Julian sighs and lowers the gun, uttering, “Stratton.”

“He was after you,” Enzo explains, “and got obsessed with her.”

“Where is he taking her?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he presses the muzzle of the gun again against his temple now, “I thought we were friends. Where is he taking her?”

“I swear, I don’t know!”

“Then, you’re no use to me, are you?”

“Wait, Julian… I can call him and find out.”

He gives the desk a once-over and locates Enzo’s phone. Without lowering his aim, he lets him move freely to get to it and make the call.

“Put it on speaker.”

Enzo clears his throat and dials Richard Stratton.

Julian can barely keep his thoughts straight for more than a second as the dial tone goes off three times before Stratton answers.

“What do you need now?” the man on the other side asks curtly.

“I uh… I just need to know that we’re squared now.”

 “We are. You delivered. Your debt is gone, Lorenzo.”

“You’re not gonna hurt her, are you?”

 “I promised I wouldn’t. She’s safer with me than with that degenerate, trust me.”

“Where are you taking her?”

“That’s none of your business.” There’s a pause before Richard speaks again, “is he there with you?”

“Who?”

“Julian. He’s there, isn’t he?” Another moment of silence as Julian's rage levels go off the roof when hearing Richard talking to you, “you wanna say goodbye, sweetheart?”

“Jules,” he hears your shaky voice come out of the speaker, and he lowers his gun, “are you there?”

“I’m here, baby, I’m here. Where are you?”

“I don’t know, I can’t… they hit me,” he can identify the fear in your voice as you speak and half sob, “we’re moving, but I don’t know… I’m scared.”

“Shh, shh, I’m gonna come for you, okay?” Julian’s own throat betrays him, as he tears up, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

 “Promise.”

“I promise, baby. I’ll find you.”

“Time’s up,” Richard utters, and he hears you yelling his name in the background before the call is cut off.

“So help me God, Enzo, something happens to her, I’ll come here, and I’ll kill you myself. Tell your men to back off.”

“Logan,” Enzo utters in a last attempt to make him feel better.

“What about him?”

“If someone knows where Stratton is going, it’s Logan. He’s been covering all his tracks. Knows more about him than he realizes.”

Running against the clock, Julian takes Enzo’s gun and sets a lead foot in the pedal, driving straight into the big house. His thoughts go as fast as the car. He calls Detective Sunday on the way and tells her what happened, and to meet him there. He knows he can’t do this alone, as much as he wants to, he’s going to need her help.

Chapter 6: Clipped Wings

“Where are we going?” You keep asking in the back of a very luxurious vehicle.

Next to you is Richard Stratton. On the front seats, behind an opaque glass, are the driver; and the guy that you tried to fight off in the bathroom and hit you in the head with the butt stock of his gun, so you would stop struggling. You saw them briefly, when you woke up about an hour ago, you believe. Stratton closed the glass partition after that, and the car hasn’t stopped since.

You finally managed to stop crying after talking to Julian. Your wrists are restrained with a zip tie over your lap, and your head is still hammering from the blow. The door windows are completely blocked, too, so you can’t see where you are or where they’re taking you.

“If you're going to kill me, at least tell me why.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I'm not going to kill you. I'm saving you from him.”

It's utterly appalling the way he uses that pet name.

“You call this saving?” you show your join hands up in exasperation.

“That's for your own protection. Once you see what I've done for you, you won't need that.”

“You're crazy.”

He slides his hand over your thigh, and you flinch at his touch.

“Don't touch me.”

He laughs at you and squeezes your knee before removing his hand.

“Don't worry. After a period of adjustment, you'll beg me to touch you.”

“I'd rather die.”

“You already did. Four times.”

It takes you a moment to process, but by your count there are five women dead, not four.

“You killed all those women? Why?”

“They were imposters. See, they looked like you, but they didn’t feel like you or smell like you, or talk like you.”

“Why?” you keep repeating, having tears threatening to pour out of your eyes.

“Because I love you, don't you get it? I only want you. I was trying to ruin Julian's life, but when I met you… being with you was the only thing that mattered all of a sudden. I guess taking you away from him is sort of a tragedy for him. Two birds, one stone.”

“You don't know me.”

“Oh, I do. I've been watching you and learning everything that is to know about you to build the perfect place for you.”

He's truly out of his mind.

“Why did you want to ruin Julian's life?”

“If you must know… a few months ago, I found this letter that Michelle wrote to him but never sent. I guess it was too much to explain over paper… she was telling Julian that our son, my son Colin… was never mine, that was the offspring of that fucking bastard all along.”

“And you killed Michelle for that too,” you mutter, slowly processing this new shocking information.

“She had it coming. She's just a whore like him.”

“You weren't married anymore.”

“She was trying to take away my son. I gave that boy everything for 14 years, and one day she decides I'm a bad influence?”

The shoe seems to fit. Of course, you don't say that out loud. You swallow the dryness of your throat and try not to break into tears. You know you'll meet a similar fate, no matter what he says.

“What about Logan? Why did you bring him into this?”

“Hmm, you're such a curious cat, but I'll bite. Logan hurt you and had to pay for it. You know, actually, he's the one who tried to drown you. He thought that you'd be safer if the world was watching you… he never intended to kill you. He did kill Martina to get back at me. Tried to stage it to pin it on me, when we both knew he'd be taking the blame for all of it. Thing is he did me a favor, she was insufferable. It blew my cover, but I'll find another one.”

“Oh, it must really suck to be you.” You spit out ironically before you can stop yourself, “psychologists are going to have their field day when they catch you.”

You must have hit a nerve there, cause your head suddenly jerks to the side, having the backside of his hand striking across your face terribly hard.

“The others weren't this insolent either.” he mutters, “I was going to wait for you to settle in our new home to do this, but I guess this is a good time to start.”

You glance at him and see him produce a small case from a compartment that holds some vials and syringes. He takes out one of the syringes from its wrapper and loads it with one of the injectables.

“What the hell is that? Is it what you gave them?”

“Oh, no. I had this made especially for you.”

You try to squirm out of his reach, but he locks an arm around you, pulls at your hair to have your head tilted to the side, and shoves the needle in the crook of your neck. It goes stiff as you feel the strange liquid invade your body. You wince and tears slip out of your eyes.

“I’m sorry I had to do that,” he removes the needle and pets your head, “It’s going to feel good really soon, sweetheart.”

“What is it?” You let out a sob.

“Attitude adjustment. It’s a drug we’ve developed to help you be more… compliant.”

“You’re a fucking psychopath.”

Your head falls back against the headrest, hearing his evil laugh mocking you. Closing your eyes and clenching your teeth, you focus on fighting the pain of the oddly, cold sensation under your skin, and try not to panic. It’s going to be fine. He promised he was right behind you. Any minute now, you think. Any minute…

Whatever he drugged you with, it works fast. Soon, your jaw goes slack, and so does your body. Your pulse speeds up, and it goes faster the more you try to move. There’s an overwhelming sensation building up in your chest as your anxiety levels skyrocket. You’ve never done any hard drugs or have ever been medicated with something stronger than Vicodin from when you got your wisdom teeth out, but this one has a huge kick.

“Relax. It’ll feel worse if you try to fight it,” you hear him say and notice that he’s touching your head again, cleaning the blood from your wound, “I’m sorry he did that. I told him not to hurt you, but you were a little feisty.”

“Go to hell,” you barely exhale.

You close your eyes again and wait and hope and pray for this to be over.

Then, something creeps out from inside you when you feel his lips touching your neck, as he sniffs the scent of your skin. You wanna move, hit him, kick him, anything… but your body isn't responding to the signals your brain is sending.

“You smell like him,” he utters, as one of his hands slips under your shirt to grope your breast over your bra, “we're going to fix that later.”

“Please, don't,” you babble, bursting into tears.

“Relax, baby. It’s going to feel really good.”

He grabs at you harder, and sucks disgustingly at your neck. You yelp between sobs pleading for him to stop, over and over. You try to move your arms, but they're not strong enough at the moment to get him off you.

His grip hurts so much that it awakens just the ounce of strength you need, strong enough for you to send your hands to dig your nails into his neck and draw blood, forcing him to stop.

