#but i need some kind of express permission to approach them

[princess-eris]

like this if I can send you pictures of my armored core for answer AC. it comes with free rambling.

[anashins]

Pairing: lawyer!Jaehyun x divorcée!reader

Genre: age gap, drama, romance, smut

Word Count: 24k

Summary: Jaehyun has a ruthless, cruel and not so legal way of getting his clients everything they want out of their divorce. After all, to do the job right, a lawyer like him is not supposed to believe something like 'love' exists in the first place. That is until he meets his next client who also has a not so legal way of creeping right into his heart and make him question all his morals.

A/N: Man, I miss Jaehyun :( D-541

“I want to divorce my husband.”

Jaehyun hadn’t spared you, the young woman who had been following him since the lobby, a single glance, purposefully ignoring every word you were trying to direct at him as he walked hurriedly and steadily to the elevators. 

He was already running late that morning thanks to a fight with the parking attendant since apparently, his permission for the parkade had run out last night. And now, an annoying woman blocking the elevator doors after he had gotten in and hindering Jaehyun from reaching his office’s floor was a bit of a stretch at this ungodly hour. Eventually, he couldn’t ignore your existence anymore. 

“Move,” he demanded, annoyed.

“I won’t,” you objected.

Pressing the ‘close’-button over and over again, Jaehyun rolled his eyes at your perseverance as not even the heavy doors hitting your arms could chase you away. He stared at you, observing the persistence mirrored in your eyes as you pushed the doors aside again. He silently gave you credit for that.

“I want to divorce my husband,” you said again. “And I need you to successfully do so!”

Jaehyun let his eyes wander as you had piqued his interest ultimately. Your stubborn spirit reminded him a little bit of himself. But only a little bit. He examined you thoroughly. You were dressed elegantly in a pencil skirt, blouse and high heels. No wrinkles in your clothes, hair tidily pulled out of your face, not a strand out of order. You dressed like the average woman approaching him for his help: trophy wives in their thirties up to fifties, trapped in a marriage that was falling apart for always one and the same reason,

the lack of love.

In these kinds of marriages, mutual love rarely existed anymore. It was the same pattern again and again: The woman went blindly and head over heels in love into the marriage and throughout time, got frustrated with their lives as their marriage turned out entirely different from what they had imagined. The husband was almost never at home, business was always more important, and rarely did a case not involve cheating. 

A person who had once been a naive woman in love had usually changed into a vengeful wife who wanted to take her husband to the cleaners by the time they consulted Jaehyun’s law firm. After all, they didn’t believe in love anymore, and that was why his job was so easy, and even a little bit of fun.

But there was one difference that made you stand out significantly from all of his past clients, Jaehyun silently remarked to himself as his gaze stopped on your face: You were young. So, so young.

“Divorce your husband?” he repeated your words. “Aren’t you too young to be married for long enough yet?”

Your expression darkened, but he took it as a challenge. It wouldn’t be the first time he clashed with a potential client. As a matter of fact, it wouldn’t be a successful case for him if his client wouldn’t start hating him at some point - and then preaching him to the heavens when he got them all they had asked for in the process, and more.

“Do you want this case or not?” you retorted. “I promise, you won’t regret it.”

Jaehyun raised a brow. Straightforward and witty. He hadn’t expected that from an early twenty-something. Perhaps, he should pay weight to your words, the fact that he wouldn’t regret it. Judging by your age alone, there was surely more to the story, and he was curious to get under the surface of it all.

Jaehyun removed his hand from the ‘close’-button while simultaneously a moment of relief flashed through his face - along with a grin. 

The door stayed open as he asked, “How long have you been married for?”

“Two and a half years.”

That was nothing.

“Is there a prenup?”

“Yes.”

As always.

“What’s your husband’s name?”

You hesitated.

In a lot of cases, Jaehyun knew his client’s spouses just by their name. Wives of CEOs, chairmen, actors, doctors, politicians, investors … they all came to him.

“Kang Seungmin.”

Jaehyun almost visibly took in an exasperated breather.

“Kang Seungmin who is related to the Aewha Group?”

You nodded. “His older brother is the CEO.”

Pause.

“Be here tomorrow, 8am.”

____

You remembered the day you got married like it was yesterday. 

You weren’t wearing your dream wedding dress. 

Your dress was a designer that your husband’s mother had picked out. It had been too voluminous, too heavy, and it hadn’t suited your style at all. Your makeup had made it hard for you to recognize yourself and they had put too many extensions in your hair. But that was what they had wanted you to look like - and you had complied.

It wasn’t your dream wedding venue. 

It had taken place at the Shilla Hotel and you hadn’t had any say in the decoration, it was all white and beige when you had wanted sprinkles of purple, your favorite color. The cake was vanilla flavored when you had wanted blueberry, and the program had involved a choir, not a band. But that was what they had wanted the reception to be like - and you had complied.

Your friends and family weren’t there. 

You hadn’t known a single person at the wedding except for your future husband’s family. When you had been sitting there, feeling lonely and left out, there was no one you could have turned to, no familiar and friendly face. Your guests were all only business partners and your new family’s friends - and you had complied.

You had never felt so lonely in your life like on the day that was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. But you had complied with everything, because you had been so, so in love.

And what was left of that now?

“So, Mrs. Kang,” Mr. Jeong started the next morning after you had appeared in front of his office at 8am sharp. “After you have filled out all the information about you and your husband, I just want to know one thing…”

“Which is…?”

You hoped he didn’t notice how you kept your shaking legs in place with your palms pressing on top of your thighs. You knew exactly what was coming and you were prepared for that, but it always made you nervous, regardless of how many times someone would bring this topic up. And it happened almost every time.

“What is it that you’re after?”

You were confused. That wasn’t what you had expected. “Pardon me?”

The lawyer took off his glasses with which he had previously read through your information carefully and put them next to him on the desk. Then, he propped his elbows against the table and leaned in to you. It was very intimidating as if he wanted to look straight into your soul to detect every lie that could possibly pass your lips.

But there was nothing for you to lie about.

“What do you want out of this marriage, Mrs. Kang?” he carefully elaborated. “Money? The house? Company shares? I can get you everything.”

“In all honesty, Mr. Jeong,” you admitted, “I don’t want any of his money, belongings, mansions and company shares. I just want to get out of this marriage and never be involved with this family again. That’s all I want.”

He let out a long sigh and closed the file with your information.

“Are you… done?” you asked.

“Yes. With you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t want anything? No money, no mansions, no company shares? Then, where is the thrill? What do you need me for?” The lawyer leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms behind his head. “I think it’s better for you to look for another lawyer.”

“His material possessions were not the reason I was trying to find consultation with you.” You stayed calm and didn’t want to get irritated by his change in demeanor. “I grew up wealthy already, Mr. Jeong. I’m not dependent on his money. When I turned eighteen, I inherited the trust fund my parents had opened up for me the day I was born. It’s enough to live comfortably until… well, the end of my days.”

“So, you are two wealthy people who have married and you don’t want to take anything from him just out of spite. According to the law, the trust fund still rightfully belongs to you as it had been handed over to you prior to your marriage.” If he was confused by your statement, then he didn’t let it slip. “So, what is it that makes divorcing him so difficult then, Mrs. Kang? What is it that you’re after, exactly? I know there is something after all.”

“It’s not what I’m after. It’s what he is after.” You reached down to your bag, pulling out a file that you then attentively placed on the lawyer’s desk. “Here is a copy of my prenup. Please open page 35. I highlighted the most important parts.”

He put back on his glasses and opened the documents at the respective page. You visibly saw his brows furrow at the paragraph that you had pointed out.

“So, it’s the other way around. In case of a divorce, it’s not him who will lose everything,” the lawyer concluded. “But you will lose everything, and it will be all transcribed to him. Your trust fund money, your possessions, everything from before your marriage even…” He stilled. “Just… everything.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m sorry Mrs. Kang, but…” He looked at you in utter disbelief. And the worst thing was that you couldn’t even blame him. You were very ashamed of yourself, too. “How could you have even signed this in the first place? I have never seen a prenup like this in my entire career. But then again, I've only been practicing in my own law firm for a short few years….”

He was straightforward with a certain sharpness lying on his tongue that tended to take a derogatory way at times. This lawyer had surely seen so much already, but according to his words, this must just be an entire new level of naiveness he hadn’t encountered ever before.

“I was young and in love.” 

There was certainly no other explanation you wanted to give him yet, even though he was looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to elaborate the decision and specifically the situation you had been in when signing this agreement. But again, you had to disappoint him. You would have still signed the papers if the circumstances had been different, you were certain of that. Why would it matter if you left out an additional reason?

The lawyer let out a long sigh. It was like you could hear his thoughts in your own mind: Such a naive, stupid girl, getting married so young and signing away all her rights just to be with a powerful man forever, out of blinded love. You endured it like so many other things in your life.

“Love.” He snorted, confirming your thoughts, and closed the marriage contract with a thud. “It’s absolutely good for nothing. You clients prove it to me every time.”

You tilted your head. “Just because I’m getting divorced doesn’t mean I don’t believe in love anymore, Mr. Jeong. Those are two very different things.”

“I’m aware of the fact that my clients almost all get married out of love like you,” he corrected himself strictly and made his standpoint clear to you. “Now, wanting a divorce from the person who you once had such strong feelings for… how can you still believe in something that has failed you so thoroughly?”

“But love hasn’t failed me,” you objected. “It’s the person who failed me. And just because that certain man has let me down, doesn’t mean someone else will, too. There is not only one person in the world to love. I’m not going to say I hate all men and will never meet someone I can open myself up to again, Mr. Jeong. I suppose that’s what the majority of people who come here say to you, am I right? But I won’t. There are people in their fifties finding love all over again, so if I have to wait another thirty years just to experience the same, I will willingly do so. I will never give up hope, I won’t let spite devour me whole. I will wait for my time to come.”

He had fallen into silence and his gaze was impenetrable while you kept talking and eventually came to an end. The Lawyer was either baffled by your naivete once again, or you had sincerely taken him by surprise and the usually so witty man for once, since your meeting, didn’t know what to reply.

“You’re so full of positivity, Mrs. Kang, it almost makes me feel sick. Where is your anger, your vengefulness?” he eventually responded, and you felt a wave of disappointment wash over you. “But since you don’t seem to have my clients’ usual bitterness and grimness to drive by, we will rely on your insolent positivity to win this case. Or stupidness, depending on how you view your case.”

You had never been so subtly attacked and complimented at the same time, but since it was coming from the ruthless attorney himself, you put more weight on the latter. “Whatever works for me, I guess.”

He folded his forearms on the table and leaned forward, closer to you, narrowing his eyes before he almost whispered, “But there is one thing I always demand from my clients to win a case and my trust eventually. Without this certain thing, you will lose both.”

You inhaled deeply in expectation. “And that is…?”

“The entire truth.” The response was so simple, but you sensed there was more depth in it. “If I ask you something, you’re going to tell me the truth. You cannot conceal or hide anything. There cannot be a detail that you consider too irrelevant or something that you consider too embarrassing to tell me. You will tell me everything I ask for and not ask for, are we clear?”

At this moment, you felt like he was staring right into your soul, marking this a make it or break it point for your business relationship. If you lied, would he be able to detect right away? Or was he bluffing and only wanted to intimidate you? Had he already sensed that you had left out an important aspect in your marriage?

“We are very much clear.”

A grin flashed across his face, making you frown. “Very well. Then I need you to do the exact opposite.” 

“The opposite? Then… I should lie?”

“Exactly. And please don’t hit me with the ‘I cannot lie, I’m a sincere person, I cannot hurt someone’ bullshit. We don’t do that here. In order to win what you want, you have to play dirty. Be honest with me, but when I need you to lie and do reprehensible things, you have to comply. Do you think you can do this, little miss sunshine? Or are we way too sincere and positive for that?”

“I’m sorry, if you mean playing dirty do yo-”

“Can you do that?” he interrupted you. “This is the only thing I need to know. Can you play dirty when I need you to?”

This shouldn’t surprise you. Deep down, you had always known what kind of lawyer he was. Everyone knew. That was why you had eventually seeked out for him. You couldn’t win this case on your own or with any lawyer, it had to be him. You had tried so hard and had approached not only attorneys in this city, but all over the country - to no avail.

This lawyer was your last resort, and never had you thought you would go this far. But if you had to lie and play dirty if asked to break free from your golden cage, then that was what you were going to do.

If you had to play dirty to see your family again, then you would do so.

You gulped, but still brought out, “I can do that.”

Even though it came reluctantly, he still believed you and said with a satisfied smile, “Very well, ma’am.”

_____

“So, this is the golden cage that you’re always referring to.” Your lawyer stood in the lobby, inspecting the entrance location. “Interesting.”

It was an odd sight for you - to have your divorce lawyer, who was technically still a stranger even after meeting a few times in his firm, in the home that you were sharing with your husband. But then again, in these two and a half years here together, your house had always been filled with only strangers and people you weren’t fond of, so this wasn’t quite a new experience.

Your home was a multistory penthouse in a high rise building in one the city’s wealthiest neighborhood, because another quarter was a degradation for your husband’s family’s status. It was all too modernly and minimalistically designed with no touch of personal memories in the form of pictures or belongings. The furniture was too clean, the art too abstract, the rooms too empty. It had always felt more like a museum rather than a home for you - grand, impressive and utterly overwhelming.

You had spent days endlessly wandering between the floors and looking out of the gigantic window across the river out of which one side of the penthouse was entirely crafted, spanning over two levels. This was the only thing you liked about your home as it was easier to dream yourself away while watching the sunset. Many times, you had imagined living on the other side of the river, too. Where it wasn’t all filled with stuck up millionaires, people too focused on changing their appearances and overall shallowness.

You had tried so hard to connect with this life, but even though you had grown up wealthily on this side of the river as well, there was one thing you were missing but had been showered with all throughout your childhood right until your marriage: love, comfort, warmth.

“I wonder how much this is?”

Your lawyer had picked up an ornate porcelain vase from the side table and threw it into the air. Your heart nearly stopped as you watched the decor flying off and gasped. Reaching out your hands, you tried to catch the vase yourself, but a moment later, it was landing safely in your lawyer’s hands again, who then turned to you, grinning.

“I guess it's very expensive,” he concluded.

You yanked the vase out of his hands and returned it to where it belonged. “Don’t do that again! This decor is finely picked out by my in-laws, and if there is only one vase slightly out of arrangement or one single statue looking in the wrong direction when they come over - which is almost every day - hell will break loose.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “That’s exactly what I imagined after what you told me about them. How can someone endure living here anyway?”

“I’m tougher than you think, Mr. Jeong.”

“Hm.” His eyes then fell on your appearance and scanned you up and down. “At first glance, you look like you totally belong here with your pantsuit and perfectly styled hair.”

“Just because I look like I belong here, doesn’t mean I do, Mr. Jeong.”

“Wise words for someone so young who doesn’t always make wise decisions, ma’am.”

You exhaled deeply. “Can we get over this as quickly as possible? You came here for a reason, right? Let’s get seated on the living room and-”

“Seats won’t be necessary,” he waved off. “You have to show me around your home.”

“And why would I have to do that?”

“Your husband is overseas on a business trip you’ve said, and I have to get a picture of the physical possessions, with how much money we’re dealing with apart from bank accounts, shares and all that stuff.”

“I see, that makes sense. But nothing here belongs to me, though.”

“That’s even better.” He turned around. “Which room is that?”

“The living room.”

“Great. Let’s start there.” Your lawyer entered the area as though he knew the place by heart while questioning, “You mentioned your in-laws visit here every day, Mrs. Kang?”

“Almost,” you partially affirmed while following him. “I guess they can’t let go of their son… and their need to control me.”

“What would they need to control about you? Are you somehow involved in their business?”

Your lawyer looked around in the gigantic living room that faced the panorama window reaching from the ground to the ceiling on the second floor. The sofa was placed in the middle of the area, right in a pit that was accessible by two steps built into the ground, encircling a marble coffee table probably worth a single-family house. Right next to it was a billiard table, most likely valuable just as much. This was going to be a very long evening, considering the inventory and the prices.

“I’m not involved in their business, Mr. Jeong.” You paused for a short while, invisible struggling with something inwardly. But you came to the conclusion that if you couldn’t tell your attorney, who then? “In fact, I’m secretly building my own one.”

“Oh?” He raised a brow. “Which kind of business?”

You remained silent for a few moments until he shifted to you and looked at you with inquiring eyes. “A bridal shop.”

You had already prepared a few witty responses, because whenever you told people about your business idea, they started laughing at you. Especially your in-laws. They had laughed at you so hard and shrugged your idea off immediately that you had never brought it up to them ever again. And your husband? He hadn’t even acknowledged it. You were not allowed to work in this marriage anyway.

That was why you almost desperately needed to win this case and all your money back - to fulfill your dream and reunite with your family. You could do that. That was how much you believed in yourself. Just nobody else ever did.

“So you like wedding dresses, ma’am?” your lawyer asked almost in passing, but there was no mocking undertone in his voice. “Somehow very ironic for someone who’s filing for divorce, don’t you think?”

“It’s my passion, Mr. Jeong.”

“How come?”

“I told you I will always have hope and I will always believe in love. That’s what I want to pass on as a message to someone like me. Someone who has found the love of their life, no matter for the first, second or third time, someone full of hope and brightness. Just because you haven’t experienced it yet or because one love has ended, doesn’t mean you’ll never experience this special kind of connection ever. It makes me happy to be part of something so significant. It keeps me going, it keeps me… hopeful, you know.”

“So you want to be part of other people’s special day to keep the thought alive that one day, you will still find the love of your life?” 

You clicked your tongue over the fact that everything coming out of his mouth sounded so… negative. “If you want to put it like this… I rather see it as an opportunity to share your happiness with equal minded people.”

“Why wedding dresses and not flowers then? Isn’t it more fulfilling to bring joy to people’s everyday life with flowers they give someone else most of the time?”

“You’re right, Mr. Jeong.” You smiled as you did not disagree with each other on this topic. “But my mother is a fashion designer and my father is an art dealer, so that’s the natural trajectory of my life. I love fashion, even if it doesn’t look like it. But there is only very little you can experiment with style-wise when all eyes are on you and you have to keep up a certain reputation according to your in-laws. I hide a lot of pent-up creativity not many people know of.”

“Oh, who would have guessed you’re not always all pantsuits and pencil skirts, Mrs. Kang.” He shrugged. “So you truly believe in it?”

“In what?”

“In love that lasts a lifetime.”

“As I said, Mr. Jeong… if we cease to believe in love… what is there to live for?”

"Wealth. Popularity. Freedom. Fun.” He snickered, but not in a way in which he made fun of you. He was more impressed by his own funny answer.

“But you have no one to share this with. Doesn’t your happiness then only last for so long?”

“Oh, I do have people to share this all with. Just because finding love is not my priority doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the company of beautiful women.”

You let out a deep sigh, but he shrugged your reaction off. Despite that, you had ended the topic on a  good note, because for the very first time ever, you were allowed to talk about your passion without getting cut off immediately.

By that time, you had already arrived at the kitchen. It was an impressively wide, open room made of expensive white marble which appeared unused for ages as it was spotless and shiny. As a matter of fact, just as it appeared, it was never used by anyone in this family - that much was true. This kitchen functioned only as a showroom when the family had guests over to lay out the appetizers and the buffet.