“I see you like it rough, huh?” he slaps you again, “you should've said that b-”

Someone must have heard you pray, cause on a dime something explodes, making the car jerk violently before it stops, shoving Richard against the glass partition.

It sounded like the front tires.

You had a seat belt on and all you felt was the whiplash. Stratton however didn't, and ended up with his head smashed against the glass mid-sentence. He still looks alive, but he's completely out, curled in an awkward position between his seat and the partition.

You fumble trying to unbuckle your seatbelt and get out of the car for a long moment until someone tries to open the door on your side. It’s locked. You freeze and don’t say anything at all, wondering if someone is trying to help you, or if it's just one of Stratton’s men.

Then, a gunshot goes off, and you duck your head. There are a couple more afterwards, spaced out, and you hear a man shouting to stay down. It must be the police.

You try to unlatch the seat belt again. With your wrists restrained, and your senses impaired by the drug, it’s almost a victory when you do.

Feeling helpless afterwards, you tuck your arms to your chest and freeze, drowning in your own tears, waiting for someone to come to your aid.

It feels like hours, but it’s only a minute after that you hear sirens going off and someone successfully opening your door.

“Are you okay, ma’am?”

You shake your head, unable to look at this new person.

“Are you hurt?”

There’s nothing you can compare this moment to. This is the most pain you’ve ever felt. Inside and out. You can’t respond. There’s something blocking you from doing so, must be the drug or the shock. Your mind feels warped and dizzy in a way you can’t really explain. All thoughts are seeping in your mind like water through a colander.

“Can you move?”

Can you? You’re not sure. You swallow and hold your trembling hands forwards, so this person can see that they’re bound. You can’t really tell if it’s a man or a woman speaking to you, but you’re aware enough to see that it's someone in a uniform.

You feel a couple of people maneuvering around you with great care. There is a click, and finally you can pull your hands apart from the other.

Someone offers you a hand, and you hesitantly take it and test if you can step out of the car. It's a learning experience. Your legs quiver on you as you stand up to feel the striking heat of the sun in the middle of nowhere.

You let them guide you to take cover in one of the two patrol cars while the other officers take care of the men that held you hostage.

They bring you water and keep asking you questions you can't really answer.

With a lost stare, you watch the scene as they remove the device they set on the road to stop the car. Julian must have called the cops, it dawns on you out of nowhere, otherwise, you'd still be in that car. That thought quickly dissipates when Stratton wakes up as they pull him out of the car and is handcuffed immediately. He yells all sorts of threats at the officers, and he’s quickly locked in the second cruiser.

Ambulances show up next. They care for the two men shot, and your captor. A paramedic mends the gash on your temple and notices there's a bump on the curve of your neck like a bee sting. It itches the same, but you know it was from the needle.

Then, you are set aside like a science project, waiting for CSI to roll by and collect the evidence from your fingernails and take pictures of you.

“She's in shock.” You hear them say. You must be cause you're completely unable to respond to anything the more time passes. It feels like an out-of-body experience. As if you were watching someone else's life.

You can't seem to snap out of it. It's numbing and utterly disturbing. You try remembering what you did earlier in the day to dig yourself out of that hole… You were mad when you woke up. You had to go to the station, and you weren't really up for it. Julian, being annoyingly sweet, drew a heart on your palm to make you smile. You rolled your eyes instead. It was one of those moments you were mean to him for no reason. You should have stayed at home, kissed him, and told him that you love him. Maybe this wouldn't have happened if you had.

There’s your anchor. You focus on Julian and the way he traced a piece of his heart on your palm, while someone brushes the gunk in your nails. You open your opposite hand and pretend that the comic-shape heart is still there, carved over the lines of your palm.

“Baby, can you hear me?” he's choked up, you can tell by the way his voice breaks.

He's there now, and you can’t tilt your head up to look at him. Your gaze states fixated on that imaginary spot until you see his fingers move ever so carefully to wrap around your hand as he crouches in front of you.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, sweetheart,” he bows his head and kisses your knuckles, “we’re going to get you out of here now, yeah?”

Time fluctuates and in that daze from when you were injected to the moment you wake up in a hospital bed for a second time, and there are several pieces missing. It’s night now, you can see through the window having its shutters pulled up, and Julian is seated on a sofa, reading a copy of your book, with a deep crease of concentration in his brow.

After that trip you feel utterly lucid now, sleepy but lucid, thankfully.

He doesn’t realize you’re awake until you mumble a husky, “hey, do they sell those at the hospital now?”

His stare is torn from the pages and looks at you, having his expression soften as he rises from the two-seater, placing the book down open on the page he was reading.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he sits next to you, and tentatively reaches to caress your face, “someone left it in the waiting room.”

“Where are we?”

“I got you a private room.”

“Fancy,” you feel your lips pull up on their own.

“How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, trying not to think too much about what happened, “better, I think. How long was I out?”

“Sleeping? Just a couple of hours… before that? Three or four without… Do you remember anything?”

“Some of it. He… he gave me something,” you point at your neck with your hand.

“Yeah, they found his stash in the car… Said it was PCP mixed with something else. They’re still trying to figure it out,” he glances at your neck, “the swelling is gone now. I should go get some-”

“No,” you stop him, “not yet. In a minute.”

You ask him to fill the gaps you have. And he tells you how they found where Richard was taking you by doing something impossible. Between him and Detective Sunday, they convinced Logan to give up the location. Apparently, Stratton was blackmailing him and threatening to kill his family. In exchange for their safety, he followed you for months, kept tabs on you and sent all that to Stratton. Logan was just a pawn. He tried to get out of it and keep you safe at the same time by making it look like someone tried to kill you, he never intended to actually do it; like Stratton told you in the car.  That last part you knew, but it seemed like a vague memory of a dream until Julian confirms it. Logan kept quiet and let Stratton pin the murders on him, cause there was still a gun pointed at his family.

In trade for that information, he had Sunday reassure him that she’d see that his girlfriend and baby would be protected.

Afterwards, you try to fill some of those too for Julian. You remember questioning Richard, but  there are some facts you’re completely unsure if they’re real or not. If your memory serves you right, he killed Michelle after finding out their son was actually Julian’s. He confessed to killing the other women too, except for Martina. He said Logan killed her. The situation was less than ideal to gather information like that, but you’re almost 90% sure that’s what you heard before being drugged.

“You have a son,” you say under your breath, and he looks at you as if you were making it up, “I’m not sure if it’s true, Jules, but it adds up.”

Shutting your eyes, you attempt to pry the name he gave you out of your mind. It starts with a C. Maybe Cole or Charlie. It sounded close to that.

“That’s impossible,” his brow narrows as he stands up to look out the window, “she’d have told me.”

Would she? You remember something about a letter that wasn’t sent. Maybe she did, but didn’t have the courage to send it while he was in prison. It’d probably broken his heart. Just as it’s doing now.

He can’t accept it, but part of you knows it’s true.

Chapter 7: Epilogue

They say time heals all wounds… Abigail’s were temporarily patched at best because the moment she stepped into that house, she felt the demons buried in that place prying at every opening of her being. Time stood still between those walls. The same furniture her mother kept spotless was occupying the same space to the millimeter. Except for pictures. There were no pictures of her in the house anymore. There used to be two on the wall leading up the staircase that were replaced by some of her cousins. The Angels. On the mantel was another one when she got her portrait taken at the back of the dollar store when she was 7 or 8. It had one of those fake sky backgrounds. She was wearing the dress she wore for church only, and wasn’t allowed to smile.

Days before she had that taken, Adventurous Abby had fallen on her face while she was roller-skating, and one of her front teeth was chipped after hitting the edge of the sidewalk. It made her feel ugly that her own mother told her to keep her mouth shut cause she looked like a fucking pirate. Sans the curse word, of course. Her palm covered her mouth more often than not when she spoke until she got that fixed years later. She did. Not her mother. And definitely not her father chipped in for her chipped tooth. They say it was a punishment of God for being cheeky. That was their logic. In all truth, those skates she rode belonged to her best friend, who wanted to show her to see how fun it was. Abby never had any of the fun toys. Only a couple of stuffed animals on her bed and a creepy porcelain doll that she couldn’t care less about. She hated her– Christine. That’s what her mother called her doll. She sat on a shelf looking over her bed with her perfect, glossy hair and skin, and beautiful dress, mocking her while she slept. She was convinced it gave her nightma---

“You gotta eat something, sweetheart,” Julian interrupts your flow, holding a plate with food close to your face, while you're typing on your laptop your second novel, “you’ve been at it for hours.”

“So? Can’t you see that I’m on a roll here?” You protest animatedly.

“I can see,” he scoffs, glancing at the screen, “but I can also hear your stomach growling from across the room.”

“That’s not my stomach, that’s the lil guy snoring,” you slide your chair back to show him that the puppy has fallen asleep by your feet, under the desk.

It’s three months later when everything starts to go back to some sort of normal. A new normal. Not better or worse, just different.

The tremor you've had in your hands since the day you were kidnapped finally stops altogether. You’re counting the days it lasts, six so far, and your pulse is as steady as ever. They believed it was psychosomatic, cause physically you’re perfectly fine. Therapy helped. Having a weekly session didn’t seem much at the beginning, but it truly has been a game changer.

Right now, your steady hands are full with your new puppy, working on your second novel, and helping Julian with his situation.

Inspiration struck you a few weeks ago, and you’ve outlined and drafted fully a new story that you feel pretty confident about. You finally got an agent, a trustworthy one, and two publishing houses are interested in your new novel after reading the early draft of your manuscript. Not having to worry about financing another book of your own pocket takes a load off your mind. You’ve broken even, and you’re just starting to see the fruits of years of work.

But the thing that has brought the most joy to your life is your new puppy– Flynn. You decided to adopt one of those doggies from Bailey, and now you have a black and white Siberian Husky with crystal clear, blue eyes. He's cute as a button; joyful, and active as they come. You’ve had him for a month and besides Julian, you’ve never loved anything as much as you love that dog. Caring for him, taking him out and getting into training classes with him is part of your new routine that’s keeping you uplifted. For a while, you thought you’d never leave the house again and now, with a few exceptions, you’re able to go out on your own with him. He follows everywhere you go and tonight, after eating his food, he started licking your ankle and fell asleep on the floor while you wrote. That’s how much time you've been spending writing, you've bored the little thing to death.

Julian on the other hand has been preoccupied with another matter. It took him a while to accept that he had a son. With the help of Sunday, you found out that Colin Stratton was living in England under the care of his grandmother and guardian, Evelyn.

There was no trace of him online, despite him being 15. The only photo you could find was one in Michelle’s Instagram account from when Colin was around 10. You could see a certain likeness to Julian, but it was very inconclusive. He didn’t look like Richard, for sure. He took after his mother, definitely.

It wasn’t a decision that was made lightly, no. The last thing Julian wanted to do was to disrupt a young boy's life. He merely lost his mom months ago, and the man he knew as his father just went to prison.

After long conversations and consideration, Julian decided that he wanted to meet him and go from there. Ideally, he wanted to be in his life at any capacity the boy considered. If it was none at all, he’d have to accept it. He was ready for it. He’d stepped up, had he known, back then; and was determined to do it now. There was nothing he could’ve done from prison, but he deserved to know the truth. If there’s something he could resent Michelle for, it was that, but he understood her reasons. He got a copy of the alleged letter that was in Stratton’s possession that was meant for him all along.

Via lawyer, Julian made his intentions clear to Evelyn Stratton, and added that letter. She didn’t reply right away. The request was simple enough, he just wanted to meet Colin. The lawyer called a couple of times, and she kept dismissing him.

There was another force at work, cause one evening, a week ago, when you two came back home from a walk with Flynn, you found the 15-year-old-boy waiting in the lobby. Up close, it was clear that Colin had grown to look more like Julian. Except for his eyes that were hazel, like Michelle’s, his features were a fresh-printed copy out of Julian’s. His hair was just as dark and abundant, and when you saw them walk side by side, you could see that they both carried themselves the same way. Julian didn’t believe you, of course, but you could tell.

Colin had a proposition of his own, he had been wanting to leave the boarding school he’s been enrolled in since he was 12. He loathed it and wanted to come here with Michelle, but Richard never allowed him to do so. Even now, his guardian was carrying Richard’s plan of not letting come here. He took the opportunity of visiting his aunt, Michelle’ sister, in Burbank during holidays, and found out where Julian lived. He knew about him, his mother told him about his real father a couple of years ago. Colin just needed a paternity test and the chance of fighting Evelyn and Richard for custody, so he could emancipate and live with his aunt.

It wasn’t an instant connection or anything. The boy was very stern in his intentions and was very skittish about meeting Julian, but he did, cause he had been looking to get away from that family that never truly treated him or his mom right. She always feared he’d hurt them if they tried to get away, and she was right. Now that Richard was locked up, this was his chance.

Julian agreed. His mind was already made before the boy came here that he’d help in any capacity he could.

“Did you love her?” Colin asked. It seemed very important to him to know that about him.

Julian stared at him for a long moment before standing up and picking up a book from the shelf. He sat back down and opened the front of it to collect a picture strip of him with Michelle. He just showed it to him.

“She looks really happy,” Colin kept his eyes on the pictures of her mother framed by love and joy in her eyes.

“She was,” Julian simply said.

Close to midnight, you save your document, leaving Abigail to rest for the night. Then, turn off your computer, put Flynn in his crate, and check that the door is closed before getting on with your nightly routine and joining Julian in bed.

“Thought you weren’t coming to bed,” Jules grins, placing the book he was reading down on the nightstand, while you slide into bed.

“Hmm, have you missed me, handsome?” you lean closer, and he links his arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

“Always,” he hushes, having his thumb back and forth rubbing your shoulder.

“Yeah?” you sigh, tilting your head up to look at him, letting your palm smooth his chest up to his neck, “sorry I’ve been absent the last couple of nights.”

“Don’t be. I’m proud of you.”

“I’m really proud of you too, baby,” you say back, touched, and lean closer to capture his lips.

Kissing him slowly, your fingers slip into his hair that it’s gotten longer, and you play with his curls at the back of his nape.

Julian gingerly shifts your body, removing your clothes in the process, so he can make love to you with all of him– lips, tongue, fingers, and cock, all work together to stroke every inch of your body. He claims all of you, including your heart and soul, during those delightful orgasms he gives you in return. His body buzzes, collecting the pleasure that vibrates out of you every time you moan and scream at his name.

He makes you feel vivid and precious, more than you ever imagined, with every caress and word.

“Look at me, sweetheart” he says, locking eyes with you, holding your face, getting you closer to the edge a third time. Your lips part against his, and you can barely mumble a felt I love you as you melt all around him.

[ssthirdlife]

a lifetime with you | chapter two - twenty five (part 1/2)

pairing: wonwoo x female!reader genre: fluff, friends to lovers, minor angst, implied smut word count: 3,9k words

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Being twenty-five, now out of college, and having a serious grown-up job, was such a weird situation for you. For a good four years, you were so used to the routine of going to classes, studying, spending time on the campus radio, and hanging out with your friends. But a graduation ceremony later, everything had changed. You managed to catch a breath for a good four months before you were swooped into another routine. 

This one was the 9-to-5 routine. It was a lie if you weren’t excited about your first full-time job… 

…even though that excitement only held on for a good six months before you realized the things that had gone wrong at your job. 

At 25, you were an adult. You weren’t the girl that cried because of the Geopolitics class anymore or the girl that cried two weeks before finals because of a breakup. You were a girl who cried over the job that caused you stress and stole your sanity. It didn’t help that your group of friends from college was scattered around the country with their jobs and personal things taking up their time–which you could totally understand. It was just a pity that you couldn’t talk to them the way you used to back in college.

Out of everyone, Jihoon had become the one closest to you the most, given the unusual nature of his job which allowed him to respond to your sporadic texts at odd hours. The group chat had become the outlet for everyone to share memes and funny videos, and Jihoon was always the one who responded. It was natural when you finally reached out to him, especially after knowing that his studio was nearby your office.

Funnily enough, his first response was, “What happens to Wonwoo?” 

Ah, Wonwoo. 