“So you have people who cook for you?” your lawyer concluded.

“It’s a personal cook that has gotten hired, yes.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Must be nice being rich, having people cook and clean for you every day.”

“Trust me, Mr. Jeong,” you opposed, “it’s not all that.”

You both then continued on to the second floor, and you could see him turning more and more impressed with the fact how your house was furnished. Not only the first floor was luxurious, but every other room as well. If there was something touching the ground or the walls, one could be sure that its worth came at least close to a small car, from furniture to decoration.

“Do you have to go in there?” you pressed through gritted teeth, and your lawyer rolled his eyes as you both stood in front of the closed master bedroom. “It’s a private area and there is not much inside.”

“Unless you have some secret toys lying out in the open, there is nothing to be ashamed of, we all know what’s going on in bedrooms, don’t we, Mrs. Kang?”

He grinned, unaware of the fact that there hadn’t been something going on in this bedroom for at least a year already. You also suppressed a gasp about his unhinged comment that was not very gentleman-like. But you also weren’t surprised your divorce lawyer, who always told you to play dirty, would leave dirty comments as well. You would just ignore them like the lady you got trained to represent.

“I guess you’re not sharing the bedroom anymore?” your lawyer asked as he wandered around in your private chamber after having opened the space.

“What has this got anything to do with my divorce?” you wanted to know, slightly enraged.

“A lot. If you can confirm that you haven’t shared a bed in quite a time, it’s easier to believe that your marriage has been in the shambles for so long and not a decision simply made overnight.”

“Divorce is never a decision simply made overnight, Mr. Jeong,” you clarified, but he corrected you instantly, 

“I didn’t mean it that way, Mrs. Kang. You will wonder how many clients come to me directly the day after they caught their partner cheating and change their minds to return to them a few days later. I want to know how serious you are and that it’s not a decision made on an impulse.”

“I don’t love my husband anymore, Mr. Jeong. Isn’t my tone sincere enough, my expression when I talk about my failed marriage? The fact I go through these lengths at my age?” Your voice got louder and louder, but he didn’t interfere. “But if you need to know about that part of my life too, then yes, I can confirm that my husband and I haven’t shared this bed for a little over a year already as he’s sleeping in his office.”

“Relax, okay?” he comforted you as you had ended your speech. “I was only asking.”

You dropped your head, suddenly ashamed of your slight blow up. “I’m sorry. That’s not… I’m usually not like this.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s normal to feel all these emotions going through a divorce. Sometimes, you need a ventil. It won’t be the last time that you talk to me like that, so let it all out. You’ll be surprised how much it helps.”

He was right, you thought to yourself, feeling a little bit lighter around your chest. But to your disadvantage, you bathed in that moment for a second too long and missed your lawyer opening another door in your bedroom of which he had probably assumed was your walk-in-closet.

“No, don-”

You stretched out your hand and wanted to reach him, but you weren’t fast enough and could only watch the door swing open, revealing a small room next to the bedroom that was certainly too spacious to only be a closet.

Instead, what he found in the room was a crib by the window where dim light was making its way through half-closed curtains. A light shade of yellow had been chosen for the tapestry, matching the beige carpet while the remaining furniture such as the changing unit and the crib itself were white. A few pictures on the walls added a playful undertone to the room, but that was it.

“I was only allowed to choose the pictures,” you explained recently as you slowly approached him. “They are sunflowers in different shapes. You know what sunflowers stand for?” You smiled meekly. “They stand for happiness and joy. This room should have brought me happiness and joy, but instead, it gave me years of sadness.”

He didn’t ask. Perhaps, he could figure it out himself as you had neither mentioned nor brought a child to your appointments with him. If not, then he sensed it wasn’t the right time to push the topic just yet.

“Let’s go,” your lawyer eventually exclaimed and closed the door behind him. “Let’s make your living room a bit messy when I unpack my laptop and we note down the cost of every item in here. That’s gonna be fun!”

He sometimes came off as rude and uncouth, but he knew when to stop talking.

_____

“What’s that?” You unpacked the plastic bag in front of you and pulled out a black long sleeve, black pants, black sneakers and a black beanie as you unsuccessfully attempted to crack a joke, “Were black clothes on sale today?”

“Those are your clothes for tonight.”

“If you haven't noticed yet, Mr. Jeong…” You looked down on yourself. “My style is classic, elegant. Not streetstyle, not coquette, or whatever this is. I’m still representing the family I married into and cannot wear this.”

“I’m sorry, but black cashmere sweaters were not on sale today, ma’am,” your lawyer said, and as you drew a closer look at him, you noticed that he was dressed all in black already too, and not in his usual suit, but more casual, even wearing a beanie himself. “Now undress and change into the clothes that I brought.”

“What would I wear this for?” You lifted up your hands and pulled up the pants. You usually never wore pants. “Where are we going? To the club? I don’t go to clubs.”

“No, we’re going to your house.”

“And why would we need these clothes if we’re going there?”

Somehow, you sensed you wouldn’t like the answer at all. “Because we’re going to rob you.”

“I- I don’t understand. Robbing… me? My home? While I’m there?”

“No.” Your lawyer came over to you, took the beanie out of the bag and then put it on your own head. He pulled the ends down into your face, messing up your slick bun so that a few strands stuck into your forehead. “Fits you perfectly.”

“Do you mean…”

The corners of his lips tilted up. “Exactly. You’re going to rob your own house.”

“Are you nuts?!”

“Ma’am, these words out of your mouth?” He snickered. “Change into the new clothes and then we can go.”

“What should this be good for?”

“It sounds cliche, but you really can’t see people who dress in black in the dark very clearly.”

“No, I mean robbing my home. What should that be good for?”

“Ah, that.” He scratched the back of his head. “When there is nothing of value in the house, then there are no items to fight over, hence less work for us. You said you didn’t care about his possessions, right? Then he won’t have anything left in the morning. We’re only going to grab jewelry and this kind of stuff for you to keep or sell. Just out of spite.”

You gasped in shock. “That’s illegal! I’m pretty sure that’s even a crime!”

“I can guarantee you,” he confirmed, “this is a crime on paper. Remember you told me you could play dirty?”

When you had agreed on playing dirty when it was needed, you had hoped that it was only a formality, that he was exaggerating or just wanted to test your willpower. You had never expected you both standing in front of your dark home in the middle of the night, dressed up as robbers just to do exactly that: commit a robbery.

With your arms crossed to hide your shaking limbs, you looked around nervously, sending a quick prayer to the heavens. Even though you lived on the highest floor and had used several backdoors through the building so that no one would know you had even entered in the first place, you still felt the risk of getting caught any second.

“This doesn’t help me at all,” your lawyer complained while handling the entrance door with different tools that made noises and left traces a little too obvious for your liking. 

“There is CCTV everywhere here and you just ruined the door’s frame,” you whispered in agony. “When my husband reports the robbery, they will check the time and date and then see us somewhere!”

“Do you think it’s my first time doing this?” he answered calmly while the door then opened smoothly with almost no sound. You furrowed your brows in question and wondered. Wasn’t the alarm supposed to go off? With a smug smile, your lawyer arose from his position and pushed the door entirely open. “Of course I had let the entire grid be turned off.”

You blinked in confusion. “How?”

“Again, you’ll wonder how far one comes in this country with just a little bribery.”

“That’s not very ethical,” you chided.

“You know what’s not ethical either?” He locked eyes with you. “Your husband taking all the money that’s legally yours from before your marriage, leaving you with no seed capital to start anew, with no prospects. Yes, it’s in the prenup, but what gives him the right to rob you like that just because it’s written on some piece of paper? Ma’am, the world is not a fair place,” he said confidently. “Sometimes, you just have to accept that. So, let’s go on a robbery.”

Your eyes narrowed, your nervosity completely wiped by now. “Let’s start with his office on the ground floor. I know he has some very expensive jewelry stored openly in there.”

Your lawyer’s grin widened. “Perfect.”

He had destroyed the door in a way that carried evidence of forced entry for the police investigation. On your way to the suggested room, you moved through the living area as well, and your lawyer had made it his mission to throw over some chairs and a small side table that had once carried some valuable crystal figurines that your mother in law liked to collect. They then all laid shattered on the floor.

“That was crystal!” you cried out. “Do you know how much it was worth? That was not necessary!”

“We’re on a robbery, not on a shopping trip at Tiffany’s,” he groaned. “Do robbers look like they care about some figurines? They come in a hurry and take everything valuable they can get in a short amount of time. They want the big stuff, gold, silver, money, jewelry… they don’t care for porcelain, vases… or whatever this was, things that are too big and break easily. Remember, we’re robbers, we have to make it look like we don’t care. Now, show me where he keeps his valuables stored.”

“There is way too much valuable stuff. How are we supposed to carry all of it?”

“We won’t.”

Your lawyer moved to the huge cabinet in the living area, stopped there for a moment, and then threw his entire body against the furniture. You let out a loud gasp, and another one as he pushed against the cabinet one more time, bringing it to a fall along with the pieces that were stored inside, instantly shattering in the process. The noise was immense and you had to cover your ears. He might not look like it in his suit, but now that he was only wearing a rather tight shirt, you noticed that your lawyer was very well built and that this was the reason why the cabinet hadn’t stood a chance from the beginning. 

He let out a “Phew!” as he turned to you and wiped over his forehead. “You can take on destroying his files and papers, just everything important to him. Let me handle this physical stuff. Don't worry, I made sure the neighbors on the floor beneath weren’t there tonight.”

You understood why you had to do this. If there weren’t many valuable items you had to fight over, the higher would be the chance they would let you off with your own money and the less time and nerves it would take to finalize the divorce, yet the sentiments that tied you to this place…

… they were nonexistent.

Opening all of your husband’s cabinets, rummaging through them and pulling stuff out just to scatter them everywhere felt somewhat very satisfying. You saw all his important files and papers on the ground and stomped on them like a maniac. Everything he worked so hard for, everything he owned while trying to steal from you simultaneously like he had done all your life already. Back in the days, you had just been too young and naive to notice.

You had held back so much during all this time and had never found a way to verbalize your feelings. A lady didn’t do that. A lady was always graceful and just endured. Right now though, you didn’t feel very ladylike. And it was the best feeling in so long.

You only stopped when your lawyer stood there next to you, arms folded across his chest, and there was an edge of mocking delight in his voice when he asked, “You’re done already?”

You lowered your head as he had caught you red-handed, but you also couldn’t wipe off the faint beam that remained on your lips even when he started rummaging through your husband’s cabinets in search of the watches you had told him were stored in there.

“I wasn’t aware he has such a large collection of the most expensive watches in the world,” your lawyer commented when he lightened up a drawer with the flashlight. “If I keep one to myself, would he notice? But then again, he won’t see any of these again anyway. So maybe I should ask you?”

You let out a long sigh and grabbed the watch from him that you then threw into the bag that he had brought along with. “That’s not funny. I think you make enough money to buy yourself an expensive watch.”

“Not this brand, but well…”

You rolled your eyes and continued with the sham robbery on the lower floor before moving on to the second. It was easy to destroy your own belongings as well. You didn’t feel any sentiment as you had expected. Over time, you had grown so resentful, at this point, you just really didn’t care anymore, except for…

“Don’t. Not inside there!” You threw yourself against the door your lawyer had initiated to open. There was no way he didn’t know what kind of room this was after his last visit, so he went in there with a purpose. As you lifted your head, a flash of empathy crossed his face, but you stopped your pleading gaze from breaking eye contact with him. “Please…”

You had been wrong. There was still something your sentiments were tied to in this place, the room where your baby should have lived.

“I’m sorry,” you heard him tell you with the lowest and softest form of tone he had ever addressed you with. “But if we leave this room out, then something is off. We have to at least rummage-”

Your front teeth pressed into your lower lip as you struggled with either making way for him or fighting him. You had hoped that, regardless of how much time had already passed, your past could always remain here as long as you kept this room locked up - just as your memories.

Letting another person inside would mean you had to close this chapter. And even if your therapist back then had also advised you to change this room into another event space and move on, you had never brought your heart to agree to that. What would happen if you moved out eventually? Wasn’t this the best opportunity to finally take this step? But it came so sudden…

“Can I still keep something?” you asked timidly. “My husband never entered this room, so he wouldn't miss anything, and I know what you want to say… I understand. Just please… one thing I can keep for myself? Maybe a jumper or a toy…”

It took a long while until he shrugged and eventually said, “You know… I don’t think there are robbers this cruel who would destroy a baby room. I mean…” He opened the door, but didn’t go inside. “No one would hide valuable possessions inside here anyway. Let’s go.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, and you wondered whether your tone could even carry a tiny fragment of the relief you were feeling right now to your lawyer, expressing how grateful you were for his understanding and gentleness, even though in his world, it might not make much sense at all. 

If he noticed the depth of your gratitude after all, with him risking your scam just to leave you this tiny piece of sentiment, then he didn’t bother showing you.

“Now off to my favorite part… the safe!”

“We won’t reach what’s inside there,” you warned him. “I even doubt his beloved mother knows the passcode to that.”

“Oh, we won’t get to steal what’s inside. But we will try. Ever used a crowbar to hit against something? It’s fun! Letting out a little anger. You’ll like it.”

Oh, how much you indeed came to like it.

____

“Very well.”

Your lawyer seemingly skimmed over the police report before he placed it aside on his desk, deeming it as done. Only a week after the incident, you had brought him a copy of the official papers that your husband had filed to confirm that everything was going according to plan.

After your fake robbery, you had pretended to arrive at home and called your husband in feigned shock that sounded so real over the phone, you nearly believed it yourself. Since he had been in a neighboring city only, he had arrived two hours later, and the performance you had put on in front of him and the police was nearly Oscar-worthy.

“Then, you only have to sign this.” Your lawyer had pulled out another set of documents from a staple on this desk and slid them over to you. “Exactly here, please.”

“What is this?” You read something about a bank in a whole other country that was unfamiliar to you, and a bank account under a name that was unfamiliar, too. “I cannot sign for another person.”

“I know. That’s why you will sign as this person whose name the account is booked under.”

“That’s not legal, I could go to jail for that!”

“This again?” your lawyer groaned. “This is the bank account onto which we will transfer all your money and hide it from your husband and his family. It is required for you to make sure you will keep your inheritance. It will take a few weeks, because of course we can’t just book your whole trust fund money onto another bank from one day to the other, it will take a few steps.”

“So basically money laundering,” you concluded cautiously.

“That’s the legal term, yes. I would describe it as…” He pursed his lips as though he was really thinking hard to come up with something. “Playing hide and seek. It’s suddenly gone and you don’t know exactly how long it will take, but eventually, you’ll always find it.”

You rolled your eyes, but signed the papers nonetheless.

“Very well. Now, grab your purse,” your lawyer summoned while he was taking off his glasses and arose from his chair. “We’re going to celebrate.”

“Celebrate? Celebrate what?”

“This success.” He put on his suit coat, circled his desk and picked up your purse from the chair next to you himself, thrusting it into your lap as you hadn’t made any move to reach for it yourself.. 

“Okay, but where?”

“Can you drink?”

“Not really.”

“Very well, then I’ll teach you.”

You reluctantly got up from your seat as you suspiciously asked, “Is this something you do with all your clients, Mr. Jeong?”

You were only able to watch his back when he opened the door and admitted, “Only with the ones I like.”

While you were still pondering whether his words had been a compliment, he had decided to take you to a shady bar, at a part of the city where you would never set foot in. It was dim and smelled strongly of smoke. The majority of the guests were male, there was a billiard table in the center, and on the menu were only beer and harder beverages.

“This is not the kind of establishment I usually frequent, Mr. Jeong,” you judged harshly while you struggled to find a comfortable position on the bar stool next to your lawyer.

“No, I don’t think you frequent any bar at all.” He had let himself plop on the stool next to you, took off his jacket and ordered two drinks you hadn’t heard of and neither ever sipped on before. “I purposely brought you here. You thought we were going to visit some kind of fancy rooftop hotel bar? Sorry to disappoint you.”

You scanned your environment with raised brows and a look that made men look back at you - but not in the open kind way. They were rather skeptical and curious. Your lawyer was still the best dressed here, everyone else was wearing casual clothes like they had just hopped by after work. They sensed you didn’t belong here, their faces spoke volumes.

“Don’t worry, these guys are harmless and actually nice. They just want a good drink and company before heading home alone, back to their dark and lonely room. It’s just… they don’t see women here that often.”

“I figured that much. What is this place even? Why are we here, Mr. Jeong?”

“It's a place to have fun! Try having fun, will you? Here.” He slid one of the two glasses the barkeeper had just dropped off on the counter closer to you. “Drink. Maybe this will help you to finally loosen up. And drop the ‘Mr. Jeong’-stuff, we’re off duty now.”

You knew there was no way you could say no, and even though you were doubtfully sniffing on the drink, trying to guess what it could be, you had to empty it under your lawyer’s watchful eyes.

“Oh my god!” You were coughing while your entire face heated up. You felt the liquid burning through your throat, making its way all the way to your stomach and settling there with a heat you had rarely encountered before. “What is this?!”

“It’s a drink to have fun! Are you having fun yet?”

“No!”

“Very well.” He downed his own beverage and then raised his hand. “Barkeeper, we need another two of these.”

You didn’t know how long it took for your perception of time to start shifting. You also didn’t know why you didn’t stop drinking, and certainly not why you didn’t say no. He wouldn’t have forced you, that much you were certain of. Maybe it was because you were truly weak. But maybe, in some kind of twisted circumstance, you were truly starting to have fun.

“Here, hold this.” You thrusted your purse and your jacket into Jaehyun’s hands. “I can’t look at this misery any longer.”

You rolled up the sleeves of your blouse and opened the first two buttons before - suddenly feeling not too hot and cramped in your own skin anymore - you strutted over to the men who had gathered around the billiard table, ready to start another set of games.

“May I join?” you asked into the round and earned many curious looks back. “Trust me guys, I’m really good at this.”

You had played billiard in your home so often, it started to bore you the better you got at this game. And with time, it had started to really dread you, because there had never been anyone to play with the many hours a day had to offer. 

“Miss, I don’t think-”

“Let her.” You didn’t see him, but you felt Jaehyun’s presence right behind you. Your chest swelled with confidence and pride. “She said she can do it, so let her.”

The men threw questioning looks at each other, but it didn’t take them too long until they all agreed to let you join, and one of them handed a queue over to you. “Ladies first.”

If your confidence had rooted from the alcohol you had chugged earlier, its effect was starting to lack now, because suddenly, you didn’t feel so full of yourself anymore. You bowed down lightly and positioned yourself on one side of the table. You usually started here, playing at home, but abruptly, you got so nervous with all these men looking at you with a certain edge of judgment they were unsuccessfully trying to conceal. 

If you failed the game’s opening, there would be no coming back from it, the momentum missed. You would play bad and they would all make fun of you. Maybe it would be better if you just backed down now…

“Well, well, well…”

You felt a palm on your lower back as you made attempts to arise from your position, keeping you in place as the hand gently pressed against the push upwards that you made. Jaehyun was preventing you from giving up.

He bowed down to you and whispered into your ear, “You don’t have to impress anyone. Just loosen up, let it go and have fun.”