You still talked to Wonwoo from time to time, although you couldn’t deny that it’s pretty hard since he moved to Busan for his job. Sometimes your texts wouldn't be replied to until a few days or weeks later, and his too, but that's a given. Deep down, you knew that the both of you didn't have to text all the time to stay friends. You both had your own responsibilities, and as long as he kept responding, it was enough for you.

The dynamics of your friendship with Jihoon were different. Still busy with each of your daily lives and jobs, the conversation was short and mostly filled with random music recommendations on his behalf–it’s either that or anime recommendation. He provided ears and alcohol–the alcohol was always for you while he always preferred Coke Zero–whenever you ranted about your job and he would curse your boss out with you when your tale had become too ridiculous for him to handle. 

(He also pushed you to sign up at the same gym as he was because he’s tired of working out alone. But rather than being the nice gym buddy you thought before, he was more of like your own personal trainer.)

It was nice, and you were so used to having a very small circle of friends that consisted of Jihoon only. That’s why you were nervous when on a particular autumn night, Jihoon broke it to you that he’d be inviting everyone for his birthday dinner. 

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Thought it’d be nice to invite everyone since it’s been years.” That was his response when you asked him over a glass of beer and tteokbokki. “Besides, I heard from Soonyoung that Wonwoo will be moving back to Seoul as well. Have you heard from him again?” 

“Who? Soonyoung or Wonwoo?” You played innocent, and Jihoon had never looked so done. You didn’t miss the way he muttered ‘stupid’ under his breath. “He texted me about it last month, but that was it. Have you told him about your plan?” 

“Haven’t told anyone other than you.” You nodded, letting the man mull over his plan in his brain. It’s really best to leave Jihoon alone when he’s deep in thoughts. “Should I really do it?” 

“Yeah, why not? It’s been too long since we met everyone.” The reassurance from you seemed like the last thing that he needed. Smirking, you watched as the man started pulling out his phone. “Tell them now. See if someone is online to respond.” 

Just like that, the group chat that hadn’t been active since two months ago–you were the last one who sent a meme link there and Jihoon was the last one to react–was finally active again. It was probably fate, because that night, everyone responded fairly quickly.

It seemed like Jihoon had thought it very thoroughly, seeing how fast he replied to everyone. As if the universe was on his side, everything just fell into place smoothly. Everyone managed to agree to come to the place & date set up by Jihoon. The relieved and satisfied smile that stretched across his face as he placed his phone on the table was worth it. 

Lifting his soda can up, he proudly said, “That was easy.” You nodded, lifting your own glass of beer and clinking it to his. 

That night, you went home feeling rather content. It was nice to have something to look forward to–something that really got your blood pumping and gave you hope. In a life where you saw everything as dull and lifeless, it was such a relief that there’s finally a string of hope hung for you. 

You were a functional adult, you told yourself again and again. You weren’t the girl who cried the day before the Analysis of Peace and Conflict quiz anymore. Instead, you were the girl who cried in the office’s bathroom just an hour before you needed to meet your friends for Jihoon’s birthday. 

You were lucky that the next day would be Saturday, so you wouldn’t have to worry about drinking too much or trying to nurse your hangover before work. You could sleep and stay at home for a whole day, and no one would bother you. Taking a deep breath, you walked out of the bathroom stall and proceed to wash your hands. You took your time to make yourself presentable–putting on some lipstick again and making sure that you didn’t look like you’d been crying. 

It was about ten minutes before 8 PM by the time you left the office. Knowing that it’d take at least 20 minutes, you left a comment in the group chat that you’d be a little late. 

Jihoon: it’s ok, take your time~Soonyoung: ok, see you in a bit! 

Not having the energy to take the subway, you decided to take a taxi–thinking that it’d be okay to splurge a little since Jihoon would be paying for the dinner anyway. 

Like a switch had been flipped, your body was buzzing with excitement, already thinking of seeing everyone again after so long. This was the most exciting thing that happened in your life for months, and you missed everyone too. 

The night sky was clear, and while the wind was a bit too cold for you to handle, you were thankful that it could make you feel awake. 

The bell above the door chimed when you opened the restaurant door. The smell of barbecue hit you as soon you walked in, your eyes scanning every corner of the restaurant to find your friends. Thankful for the way Soonyoung waved his hand frantically until you noticed him, his huge smile and reddened cheeks were a dead giveaway that he’d been drinking already. It hadn’t even reached 9 pm, but you knew Soonyoung always started early.  

The first thing that your eyes set on when you approached your friend’s table was Wonwoo’s tall figure on the other end of the table. He looked so different than the person you last met two months before you started your job–which was almost two years ago. Gone was the tall, thin guy that you knew for a whole four years in college. The person who stood in front of you was a changed man. 

From how fit his shirt looked on him, you knew that he must’ve been a regular at the gym. He looked broader if that was even possible, and he stood with confidence. Despite the changes on his body that you could notice from the distance, the shy smile on his face never changed. 

But before you could reach the man, Surin swept you into a hug and cooed in your ears. 

“I missed you! It’s been too long.” You couldn’t help but laugh. It really had been too long since you saw Hanna and Surin. Both of them had moved to Daejeon and Jeju for their respective jobs. It was hard for you, knowing that half of your close friends weren’t going to be living in the same city anymore. You had trouble adjusting to that. 

“How long are you in town for?” You asked, once Surin pulled away from the hug and passed you to Hanna. 

“A week. We’ll have enough time to catch up, I promise.” Nodding, you made a mental note to schedule a lunch or dinner with Surin in the upcoming days. 

“You know what, it’s been a while since the last time we hung out, just the three of us,” Hana chimed in as she squeezed you in her hug. 

You missed it, being surrounded by your loved ones like this. Life had gotten a little dull without them, and you were left wondering when you felt like this again way too many times. 

“Hey, don’t hog her like that. Wonwoo hasn’t had his turn yet.”  

Jeon Wonwoo still stood tall amongst the other people at your table. He was patient though, only chuckling and smiling as he waited for his turn to hug you. And when he finally did, you could hear him sigh. With your friends’ eyes on you, you became hyper-aware of the things happening around you.

When Wonwoo hugged you, you could feel the warmth radiate from his body. He really curled himself into your body, enveloping your whole body with his. “I missed you a lot.” You could hear him utter those words into your ear as he pulled away from the hug. His hand stayed on your back and stroked it gently a few times before he finally took a step back. 

It felt like a whirlwind, seeing Wonwoo again and finally feeling his hug again. When he was still in Busan, you used to think that it wouldn’t matter, not knowing when you’d see him again. You had gotten used to being in touch with him through texts and phone calls. But now that he’s in front of you again, it actually mattered. His physical presence mattered. 

“Me too, Won. Me too.” You passed him a smile as soon as he did too. It’s natural for you to settle into the seat by his right since it was the only empty one around. 

Jihoon wasn’t one for a huge dinner or birthday celebration like this, but you were glad that he chose to celebrate it that night. It was slowly becoming the highlight of your week or even month. Once where the spotlight was on the birthday boy–which successfully made Jihoon’s ears go super red when Soonyoung brought out the cake–now everyone was focused on the food in front of them. 

You ended up sharing the meat on the barbecue and the bowl of sundubu jjigae with Wonwoo since you were sitting the closest to him. 

“It’s a shame how you lived in Busan but can’t eat seafood.” You couldn’t resist breaking the silence between the two of you. Grabbing the tong, you flipped the samgyeopsal strip on the barbecue. 

“Yeah.” He laughed it out. “But I think you’d love it, though. Busan, I mean, and the food.” 

“Oh, really? Do you have any recommendations?” Glancing at him, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the way his glasses caught the fog. 

“I have a lot. Even have it on a proper list and everything.” Nudging at your elbow, he continued his words and grabbed the tong from your hand. “Do you have plans to visit Busan anytime soon? I can take you if you like.” 

“Not anytime soon, but I guess that can be easily arranged.” You hummed in excitement, watching Wonwoo cut the meat into bite-sized pieces. As he did that, you told Surin who sat next to you to pass the remaining empty bowls to your side. The least you could do is scoop the jjigae for both you and Wonwoo. 

“You should visit, you know… Before your local tour guide moves back to Seoul.” 

That was a tempting offer. The one that kept popping up to the front lobe of your brain until late at night when the dinner was over and you were pushing your drunk friends into the taxi that Wonwoo had kindly ordered for them. 

After watching the taxi drive off until it left your vision, you finally turned to your phone and tried to order a taxi for yourself… and maybe Jihoon too, since his place wasn’t that far from yours.

“Hey, how are you getting home?” Turning around, you saw Wonwoo and Jihoon walking toward you. “I’m going with Wonwoo, by the way.” You furrowed your eyebrows.  

“You haven’t moved out from your old apartment, right? I can drive you home if you want.” You hadn’t seen Wonwoo in a while that you forgot he actually knew where you lived. Those two were the ones who helped you move in.   

“Are you sure?” 

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure,” he chuckled. “C’mon now, it’s getting cold out here.” Wonwoo easily walked first to his car due to his long legs, and Jihoon fell into step with you.

“You sit in the front, okay? I want to get a quick nap in the back.” The birthday boy didn’t even let you say anything as he speed-walked to where Wonwoo waiting in front of his car. 

During the drive, Wonwoo and you talked about the things you had previously talked about before through the texts, while Jihoon took a nap in the backseat. It was easy to fall back into the conversation with Wonwoo; the both of you easily continued whatever conversation you left in the texts. Also, he added more details to his story and fill you in about everything that he hadn’t told you before–like why he moved back to Seoul. 

A new opportunity in the HQ, he said. You were never the one who was bitter over your friends, but that night, you could feel the bitterness creeping under your skin. You were happy for him, really, but your silly little brain couldn’t help but bring out all the questions. All the why and when that you also frequently asked yourself whenever you’re alone. 

You needed to get a grip, and you did get that when Wonwoo suddenly reached for your hand, his one hand still on the steering wheel and his eyes set on the red light outside. He must’ve noticed that you suddenly went quiet. 

“Things will get better for you too, you know.” He squeezed your hand gently. He noticed; you thought to yourself. 

“Thanks, Won.” He didn’t let go of your hand until the lights turned green and he had to let go of your hand in exchange for the gear stick. 

It was quiet, then. No one said anything for the remaining drive to Jihoon’s place–the first stop of the night. Thankfully, Jihoon woke up around 5 minutes before they could reach his place and did the job of filling in the silence with his anecdote about the latest commission he worked on. It was something that you had heard before, but Wonwoo hadn’t, so you were thankful that he was at least polite enough to properly react to the story. 

Once Jihoon was dropped off, Wonwoo passed you his phone. “C’mon, pick a playlist.” So you did. Scrolling through the countless playlists he had, you picked one particular playlist that you also had on your phone. Jihoon must have shared the same playlist with him. 

As the first song was played and Lee Mujin’s calming voice resonated through the car, you leaned your head back and shut your eyes, now only realizing the slight throbbing on the back of your head. For the past few hours, you were busy focusing on the moment with your friends and trying to absorb as much positivity as you could from them. 

All the dark clouds looming over your head–that haunted you on your way to the restaurant from the office–were pushed to the very back of your brain. It stayed there until a few moments ago when the conversation between you and Wonwoo stopped. 

“Hey, I’m sorry. You know, for earlier.” Wonwoo finally broke the silence as the car stopped in front of your apartment building. 

“Don’t be, Won. It’s all me. I’m way too sensitive these days.” Wonwoo seemed like he wanted to say something else, probably wanting to refute what you just said, but he held himself back and sighed instead. 

“By the way, I’m serious about it.” Thankfully, he changed the topic. “Take some days off and go to Busan. You know, while I’m still there until the New Year.” 

“I’m actually considering that. I’ll let you know about it later, okay?” 

“Okay, great. You’ll love it, I promise!” You couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled out of your mouth at the excitement showing on his face. 

“Yeah, me too,” you breathed out. “‘Kay, then. Thanks a lot for driving me home, Won. Drive safe, okay? And text me once you’re home.” 

“I will. Don’t worry.” 

This time, Wonwoo stayed in his car, still looking at you as you got out of his car and his car unmoving. You stood and waited until he drove away but he just rolled his window and said, “Just go. I’ll wait until you go up.” 

Smiling at him, you turned around and made your way inside your apartment building. Even once you’re already in the building and waiting for the elevator, his car still stayed unmoving there, but this time the window was already rolled up. 

It was only once you were safely in your apartment with the lights all turned on, that you looked out through your window. This time you could see his car finally driving off into the night, taking a little bit of your heart along with him. 

“So, how was the honeymoon?” That was the first thing Lee Jihoon asked when the two of you agreed to meet up at 11 am on a Sunday, just right after he was done working out. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Pure confusion clouded your face as you sat down, noticing that at least he was nice enough to order your go-to coffee. 

“You act like you didn’t post all those photos with Wonwoo when you went to Busan last month.” You rolled your eyes at his words. 

The Busan trip was incredible, you had to admit. It left you feeling content and refreshed that you didn’t dread it that much when Monday came. You didn’t like to admit it out loud, but what Wonwoo said before was right. You needed a few days of time off without any work at all to feel better again. You realized that the feeling would be temporary, but you took whatever you could take. 

Besides, the trip was fun. Although half of the time was spent with you helping Wonwoo pack his stuff, he still managed to take you around the town–taking you to good restaurants just like he promised. He also took you to some tourist spots and helped you take some photos for memories. 

It reminded you of the old days when you were only worried about your exams and homework. It was addicting, that feeling. 

"Be honest with me.” Jihoon’s words pulled you back to the present. “Are you dating Wonwoo?" You almost choked on the iced coffee you're drinking. Jihoon looked calm as hell, not a hint of smile or smirk across his face, meaning he was serious with his question. He was just genuinely curious. 

"No, I'm not," you answered casually when your coughs died down. "Why are you even asking me that?" 

"I'm just curious since he's everywhere on your Instagram and hangs out a lot with you." 

"We hang out a lot too, Jihoon." He rolled his eyes fondly at you. 

"Yeah, but not every weekend." You frowned at his answer. “Did you notice, that this is the longest time we haven’t hung out? I see that you’re now ditching me for Wonwoo, hmm.” 

“Stupid. Don’t act like we didn’t meet at Wonwoo’s housewarming last week,” you murmured before taking another sip of your coffee. “He’s moving back here and I was just helping him out, you know? Also, we have some restaurants we want to try out and we just go.” 

“Isn’t that how two people usually go on a date?” 

“It’s not a date.” Jihoon raised his eyebrows at you. “Why are you looking at me like that?” In the usual Jihoon’s way, he laughed when you got defensive.

The setup that you had with Wonwoo was made out of spontaneity. Both Wonwoo and you had expressed the desire to try each restaurant that you both had on a list, and the arrangement just naturally happened. You were the one who suggested it at first, and he willingly accepted it. Thus, it became a routine for you both to spend a day on weekends or Friday nights trying out new restaurants. 

“What I’m saying is,” he shifted in his seat to get comfortable, “it’s totally okay if you actually go on a date with him. I’d say, it’s a long time coming? We all know you two have been so close since college. It won’t be a surprise at all if you two are actually dating.” 

You pursed your lips at his reasoning. It was something that he said nonchalantly, it wasn’t serious, and yet you couldn’t get it out of your mind for a whole day. 

It also got you over-think every single thing Wonwoo did when you were together. You didn’t know if you should be thankful or not, because you started noticing all the little things he did for you. 

“Here, take my jacket. You look like you’re so cold.”

“Don’t eat too fast, you’re gonna get a tummy ache.” 

“It’s raining heavily outside. I can pick you up if you want. I just don’t want you to get rained on and get sick.” 

“Oh, you look like you need a hug. Is everything okay?” 

Wonwoo and his comforting words, his way of making yourself comfortable with him. 

Wonwoo and the little things that he always did for you. 

You had never thought too much about it before, but why did they all seem different now? Why did you let Jihoon plant all these unnecessary things inside your brain? You had lived just fine without thinking too much about your relationship with Wonwoo for the past few months ever since he became a permanent fixture in your life again. So, why did it suddenly change? 