You closed your eyes and breathed in deeply. He didn’t retreat his hand when you opened them again and angled the queue. He didn’t retreat his hand when you pulled back and pushed into the billiard balls. He only retreated his hand when you turned around to him, throwing your arms around his neck to celebrate that you had immediately put three balls into the holes.

You didn’t know when your hair had loosened and now fell in soft waves around your shoulders. You didn’t know when you had opened a third and fourth button on your blouse, revealing a bit of your undershirt. You also had lost count of the amount of drinks you had already downed the further the night processed.

But what you knew was that you had incredible fun.

“Did you see that, Jaehyun?” You were jumping up and down in front of him after winning another game against one of the bar visitors. “I won again!”

“Yes.” He smiled softly, like you had never seen before. “Well done.”

You tilted your head, your lipstick long gone, your cheeks heated. “It suits you so well, Jaehyun.”

“What?”

“That smile.” You beamed back. “Maybe you should wear this expression more often than that scorny grin. I like this one better.”

You couldn’t clearly see in the dim lightning, but you could swear you caught his ears turn red, and it was incredibly cute.

“Alright, brandy blossom,” Jaehyun then called out after you had won another game. “Time to go home before your hubby returns.”

“Already?” you pursed your lips and put down the queue. 

“You don’t want to be caught reeking of alcohol, all disheveled, right?”

You gasped and stemmed your hands against your hips. “Of course not! Just… another round, please? I need to properly say goodbye to my new friends.”

He gave in, knowing he didn’t stand a chance against the sad face you and the men you had been playing with pulled all at once.

Seemingly annoyed, Jaehyun sighed. “But just one.”

____

“Jaehyun, everything is spinning.” You leaned against him while he put an arm around you and kept you on your feet as you entered the elevator. “And I feel sick.”

“That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let you play another round and have a last farewell drink with the other guests.” He pressed the button and watched the door close in front of you both.

“But I had so much fun,” you said as you looked for support by stemming yourself against the elevator wall. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve had this much fun. I would do it all over again. Can we do this again sometime, please… Jaehyun?”

You didn’t know if Jaehyun ever replied to that as you closed your eyes and drifted away. You were moving, that much you knew, or was it all in your memory as well? You didn’t use your own body, but felt like you were being carried, not having to put your feet down. You were floating and a slight breeze pulling on the ends of your hair strands suggested that somewhere, a window must have opened, and then you fell…

… but on a soft cloud.

Your eyes reluctantly opened and you saw Jaehyun bending over you, worry sketched all over his face.

“Thank god!” he exclaimed in relief. “I thought you were passed out.”

“I feel so sweaty and smelly, Jaehyun,” you complained to him, starting to unbutton your blouse’s remaining buttons. “I have to change.”

“I’ll bring you the bathrobe.” But he wasn’t able to leave your side as your hand reached out to him and locked him down with a tight grip around his wrist.

“Please don’t go,” you whined, very much under the influence. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

“I won’t”, he spoke with a voice so gently, even in this state you wondered if it was the same person you spoke to about your divorce. You felt a palm touching your temple, swiping away a few hair strands. “I’ll just bring you a fresh bathrobe.”

Still, you refused and shook your head. “Please stay.”

It didn’t take him a second to answer, “Fine, I’ll stay.”

You drew a deep breather, staring at the half-darkened ceiling that was semi blurry in your drunken state. Only a small light was on, somewhere in the corner. Perhaps, it was the alcohol speaking the following words, but suddenly, you got so sad and hid your face by placing your forearm on your head. 

“Actually, you know… I’m so scared of getting divorced.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m scared that I’ll be alone all my life, after all.”

This time, Jaehyun’s answer took him much longer as if he was carefully thinking about each word. “You’re the most fascinating woman I’ve ever encountered. You won’t be having any struggles attracting men who are handsome and treat you well, I’m sure about that. Just this time, choose widely.”

“I don’t think I want to get married so fast again,” you confessed. “I think next time, I will take it slow. I want to get a degree and open my business first. Then, I want to get married again.”

“That sounds very reasonable. You hadn’t had a chance to enjoy your youth much.”

“But I don’t want one night stands, flings, short-lived encounters…” You dared to peek from under your arm and eventually withdrew it from your face to look at Jaehyun properly. “What if I meet my true love during that time? Will he wait until I’m ready?”

He spoke with confident sincerity that was reflected in his expression as he assured you, “If he truly loves you, then he will wait.”

“But… I want to experience the love I am able to give. What if there is really only one love we get to have in a lifetime, and he has been this love for  me? What if I’ve used up all of my love for this life already?”

“That’s nonsense,” Jaehyun instantly dismissed. “Love is endless, you cannot use it up. Especially you. You have so much love to give, you cannot be the only person out there. You will meet someone whose love is as endless as yours, I promise.”

“How much love have you got left, Jaehyun? Is it still endless too?”

Only at this moment, you realized that you hadn’t let go of his wrist all along. Only at this moment, when he twisted your both’s fingers in a way that intertwined them. Your chest welled up, you hadn’t felt this cared for in what felt like an eternity.

“Yes,” he whispered. “It’s still endless too.”

“Then I’m glad,” you replied with a smile before drifting off to sleep.

____

You didn’t know when you last had fallen asleep with your husband on the same bed, let alone holding hands with him and having his arms wrapped around you from the back. Waking up groggily on your soft bedding, you first saw your intertwined hands resting on your hip, your husband breathing delicately with his face buried in your nape.

It was odd. You didn’t feel put off or disgusted even as normally whenever he even tried to have some kind of body contact with you. No, you felt content, comfortable and warm. So, so warm.

Except for… as your eyes scanned the room, it dawned on you that this was not your house’s wall and neither was that your window you were looking at. This wasn’t your bed either, and behind you was certainly not your husband laying. 

“No, no, no!” Your breath caught and you sat up straight on the mattress, waking up your lawyer with your hectic movements. “No, this can’t be!”

“What’s going on?” He instantly arose into a seating position although his eyes were barely opened yet. “You’re leaving already? It’s only… 6am.”

“Yes!” you screeched and escaped the entangled sheets, starting to adjust your pulled up skirt and open blouse. Your cheeks heated up and you turned around, away from your lawyer’s peripheral so as to not reveal more of your body to him than you already had. “I was supposed to be home by last night! Why am I here? Is this a hotel?”

“You were so drunk, you could barely walk and always drifted off to sleep, I couldn’t just bring you home. I just wanted to make sure…” He paused and then shrugged. “Whatever.”

“Oh my god, what do I tell my husband?” You ran your fingers through your disheveled hair and tried to clean your clothes. You could barely remember the last night. “Where is my phone?”

“Here.” Your lawyer held up the device in front of you. “Zero messages and zero missed calls. Can you calm down now, please? I’ll drive you.”

You took your phone into your hand and looked at it in utter confusion. “That’s strange. Usually, he would call me when I’m not home or at least send me a message. Let’s just hope he didn’t bother checking up in the first place, that would be the best case.” A very unwell feeling suddenly crept up your body, laying itself on your chest and slowly cutting off your air. “Something is off. I need to go home. Really, I need to go home right now.”

Rather cold hands suddenly placed themselves on your left and right cheek, cupping your face. Your lawyer looked straight at you with penetrating eyes. “Please, I need you to calm down first. Now.”

You tried shaking your head, but his grip was too strong. “I can’t-”

“Yes, you can.” There was no talking back. He wouldn’t let you go otherwise. “Calm down, then get dressed and I’ll take you home. Spiraling right now is not helpful. Try collecting your thoughts and then act according to it.”

So you tried as he told you and closed your eyes. You took a few deep breathers, but even though you could set your body at peace just a little bit, your heart still refused to do so. And you got a feeling it was not because of what was awaiting you at home, but rather because your lawyer stood so close to you. It was his presence that caused you to be all irritated at this moment.

A few memory threads flowed into each other again, and pieces of last night seeped back into your mind… Your hands around his neck, his soft smile, his gentle words, his arms carrying you to the hotel room, his fingers intertwined with yours, his chest pressed against your back in your sleep…

You looked at him, utterly petrified. Had you just cheated on your husband?

“You’re coming?” he asked.

You followed him out of the hotel room and into the elevator. You didn’t say a single word and he didn’t pick up a topic to talk about either, so you just remained silent and avoided eye contact at all cost. You wondered if he felt the same way about your unexpected intimacy from the night before: guilty and ashamed - against yourself. 

That was what you would describe it, but it was not what entirely described the bigger picture. Because why else would you have wished not to be still married right now just to have laid in bed with your lawyer for a bit longer?

“Checkout, please,” you heard him say as you stood next to him, totally lost.

Your husband was an attractive man, but your lawyer… You watched his back bend, messy strands falling into his forehead, a crinkled shirt tightening around his chest. A small part of you that had supposedly taken control over you last night, yearned for him in a way you had never yearned for a man before, not even your own husband.

You suddenly broke out in cold sweat and had to look away, fingers gripping tightly onto the jacket in your hand. You were still a married woman, you were not supposed to feel this way about another man yet, even though you didn’t love your husband anymore. You still belonged to him on paper…

“Let’s go.” Your lawyer looked at you, frowning. “Are you okay? You look feverish.”

He wanted to touch your forehead, but you quickly turned your head away. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t believe you, but let it rest. “Fine.”

You trotted after him, feeling torn about what was morally right and the desires that had started to involuntarily get into your head.

____

Something was off at home, because nobody was there.

You and your husband didn’t speak often except for the necessities. Most of the time, he would sleep at his office in the house, coming back late in the night and leaving early in the morning. Sometimes, when it was very late, he didn’t bother to check up on you at all, assuming you were asleep already. For last night, you had just hoped that it was this exact case.

And just as you were standing there in the lobby, kind of lost and still groggy with a slight hangover starting to announce itself, you got a phone call.

“Hey,” you greeted.

“Hey,” your husband greeted back. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it home last night, and I won’t be able to come back today either. There is too much going on in the company.”

You didn’t bother to care anymore, you hadn’t in a long time. You were just relieved that last night didn’t have any consequences. “I understand.”

“Is mother already gone?”

“M… mother?” 

Your blood froze and your vision shifted to a silhouette that was just revealing itself in the corner and slowly stepping into the weak daylight. You had judged too early, weighed yourself in safety too fast as there it was, your consequences.

“Yes,” your husband responded. “Don’t you think it was nice of her to spend the night, because she was worried you would be alone after the robbery? Anyway, I have to hang up and get back to work. Bye.”

Your arm slowly slipped down, fingers barely still holding onto the phone as you looked at your mother-in-law like you were facing a ghost.

“By the looks of it, it seems like someone’s had a rough night.”

You did your best to keep your voice low and conceal the trembling tone that came along with your answer, “I was at a friend’s house last night.”

Your mother-in-law snickered and approached you, her face not changing a bit - the result of year long surgeries. She was smaller than you and certainly older, but something so wicked and deeply evil had always been surrounding this woman that even her own sons wouldn’t dare to look into her eyes without permission.

Secretly, she was the one running and pulling the strings behind the company, the entire conglomerate even, stemming from one of the country’s richest families for centuries. At least that was what she liked to tell, but your research didn’t reveal such connections. That didn’t make her appearance less intimidating though as even her own husband looked small next to her.

“Don’t fool me, darling. You don’t have any friends.”

Two years ago, you would have apologized deeply and fallen to your knees, begging for forgiveness, even if it meant kneeling for days. But you weren’t the intimidated girl from shortly after your marriage anymore. Losing your child had shaped you deeply and the divorce was the final stage, not the process - even though you still had weak moments. You decided this wouldn’t be one of them.

“You don’t know anything about me or my life.”

Somehow, you felt mentally so strong right now and straightened your shoulders to present self-confidence, aware of the fact that even though your way through this divorce was not the prettiest and most legal, it was the most effective. And truth to be told, they didn’t deserve a clean divorce anyway.

“I see it written all over your face,” she snarled. “You’ve been with another man.”

This woman didn’t deserve a glimpse of your new, true self at all.

This woman who had told her son, “If you had just waited half a year more, you wouldn’t have had to marry her and we wouldn’t have this burden in our family now.”

And the son who had just answered, “I’m sorry to be such a disgrace, mother.”

And you, the timid girl, you had just sat with them and swallowed every tear, because nobody in this family was supposed to cry - not even after losing your own child.

You wondered if that had been the moment you started slowly losing the love for your husband who you had deeply loved from the first the moment he struck up a conversation with you at the university where he had been invited to as a guest speaker. Three months in, you got pregnant and another three months later, were married. 

You had never graduated with your degree, but you hadn’t cared, because you had loved him deeply. For you, it had always been enough - but never for his family. It struck you the moment you had lost your baby and fell from grace.

For two more years, you had wondered whether you could restore the fading love or find another way to feel so deeply again. You had been stuck in a limbo where you questioned if it was some strange form of Stockholm Syndrome you had developed or whether you were just too weak of a person to break free, too afraid to never find love again. 

When one night two months ago, you had found your husband all immersed in work and family problems on the death anniversary of your child which he clearly had forgotten about, you had finally figured that he was a simple man who would always be under the control of his mother. There was no need to fight for what had long been lost. You were much stronger alone.

“You are only still here, because a divorce is a disgrace, never forget that and be grateful you have everything you need. Other women would happily trace places with you.”

“Then let them!” It was the first time you heard yourself raising your voice against her. “Let them replace me! You know we don’t love each other anymore, why don’t you let me go then?”

“Oh, darling.” Your mother-in-law stretched out her hand and touched your cheek. It felt ice cold, but you couldn’t move as your body turned to stone. “I would have, but you’re just so easy to keep here, why bother in the first place? I can keep you low and our reputation stored, it’s much better than dealing with a hassle.”

No, you weren’t easy to keep anymore anymore, you were just very good at hiding all of it and keeping up your facade. Maybe before, you would have caved and given in. Maybe before this all, you would have crouched in front of her. Maybe, before you hired your lawyer, you wouldn’t have had these thoughts at all. But only the imagination of him gave you everything you needed to fight back years of suppression. 

“I’m not scared of you.”

The slap came unexpectedly, leaving a visible mark on the side of your face. You gasped for air as you held onto the burning skin, your senses not coming together just yet over what had just happened. It felt like the spot got handled with many needles trying to push through a thin layer.

“The next time you’re robbing your own house, make sure to not leave footprints all over the scattered papers, the police might be onto something. I don’t know who’s helping you, if that person is a criminal or your affair, but if you really have some kind of shady thing going on behind my back, I will take you down and your entire family with you.” A threat so sharp that cut through the air like a knife. “Nobody knows about this, so I will do you a favor and keep it between us. If you continue with whatever you’re planning, I promise you, you will regret it deeply.”

Your family… you didn’t know when you had last seen them. You missed them dearly and there was no way you could put them in danger.

That was the only thing you could think of before you snapped back to reality as the entrance door closed behind you.

____

“Who did this to you?”

Your lawyer was kneeling in front of you, inspecting your bruised face with hands so gentle and a gaze so soft, it reminded you all of last night. You were sitting on the couch in his office, legs pulled up to your chest, staring at him but at the same time through him.

“Who?” he asked again as you didn’t respond, this time more insistently. He jumped back to his feet. “Who did this to you? Your husband?! I’m gonna k-”

Reluctantly, you shook your head. “No, it was my mother-in-law. She knows.”

“She knows about what? Whatever she knows, it doesn’t give her the right to physically abuse you!” You had never seen him this agitated and furious before as he walked around his office in a haste, apparently in search of something. 

“She knows that I’m onto something… with someone,” you admitted, fearing that he might get angry as you had not been careful enough. “She mentioned my shoe’s footprints over the scattered papers on the ground… I walked all over them, remember?”

“So what?” your lawyer dismissed in an instant. “This doesn’t mean anything. If this divorce makes it to the court, no judge will pay attention to this detail. You live in the house, naturally your footprints will be somewhere.”

You lowered your head, but sensed him walking back to you and pressing something against your cheek, providing instant relief to your burning skin. It was an empty, cold glass. “Sorry, I don’t have anything else here. I hope it helps.”

“Thank you.”

“What else did she say?” he inquired. “Whatever she said, I promise you, in this divorce, I will wring her out until she’s dry and has nothing left anymore. Then, I will push even further, that much I can do.”

“She’s right with everything she’s said to me,” you whispered absent-mindedly, rotating the glass on your skin so that the spot would always meet a cold surface. “I’m so easy to keep, that’s why I’m still there.” It was a paradox to you how a much older and tinier woman had brought up enough strength to hurt you this deeply, inwardly and outwardly. “But what was I supposed to do all this time? I’m from a reputable family and have willingly signed this contract, giving away my rights, my freedom. It was very convenient for them… I was only a convenience that had come along at the right time as their son wasn’t married yet. And then, I couldn’t even bear my child, and it turned me into a disgrace in an instant.”

“Stop!” your lawyer called out, bracing his arms against his desk that then creaked under his weight. His eyes were forcibly closed and there was a huge frown forming on his face. “Don’t ever talk about yourself like this again!”

“But it’s the truth!” you protested. “She may not be in the right, but she is right about me! I willingly agreed to cut off contact with my family, friends, everyone. And then it takes me two years to do something against it! Let’s face the truth…”

“Don’t say that,” he pleaded lowly, his knuckles turning white as he added more pressure to his grip against the desk’s edge. “It’s not like you. You were always so full of hope, in a fighting mode.”

“I still am!” you disagreed. “I still am full of hope and fighting, but let’s face the truth... I’m so young and I will have been through a divorce in the near future. I’ve lost a child, I don’t have a degree, no money for now, no prospects. Who would even want me anymore?”

You didn’t except an answer, it was only a rhetorical question, but he still gave you one,

“Me. I would.”

You heaved up your head, expecting to encounter a grin as your lawyer had just joked around to lift up your spirits in a meek attempt, but as you met his gaze, your breath caught. He was not kidding. He was dead serious, and by now you could quite well distinguish between his serious and joking demeanor.

“Jaehyun…”

His brows drew together, and he eventually broke out in a relieved smile, just a little bit. “Finally, you call me by my first name, even now.”

“Mr. Je- Jaeh-” You shook your head in confusion. You suddenly didn’t know what to think, say or even feel anymore. “Please don’t joke around, now is not the time.”

“I’m offended that you think I’m joking after all this time. I don’t make jokes about that.”

You dropped the glass on the cushion and jumped out of your seat, moving to the other end of the office room, far away from him. You couldn’t bear being so close to him with all that nonsense that he was speaking, because you feared that a big part of you wished for it to become true. 

“You know that I am looking for my one true love.”

“Who said it can’t be me?”

“I’m still married to Kang Seungmin.”

“Then I will have to hurry up with the divorce papers.”

“I want to get a degree and open my business before marrying again.”

“I’m willing to support that and wait.”

“You’re so full of life and I’m so broken.”

“Then I’ll bring you back to life too.”

Why did everything he say sound so illogical, yet so tempting? If life was only that easy as he always made it seem with his shady business, maybe there was still hope for you, too. You longed for the lighthearted young woman you had been in the past, and something inside you, maybe the remnants of her, believed that with him, she could find her way back to the surface.

“You don’t understand the depths of my trauma, you cannot love me, Mr. Jeong.” You turned back to the couch and picked up your purse. Walking towards the door, you told him, “I wish we would have met before all of this happened. I wish you would have met me when I was still in university. You would have liked me more back then and my life would have turned out differently.”