Your inner turmoil was cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. When you glanced at your phone and saw Wonwoo’s name flashing on the screen, you felt something shift in your heart. Whatever that was, you tried to swallow that feeling down and picked up Wonwoo’s call, letting out a sigh as you did so. The slight raise of an eyebrow Jihoon gave you didn’t go unnoticed by you, but you decided to ignore that. 

This–whatever this inner crisis was–could wait for another time.

[hornime]

watch and learn | iwaizumi hajime x f!reader x team japan

there were two things they all had in common: the growing bulges in their pants that they were urgently trying to distract themselves from, and the fact that their full attention was on you.

warnings: 18+, timeskip!everyone, BIG MANGA SPOILERS BASICALLY, exhibitionism, voyeurism, orgasm denial

w/c: 3.1k

a/n: now i don’t know if iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer learned about female orgasms when he was studying sports science at irvine BUT he def knows how to show a girl a good time which is reason enough for me to write this. also, i read this article to prep for this piece and it was super enlightening, so i do recommend giving it a read if you’re interested!

in the middle of his morning run, iwaizumi slowed momentarily to check the repetitive buzzing of this phone, curious as to who was messaging him this early. when he’d left the apartment, you were sleeping, and you had the tendency to still be sleeping by the time he returned, so who else could it be?

he unlocked his phone, quickly finding the source of the notifications: the team japan group chat.

[06:43 AM] miya: hey @iwaizumi—you know stuff abt the human body right?

[06:43 AM] miya: cus like you studied it in college and shit??

iwaizumi rolled his eyes. i spent four years in america to earn my degree, came back home to support my country’s olympic team, and dealt with the biggest idiots of volleyball, only to get treated like this?

[06:44 AM] iwaizumi: yes, miya. i took many courses on the human body. in fact that’s the purpose of my job. to know the human body. because i am a fucking athletic trainer.

[06:44 AM] miya: okay okay i get it. dumb question

[06:44 AM] iwaizumi: why? is something up? you need help or anything?

[06:44 AM] miya: uhhh kinda

[06:44 AM] miya: @hinata i’m not fucking asking this

[06:44 AM] bokuto: bro just do it

[06:44 AM] miya: @hinata @hinata @hinata 

iwaizumi cocked an eyebrow. what the hell are they going on about?

[06:45 AM] iwaizumi: so am i needed or...

[06:45 AM] hinata: YES

[06:45 AM] hinata: we had a question

[06:46 AM] sakusa: by “we” he means him, miya, and bokuto

[06:46 AM] suna: yeah don’t bring us into this

[06:46 AM] hinata: don’t listen to them! both suna and sakusa wanna know too

[06:46 AM] iwaizumi: okay. what’s up

[06:47 AM] hinata: we wanted to know how to make a girl cum

he chuckled in disbelief.

[06:47 AM] iwaizumi: you’re telling me that you guys are in your mid-20s, literal olympic athletes, and you don’t know how to make a girl cum

[06:47 AM] iwaizumi: have you never done it before??

[06:47 AM] miya: NO

[06:47 AM] miya: FOR THE RECORD IVE MADE MANY GIRLS CUM

[06:48 AM] bokuto: ME TOO

[06:48 AM] bokuto: i think

he laughed out loud, briefly startling another runner on the sidewalk.

[06:48 AM] iwaizumi: you guys are unbelievable

[06:48 AM] hinata: i mean she says she finished but idk what i did to make that happen

[06:48 AM] bokuto: ^^

[06:48 AM] hinata: so like i wanna know how to actually do it

[06:48 AM] suna: actually im kinda interested in this too

[06:48 AM] aran: i pray for your future girlfriends. this is painful to see. im out

[06:48 AM] kageyama: i’m with aran on this one. you guys are dumb

[06:48 AM] hinata: shut up. you suck.

[06:48 AM] miya: cmon iwaizumi, help a guy out

[06:48 AM] sakusa: it wouldnt hurt for you to give us some pointers at least

iwaizumi sighed.

[06:49 AM] iwaizumi: @miya @hinata @bokuto @suna @sakusa meet in the locker room after practice. ill give you guys a lesson in the art of pleasing a woman

to teach effectively, he needed a volunteer, though he was sure you wouldn’t need much convincing. you’d always loved the attention, and the biceps, of the pro athletes. he spun on his heel and jogged home.

you woke up to the sound of your apartment door opening, your boyfriend creeping inside, forehead damp with sweat.

“hey,” you said quietly, making your way towards him.

“hey, baby. sorry for waking you up, i was trying to be quiet.”

you giggled sleepily. “s’okay, haji. you spoil me too much anyway, always letting me sleep in for hours while you’re off doing god knows what.”

at that, his eyes crinkled in amusement, and as you tried to step into a hug, he shuffled back. “woah there, baby. i gotta shower, ‘m all gross from my run. and then,” he gave you a peculiar look that you couldn’t quite place, “i got a proposition for you.”

after his shower, he waltzed out of the bathroom, steam wafting out from behind the door. his tanned body made you feel things you definitely shouldn’t be barely an hour after the sun’s risen, and you reached out to massage the tension in his shoulders. “so, what’s your proposition?”

“well,” he hesitated. “it’s a bit... unconventional. the team asked me to show them how to make a girl cum,” he took in your intrigued expression. “and it’d be a lot easier to explain if i had someone to do a live demonstration with. so,” his eyes flicked up to you. “that’s where you’d come in.”

“a... live demonstration? like you’re gonna make me cum in front of them?”

“yeah, essentially.” he gave you a devilish grin. “you want that, baby? wanna show those boys how a real man treats a gorgeous woman like you?”

you rubbed your thighs at his words. “yeah,” you purred. “i do. wanna show them how good you are to me.”

and that’s how you found yourself nestled between iwaizumi’s muscled thighs, back pressed against his chest, completely naked, with five of japan’s best volleyball players staring at your body in awe.

practically an expert in his field, iwaizumi knew the human body inside and out. this had many benefits; of course it allowed him to catapult up the ranks and work with the country’s best athletes to keep them at the top of their game, but it also had a unique side effect: an overwhelming vault of knowledge on how to make a woman feel good anywhere. 

you’d seen the proof firsthand; he knew exactly where to push, prod, stroke, and tease to have you cumming in seconds, over and over, as many times as you wanted. he was amazing, and you were well-aware just how lucky you were to have such a talented man in the sheets.

“oi,” iwaizumi snapped his fingers, drawing each of the players’ eyes away from your glistening cunt. “pay attention. i know more than anybody that she’s hot as fuck, but you gotta listen to what i’m saying or else there’s no point to this.”

he lightly pressed his lips against your collarbone, slowly tracing them against your jaw, the contact making you squirm. “if you wanna make a girl cum, first thing you gotta do is make her comfortable. if she’s worried about how she looks or sounds or smells she’s gonna be too stressed to let go.” he moved his hands to grope your tits, his calloused fingers brushing over your hardening nipples. “so reassure her, tell her how irresistible she is, how pretty her moans are, how tasty her pussy is. shit like that. the sexier she feels the better it’ll be.”

he leaned into you, whispering into your ear. “feeling good, baby? we can stop whenever.”

you nodded weakly, afraid to open your mouth, barely holding in your whines as his palms worked wonders on your chest and stomach, sending shocks of heat wherever they touched. 

you craned your neck up to observe the men before you. atsumu was flushed red, wringing his hands as if he was worried they’d do something embarrassing if he didn’t keep them occupied. hinata was bouncing his leg up and down, wiping his palms on his shorts as he took in the plushness of your thighs. bokuto was basically drooling, greedily tracing your soft curves with his eyes. suna maintained his indifferent expression, but the reddening tips of his ears showed that he was a lot more hot and bothered than he let on. sakusa stood quietly to the side, leaning against the wall, mask tucked under his chin as if he’d just realized how much the temperature had gone up in the room.

there were two things they all had in common: the growing bulges in their pants that they were urgently trying to distract themselves from, and the fact that their full attention was on you.

"make sure to try different things; there’s multiple ways to make a woman cum. only like a quarter of women experience orgasms just from penetration,” someone made a sound of shock. “yes, the number is that small, bokuto.” 

his fingertip slowly trailed past your belly button, dipping into the mess between your thighs, causing you to slightly arch your back into the solid chest supporting you. “foreplay with the clit is your best bet; even stupid fucks like you probably wouldn’t screw it up too bad.”

hinata opened his mouth to speak, but iwaizumi anticipated his question and continued.