“Your life can still turn out differently, because it doesn’t matter when we would have met. I would have liked you all the same.”

You wanted to walk out, but your fingers remained on the door handle, refusing to move. Your cheeks were burning, but on both sides and for an entirely different reason now than shortly before. You were crying hot tears that were streaming down your face. “You don’t know what you’re saying…”

Suddenly, you felt his hot breath against your neck and flinched. But he didn’t touch you, no matter how desperately you wanted it, and you continued to fight against this desire. 

“We can also fall in love now, forget about the past and start again.”

“This is what you cannot understand,” you spoke earnestly. “I can never forget about the past, Mr. Jeong. And I refuse to do so, because it’s a part of me and will become a part of my partner too. My current husband has failed to allow this to happen to him.”

Then, your fingers were finally moving and you slipped out of his office. You used the stairs this time, running all the way to the ground floor. Only outside of the building, you were ready to come to a standstill and start breathing regularly again. You were sweating unlike ever before, hot and cold waves washing through your body.

But you continued your way by walking, walking all the way home, whether directly or in circles, you didn’t know. You just kept walking until it was nighttime, until you returned to your house where emptiness was awaiting you.

And as you stood there, alone in the darkness, you wondered how long it would take for it to consume you entirely.

You refused to let it get this far. Not again.

____

A few days later, you were standing in front of a grave that you generally avoided visiting except for only one time a year. The pain was too much to bear alone as nobody had ever bothered to accompany you.

This year, you were here for the second time - but this time you had company.

“I’m sorry if the things I’ve said back then were too insensitive,” Jaehyun apologized. “Just because I’m older doesn’t mean I’m more experienced. Of course I don’t know anything about your pain.”

“That’s why I brought you here,” you told him, your look unwavering from the small tombstone. “I want to share it with you. If you still want to love me after this, then I will believe you.”

…

When you found out that you were pregnant, you weren’t shocked like so many girls your age, who had just entered university, would generally feel. 

You were head over heels in love with your boyfriend who, despite your huge age gap and his position in the company, had made it his priority to shower you with gifts and love. That this was considered ‘love bombing’ and ‘grooming’, you would only figure out later. Up until this day, you were still convinced your love for him was real. It just wasn’t your fault that you were an easy target. It was his fault that he had even approached you in the first place as a grown man ten years older than you.

It only took one time for the two stripes on the test to appear. His happiness wasn’t feigned, and neither was yours. Of course you would drop out of university and get married. Marrying into this family would mean to never have to work anymore anyway and only caring for your child and husband. The fact that this was all convenient for a man who couldn’t keep a woman his age and was under so much pressure from his family, you would only figure out later. 

It was a shotgun wedding, but of course that wasn’t what was written all over the news. To his family’s luck, you weren’t showing yet and from a reputable background, but you had to hurry up with the wedding nonetheless. You were anticipating this child so much, even though your family tried to sabotage your wedding. That was probably why you were so easy to get talked into cutting off all contact with the people related to you. They didn’t understand you. The fact that they only tried to warn and save you, you would only figure out much later.

You signed away your inheritance, because what was yours was his, and thus for your child and every future child as well, it sounded all logical. You felt loved and cared for unlike ever before. Why be with your unsupportive family when every love and warmth you could find with your husband’s family? Other people looked for love all their lifetime and were unsuccessful. You were lucky to have found the love of your life at an early age. 

The fact that the people who told you you were too young to marry were not jealous, but only caring, you would only figure out much later…

… when you were lying in your bed with cramps so bad, you thought you were going to die. Except that it was the child inside of you, who was almost due to be born, was the one dying.

There hadn’t been any signs. He had been healthy. Yet, somehow, his heart had stopped beating.

They took your baby out with a c-section, you had only held him in your arms once. Nobody had shown up to share this incredibly painful moment with you. 

This moment that had dragged you into a darkness which would take you years to break free from.

…

“Suddenly,” you continued, speaking to Jaehyun, “I wasn’t the beloved daughter-in-law anymore. I was a disgrace. If I cannot keep a baby, why bother about me? My body cannot function properly, it refuses to act according to nature. Nobody looked at me the same way anymore, not even my husband. While my mother-in-law confronted me with disgust and anger whenever we met, it was disappointment that was mirrored in my husband’s eyes. He wanted to try again, his mother wanted him to. They didn’t give me a moment to mourn my stillborn child.”

“Did he…?” Jaehyun started, unable to speak out the words, but you shook your head.

“She insulted him many times, but he never did anything against my will. We did genuinely try though, I didn’t want to give up on my marriage, but I think my body already had. Sometimes, I caught him lying to his mother that we were trying when we had long stopped. This, I’m grateful for. But it made her hate me even more, because I’m in the wrong as I cannot conceive according to her.”

“This is horrible…”

You stood there, side by side, looking at your baby’s grave. “Sometimes I think he knew what kind of life was awaiting him and chose to not join me. I would have been a horrible mother under these circumstances.”

“He?”

“My baby was a boy.”

“No.” Jaehyun shook his head and suddenly reached for your hand. He was holding it for a long time, before he eventually said, “You would have been the best mom, no matter the circumstances.”

“So why is my baby not with me now?” you sobbed. “Why did it leave me?”

This was a question you were asking yourself over and over again, ever since it had happened. Your therapist had advised you to let go of these thoughts and the guilt, finally breaking free from that darkness by moving on. But you just couldn’t and had stopped going to the sessions from then on. She hadn’t understood the depths of your pain either - or so you had thought.

“Maybe,” Jaehyun started and removed his hand from yours to put it on your shoulder and shift you around to him instead. “Your baby didn’t leave you. Maybe your baby just sensed it wasn’t the right time and is waiting to come back to you when you’re ready again. Then, you’ll see each other again.”

You cried even harder at this point, only slowly realizing that Jaehyun had his arms wrapped around you now, embracing you tightly. Somehow, you had missed someone like this throughout all the years of pain, someone who listened, who was willing to share your suffering, who made it all more durable. Someone who was finally seeing you and acknowledging the depths of your pain. 

Had your lawyer been this person all along and it was meant for you to only find him now when you were ready for it?

“I like that thought,” you brought out under tears. “That I will see my baby again.”

“And your baby will also see your family and friends. I will make sure of that.”

“Jaehyun…” He pressed your face against his chest and rested his chin on the top of your head, tenderly brushing over your hair.

“I still want to love you. With all your pain, all your scars. I still want to love you.”

This time, you believed him.

Even more so when you came back to the grave a few days later. You didn’t want to run away anymore. If you freed your pain and didn’t lock it away in an abandoned room, it would grow easier to be a part of your life. That was why you wanted to confront your darkness and pay visits to your baby’s grave more frequently.

… Only to find out that someone had been here shortly before you, leaving a bouquet of fresh lilies.

Jaehyun really wanted to love all of you, past and present.

____

“These are the finished documents.”

Your divorce file was thick. You were sitting at Jaehyun’s desk and were only skimming over the first few pages. Every single paragraph was dissected and laid out very carefully, in every little detail so that no word could be misunderstood. 

You didn’t know why you had failed to pay attention to this before, but Jaehyun was incredibly intelligent and determined. He must have worked almost restlessly on these papers and had really meant it when he had said to hurry up with.

“What’s going to happen now?” you asked, hesitant to hear the answer.

“I will send this file to your husband and he will probably consult his own lawyer. Which is legally his right, even if he agrees on everything. Depending on how much he or his family wants to change, it will take months to… years negotiating, going back and forth.”

Years… 

You had told Jaehyun to wait until you were a divorced woman. That much respect you still had for your husband, even though you had already taken off your wedding band. And truth to be told, you were still unsure about Jaehyun. It wasn’t a decision you could make overnight at such a state, you had only loved one man in your life so far. Your next choice had to be the right choice, and how could you have already figured out if he was the right choice?

You didn’t want to get married on and off, it wasn’t supposed to be that easy, so you had to be as sure as possible. But then again, you had been fooled once by the love of a man close to your possible future lover’s age. How was it possible you weren’t going to be alluded into a marriage by false promises and hopes again? You might be a bit older and wiser than back then, but did it also apply to your heart?

“This is the toughest part,” Jaehyun continued explaining. "Negotiating. But I will always be by your side, remember that, I will accompany you on every step.”

You wondered whether negotiating with your husband or resisting your lawyer would be harder for you to do in the future.

“Then I will probably need a place to stay during the entire process. I should move to a hotel first and then go from there.”

“There is no need,” Jaehyun dismissed and got up from his chair. “I have a place for you to stay.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s go.”

You took his car and he drove to a part of the city, far outside of the bustling center, which you hadn’t stepped foot in in years, even though it was close to your current neighborhood. This was where you had grown up, this was where you had spent the majority of your life. This was the area where your parents lived.

The car came to a stop right outside of your family’s house.

“Here we are.”

You turned your head away from the window, the sight of your childhood home causing tears to well up behind your eyes. “I’m not supposed to come here, Jaehyun.”

“Says who?”

“The contract.”

“The contract is bullshit,” he blatantly called out. “Who would have even controlled whether you came here? No one. You could have come here all the time without anyone noticing, you know that. You just… didn’t want to or couldn’t bring yourself to. Am I right?”

He had called you out, and you couldn’t close your ears from the truth much longer. He was right. No one had ever controlled you. Perhaps, they hadn’t had to as by your mother-in-law, you had always been too weak to go against the rules. When you had grown out of this phase though, it was long too late to make amends.

“In the beginning, my family and friends all tried to reach out to me. But whenever we talked, I only heard ‘You’re too young to marry, don’t do it!’, ‘Come home, you don’t need to stay there’, and much more. I dismissed their words, I thought they weren’t happy for me and didn’t understand me. So I eventually cut off any form of communication which was aided by my mother-in-law taking away my phone after catching me calling my mother once. They never knew I was pregnant, I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone. I had a new family who would take care of me, I didn’t need them anymore. Until I was all alone at childbirth and knew I had made the wrong decision.”

“The more you tell me about your in-laws, the bigger my desire grows to unalive them with my bare hands.”

You nervously kneaded your fingers, your gaze fixed on the movements. “It was their form of manipulation, isolating me from everything and everyone that could change my mind and open my eyes to the truth. Eventually, my trauma had done the job. It also made me realize that I am the one to blame too. I could always reach out in other ways, but never did. With time, my guilt grew to such an extent that every form of reconnection would spiral me into much deeper guilt. So I gave up like they have given up on me. It was easier to think this way as I could never forgive myself for the things I’ve said and done.”

“But they’ve never given up on you.”

You shrugged. “You wouldn’t know.”

“Except that I do. Why else would we be here?”

Your head snapped up and you looked at Jaehyun, then outside of the window in the direction of your house where at the same moment, the entrance door opened, that much you could see over the high metal fence surrounding the garden.

“What…” You were lost for words.

“Like you will never stop loving your child, your parents will never stop loving you too, no matter how many irrational decisions you make, no matter how many cruel things you say to them. You will always have their love,” Jaehyun explained slowly so that you could process at the same time. “A few days ago, I looked for them, drove here and explained the situation. But I left out a few important parts as it is entirely your story to tell them. I think you will have a lot to talk about in the upcoming days. Look, they’re waiting for you already.”

It was at this moment that you realized that you had never experienced love in its purest form.

Until now. 

And you weren’t referring to your parents as that was another form of love, family love. You weren’t referring to your friends either as that was platonic love. You certainly weren't referring to your husband either as that had turned out to only be conventional love.

You were referring to Jaehyun going through lengths to reconnect you with your family along with many other things. You suddenly weren’t alone anymore. Life suddenly looked so bright and full of hope when you had someone to also share the happy moments with.

You weren’t alluded by false hopes and promises. He was a man of words and actions unlike anyone you had ever met before. And if this wasn’t true love, then what was? There was no guarantee, no glimpse into the future. There was only your heart following a path he shaped for you in the purest form possible, hoping that one day, you would return his feelings.

“Jaehyun, I-”

“Wait.” He cupped your face and smiled when you were facing each other. “It can wait. Go to your parents first. Take your time. Then, you can come to me and tell me everything you want to tell me, alright?”

“Thank you.” And these two words couldn’t even express the entirety of gratitude you felt towards him, among so many other things.

He gave you a kiss on your forehead, then watched you open the door, walking towards your parents.

____

Jaehyun wasn’t having a good day. 

In fact, he hadn’t had a good week altogether.

He was grumpy with his employees, sloppy with his files and overall not at the peak of his law-game. His assistant had to point out mistakes in the papers more than several times and was already overly annoyed before he said goodbye for the week, leaving Jaehyun alone in his office.

He missed you incredibly, and it was messing with his usually organized and cool head. Suddenly he caught himself by what he had been trying to avoid all along: emotions caused by love. 

Jaehyun had known what it was the moment you went to the bar together, hair flying carefreely around your heated cheeks. Back then, he had only wished to keep the smile on your face forever, it suited you so much better than the stern and calculated look. Having you wrapped in his arms, he had been awake for the majority of the night that followed, thinking about how he could protect you from a world this cruel, a world that had treated you so unfairly all your life, causing you all this pain that nobody should ever endure.

Jaehyun had never been afraid to love, but afraid to admit that he was secretly looking for a lifelong love too, just like everyone else. After all, he was proven every day by wives consulting him that true love was just a misconception and people were mere life partners that eventually parted ways to look for someone new. His job was to break love, not to create it. And now he was finding himself in exactly that state…

… head over heels in love with a woman he never wanted to let go again. A woman whose absence drove him crazy, because every minute he was parted from her felt like a lifetime. Jaehyun certainly had been in love in the past, but he had never gone through these extents for someone outside of his profession.

It made him question his choice of occupation nowadays. And ironically enough, this train of thoughts led him to your husband of whose lawyer he hadn’t heard anything at all. The divorce papers had certainly been delivered to him, but no one had reached out to him in return yet. He made it his mission to take care of this tomorrow.

From the corner of his eyes, Jaehyun saw his office door open and a person walking in, pulling him out of his thoughts. He was currently storing away some files and ready to head home as well. 

“We’re closed already, come back tomorrow and make an appointment with my secretary.”

“But I need an appointment right now, Mr. Jeong.”

Jaehyun’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest in happiness when he heard your voice and shifted around. But the woman in front of him didn’t have much in common with the woman who had intruded his office back then.

Instead of pant suits, pencil skirts and high heels, you were wearing a long flowy skirt, a matching blouse and flats. Your hair was falling loosely over your shoulders like the night in the bar, and Jaehyun was sure he had never seen you this beautiful and full of life before. And if it was possible, he loved you even more now.

He dropped the files on the desk and straightened his shoulders. “How was the time with your parents?” he asked, reluctant as to what to do next. He didn’t want to push you, even though there were a million other thoughts in his mind right now and none of them had anything to do with small talk.

“We talked a lot. We cried a lot together, too,” you summarized for him, and he noticed that even your way of speaking had changed. You sounded more confident, but instead of it stemming from your insecurities, it rooted from deep and dripped with sincerity. “It was good, taking a few days off to think about everything.”

“And to what conclusion did you come to?” Jaehyun didn’t know why this question made him so nervous.

A faint smile tugged on the corners of your lips. ”I came to the conclusion that time is too precious to be wasted, Jaehyun. I’ve lost so much time with my parents just because I was weak, and I won’t get it back, nor can I turn it back. I can only do the best with our remaining time from now on. But there is no way I will make this mistake of losing my time with someone I love again.”

Jaehyun took a deep breather, trying to keep his composure. “You wanted to wait until your divorce, until you were sure.”

“I know.” You paused. “But when I thought about what I would regret more… I just couldn’t stand the thought of seeing you moving on, maybe with another woman. And it might be not in your book now, but how do we know what the future brings? I would only regret letting you go without even trying. I was never given a choice, but this, this is my choice. You gave me a choice. And I decided for this, I want this, Jaehyun.”

He cleared his throat and reached for his tie, loosening it a bit as he thought it currently cut off his breathing. “Do you know what you’re saying?” He took a stop towards you. “Be careful.”

You snickered - a tone that sounded like music in his ears - and took a step towards him as well. 

“Mr. Jeong, I’m willing to play dirty in private as well. Where do I sign?”

____

Jaehyun wiped his desk free with one hand. Documents, pens, his notebook and even a lamp dropped to the floor, but luckily did not shatter. You let out a gasp, first because you got startled by his impulsive action, and then because he had picked you up and sat you on the desk.

You almost physically felt the electrifying tension between your faces that had built up over the past few weeks, and as your lips came crashing down on each other, it was like sparks flew into every direction to finally celebrate the release of all this pent-up desire.

Jaehyun’s lips were warm and soft, and very demanding. His hands were holding onto your face, angling you up to him as though he wanted you whole, taste, scent and all. Never in your life had you been kissed with so much passion and longing, being claimed in a way a woman could dream of.

You had been intimate only with your husband before, and where lovemaking with him was quiet, lukewarm and quite trite, the onset of the very same act with Jaehyun pushed up too high of what was ever possible in your sole imagination. 

You were wild, fiery and loud. Oh, you could have never imagined to be that loud during the act. You threw your head back as Jaehyun kissed your neck, leaving wet trails where his lips passed. Letting out a moan, you spread your legs wider and pulled him close between your thighs. You chuckled silently when you felt him having grown so much already.

Goosebumps covered your legs as you felt him reaching under your skirt and pulling up the fabric. Jaehyun’s hands were roaming over your thighs, moving back and forth across your skin, and you simultaneously grew very hot in places you had long forgotten about. He tugged on the waistband of your panties, his fingers sliding between your folds and slowly rubbing there, causing you to catch your breath because of the intensity of the sensations.

Everything was going too slow for you now, and you wanted all of him all over you, inside of you. An inner voice was screaming desperately after him.

Suddenly, you halted.

“What’s wrong?” Jaehyun asked, worried.

“I… I don’t know how this works anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“... this. Is it silly?”

You drew your brows together, expecting to be laughed at, but Jaehyun just smiled mildly and tucked a strand of your loose hair behind your ear. How could you have ever thought he’d make fun of you? He never had. 

“Nothing is silly. You were just so into it, what’s gotten into your mind?”

“I don’t know if I’m going to be… good. And I have… scars.”

You threw a meaningful gaze at him, hopeful he’d understand without many more explanations, and he did. You wouldn’t be his chosen woman if you weren’t still putting so many thoughts into one single action. 

“You still have problems to loosen up,” he concluded. “But don’t worry. If you trust me completely, it will all be fine and I will help you get your head free. So… do you trust me fully?”

It only took you a near-whispered “yes” before he swept you off the desk and carried you, with your thighs tightly wrapped around his waist, to his couch. Not even a minute later, you found yourself with your skirt all draped around your hips and your panties hanging loosely on one of your feet.

You didn’t see Jaehyun’s head anymore, only feeling his hair in a tight grip where your panties should have been, seeing stars dancing across the ceiling that you were currently facing while he ate you out like he had all the time in the world, sensually and delicately.

His tongue dragged along your folds that had long gotten wet the first time his mouth came close to your core. Gone were all your worries and doubts, there was no room to think about anything else than he way he was devouring you now, licking and sucking between your thighs until your eyes rolled back and his name fell from your lips like hurried prayers, interrupting his slurping sounds,

“Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun…”

You angled your knees as you felt something tightening inside your lower stomach that you couldn’t pinpoint. It had first started off as a small spark, but was now coiling into something bigger that tugged on every fiber of your body. You were quite sure the fact that Jaehyun sucked on your clit and simultaneously thrusted his fingers inside of you was responsible for this indescribable feeling, more so when he grabbed you by your bare cheeks with his hands and pressed you against his mouth even stronger. 

You had had orgasms before. At least that was what you had thought. They had come like a small wave, giving you a pleasant feeling and luring a silent sigh out of you, and that had been it. This orgasm right now though was on a whole other level. 

Your whole body tensed up as though trying to protect itself from what was about to come, but no resistance in the world could withstand the persistence of the man who loved you to make you feel good. The coiled up sensation exploded inside of you the moment you thought you were going to die from endless pleasure, and then spread not only into your body, but also mind. 

There was no control over how your body reacted, you held onto Jaehyun’s head like a lifeline with your head lolled back, and screamed his name as though in need for help, your body leaking fluids in places you would have been originally embarrassed for, but Jaehyun loved it, every single reaction he was able to lure out of you.

Underneath him didn’t lie the uptight, suppressed woman anymore, in pantsuits and with no hair out of place. It was a new woman he had now unraveled, with wild hair, heated cheeks, liberated and eager to explore worlds she had never set foot into before. And he would guide her all the way into his world.

With a grin, Jaehyun wiped over his smudged mouth while you were still trying to catch your breath, but eventually returned his expression, ready for more. His fingers were trembling a bit when he first got rid of your skirt and then unbuttoned your flowy blouse. 

A flash of concern ran through your face in the blink of a moment when he undid the last button, but he understood. He helped you out of the garment, and when you eventually laid back again in front of him, bare-chested and naked from head to toe, he saw.

Jaehyun left no room for you to mistrust him though. Undressing himself from head to toe first, he then kneeled in front of you on the cushion and leaned in. With warm fingers, he reached out to your lower abdomen and then gently touched the spot of which you had been so afraid to let him see. 

But the c-section-scar was a part of you and Jaehyun loved every single bit. “You’re so beautiful,” he let out, and you believed every single syllable.

He had you tightly embraced with your legs around his waist when he slowly but deliberately pushed into you. At first, it hurt quite a bit, because you hadn’t had been this intimate in so long, but when it showed on your face with a frown, Jaehyun paused and made sure you still truly wanted this with soft kisses on your temple and mouth, so that the tightness vanished almost right away.

He was settled inside of you, thick, full, and pulsing, and even though this was so much for you to take already, you wanted him to move, needed him to move. When he didn’t instantly do so though, you nearly embarrassingly pushed up against him and tried to get a tiny bit of gratification by yourself.

Jaehyun laughed lowly and kind of threateningly. “Take deep breaths first, because you are in for a long ride.”

You winced when he pulled out and only let his tip remain, because you feared he would stop right here, but then met him with a breathless gasp when he slammed back into you full force. It cost you all the air in your lungs, but you needed him to do it again as well, because it had hit a spot you had always been convinced had never existed for you in the first place.

But it did. And Jaehyun penetrated it with every thrust that he alternated between fast and shallow and slow and deep. The couch’s cushion got wet and sticky under you, and your screams only grew louder too, but you didn’t mind and didn’t care, especially not when he suddenly flipped you over and you were sitting on him, having him sheathed deep inside your core.

“You’re so beautiful”, Jaehyun repeated. He stretched out his hand and curled a lock of your hair between his fingers that he then slid down along your breast, scar and let it eventually rest on your hip. “Ride me,” he then pleaded, “ride me, please.”

Despite the fact that you had never done that before, the motions came to you naturally with the guidance of his grip around your waist. It felt good for you to decide how deep and in which angle you wanted to have him, and as you were sliding along him, you felt another orgasm nearing that you unfortunately failed to chase.

“Out of breath?” Jaehyun asked, lids heavy after enjoying this sight too much.

“I want to cum again,” you confessed, “but somehow…”

Jaehyun returned to his former position, but this time, placed either of your legs across his left and right shoulder. You didn’t know what else he was doing, but when he filled you all up from the inside again, you were feeling him so deeply and intensely like never before. 

The second orgasm for this day found its root not in the pit of your stomach, but feeded on every inch of your body, so that it was an experience that left you shaking with all limbs, Jaehyun following along in long spurts across your stomach. 

“I’ve never imagined sex to be like this,” you admitted when you laid in his arms shortly later, a thin blanket draped over you. The office had long closed. 

“Like what?” Jaehyun asked and kissed your temple.

“So good.”

He laughed and pulled you closer to him. “That was not even my best performance yet, trust me.”

You opened your mouth in wonder. “You can do it even better? I can hardly believe it.”

“You want to try?” he challenged. “Don’t worry, we have all the time in the world to try out everything you want.”

“Okay,” you agreed. “All the time in the world, for sure. But maybe we can still start with it tonight. You never know-”

You didn’t have to call out to him twice before he disappeared under the blanket.

____

“I must say, I’m impressed. I didn’t expect this from you.”

The photos landed in front of your feet.

They showed everything.

Jaehyun and you entering your home dressed all in black, Jaehyun and you leaving the bar together, Jaehyun and you in the car in front of your parents’ house, Jaehyun and you coming out of his office at different occasions. There were even photos from yesterday after you both had…

You stood in the living room, petrified, not even your eyes were able to move to look directly at the person that was approaching you.

“You must wonder how much truth someone can spill when you just offer them more bribery money than the original party,” your mother-in-law said. “Needless to say, the security guard no longer needs his job here after providing me with the respective videos. And the rest was the dedicated work of my private detective. I sensed that something was off and hired him shortly after reading the police report on the seeming robbery.”

When you eventually lifted up your head, she stood there, looking at you with much disgust. It was at that moment that you realized you lost. She was holding the divorce papers in her hands. They had never reached your husband first, but had directly landed in her hands instead. 

“I don’t care,” you sighed deeply. “I don’t care anymore. I will sign anything, I am willing to lose everything. Just… let me go. Please, just let me go.”

You didn’t want the money, you didn’t need it. Money would come back, but time didn’t, and every bit of energy you still invested in this family felt like you were losing a bit of your lifespan. You just wanted to leave and live a life dedicated to your loved ones from now on. 

“Fine.” You halted, waiting for her to continue as you could almost not believe what she had just said. It couldn’t be so easy. “I am willing to let you out of this marriage, under one condition.”

Of course there would be. “What?”

“I’ve dedicated my entire life to keeping this family together,” she elaborated, “and my hard work paid off when I married off my first son well, making him the CEO of the conglomerate at the same time. My second one… well, he was always a little too spoiled and never under as much pressure as his older brother. But I let it pass, because as long as our reputation didn’t get stained, I wouldn’t look at it twice. I now wish I had as he only grew foolish and reckless. How else would he have gotten the idea of falling in love and getting an almost teenager pregnant out of wedlock?”

“This fact, we can agree on. But it was your fault that he grew up the way he is now,” you stated in defense. “He has never learned to deal with emotions, and whenever problems occurred, you were there to clean it all up regardless of the people getting hurt along the way. It was partially your family’s responsibility to make sure I was taken care of accordingly. The moment we married, I was your responsibility, too.”

Your mother-in-law screwed up her nose. “I did take care of these things my way.”

“And they were wrong!” you raised your voice, hoping that somehow, you could still speak some sense into her. “You pressured me to sign a contract of which its repercussions I could not have known at that time yet. It was my right to consult a lawyer, but I was never given a choice just like your son has never been given a choice. I was only nineteen and stripped of all my future!”

“A child out of wedlock would have destroyed everything I’ve worked so hard for,” she pressed through her gritted teeth, reluctant to admit this. “I did it all to protect my family!”

You shook your head. “And look at that family now. Was it all worth it? Was it worth the life you’re living right now?”

She didn’t know the answer to that apparently. “If you had only borne that child like my son wanted so desperately too, the problems would have all dissolved themselves. I would have endured you. Maybe you could have been a happy little family after all. But even for that, you were too weak.”

It stung. The insults pierced right through your heart, but you remembered Jaehyun’s words, and only grew from there. “No, we wouldn’t have been. I would have taken the child and filed for a divorce nonetheless, I know that now.”

“You ungrateful brat!” the elderly woman suddenly yelled. “Do you know how many girls out there would trade places with you? You’ve gotten everything someone could ever ask for, and for you it’s not enough!”

“Because there is more to this world than money and reputation!” you screamed back. “It’s not my fault you have failed to see it while you still had a choice, too!”

You were never able to forgive her, that much was true. But somewhere under her hard facade, you were sure, was hiding a young woman who had once dreamed big too. A young woman your age, who had dreamed of the love of her life and her own business. A young woman, who had been robbed of these dreams way too early and had never been given a choice either.

But that young woman had failed to escape as long as she still was able to, and got replaced by a monster that couldn’t figure its way out anymore, too entangled in a vicious circle that got passed on from generation to generation.

You wanted to break the circle and make your own choices. Perhaps, if you hadn’t gone through the past two years, you wouldn’t have had enough courage to feel like this now. Perhaps, if you hadn’t gone through the past two years, you would have turned out like her.

The trauma had made you weak, but also much stronger at the same time. You still didn’t understand, but in some way, you were grateful.

And the fact that you were now able to walk away was the reason you would always and forever remain superior to your mother-in-law.

“You must really love that lawyer of yours,” she eventually broke through your thoughts. “I just wonder how far you are willing to go for him to fulfill your condition?”

____

“Did you get your important papers?” Jaehyun happily greeted you when he opened the door to his office. “You’re back so early, is everything okay?”

The moment you hurried in his direction, he immediately knew that something was wrong. He put his index finger under your chin and angled up your head. The way your entire world shattered when he forced you to hold your gaze indicated that nothing would ever be okay again. 

“You have to leave, Jaehyun,” you insisted and grabbed onto his arms. “Right now.”

He didn’t ask any questions, but trusted you fully on that. “Okay, let me just get my-”

“No.” You shook your head. “The country. You have to leave the country immediately.”

Now, he was stunned. “I don’t understand.”

“My mother-in-law knows everything,” you uttered with a trembling voice. You told him about all the bribery and the detective, and eventually about her ultimatum. “She has collected a record of illegal activities reported against you, and she will go to the police with all of it to file a charge of your criminal activities. They have connections there, Jaehyun. She promised me if she wants, she will get you in jail. Is it true? Everything on the list?”

You recited a few bullet points you had been able to remember in a whim the short moment she was holding the paper in front of you. You directly saw it in his eyes, that fact that everything was as bad as it sounded. Robbery, data corruption, forgery, lying in front of the court… you named it.

“Oh god…” You needed a moment and sat down on the couch. “Jaehyun, she can really put you in jail!”

“Then I’ll leave the country!” he instantly caved. “We can live in New York or LA instead. I’ll book the next flight, we don’t need anything. We will just start anew.”

But by your expression alone, he understood that this was only wishful, silly thinking. Only one of you could be free, and you weren’t willing to trade his freedom for yours. He had always been free, you had always been caged. You didn’t rob the person you loved of their freedom like your husband had done.

“No… Don’t make that face. You’re not gonna stay married to him.”

“Jaehyun…”

He sank on his knees in front of you, taking your hands into his. “Then I will go to jail if it means you can get divorced to your advantage. How many years can I get anyway? I did many things wrong in the past and I don’t want to be this kind of person anymore. I will legally atone for my crimes. If it means that you’re going to be free and live a happy life, then I am willing to do so.”

“I won’t ever be able to live a happy life if it is without you. I don’t care about my money or my business anymore, Jaehyun. It will all come back, I still have time for this stuff. None of these matter now. What I care about is you. I won’t allow them to take you away from me. They took so much from me already. I can’t lose you too and rip you of your future and prospects like they did with me. It’s not worth it.”

“But I’m worth it?” he asked breathlessly. “How do you know? How do you know you won’t regret everything again?”

You wrapped your fingers around his neck and pulled him nearer to you. “Because you were willing to understand my pain and connect to my past. Because you left flowers on my baby’s grave and reunited me with my family. Because without you, I wouldn’t have had the courage to do all this. Nobody has ever gone through such lengths for me. If this is not true love, then I don’t want to live in a world this deluded.” You pressed your forehead against his. “And because I truly love you too, Jaehyun, I am willing to sacrifice this all.”

He reluctantly added, “There is another way out… There must be.”

There was a hint of a faint smile on your face. “There is not.”

“There is always!” he opposed, almost desperately.

Jaehyun sank onto the cushion next to you and buried his face in his palms. Was that what defeat felt like? He had expected it to hit him hard and knock him off his feet like a wave. Instead, defeat felt like drowning. Slow, torturous drowning.

“Perhaps, but not now, not for us. If only we had been given a bit more time… But I was selfish and pushed too far, and if you don’t leave the country now, you will go to jail. And if I leave with you, then all my beloved ones will pay the price, too. The damage would be more collateral. I cannot allow this to happen, so I will stay.”

“Promise me you won’t stop fighting.” He looked at you through heavy-lidded eyes. “That you will still fight for your freedom with every help you can get. Promise me you will never give up.”

You were trying so hard to keep your composure, but ultimately all your walls broke and you were crying hot tears in Jaehyun’s arms. He held you tightly for what might be the last time ever as you repeated,

“I will keep fighting.”

____

Jaehyun had made a decision. 

For that decision, he was currently collecting every tiny piece of evidence possible from his entire career as a divorce attorney. 

He had always been very structured, detailed and thorough with his records, which was why it didn’t take him long to find stuff that would be enough to lock him up for years. And he kept digging so as to not leave room for the police to find more than he would hand over. If he came clear with everything and turned himself in, punishment wouldn’t be so hard and he could see you again in a few years time. 

You didn’t want this, he knew, but in a hopeless situation, this was the scenario that was the most hopeful.

Ironically, Jaehyun thought to himself, he had never been a person full of hope before meeting you.

“Can I come in?”

A monotonous male voice interrupted him, and he absent-mindedly answered, “I’m busy and we’re already out of the office hours. Come back tomorrow.”

“I just assumed you might want to read through these papers right now, checking whether I signed everything right.”

Jaehyun had never heard your husband’s voice in real life before, but now that he had and looked up from his desk, he found it really matched his face. It was dull and boring, even though he was a conventionally good-looking, well groomed man in his early thirties - that much he was able to judge objectively considering he hated him to the core.

“I don’t know whether you’re stupid or brave coming here,” Jaehyun said coldly. “I’ll just freely assume it’s both.”

Mr. Kang let a bag, that Jaehyun only noticed now, drop on the floor, not reacting to his taunt at all. By your stories alone, he already got the impression that your husband wasn’t a man of many words… or emotions and expression at all. 

“Inside here are a few clothes, her documents, ID and passport. She wanted to get these this morning, right? And here are the signed divorce papers.” He dropped the staple on Jaehyun’s desk. “I’ve already consulted my lawyer. Whatever she’s asking for, she will get. I will agree on everything.”

Jaehyun drew the paper across the surface closer to him. He turned a few pages and realized that no alterations had been made so far. And Mr. Kang’s signature was right there as well.

“Where did you get this?”

“What my mother has gotten into her hands was a mere copy. The original documents had been handed over to me by the messenger the same day you had sent them out. I apologize that it took me so long. It was a decision easily made, but not easy to get through with my family. But my brother was very supportive and still is. My mother on the other hand, not so much when she will find out tomorrow. I’ll deal with it.”

Jaehyun closed the documents again and heaved up his head. “So… that’s all?”

“No.” Mr. Kang quietly shook his head, continuing with his initial monotonous tone, “I cannot prevent her from filing a police report against you, and knowing her, she will directly do so first thing in the morning when I confront her with the facts. That’s why you have to make haste and leave the country. Here.” He placed a very obvious plane ticket on the desk that was booked under Jaehyun’s name, dated for today still.

It was not the first time Jaehyun was hearing these words, yet he stood by his decision. “I won’t leave like a coward. I will cooperate and get the punishment I deserve.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” Mr. Kang said, a little more emotion in his voice now. “Do you think when you get released, it will all be over? It’s only going to start from then on. You will not only lose your practice license, but everyone dear to you too. You will never have a day of peace, and therefore, she won’t either. You don’t want that life for her.”

Again, Jaehyun felt hopelessness choking him. He was willing to suffer the rest of his life for all of his wrongdoings if he must. He just didn’t want to drag you down with him. “What should I do?”

“Go far, far away from here. Don’t leave any trace and wait until the divorce is finalized until you let her come to you. I guess you have partners or assistants that can take over the legal parts for you in your firm. Anyway, I will make sure we will push through with the contract that you have set up.”

Jaehyun knew this was the silver lining in a near desperate situation. “Can I still tell her goodbye?”

“If you want to ever see her again, then you must leave right now. The plane departs at midnight.”

“How do I know I can trust your words?”

“Indeed, there is no way you can. But you don't have a choice.”

“Can I at least trust you to make sure she will be alright until she can come to me?”

“Yes,” Mr. Kang confirmed, and for the first time, Jaehyun could make out a clear expression etched into his face. Relief? “After all, I have given her a promise at our wedding. I will keep her safe until it’s all over. You’re not the only one, I want to atone for all my mistakes too. I just want you to know that I have truly loved her. I just wasn’t capable of showing up when I was needed. So I’m happy for her that someone is now.”

“I think this is something you have to tell her in person yourself. And many more things, probably.”

Mr. Kang nodded. 

It was not Jaehyun’s place to judge other people’s relationships. What you had truly felt for each other at one point in your lives, it was up to you both to make out with yourselves - or not. Jaehyun just didn’t want you to hurt any longer. Everything else was irrelevant to him.

“Don’t expect a thank you, Mr. Kang.”

“I’m not. I’m not expecting anything from you, Mr. Jeong.”

Jaehyun hurriedly grabbed the most important documents from his desk and the shelves all while preparing to drop by at his home real quick to pick up his passport. “Can you tell her something from me? Or not… whatever you want to do.” He had seldomly felt so at a loss for the right words. “If you are willing to pass on my message though… She will arrive here soon and I need to be gone by then... Tell her to not come and say goodbye. I will contact her when it’s safe. I hope it won’t take long.”

“This, I will do,” he confirmed. “For her.”

____

Jaehyun had only packed a small bag with a few clothing pieces, some cash and important documents, nothing more. The papers he was taking with him included a specific file that gave him access to a secret bank account in another country into which he had booked different amounts of money any time he won a case. It wasn’t as much as his real asset, but it came close and was definitely enough to start anew somewhere else. 

“Do you carry any liquids in your bag, sir?”

Jaehyun shook his head. He had already put his bag and jacket on the tray, patting his pockets one last time to look for remaining items he still had to get rid of before passing the security.

“Jaehyun!”

Brushing it off as an intrusive thought, he continued with his motions, until he heard again, this time from a clearly familiar voice,

“JEONG JAEHYUN! HOW DARE YOU!”

When he turned around, he caught you verbally fighting with the employees who checked the board pass before passengers moved on to the security. “Let me go, I have to talk to that person!”

“You need a ticket to pass through here, ma’am,” one of them carefully explained to you, flinching any time you made a move as he surely couldn’t estimate your outburst.

“Fine! Then I’ll buy one! Hurry up!”

“To buy a ticket, you have to go the counter and-”

“I don’t have time for that. Jaehyun!”