“i know you’re wondering where the clit is. it’s around here, under this hood of skin,” he slid his digit between your labia. “s’not gonna come with a label so you gotta explore a little bit. i know where hers is like the back of my hand, but for you guys, with your girls, you’re gonna have to move your fingers around. slowly. and pay attention to her expressions.” he began to rub in a circular motion around your clit, causing you to make small whimpers of pleasure and shift your hips to meet his movements. 

“if she clenches up or twitches when you feel a certain spot, like this,” your legs flexed as he increased the pressure, “that’s the clit. be kind, it’s not a volleyball. be gentle n’ make small circles, whether it’s with your fingers or your tongue.” 

he thought for a second. “speaking of which, oral’s important. very important. most women cum when they’ve been eaten out, so use your mouths for something more useful than just dirty talk. suck on the clit, maybe tongue-fuck her a ‘lil, but your main focus should always be the clit.”

he removed his hands from your sopping pussy, and you made a pathetic noise of frustration. “’m sorry, baby,” he muttered seductively in your ear. “don’t wanna have you finishing too early. lesson’s barely started.”

he turned his attention back to your audience, his lustful tone being replaced by a more instructional one. “there’s other places that’ll help a woman orgasm, too: her nipples, her neck, her ears—”

“her ears?” sakusa questioned. he blushed profusely as everyone turned to look at him, surprised that he’d opened his mouth. “what? we were all thinking it.”

“s’a valid question,” iwaizumi said. “yeah, you can lick ‘em if they’re sensitive. hers are.” as if to prove his statement, he licked a stripe on the shell of you ear, making you wiggle helplessly at the stimulation. “‘n leave kisses everywhere else. feels good for them just like it does for us.” he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him and forcing your movements to stop as he traced patterns with his tongue all around your neck.

“something you should know about an orgasm is that it’s something called a positive feedback loop.” he looked up and was met with five blank stares. shouldn’t have expected anything from these dumb jocks, he lamented. “basically that means that, once you start releasing sexual tension, things will feel better and better until you climax.”

“oh!” atsumu chirped. “like how my sets get better and better throughout a game.”

“no, not really,” he quipped. “your sets suck throughout.” atsumu frowned at that.

iwaizumi exhaled exasperatedly. “the general idea is that the body gets more and more sensitive, muscle contractions become more and more frequent, and touches feel more and more stimulating until you cum. all right?”

they all made noises of understanding except for bokuto and hinata, whose eyes had glazed over at the first mention of an academic term. whatever, iwaizumi thought. they’ll get it through example.

"don’t worry about it too much if you don’t get it, that’s just an orgasm on paper. in practice, though, this is the crucial step: listen to her. she knows what feels good. never forget that you’re just an idiot with a cock.” he took a breath, gathering his thoughts before proceeding with his lecture.

“if she tells you to slow down, you slow down. if she tells you to go harder, you go harder. if she tells you to keep doing what you’re doing, you...”

“keep doing what you’re doing”, they all chimed in at staggered times.

“that’s right. don’t go faster or else you’ll mess up the rhythm and she won’t cum. and you wanna make her cum, don’t you?”

they nodded simultaneously.

“so if you keep up the tempo and force that feels good to her, you’ll be fine. questions?”

suna spoke up. “what about,” he choked on the word. “penetration?”

hinata hummed in agreement and bokuto jumped in. “yeah, what if i wanna make her cum on my cock?”

iwaizumi made a weird face. “that’s some pretty advanced stuff, but i guess i can go over it. when you try it, though, you have to be patient. with both of your bodies. s’not rocket science but s’not always easy. also it depends on the woman but sometimes she physically won’t be able to finish from penetration alone. just make sure you’re communicating.”

his swirled two fingers over your hole before shoving them in, your wetness making it easy for him to thrust in and out as your entrance stretched to accommodate him. “f—fuck!” your eyes flew open at the intrusion and you body lurched forward, but you were held back by his strong forearm. “ohmygod, oh my g—ah! feels s’good haji, s’good!”

“i know, baby, i know. you’re taking it so well.” he turned his attention back to the men, each of who were gulping heavily. if that didn’t signal to you that they were evidently affected by your moans, the way they shifted in their workout shorts did.

“boys, focus.” he curled his fingertips, brushing at the spongy spot at the top of your walls, ripping a pleasured wail from your throat and causing tears to prick at your eyelashes. “when you’re fingering her, you’ll feel an area inside that’s a bit soft and squishy. that’s the g-spot.”

you trembled in his arms as he mercilessly struck the same place over and over again with his fingers. “when you’re fucking her, try to keep the pressure building there, but it’ll be harder to make her finish since you can’t see what you’re doing.”

your breath hitched as iwaizumi’s incessant movements brought your body tantalizingly close to your release. he suddenly stopped and you almost sobbed in disappointment, until he plunged his fingers impossibly deeper.

a guttural scream of ecstasy came from within you, and your eyes rolled back as he began playing with another part of you, your body putty in his hands. “hngh, haji, ah! so good, s’good...” you threw your hands back around his neck, nails digging into the skin as you desperately tried to keep yourself grounded. your soft moans filled the air.

“stop clenching,” he hissed. “can barely move my hand.” you tried to relax but failed miserably as the tips of his fingers grazed your cervix. 

“holy fuck,” suna muttered. “you’re a god.”

“she sounds so pretty,” atsumu said in amazement.

“i wanna make a girl feel good like that, too!” bokuto sulked.

“you can do it, bokuto!” hinata hit him on the arm. “just listen to iwaizumi. clearly he knows what he’s talking about.” 

their eyes refocused on your figure, writhing in pleasure, prompting white hot waves of arousal to pool in their stomachs. 

“yeah,” sakusa said. “clearly.”

“stop talking,” iwaizumi ordered. “and listen. beyond the g-spot is the cervix, which is basically the end of the vagina. if you’re long enough,” he briefly scanned each of their faces, “which i’m sure you are, you’ll be able to reach it if you bottom out.”

“haji—hajime, please.” the stimulation was coming absolutely unbearable, and you could tell he was sadistically holding you at the edge, refusing to give you the satisfaction of finishing. “lemme cum, please. please lemme cum, please, please, i can’t—i can’t take it ‘nymore!”

“what was that? you can’t take it anymore? gonna cum?” you helplessly bobbed your head up and down, hoping that he’d give you permission. “well,” he growled, “we can’t have that happening, can we?”

he abruptly halted his thrusts, pulling his fingers out of you with an embarrassing squelch and popping them into his mouth. pearly tears rolled down your cheeks as you grieved the loss of contact and relief.

your viewers looked on in horror, feeling immense sympathy for you; you just looked so dejected from being denied yet another orgasm.

“why didn’t you—why didn’t you let her cum?” bokuto asked.

“why do you think?” iwaizumi snapped. “don’t want you guys to see her when she does. that’s for me, and only me.”

“oh, okay,” he responded, disgruntlement clear in his voice.

iwaizumi’s glare could cut glass, it was so sharp. the possessiveness that had enveloped his mind made him hyperfocus on just one thought: being alone with you. “so, any other questions? if not, we’re done here.”

you pouted at that, not wanting the demonstration to be over. “but haji,” you mumbled into his collarbone. “i di’nt get to cum. and i wanna.” you looked up at him, eyes wide with want. “please make me cum.”

iwaizumi sent a harsh glance to the players that nonverbally communicated his message loud and clear: get out. they shuffled awkwardly out of the locker room due to the hardness between their legs that they would most definitely need to deal with soon.

your boyfriend turned his attention back to you. “’m sorry, i know i had to deny you a bunch of times. i just really hated the idea of anyone but me seeing the cute way you look when you cum.”

you made a small noise of acknowledgement and a little whisper of it’s okay, haji. he looked down, sensing the way your poor, desperate cunt was pulsing around nothing, the erotic sight injecting him with the pure need to ravage you.

he shifted his head to kiss you passionately. “why don’t i make it up to you?” he breathed between your parted lips before picking you up by the backs of your thighs, forcing you to lock your ankles around his waist. 

he delicately situated you onto one of the recovery beds at the back of the room, before murmuring something that made your pussy throb in anticipation: “i’ll make you cum whichever way you want, however many times you want, all right? all you gotta do is lay back and take it.”