He didn’t have enough time to process everything of the scenario that was now unfolding in his sight. You really dared to push one employee aside who then stumbled into the other one’s arms. And before they could catch onto what was currently happening to them, you had already dropped your purse, gripped the railing with two hands and just jumped over the barricade like it was nothing. 

In the background, Jaehyun perceived how the employees slowly caught onto the happenings after the initial shock and apparently called for backup with their walkie-talkies. Luckily, the TSA hadn’t caught wind of your unruly behavior yet as both sections were partially separated by walls, so Jaehyun left everything on the tray behind and ran towards you as you were doing the same. 

Quickly, he grabbed your hand and dragged you to one corner of the hall, right between these two airport sections, where it would take either party the longest time to arrive.

“Why are you here?” Jaehyun asked, nearly out of breath when you came to a standstill. “You’re supposed to pick up your bag from my office and go to your parents’ house!”

“I know but I couldn’t!” You squeezed his hand. “You were really going to leave without giving me a chance to say goodbye? How dare you!”

“I’m sorry, I just…” Only when he was at the check-in, it had dawned on him that he had made the wrong decision. Even if your husband had warned him, he should have taken that risk. That much, you owed the person you loved. “I’m just not good at saying goodbye. I didn’t know what to say… even now, I don’t know.”

“Please don’t do this! Don’t strip me of my choice! Not you too!”

Jaehuyn shook his head and cupped your face. “I would never do that! I would have called or texted you right when I arrived. Even if it was risky. I just cannot bear… yeah, this. I didn’t want to see you cry again. This time it’s my fault.”

With his thumbs, he brushed over your cheeks, wiping away your tears. From the corners of his eyes, he already saw the fetched security arriving at the section, looking in your direction. There was not much time left anymore.

“This is my choice,” you said under tears. “You are my choice. And if you don’t come back, Jaehyun, I will fly over there myself, are we in the clear?”

He chuckled and you cracked a faint smile as well. “I believe you. I don’t think we need a contract for that. It may take a bit of time… so will you wait for me?”

“I will always wait for you. That’s what I said, right? I will wait for my true love, no matter how much time it takes. Just please, if you can, don’t take too long.”

Jaehyun wrapped his arms around you and pressed you against his chest. The security was already approaching you, but they weren’t running, possibly because they had already sensed there was no danger radiating from you. Just two people in love who needed to say one last goodbye to each other.

“I’ll hurry up,” he muttered into your hair and placed a kiss on your parting. “In the meantime, go back to university, get your degree and work hard for your business, but don’t forget to live your life, too. I want to return in time for your graduation ceremony.”

“Jaehyun…” You looked up to him with big, tear-filled eyes. “Then I will work hard so that it won’t take long.”

Eventually, the security reached them. “Ma’am, we have to kindly ask you to leave.” 

Jaehyun let go of you before the two security men would drag you away from him themselves, and you unwillingly let him. “I promise I’ll be there!”

“I rely on your word!” you were still able to say before following the security out. “I love you!”

“I love you too.”

____

Police investigations started shortly after Jaehyun landed in the US. They were looking for him the next two years, and you had to stay apart for just as long.

He missed the moment you finalized your divorce after a year.

He missed the moment you re-entered university that same year.

He missed the moment you graduated with your degree a year later.

He missed every single important moment in your life.

____

‘GRAND OPENING’

was written on the fancy border that hung over the entrance door to your small shop. 

You hadn’t expected for five people to already show up at the opening hour sharp, but you were well prepared and handed them a glass of champagne each. You walked them around, presenting to them a few of your hand-picked pieces.

There were gowns with reserved, classic cuts, more elaborate gowns with a lot of tulle, short skirts, long sleeved dresses, tight and wide dresses, and a broad selection of accessories like veils and gloves in addition.

“My heart lies within this shop,” you explained to the group of women. “I want to gather as many different styles as possible to suit everyone’s preferences. After all, it’s going to be the happiest day of your life, and you shouldn’t only look beautiful, but also feel comfortable. Whatever you want to add or alternate on your overall look, me and my team will accommodate that. Please feel free to look around and call for me if you need my assistance.”

You moved behind the counter and looked excitedly at your first possible customers, being happy to share this day with the people special to you too as later on, your family and friends would pay you a visit for the official opening party. 

There was always one person missing though, and whenever you thought of it, your heart got so heavy.

The opening of your own bridal shop was another milestone in your life that Jaehyun was missing. Even though two months ago it was announced that the Aewha Group had gone bankrupt because of a tax fraud having been committed over the years, he had still deemed it unsafe to return and wanted to wait a bit more. 

You wondered why and slowly grew impatient as the police had already stopped pushing the case forward because of the lack of evidence as almost no one wanted to testify against him. Since the Aewha Group was now down as well and the owners had a fair share of other, graver problems to deal with, you had proposed to him to come pay you a visit.

“It’s too dangerous,” Jaehyun had said.

“Then I’ll come!” 

Again, he had said, “You don’t have to. Soon, I can return.”

But when was ‘soon’ anyway as he’d been saying it for a year already?

In secret, you had already bought a plane ticket to California for next month. Two years had already passed in which you couldn’t see each other, and if it continued, then you would be the one to go to jail for other reasons, you knew that, and those reasons included kidnapping the man you loved.

After an entire day of working where you had been successful to make fitting appointments with three bridal groups, it was time for the opening party. You saw your parents, grandparents, friends and other acquaintances, not only from the past, but also from the last two years, walk into your shop, gazing at the garments and celebrating with you.

There were beverages and snacks being served, everyone was dressed up and music was playing in the background. It was a gathering among the people close to you to celebrate the success you had been working so hard for the past two years.

You knew that, if you hadn’t met a certain person, you wouldn’t be standing here right now, giving a speech to your loved ones. But after all the trauma and pain, you were here, bright and successful with a future just as promising.

You just wished the person you were the most grateful for could have joined as well.

“Thank you so much for coming and celebrating with me. Please enjoy tonight,” you ended your speech.

“There is something I have to say too,” someone said in the background, and the hair on your neck suddenly stood up. “Actually, there is so much I have to say, but I will try to keep it short.”

Only after a few seconds, you were able to break through the petrification. From the corner of your peripheral, you saw your friends giggling and your parents looking at you lovingly. Before you met his gaze eventually, tears already started to burn on the rim of your eyes. 

You felt his warm hand on your naked arm, his fingers slowly sliding down to intertwine with yours. It had been so long since you had last seen each other in person, but as you now stood in front of Jaehyun, it felt like no time had passed at all.

He was just as handsome and well built as two years ago. If anything, he looked even better. Maturity suited him so well. He was smiling at you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mirror his expression with the same intensity, because different emotions washed over you all at once, so that you didn’t know how to feel at first.

You wanted to get angry at him and yell at him why it had taken him so long.

You wanted to wrap your arms around his neck and have him hold you tightly.

You wanted to kiss him deeply and get undressed to feel every inch of him.

In the end, you didn’t do anything but start crying. It was all just too much.

“Why are you here?” you asked, still believing it was all not real.

You felt him squeezing your fingers. “I just couldn’t miss another milestone of yours.”

“Why did it take you so long?”

“There were a few things I needed to sort out before I could return. Finding someone to take over my law office, for example. Just the formals.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, you idiot? I bought a ticket for next month!”

He threw his head back and laughed. “That’s what I sensed and came here as fast as possible.”

“How long are you going to stay?” you sniffed.

“This time, I hope forever.” You saw him move in your blurry vision and blinked through your tears. Or better say, you saw it blinking in front of your eyes as he was holding a ring in front of you. “If you let me be your husband, of course. So… will you? Will you accept me as your husband?”

You pouted. “Where are we going to live?”

“Here, of course.”

“And you’re not on the run anymore?”

“I will only do stuff according to ethics, morals and the law.”

“Can I plan the wedding myself?”

At this point, you were only teasing him, but after what he had put you through, he let you. “You can do whatever you want, I will say yes to everything my wife says.”

“Very well.” You paused. “Under one condition.”

“Hm?”

Then, you broke into a wide smile. Those tears on your face had always only been happy tears. “We will never set up a prenup.”

“Of course,” Jaehyun agreed. “Because we will never get divorced anyway.”

Then, you finally fell into his arms and kissed him deeply. It was like two missing pieces coming together, a surge of complete bliss streaming through your bodies the moment your lips met. This, this was it. This was what it must feel like to finally be with your true love. You never wanted to be apart again. 

The ring looked beautiful on your finger, and as you both turned around to show it to your guests, you saw in their reactions that they had been let in on the planned happenings of this night quite a while ago. 

Your opening party had magically turned into your engagement party.

[postmortemnivis]

you don't remember when your neighbour mr riley became simon, but it was probably somewhere between the doors he held open for you when you first moved into the building and the hushed kisses in the elevator.

you were so shy at first, simon knew he tended to have that effect on people, intimidate them with just a glare of his cold, stone set eyes, but when you finally found the buried kindness in them, he became less scary. his tattoos weren't threatening anymore, and you could make out soft shapes in the blurred ink. some birthdates, dog tags with the names of his fallen friends, a cherub and lilies started standing out from the bellic flames, skulls, guns and helmets, giving you an insight of his softer side.

the way he was scared to touch you at first, worried the years of war had made his hands too rough to handle you without breaking you. you'd always reassure him he was doing good, he could touch you if he wanted to, but he asked for permission every time he was about to lift you up in his arms, without fail.

the first time you'd seen him—dressed up in his uniform, tired and jet lagged, some eyeblack smeared down his cheek—you’d sprinted to your door on the other side of the hallway, too scared to look back, and double checked your locked door before settling into a restless sleep.

simon knew he wasn’t the usual great-looking, charming, easygoing man but to let you in, to reassure you he was approachable for you? he would’ve done anything.

he became simon the first night you’d officially invited him over too your flat, without the excuse of a (perfectly functioning) leaky sink, a doorknob that needed some oiling or a hole in the wall that needed covering. it took you time, you ignored all the previous times he’d reassured you that you could call him by his name—he wasn't that much older than you anyway—you still felt compelled to call him mr riley, yes sir, thank you sir, would you like some water mr riley?

the first time he sat down on your couch to watch a movie he felt as if the room started spinning, his eyes glued to the tv screen as your perfume hung heavy in the air.

“what’s the name again?” he spoke to break the unbearable silence, fingers twitching on his thigh.

“blue velvet- you’ve really never seen it?”

he had. “never even heard of it.”

he cursed himself as the night ended and he got up, walking to the door, already having said his goodnights.

you followed him to the door, hesitant.

“night simon.” you chirped up as he walked out of your apartment.

he stood there for a second, looking down at your expectant expression, lips parted as if you were about to speak again.

before he could gather up the courage to part with a kiss on the cheek or a hug, you’d stretched up to your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his.

“night love-” he finally said, breathless.

“you free tomorrow for brunch?” you asked as you leaned against the doorframe, still close to him. “i’m making cinnamon rolls and frittata. do you like frittata?”

“i- uhm,” simon almost had to shake his head to regain his focus. stay frosty soldier, for fucks sake. “can’t say i’ve ever tried it.”

“what- never had frittata?” your eyes widened like cherry pies. “oh, you have to try mine-!”

“eleven?” he suddenly interrupted you. “if… that’s alright with you.”

you nodded. “eleven sounds nice.”

he grabbed the back of your neck and brought you close, kissing the top of your head. “goodnight.”

you watched as he immediately left, cheeks, ears and neck a livid shade of embarrassment. he quickly unlocked his door and shut it a tad too harshly, but his heart was beating like a schoooboy’s and he couldn’t help but replay in his head the way you softly said his name all night.

you knew too that simon was about to become so much more.

[lilliankoo]

play you like a game, boy • jeon jungkook.

chapter 4/8

genre: antagonist tribe leader jk x princess reader

word count: 4.9k

previous chapter 3 link

synopsis: the blessed leader of forest tribe "lav" jeon jungkook wants you and will do anything and everything to make you his wife. he’s blessed by the goddess, even a leaf cannot move without his permission but he worships the ground you walk on. now, there are two paths presented to you; marry him & return his love or refuse and watch him conquer your father's kingdom. power is like an evil yet a tempting apple and now its in your hands. are you going to take a bite; taste the sweet poison or will you use it to tempt him? its an evil world with evil options.. do you think you can handle him?

warnings: smut !!!! obsessive behaviour, power imbalance, emotional manipulation, yn visits a harem, slight objectification, jealousy, emotional distress, forced marriage, mention of a knife, possessiveness, manipulation, lowkey toxic, emotional vulnerability.. pheww let me know if i missed anything !

—————————

You’re back in your chambers, still reeling from the events that just unfolded. Jungkook left immediately after, citing tasks that needed his attention. Now, sitting on the edge of your bed, you’re lost in thought, your mind fixated on the woman by the lake. The image of her lingers, but you force yourself to shake it off, to focus on something else.

Rising from the bed, you decide to take a bath, Afterward, you reach for a dress. It's simple, nothing like the elaborate corseted gowns and heavy silks you’re used to. The fabric is soft, unadorned, and unpretentious. It’s the kind of dress you’d never dare to wear at home, but you’re not home anymore, are you? With your hair still damp, you slip into the dress and step out of the room. The weight of the palace seems to press down on you once again.

As you walk, the moon is already visible, casting its silvery glow over the path. It’s not yet night, but the sky is deepening with the approaching dusk. The long hallway is dimly lit by hanging lamps, their soft light flickering like stars caught in the grandness of the palace. You pause for a moment, glancing out over the garden. The fountains shimmer, water cascading in soft, rhythmic patterns, the only sound in the stillness. It’s eerily quiet; too quiet. You don’t hear footsteps, voices, or the usual hum of activity. As you walk, you come to a stop, your eyes catching sight of a gathering ahead. A group of people sit around a fire, speaking softly, perhaps eating. On the opposite side, you spot a building that isn’t attached to the main palace. It’s unlike any other structure in the palace complex, and a sense of curiosity tugs at you.

Your feet move before you can stop them, leading you toward the building. As you cross the threshold, you immediately feel the change in the atmosphere. The air is different here- heavy with a quiet sort of tension. The space is adorned with dim lamps, their glow casting long shadows along the walls. Roses, jasmine, and countless other flowers fill the air with a sweet, intoxicating fragrance.

In the center of the courtyard, a large fountain splashes gently, the sound soothing, like a heartbeat. Some women sit along the edge, their gazes distant as they relax in the soft glow of the lamps. Some linger by the doorways, leaning against the frames with an air of nonchalance, their expressions unreadable.

As you look around, your attention is drawn to them. They are striking and exotic; dressed in sultry clothing that clings to their forms, sparkling with jewelry, and veiled in a way that only accentuates their beauty. Most of them have long, dark hair, cascading like silk over their shoulders, their faces glowing with a quiet allure. They don’t seem to acknowledge you at first, but you can feel their eyes on you. Some look you up and down, their gazes lingering with an intensity that’s hard to ignore. Whispers stir in the air, soft murmurs that you can’t quite catch.

One of the women finally stands and walks toward you. Her movements are fluid, graceful, and she bows when she reaches you. “Princess, how can I help you?” she asks, her voice soft, almost melodic.

You raise an eyebrow. It’s the first time anyone has addressed you as "Princess" instead of the usual “Mother.” The title feels strange to your ears, but not unwelcome.

You study her as she stands. Her dark hair falls in waves around her face, her doe-like eyes framed by sharp, striking features.

“What is this place?” you ask, your voice steady, betraying none of the unease that stirs in your chest.

“It is a harem,” she replies, offering a warm smile.

Your eyebrows raise automatically at the word. The harem. The term is not unfamiliar, but seeing it with your own eyes... it’s different. You scan the place again, taking in the women, the soft lamplight, the scent of flowers. You suddenly feel the weight of the world on your shoulders, as if you’ve walked into a space that’s both beautiful and dangerous. Your gaze shifts between the women, their eyes fleetingly meeting yours before they turn away. It’s clear they know who you are- the princess, the mother, the wife to the most powerful man—but it doesn’t stop the intrigue in their eyes.

The woman who addressed you stands still, waiting for your next words, a subtle smile playing at the corners of her lips. You notice how her posture is perfect, poised in a way that almost feels practiced, as if the very art of being watched is second nature to her.

"A harem," you repeat, more to yourself than to her.

"Are you happy here?" you ask, surprising yourself with the question. It’s not something you had intended to ask, but it slips out nonetheless.

The woman before you—her name still a mystery—seems to consider it for a moment. Her eyes soften, and she gives you a gentle nod. "It is not a life for all, but for some, it is paradise." You raise an eyebrow at her choice of words. Paradise? You try to picture it—the luxury, the beauty, the gifts and wonder if it truly could feel like paradise. But something in the back of your mind whispers that this is not a place of freedom, not a place of love, but something else entirely.

You open your mouth to speak, but just then, a slight movement catches your attention from the corner of the room; a woman walking toward you, her body language confident, but with a subtle sense of purpose. She moves gracefully, like she’s accustomed to the quiet reverence she commands. As she approaches, you take a step back instinctively, your posture shifting into something more guarded. She stops before you, her gaze unwavering. There is something cold and calculating in the way she observes you, but it is quickly replaced by a tight smile.

"Ah, the new bride of the leader," she says, her voice smooth, almost too smooth. "How fortunate you are to have captured his heart. Not all of us are so lucky."

Her words sting more than they should. The woman’s smile widens as she watches your reaction, like she’s testing you, waiting for a crack in your composure. The silence between you thickens.

You decide to head back to your chambers, As you turn to walk back toward the entrance, the woman who had first greeted you watches you with a mixture of curiosity and something you can’t quite place. You don’t bother turning back to her, though; you feel the eyes of every woman in the place following you as you leave.

As you turn to leave, something suddenly clicks in your mind. "Not all of us are lucky?" The phrase echoes in your head, and a surge of suspicion floods you. Could Jungkook have been here? The realization sinks in with a cold, sharp edge. The idea of him, your husband, being with other women, sleeping with them after he’s made all those declarations of love to you—it makes your blood boil.

You can feel the pulse in your temples as you quickly turn around to face the woman who greeted you earlier. She's still standing there, watching you with her calm, knowing eyes.

"What’s your name?" you ask, your voice steady but laced with an underlying edge of coldness.

"May," she replies softly, her voice almost a whisper in the heavy silence.

The name lingers in the air, but it’s not enough. “Has Jungkook been here?” You ask, your tone sharper this time. “Has he spent time in this place?” The question hangs between you, charged with emotion.

May gulps, clearly uncomfortable with the question. You can see the hesitation in her posture, her eyes flickering downward before she slowly looks back up at you.

"Why don’t you come inside and we can talk?" she suggests.

You need answers, and you won't leave without them. Without another word, she turns and leads you further into the building.

—-------------------------------------------------

The space is lavishly decorated, far more extravagant than you could have imagined—a large, open room adorned with rich tapestries, turkish carpets, gold accents, and plush cushions. Incense burns in the corners, the scent mingling with the delicate perfume of flowers that seem to fill every corner. Soft, dim lamps illuminate the space, casting long shadows along the walls. A large bed sits in the center of the room, draped in rich, embroidered fabrics.