© property of hornime 2021. do not plagiarize any of my writing and do not repost/copy my writing onto any other sites.

[mildkleptomaniac]

brunch — jj maybank x kook!reader

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭:  “ Can you do a jj x reader? He's a waiter at the club and her family is there for brunch, her parents don't know about their relationship and are kinda rude to him. Reader's done with their attitude and deffends jj and reveals their relationship by accident and her parents get mad. Love all your fics, you're so talented! ”

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: just some angst and an outburst! rude parents

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: sorry this took forever to get out! school semester just started, along with a new job. and I’m finally in the process of feeling better. I’m posting this on mobile so sorry if they layout is weird, but I hope you enjoy!

Y/N sat at the table, her parents sitting across from her as they stared at the menu. According to her parents, the world ran around them. They didn’t seem to care that they would take more than enough time to order and then usher the waiter over whenever it would be convenient for them. They would manage to make brunch turn into dinner with the amount of time they would sit at the table and slowly pick at the bread for an appetizer while slowly sipping their mimosas.

Y/N enjoyed going out for meals, but never with her parents. Sometimes she felt like she had to babysit them, especially with how they treated employees. She always apologized whenever the waiter would catch a glance at Y/N and she would give them an apologetic smile. Not to mention the amount of times she would slip in a few extra bills for the tip. Her parents were harsh when it came to the working class, which she didn’t quite understand.

But today at the Kildare Country Club, Y/N’s boyfriend would be their waiter.

JJ Maybank.

Y/N’s secret Pogue boyfriend. He was the boy that her parents would fear for her to fall in love with because they knew all too well about his family and their history. Her parents would remind her of the “better” selection of boys to pick from, which either included Kelce or Topper. Luckily her parents never mentioned Rafe Cameron—it’s almost like they knew in their gut that he wasn’t the best candidate to date.

Y/N’s parents feared that Pogues will just use her to get further in life and that she’s just some doormat to her friends. But that wasn’t the case at all, if anything—Y/N was the glue to the friend group after she began dating JJ.

A few lies a week would keep her parents fooled, thinking she was spending her time studying or volunteering when in reality, she was relaxing at the Chateau or lounging on the HMS Pogue in JJ’s lap as they sipped on cheap beers.

“Good morning, folks. My name is JJ and I’ll be your waiter today. Can I start you off with anything to drink?” The blonde flashed his smile at the table, his eyes meeting Y/N’s. A comfort washed over the girl, his gaze always soothed any tension built in her body.

“Isn’t it Mimosa Sunday?” Her mother glanced upwards from the menu, voice flat.

“Yes, m’am. Bottomless Mimosas all Sunday.” JJ replied.

“Then get it started. Y/N would have a glass of water.” Her mother’s eyes flickered back to the menu. Y/N pursed her lips, shifting in her seat.

“What would you like to drink, miss?” JJ asked Y/N, ignoring her mother’s statement. Her eyes widened and she cleared her throat.

“I’ll take a sweet ice tea, please. With a side of water, please.” She made sure to emphasize the word ‘please’ around her parents. A term to slip their vocabulary whenever they were brought face to face with the working class.

“Y/N, don’t waste your calories on a drink.” Her mother shook her head.

“It’d be okay and I don’t want to talk about that right now in front of the waiter.” She remarked through her teeth, eyes looking back between her parents and her boyfriend.

“One sweet tea and bottomless Mimosas coming right up.” He jotted the order on his pad before turning on his heel. Y/N’s father cleared his throat and it caught JJ’s attention.

“Young man, we weren’t done ordering. We would like to place an order for an appetizer.”

Y/N could feel her shoulders ache from how pinched they were with tension. Her parents absolutely embarrassed her to no end with their lack of consideration or manners. She’s surprised they got this far in life by treating people like this. They were no different than any other person.

“We would like the Mini Herb Smoked Salmon Frittatas with Deviled Eggs.” Y/N’s father read off the menu.

“I’ll get that in as soon as possible, sir. And I’ll be right out with the drinks.” He smiled before walking away. He glanced back at his girlfriend and sent her a reassuring smile, trying to let her know that he was doing okay.

She knew her parents weren’t the worse to deal with, but they could be difficult.

“I’m surprised they allow a Maybank to work at this establishment. He probably steals all the soaps and colognes from the bathroom and sells them on the street.” Her father laughed, shaking his head.

“Oh honey, you’re probably right. His father is such a sleaze, I wouldn’t be surprised if he makes the boy bring home scraps from the dumpster!”

“I’m sorry, but what the hell is wrong with you both?” Y/N questioned, her eyebrows furrowed as she stared in distaste at her parent’s banter.

“Excuse me, young lady. Watch your language.” Her father reprimanded.

“Excuse me? Excuse you! You don’t even know JJ and you’re talking poorly about him. Obviously, he is working hard to make money. Bold of you to assume that he isn’t a hard worker—but he is. Do you not see him mowing lawns for the neighbors? Helping Hayward run groceries on the docks? If his family’s wealth is such an issue to you, why not help donate clothes and food to him?” Y/N’s outburst caught other tables' attention. She stood up in her spot, her hands clenching the table cloth.

“Y/N, you are causing a scene. You need to sit down right now or else you’re in major trouble.” Her mother’s voice was sharp.

JJ walked to the table, pretending to be oblivious to his girlfriend’s statements, which the whole restaurant practically heard her defending him. “Here are the Mimosas and the sweet tea. The starters will be out shortly. Can I get you anything else in the meantime?” He faked a smile.

“I don’t care if I’m causing a scene, because you’re causing a problem! You’re being rude for absolutely I reason towards JJ.” She remained standing and JJ stood there awkwardly, unsure of what the right move would be in this situation.

“Why do you care about this, Pogue? He has no meaning to our lives—he doesn’t benefit society, sweetheart.” Her father spoke in a softer tone.

“You’re unbelievable, dad! JJ Maybank is a human being who works to survive! He isn’t some scummy person and—in fact, he is my boyfriend! Mom, Dad, meet my boyfriend, JJ Maybank.” Y/N finally snapped and she gestured towards the blonde who stood there. He looked like a deer in headlights.

“Y/N, stop embarrassing the poor boy at work and yourself.” Her mother’s face grew red—she wasn’t sure if it was from anger or embarrassment herself.

“I’m not embarrassing myself, mom. This is my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for a few months now and this is where I’ve been. I’ve been dating a Pogue. You’re sweet, precious daughter is dating this Pogue. And he is actually fantastic and cares about me—more than you two ever do!” She threw her fabric napkin on the table before reaching into her purse. She pulled out a rather large dollar bill and stuffed it into JJ’s pocket. “Here is a tip that they won’t be giving you, babe. But I think you deserve it.” Y/N kissed his cheek before walking away from the table.

JJ cleared his throat and looked around the area, “would you like a different waiter, today?”

Y/N went inside the Country Club and paced around the entrance way. She ran a hand through her hair and she tried calming herself down. She had never had that much confidence to confront her parents like that, but she knew she would face the consequences when she would go home.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and she turned around to face her boyfriend.

“JJ—I am so sorry all of that happened and—“ He interrupted her by cupping her cheeks and pulling her in for a kiss.

“You’re so hot when you’re mad and defending me.” He whispered against her lips. She let out a light laugh and they kissed once more. “You don’t need to apologize babe, what you did was awesome. Insane, but awesome.”

“My parents are going to kill me,” she laughed again. The reality setting in quickly.

“Then stay at the Chateau with me tonight. What’s gonna happen that’s not already? Plus, we can sleep together and I can have you tell everyone how you had a scene at brunch.” He teased, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair.

“That…that sounds nice.” She sighed, closing her eyes. JJ pressed a kiss to the temple of her head.

“I also put in your breakfast order if you wanna eat at the bar. I used the money you gave me for it.” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. She looked at him gratefully.

“You’re the best, J. I love you,”

“Even if I’m a Pogue?”

“Most definitely if you’re a Pogue. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

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