You see them—the women. Seven in total, including May. They are seated around the room, some reclining, others standing idly by the walls. Each of them is stunningly beautiful, their clothing revealing much, yet leaving something to the imagination. Their skin is soft and radiant under the flickering lights, and their long black hair cascades in smooth waves over their shoulders. They all seem so confident, almost serene in their beauty.

One of the women steps forward, her voice smooth as she speaks with practiced grace. "We are concubines for Jungkook, my name is Juliette," she says simply, the words out in the open, like a confession.

The revelation feels like a punch to your chest. Concubines. Your mind struggles to reconcile the man you married with the reality unfolding in front of you. Your pulse quickens, and a familiar heat rises to your cheeks- anger, jealousy, betrayal. It boils beneath your skin, but you bite your tongue, trying to keep control.

Before you can react, Juliette speaks quickly, almost as if she’s afraid of your reaction. "But Jungkook has never stepped foot in this place," she adds, her voice tinged with a sense of urgency. "He’s never slept with any of us."

You blink in disbelief, the anger still seething inside you but now mixed with confusion. Now, May speaks up, her voice softer, almost apologetic. "It’s a tradition of the tribe. The leader and his officials take concubines to relieve their frustrations. When Jungkook became the leader, it was simply... expected." She hesitates, clearly uncomfortable with her words. "He was assigned to us, as part of his role."

Before you can respond, the other women begin to introduce themselves, one by one. Each of them gives you a name, a polite smile, but there’s something empty in their eyes. "We’re from the desert," one of them says when you ask where they are from. "From a distant tribe, far from here." The admission stuns you. You’ve heard of tribes from the desert—wild, isolated communities that follow their own rules, their own traditions—but never thought it would have anything to do with Jungkook’s tribe.

One of the women- sofiya- leans forward and holds your hand, "We all knew about you. We knew Jungkook was going to marry you." She smiles faintly, but there’s a sadness to it. "He fell in love with you the moment he saw you."

Another woman steps in, her tone calm and measured, almost sympathetic. "Jungkook asked your father for your hand in marriage many times." She pauses, letting the words settle in the space between you. "Every time, your father refused him. He called him a barbarian, said that he would never marry his daughter—an educated beautiful woman—to a tribe leader. Your father made it clear that Jungkook would never be worthy of you."

May speaks up, her voice tinged with respect. "Jungkook was determined to prove himself to you. He studied, learned multiple languages, trained himself in the ways of your kingdom. He even gave up the traditional leather clothing of his tribe and started wearing finer silks and furs, all to blend in with your world. He did everything he could to prove that he was worthy of you."

You want to speak, to challenge these words, but your throat feels tight, as though you can’t find the right words.

"He tried again, Jungkook went to your father once more. He asked for your hand, but your father refused again. So Jungkook chose another way to marry you."

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with the weight of those words. You’re too stunned to respond.

Then another woman’s voice- maya- cuts through the quiet. "Jungkook knew about the many kings and princes who sought you. He had connections in far-off places, and whenever a king sent a proposal, Jungkook would visit their kingdom. Sometimes he paid them off, other times he used his influence to threaten them, ensuring they wouldn’t marry you. He couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else having you."

The final pieces of the puzzle fall into place. Jungkook, for all his charm and charisma, was driven by a relentless, obsessive love for you. He sacrificed so much to win your father’s approval, to be worthy of you. And all the while, he fought to protect you from suitors, from the world, from the politics that surrounded you.

The weight of the information is too much to bear. It’s like an avalanche, each word stacking on top of the other, burying you under the overwhelming truth. The air feels thick with everything you’ve learned, and your chest tightens with a mix of confusion, betrayal, and hurt. You can barely process it all.

Without thinking, your feet move on their own, guiding you toward the door. You don’t want to stay here any longer. The silence that follows the women’s revelations is suffocating, heavy with too many unspoken things. As if the room itself is pressing down on you, suffocating you in its opulence and secrets.

—--------------------------------

You finally reach your door, your hand shaking as you push it open. The familiar sight of your chamber greets you, but something—someone—immediately catches your attention. Jungkook is sitting on the edge of the bed. The sight of him is jarring, his usual attire replaced by a simple cotton tunic and pants. He immediately sets aside the parchment he had been writing on, his hands shaking slightly as he stands. His expression softens, his eyes wide with something unreadable, but as soon as you make eye contact, his lips part, and he asks in a voice thick with something deeper than just concern.

"Where were you, my love?" The words are whispered as if they hold more weight than the world itself, and his gaze locks onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

You feel your heart beat faster in your chest, as if it’s trying to escape. You swallow, trying to steady yourself. The words come out before you can stop them, filled with a frustration you’ve been holding in for far too long.

"I went to the harem. I spoke to the concubines." The words taste bitter as they leave your lips, and you can't stop them. "They told me everything. About you. How long have you known about me? Tell me everything, and I want the truth, Jungkook”.

the look on Jungkook's face shifts. He doesn’t look angry or defensive. He looks... hurt. "I didn’t want you to find out like this," he says, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with regret. But then he takes a deep breath, his eyes searching yours as if he’s trying to find a way to make it right.

"I was there," Jungkook says, his voice cracking ever so slightly. "I was in disguise the first time I saw you. It was at a spring festival in your kingdom. I saw you from afar... standing on the balcony, waving at the crowd. You were like a vision, like something from a dream. You were so radiant. So beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off you." He takes a step closer, and this time, you don’t pull away. His eyes are filled with something indescribable; longing, tenderness, and something so raw it’s almost painful to witness.

"You were unlike anyone I had ever seen. I knew right then I knew I had to have you. But not just as my wife. No. I needed you as my everything, you were something I could never dream of being worthy of." His voice is trembling now, the words spilling from him as if he can no longer keep them inside. "I would have given up anything to have you in my life. To have you beside me." He reaches for your hand, his fingers trembling as they clasp around yours, pulling you closer.

He steps closer still, his chest brushing against yours, and you can feel the weight of his emotions surrounding you, enveloping you in a warmth that is both comforting and overwhelming.

"I fell in love with you at that moment," he whispers, his voice barely audible, as if confessing a secret he’s kept hidden for years. "And I spent years trying to be someone worthy of you." His breath hitches, and you see something shimmering in his eyes—a tear. It catches in the light, and for a moment, you’re unsure if it’s a reflection of your own emotions or his.

His eyes flutter closed for a moment, and when they open again, there is a rawness to them—an openness that takes you by surprise. His voice cracks as he continues, each word carrying the weight of years of longing. "I gave up my old ways, I shed everything I was just to stand in front of you. Just to be worthy of even a glance from you, You are my world. I would tear apart empires, break mountains, and drown in oceans just to be close to you. No other woman- no other woman could ever compare to you”.

You feel your own breath catch as his hands gently caress your face, as if afraid to break the fragile connection between you. His eyes never leave yours, as if he’s memorizing every detail of your face. He leans in slightly, his lips brushing yours with a tender passionate kiss that feels like a promise.

"And even now," he murmurs, his voice breaking, "I would give up everything for you." The tears in his eyes are no longer a subtle shimmer—they’re there, clear as day, rolling down his cheeks, betraying the depth of his feelings. He wipes them away quickly, but it’s no use. They keep falling, like a dam that’s been broken.

"I worship you," he says, his voice desperate, almost a plea. "I love you more than I can say. You are everything to me. I would burn kingdoms to the ground just to see you smile, you are everything to me. My heart, my soul, my love.”

His voice shakes now, and the vulnerability in it breaks your heart. "I see you, and I see perfection. I see my heart. And I will never, ever stop loving you." The way he says it makes you believe it, makes you feel the depth of his devotion.

"I’ve loved you for so long, and I will continue to love you until my last breath."

At his last sentence, your body involuntarily shudders. It's all too much. He forcibly married you yet here he was standing in front of you and saying all these things. you think about your life so fair, always taken for granted, always having to live in your mother’s shadow, no one listening to what you have to say and now having someone who loves you this much does confuse you a bit.

You stand there, frozen for a moment, the weight of his confessions settling over you like a blanket. Tears burn in your eyes, but you don’t wipe them away. Instead, you step toward him, your hands reaching for him and without a word you reach to kiss him, he leans down, his gaze never leaving yours. your hand moved to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, his arms wrapping around as he breathed into the kiss. His hold tightens onto you to ensure that all of this happening is real and not just a dream.

Jungkook responded in desperation, his tongue brushing against yours, moaning into the kiss, tasting you, claiming you. your hands roamed his chest, fingers tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. Jungkook groaned softly, his hands moving to grip your hips, pulling even closer. He could feel the warmth of your body against his, the softness of your curves molding perfectly into his hardness. It was a sensation that both soothed and ignited him, a paradox he couldn’t—and didn’t want to—resolve.

“Yn,” he murmured against your lips, your name a plea and a promise all at once.

you smiled against his mouth, teeth grazing his lower lip before you pulled back slightly, your eyes searching his. “Make me yours” you confessed, voice barely above a whisper. Jungkook gulps and his thumb brushes your cheek, his gaze intense. “are you sure you want this? I don't want you to feel pressured” he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

your eyes flickered, a storm of emotions swirling within them. “Yes” you whispered, your voice steady despite the tremor in your hands. “Make me yours so I know this is real”. your words were like a spark to kindle, setting his blood on fire. Jungkook’s lips crashed back down on yours, his kiss hungry and possessive. He backed you against the nearest wall, his body pressing against yours, leaving no doubt about his desire. you moaned softly, hands tangling in his hair, holding him close as if you feared he might disappear. His hands moved down your body, tracing the curves of your waist, the swell of your hips. He cupped your ass, lifting you slightly so that you was flush against him, and you gasped into his mouth, nails digging into his scalp. Jungkook chuckled against your lips, the sound vibrating through you, sending shivers down your spine.

in your mind all you can think about is how this is unfolding. You know what you are doing is wrong- you know he is vulnerable and letting him claim you like this will only make this difficult. But, you also need to take control over him, gain his trust, break him and eventually leave this place. and It is not like you dont want this- him to fuck you like his life depends on it- you also need to make sure he stays whipped, so you get back to work.

Jungkook,” you panted, voice desperate. “Please, baby”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire. “Tell me what you want, anything i will give it to you” he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

“I want you,” you said, voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. “All of you. Now.”

Jungkook’s lips curved into a predatory smile. “Then take me baby, i'm yours to use” said, his voice a challenge. you didn’t hesitate. you pushed him back towards the bed, hands moving to the ties of his tunic, undoing them with ease. The fabric fell away, revealing his chiseled chest and the ridges of his abs. You ran your tongue over his neck, sucking and leaving marks, Jungkook hissed at the sensation, his head falling back as he exposed his neck to you.

“Your turn,” he said, his voice thick with desire.

Your fingers trembled as you reached for the laces of your dress, movements slow and deliberate. The fabric slid off your shoulders, pooling at your feet, leaving you standing before him in nothing. Jungkook’s gaze devoured you, his eyes tracing every curve, every inch of exposed skin. “So so pretty, how did I get so lucky,” he breathed, his hands reaching out to cup your breasts. you arched into his touch, head falling back as a soft moan escaped your lips. His thumbs brushed your nipples, already tight and aching, you gasped,your hands gripping his wrists. His mouth latched onto your tits as he sucked them one by one. he looks up at you whilst sucking on your left breasts like his life depends on it, you have to admit he looks incredibly handsome with his disheveled hair and the desperate expression, suddenly something comes to your mind and you push at his shoulders making him fall onto the bed, making him release your tit with a pop sound.

You flash him a cryptic smile as you get up from the bed and head towards your dresser, jungkook looks at you in confusion but it is soon replaced with surprise when you emerge with a silver knife in your hand. It is a beautiful engraved knife with an embroidered handle and a white satin ribbon tied on its base. It is one of your favourite knives. Jungkook looks at you with a serious expression on his face, he is not scared but you know he is waiting for your next move. you get on the bed and straddle his waist as you sit in his lap with the knife still in your hand. his hands reach for your waist as he looks at you lovingly- unfazed by the knife in your hand. You lift the knife to his throat, tracing his neck and then his jawline. You expect jungkook to resist or even snatch the knife from your hand but he lets you do whatever you want. You place it on his neck and look him right into his eyes; jungkook does nothing but leans into the knife and maintains eye contact.

“Do whatever you want to me” Jungkook says, his voice filled with passion and love.

your hands are shaking as you look at him, he has been nothing but nice to you. For a moment you think about it doing then and there but you control yourself. Instead, you drop the knife on the bed and kiss him, the kiss is quick as you have other plans in your head. you reach for the waistband of his pants. Jungkook hurriedly helps you remove them and helps you put his cock in your throbbing cunt. your mouth is left agape as you take him all in, you blink as you try to adjust hands automatically holding jungkook’s shoulders. Jungkook's hands rub your waist as he says soothing words in his language. you bounce a few times but you are too tired to carry on. Jungkook chuckles at you as he lifts you up to lay you on your back on the bed.

“You really are a princess, just want to be taken care of, yeah?” Jungkook says, chuckling while sitting up between your legs and scooting his hips closer to yours.

You roll your eyes at his words and mask your smile.

“And here I thought you would take care of me and do everything I say” you say while sitting up on your forearms.

“I would do anything for you and you know that” jungkook says while rubbing your legs.

just as jungkook is about to put the tip in, he changes his mind and sits back on his feet.

“Can you sit on my face” jungkook says with a serious expression.

and thats how you find yourself sitting on jungkook’s face with his mouth deep in your pussy. Jungkook latched his mouth onto your clit, which made you moan loudly, he gently sucked it into his mouth again. Jungkook sucked on your clit like a hungry man and it's all too much for you. Jungkook has his hands wrapped around your waist, eyes trained on your face and he moans every time he hears your whimpers. Jungkook started to move the tip of his tongue up and down your clit, Jungkook smiled, his tongue still latched onto your clit, his tongue took turns licking and teasing your clit and labia “oh lord” you moan, your mouth left agape- you are already sensitive and jungkook has not even started yet, you arch your back and moan his name, eyes closing. Jungkook continues his abuse on your pussy; nibbling and sucking your clit and in no time you cum all over his face. you are embarrassed and try to get off but jungkook makes a disapproving sound, tightening his hold around you as he laps on your now soaked cunt. You were already sensitive and now with Jungkook's actions you were on the verge of tears and gasping for air. Jungkook stops and you take the cue to get off. right away your head falls on the pillow and you softly moan at the sensation. Jungkook chuckles, his face glistening with your cum.

“Are you alright, my love” Jungkook asks you while planting kisses all over your face. He gives you a long smooch on your lips and trials his lips down your neck. “Jungkook, go wash your face” you say softly and he obeys. He comes back with a cloth, cleans you up and helps you dress. you turn on your side and see jungkook putting logs of wood into the fireplace to keep the fire going. You and Jungkook don't sleep in the same chambers; you never asked why but you know it is Jungkook's way of respecting you. “Come lay with me” you mumble as you are on the brink of sleeping. Jungkook shifts on his feet and makes way towards your bed. Jungkook gets under the blanket and hugs you from behind, his head resting near your neck. He kisses your cheek and mumbles a good night.

—----------------------

Next chapter: acceptance

—---------------------

author’s note: haiii im back :D sorry for the delay truuustt chapter 5 will be posted early (probably next week-ish) in the upcoming chapters, we will see a different side of jungkook aka his tribe leader side! anddd i tried my best to write smut please i hope da freaks like it anddddddd dw they will get even more 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 in upcoming chapters. Im also thinking about making a playlist and a moodboard post for this fic!!

————————-

Taglist 💌: @jincapableoflove @voitier @koocreampie @kookxin @mysticprincessstrawberry @imwutim @synamon @withmuchluv-tannie @taekritimin123 @somehowukook @jungshaking @junecat18 @ilyjhseok @darklove2020 @lilyalone @yikes-ukiyo @icandoitwithabrokenhearttt @lilalouti @mar-lo-pap @onlyoursol-ace @margaretro23 @whatsupandy @thegreedyhibiscus @hoelychildofgod @bgfdcvbnjk @investedreader @geniejunn @somehowukook @jungshaking @recklesselfless @jksmilkshake @seagulljk @ttanniett

let me know if you would like to be tagged!

[kkayyerr]

Secret.

Summary: Litte!reader accidentally telling Rafe about little!JJ’s bruises that he got from the fight with Luke, and Rafe can’t stand a thoughts about him getting hurt by his father again.

Warnings: Age regression, heavy angst, talking about domestic violence and abuse, fluffy ending.

It was almost a month since JJ moved to Tannyhill and started living with you and Rafe. He was more open about his regression and other struggles now, even though he still kept some distance from Rafe. He kept his relationship with his father a secret, not wanting to talk about all the abuse that had been going on in his house for years now. JJ tried to not pull up his shirt too much, hiding all the bruises that had been left there by his father. The boy knew that conversation about his dad would make him too vulnerable for his likings; he didn’t want Rafe to see him like that, at least not yet. 

However, one day the whole situation had completely changed.

You and JJ were playing in the living room when you unintentionally pulled up his hoodie while both of you were playfully fighting. Your heart dropped when you saw all those bruises and scars on his stomach and ribs. Even in the regressed state, you knew what it meant. And you also knew that in those kinds of situations you need to call for Daddy.

You stormed out of the room before JJ could've stopped you, rushing to the kitchen where Rafe was sitting, probably dealing with some business problems. His face brightened for a second when he saw you, but his expression quickly darkened when he saw that scared look on your face. 

 

„What’s wrong, kid?”

 

 

You approached him, trying to find a proper way to explain the situation. JJ wouldn’t ask for help because he was too afraid of being seen as „weak”, so you had to do that for him instead. 

 

„JJ got boo-boos on his tummy.”

 

After hearing your words, Rafe had closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. He knew that JJ’s relationship with his father wasn’t the best, but he didn’t know just how far that asshole might’ve gone. He clenched his jaw before getting up from where he was sitting and approaching you. Rafe gave you a little comforting kiss on the forehead, silently letting you know that he’s proud of you for telling him. 

 

„Grab the car keys, baby, and wait for us outside. We’ll be there in a minute."

 

You knew that it wasn’t one of the situations where you get to ask a thousand questions, so you just did as you were told, grabbing the keys and going outside to wait for them by Rafe’s car. 

He left the kitchen, heading to the living room. When he entered, he saw JJ sitting on the floor and hugging his knees. He probably was regressing, and he also probably was mad at you for telling Rafe about the bruises. Rafe crouched down in front of him, gently caressing the boy’s knee with his hand just to get his attention. JJ finally looked up; his eyes were so empty, and it seemed to make Rafe’s heart ache for a second. 

Why would that asshole hurt him like that? 

 

„Go away.”

 

JJ muttered, feeling embarrassed and weak, now that his secret came out. His whole life he was way too afraid of asking for help. It was so hard for him to accept it either. 

Rafe had to quickly calm himself down. He won’t let JJ get back to that house, that’s for sure. 

Rafe’s hands grabbed the fabrics of JJ’s hoodie. He wanted to look at the bruises himself just to make sure that the professional help won’t be needed. JJ, however, didn’t want him to see that. He gently slapped his hands away, not wanting to be touched at all right now. Rafe raised his hands up in the air, showing that he won’t touch the boy without his permission. 

 

„I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

 

He said reassuringly. JJ’s gaze softened, and his hand loosened the grip that he was holding on his hoodie, trying to hide all the evidence of the abuse. 

 

„Can you pull it up a little bit, please?”

 

JJ hesitated for a minute, even though Rafe’s words sounded pretty convincing. He just wanted to help, that’s all. His words were sincere, and the voice was soft, making him finally do what he was asked to, pulling up the shirt and demonstrating his completely bruised belly.

Rafe sighed, trying to keep his temper in check, even though it was pretty hard. He quickly helped JJ pull down the hoodie, then helped him get up from the floor. 

 

„We’re going to your house, and I’m picking up all of your stuff. You’re not getting back there, understood?”

 

Rafe’s voice was stern, but he wasn’t mad at JJ. He was mad at himself for not noticing the signs of his suffering for almost a month, even though it was so obvious. Maybe he was just too busy struggling himself to notice it. 

His lips formed a little faded smile when JJ finally nodded. Rafe almost sighed with relief, knowing that he won’t have to beg him to leave his abusive household. 

He had to gently hold JJ’s hand while leading him out of the house and to the car, because the boy was trembling from all the stress that he had relieved while having to look back at all the awful things that his dad had done to him. 

You smiled at both of them, opening Rafe’s car with the key in your hand. Rafe helped you and JJ to get in the car, buckling both of you up immediately after. 

He got into the driver’s seat, starting the car and looking at JJ in the rearview mirror. 

 

„You okay?”

 

The question was rhetorical. He knew that the boy wasn’t okay. His body was shaking, and his eyes were starting to tear up, probably just from thoughts of seeing his father again. There was nothing that Rafe could’ve done to help right now, and it was bothering him. 

You saw that JJ was trembling and immediately hugged him, holding him close while he was fighting back tears. 

 

„Dada's gonna pwotect us, don’ worry.”

 

Rafe smiled at that statement, knowing that it was true. He checked his glove box once more, smirking a little bit when he saw his gun in its place. Luke was about to get a long, painful conversation. 

Taglist: @tinylilacbun @rafecameronsloverrrrr @aew-regression-cove

[jelly-an0n]

Firsts

Clark Kent x Reader

Requested by @witherby

Tonight was supposed to be perfect.

At least- Clark had planned for it all to maybe be perfect-

Today was meant to mark your six month anniversary, and tonight he was hoping to make it special. He had planned an entire dinner, using the spare key to go into your apartment- with permission to come over of course- to set it all up.

Clark had made dinner- using a recipe you had mentioned loving but hadn't had time to cook- set the table and everything. But now he was starting to doubt himself, second guessing himself every second the watched go by on the clock you had.

You were meant to be home an hour ago, and you hadn't sent any form of message to say you were running behind or staying at work, nothing. Clark checked his phone again, seeing the messages he had sent over the pass hour still marked as unread.

Worry was creeping up quickly within him, but he done his best to keep a clear head. You ran late sometimes, it happens. he still remembers your first date when you had come running in fifteen minutes late- drenched to the bone and spewing apologies, nearly in tears at being so late.

Turns out work held you back, then it had started to rain- not a good sign when but you had your car. At least, you did until you popped a tire and didn't have a spare.

That night, everything that could go wrong on the way to where you were meant to meet up with Clark, did go wrong.

But Clark had only smiled at you and offered you a jacket, telling you it could be postponed so you could go home and get changed, he didn't want you getting sick after all.

That date went from a night out to a night in- getting food to go before returning to yours, where you both curled up watching crappy reality TV.

So Clark knew that, sometimes, life gets in the way.

Before he could further worry about your well-being, he heard the tell-tale signs of you approaching your door, and he stumbles to stand behind his chair- only to blink as the front door swung open.

In your arms were two cats who blinked back at Clark, and it took him a few moments to zone back in to hear you explain why you were so late as the door swings shut.

"-ally so sorry Clark- I was planning on coming straight here after work but my phone died and Jess needed those extra reports- and on the way home I saw these sweethearts begging for scraps and had to yell at some sleaze for trying to kick the ginger one and-" Your rant comes to a halt as you finally take in the dinning room table- set with candles, wine, and the meal you had been wanting for weeks now.

Any words you had were stolen from you as you look back up to Clark, only to see him staring at you with the same awed expression, just for a completely different reason.

For Clark, he was just awed at how kind and genuine you were, at how much love you had for the world and how much he loves you.

And as soon as the words he had spent weeks questioning if he should say enter his mind, the reason he spent so long on this dinner, he can't help but let them gracefully slip from his mouth, said with the same type of care one would have for handling fine china.

"I love you."

[florihaei]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 .ᐟ ✦ ──── ꒰ 𝐍𝐀 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍 ꒱

( 나재민 ) — ۟ 𝜗𝜚 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐧𝐚 𝐣𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧

──── .✦ in which — ꒰ you thought jaemin was just your plug, someone haechan introduced you to, nothing more. but he made you feel special, calling you “my baby” and treating you like you were the only one. as things got deeper, so did your feelings… and your doubts. you pulled away, hoping the distance would help. but when jaemin finds out you’ve been with someone else, and that someone else was mark. he realizes he can’t lose you. because to him, it was always just you, and now he’s ready to prove it.

⟡ 𓂃 - drama - fluff/angst, suggestive themes, drug use (mentions of weed) jealous jaemin, possessive jaemin, brief mentions of drinking, kissing!!, mentions of haechan and mark, haechan is your best friend!, mark is also a friend?/not really?, pet names : pretty girl, angel, my baby.

wc .ᐟ : 4.4k ₊ ˖ ་. !! not proffered !! ( 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐈’𝐒 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐔𝐓 )

⟡ 秋 autum’s note ︵ ︵ ིྀ - this story has been in my drafts since march of 2024 and im just now finishing!, had to redo some parts, but i hope everyone enjoys!!, please give feedback as i actually want to see how you guys like i!, but anyways enjoy!

©florihaei 2025 ꒰ do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without permission ۟

͏ï๑ — reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! ✿

the first time you met jaemin, it wasn’t by choice. haechan, your chaotic yet endearing friend, had dragged yoy along to the party you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to attend. the music was loud, the lights to dim, and the air heavy with the unmistakable scent of smoke and something stronger. it was kind of a scene that felt a little dangerous but equally thrilling.

the music at haechan’s apartment was loud, the bass shaking the walls as you stood there awkwardly near the kitchen counter.

“don’t be boring” he’d said, practically dragging you here. “you need to meet people.

you sipped from your drink in your hand, scanning the room. it was full of strangers laughing, dancing, and talking in groups. you’d tried mingling earlier but quickly felt out of place. haechan, ture to his word, had introduced you to a few people, but none of them stuck around long enough for a real conversation.

that’s when you saw him.

he was leaning against the far wall, dressed in all black, his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead. he had a lazy sort of confidence, his eyes scanning the room with mild interest as he took a sip from his drink. there was something about him that drew your attention, something magnetic.

“haechan!” you said, tugging on your friend’s sleeve as he passed by.

“what’s up?” he asked, barely looking up at you as he shoved another handful of chips into his mouth.

“who’s that?” you asked, nodding towards the guy against the wall.

haechan followed your gaze and smirked. “that’s jaemin, why? you interested?”

you rolled your eyes. “i’m just curious.”

“uh huh..” he said knowingly. “c’mon, i’ll introduce you.”

before you could protest, haechan was already leading across the room. as you approached, jaemin’s eyes flickered to yours, and for a moment, it felt like the room had gone silent. his gaze was intense, his lips curling into a small smirk as he took in your hesitant expression.

“jaem” haechan said, slapping him on the shoulder. “this is my friend, be nice to her.

haechan raised a brow. “yeah okay..”

“this is jaemin” haechan said smirking. “this guy is to go to when… you need anything”

jaemins eyes never left yours. he extended a hand, his lips curving into a small smile . “and who is this again?”

“she’s with me” haechan said before you could respond

you shot haechan a glare “i can speak for myself thanks” you turned back to jaemin, taking his hand. “im—“

“pretty girl..” he interrupted, his smile widening “that’s what i’ll call you”

the nickname caught you off guard, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. you tried to play it cool, but the way his gaze lingered on you, made your heart race

“okay, jaemin” you said pulling your hand back. “nice to meet you”

his smile turned into a smirk “the pleasure is mine, pretty girl”

—

over the next few weeks, you and jaemin started seeing more of eachother. at first, it was casual, just run ins at haechan’s parties or the occasion text exchange when on of you needed something. but somehow, the interactions became more frequent and more personal

it started with late night texts…

jaem🤍: “what’s my pretty girl up to??”

pretty girl💝:”studying☹️, what about you?”

jaem🤍:” thinking about you, want to come over?”

pretty girl💝:”your bold😭”

jaem🤍:”always.. so are you coming over pretty?”

you hesitated the first few times he invited you over, but eventually, curiosity got the better of you. the first time you went to his place , you were surprised at how cozy it was . the furniture was minimal, and his space was neat, noting like the chaotic energy he often exuded

“ah, so you thought I was a slob?” he teased, closing the door behind you.

“maybe a little” you admitted, smirking

“we’ll.., now you know better” he said, gesturing towards the couch. “make yourself comfortable pretty girl”

from then on , it became a routine, you’d show up at his place after a long day, sometimes with snacks or drinks, and the two of you would hang out. at first, you sit awkwardly on the opposite ends of the couch, unsure of how to navigate this dynamic. but as the weeks went by , the space between you seemed to shrink

—

one night, you were sitting cross legged on the couch, scrolling through netflix while jaemin sprawled beside you, his arm draped over the back of the couch

“what are we watching?” he asked, his voice low and lazy.

“something light” you said. “im too tired for anything serious”

jaemin leaned closer, peering at the screen. “how about this one?”

you glanced at the title and laughed. “a rom com?, really?”

“why not?” he said, smirking “im a sucker for a good love story “

you raised a eyebrow, amused. “i didn’t see you as a romantic type”

jaemin’s smirked soften into a small smile “you’d be surprised pretty”

there was something in his tone that made your heard skipped a beat, but you quickly looked away, pretending to focus ok the screen.

as the movie started, jaemin shifted closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. you tired to ignore the warmth that spread through you at the contact, but it was impossible when he leaned in to whisper a comment about the movie, his breath tickling your ear.

“you’re distracting” you said, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably

“am i?” he muttered, his tone teasing.

you turned the glare at him, but the look in his eyes made your breath catch. he was closer than you realized, his gaze locked on yours.

“do you want me to stop pretty?” he asked, his voice softer now.

you hesitated for a moment before shaking your head. “no..”

jaemin lips curved into a satisfied smile, and he leaned back slightly, his arm brushing against yours shoulder as he settled back into the couch.

—

another night, you found yourself in his kitchen, rummaging through his cabinets.

“do you ever have food in this house?” you called out, your voice landed with mock annoyance.

jaemim appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a smirk. “why would i stock food when you bring mw snacks every time you come over?”

you rolled your eyes. “you’re impossible”

“and yet you’re still here” he said, stepping closer

you turned to face him, crossing your arms. “maybe i just feel bad for you”

“sure you do..” he said, his smirk softening into a playful grin. “admit it angel, you like being here”

you didn’t respond but the warmth spreading across your cheeks gave you away.

jaemin chuckled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “thought so angel”

—

the realization hit you like a cold splash of water on evening as you sat alone in your room, scrolling through your phone. a photo on social media caught your eye, jaemin, smiling with some girl you didn’t recognize. she was leaning a little too close to him, her hand resting lightly on his arm.

your stomach twisted.

there was no caption, just a tag that lead to her profile. you hesitated for a moment before clicking on it, scrolling through her post. she was pretty.. no, she was stunning, and judging by the photos she and jaemin had spent time together recently.

you told yourself it didn’t mean anything. you weren’t exclusive, you both had never said that yoy couldn’t be with other people. but his words “whatever my baby wants, she gets” ringed in your ear, now tingled with doubt.

for days the thought lingered, gnawing at you. every time your phone buzzed with a text from jaemin, your heart would leap, but then you’d remember that photo, and the doubt would creep back in. were you hurt another girl to him?, what’s he treating her the same way he treated you?

—

you starred to pull away slowly. at first it was subtle, ignoring his text a little longer than usual, making excuses when he asked you to come over.

jaem🤍 : “what’s my pretty girl been up to tonight?”

you : “busy sorry.”

jaem🤍 : “busy doing what?”

you : “just stuff.”

you could also feel his confusion through the phone. he wasn’t used to you being so distant. normally, you’d jump at the chance to see him.

—

the next time he called, you let it ring. and the next time, and the time after that.

“hey angel.” his voicemail began, his voice tingled with concern. “i haven’t heard from you in a while, are you okay?, call me back.”

you didn’t …

instead, you stated spending more time with haechan and his group of friends, it wasn’t intentional at first, you just needed a distraction, and haechan was always good at keeping your mind off of things, that’s how you found yourself hanging out with mark more often.

mark was sweet, the kind of guy who always made sure everyone felt included. he didn’t tease you like jaemin did, but his quiet attentiveness was a welcome change. he’d listen when you talked, nodding thoughtfully, his smile warm and genuine.

one evening, you were sitting on haechan’s couch, laughing at something mark had said, when your phone buzzed on the coffee table. jaemin’s name lit up on the screen, but you ignored it, focusing instead on mark’s story about some embarrassing thing haechan had done.

haechan noticed that missed call and raised an eyebrow. “aren’t you going to answer that?”

you shook your head. “it’s not important.”

haechan didn’t press further, but you caught the curious glances he exchanged with mark.

—

jaemin was restless, he leaned back on his couch, his phone in his hand, scrolling through your contact for the tenth time that day. he’d called, text, and even sent a causal. “where are you angel?” in hopes that you’d respond.

but you didn’t.

a sense of unease settled into his chest, gnawing at him with every passing moment. you’d been distant for weeks, and he didn’t like it, not one bit.

finally, he couldn’t take it anyone. he dialed haechan’s number, pressing the phone to his ear as he paced the room.

“yo” haechan answered after the third ring, his tone light and distracted.

“where is she?” jaemin demanded.

haechan pauses. “she who?”

jaemin rolled his eyes. “don’t play dumb with me donghyuck, you know exactly who i am talking about.”

there was a beat of silence before haechan sighed. “you mean your little ‘pretty girl’ what’s going on with you two?, i thought you had her wrapped around your finger?

jaemin’s jae clenched at the teasing tone. “she’d been avoiding me. not answering my calls, not texting back. and i know you know something, so spill.”

haechan chuckled. “man, you sound stressed, relax. maybe she’s just busy.”

“she’s not just ‘busy’” jaemin snapped. “she’s been pulling away. i can feel it.”

haechan sighed again, and jaemin could hear the faint sound of a chair creaking. “alright, fine i did hear something”

“what?” jaemin stopped pacing, his grip on the phone tightening.

“well..” haechan stared, dragging the word out just to irritate him. “she’s been spending a lot of time with mark lately.”

jaemin’s stomach dropped, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. “mark?” he says finally, his voice low and dangerous.

“yeah they’ve been hanging out. noting crazy, just talking, grabbing coffee. you know normal stuff.”

jaemin’s mind raced. he didn’t know weather to feel angry or hurt - or both. “why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“because i didn’t think it was a big deal” haechan replied, his tone almost defensive. “it’s not like you two are dating or anything.”

jaemin’s jaw clenched. “that doesn’t matter. she’s mine.”

haechan let out a low whistle. “wow.. possessive much? maybe you should tell her that instead of assuming she just knows.”

“i shouldn’t have to” jaemin muttered, but even as he said it, he knew that haechan was right.

“look man..” haechan said, his voice softening slightly. “if you care about her that much, just talk to her. figure out what’s going on. but don’t go up blowing mark. it’s not his fault she’s spending time with him”

jaemin didn’t respond, his mind already made up.

“jaem” haechan called out, his tone warning. “don’t do anything stupid.”

“i won’t” jaemin said, though the edge in his voice suggested otherwise.

“sure you won’t” haechan muttered under his breath before hanging up.

jaemin stared at his phone, his mind replaying haechan’s words. the thought of you with mark made his chest tighten, jealousy burning through him.

you were his, weather you realized it or not. and he wasn’t about to let anyone else take his place.

with renewed determination, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door. it was time to make things clear.

—

it was late in the evening when you heard a knock on your front door. at first, you thought bout ignoring it, but the knocking became annoying.

when you opened it, there he was. jaemin stood in your doorway, his expression a mixture of frustration, determination, and something softer, something vulnerable.

“why have you been avoiding me angel?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with hurt.

you crossed your arms, trying to look unaffected. “i’ve been busy.”

“busy?” he repeated, stepping inside without waiting for a invitation. “too busy to answer my calls? to busy to answer my calls?, to busy to text me back?”

you turned away, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your hands were trembling. “i didn’t think it mattered”

he scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “didn’t matter? are you kidding me?”

you stayed silent, unsure of how to respond.

jaemin steeped closer, his presence impossible to ignore. “look at me” he said softly. when you didn’t move, he reached out, gently tilting your chin until your eyes met his.

“you’ve been hanging out with mark” he said, his voice quieter now.

your brows furrowed. “why does that matter? we’re not exclusive jaemin.”

his jaw tightened, and he took a deep breath as if trying to keep his emotions in check. “maybe we never said it out loud, but you know you’re mine, don’t pretend you don’t feel it.”

your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you forced yourself to stay guarded. “how can i be yours when im not sure im the only one?”

jaemin’s eyes widened slightly, and for moment he looked genuinely hurt. “what?”

“you’re charming jaemin, you call me all these sweet names, but i just.. can’t help but wonder.. do you say those things to everyone?”

he stared at you to a moment, his expression unreadable. then without a word he took your hand and led you to the couch.

“sit” he said firmly.

you hesitated but either way you complied, watching as he kneeled in front of you, his hands resting your your knees.

“listen to me” he began, his voice steady and sincere. “i know i can come off a certain way, i know i flirt and tease, and maybe i’ve given you reasons to doubt me. but when i call you my angel, my pretty girl, my baby.. that’s just for you.”

your breath caught in your throat as his words sank in.

“i don’t know how to say this without sounding like a idiot” he continued, running a hand through his hair. “but your the only one who gets under my skin like this. the only one who makes me feel.. like i could lose something important if i mess up…”

you felt your defense crumbing, but you still needed more. “then why didn’t you say anything before?”

jaemin sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. “because i’m an idiot. i thought i didn’t need to, i thought you knew how i felt, but seeing you pull away, and then hearing you’ve been hanging out with mark..” his voice trailed off and he looked back up at you, his eyes filled with emotions. “it made me realize i can’t take that risk, i can’t lose you.”

your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes.

“you’re not losing me” you said quietly, your voice wavering.

he let out a shaky breath, his hands squeezing your knees gently. “then don’t pull away from me again. if you have doubts tell me, i’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that you’re the only one.”

“jaemin…” you began, but he cut you off.

“no let me finish” he said, his tone firm but gentle. “im not perfect, i know i’ve made mistakes, and i’ll probably make more. but one thing i’ll never do is make you feel like you’re no enough. because you are angel, you’re more than enough.”

tears pricked in your eyes, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around him, he froze for a moment before pulling you closer, his arms tightening around you like he was afraid you’d slip away again.

“im sorry” you say, you whispered, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

“don’t apologize.” he said, his voice soft. “just don’t leave me in the dark again like that pretty girl..”

you pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him. his hands came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that escaped.

“im yours” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “and you’re mine okay?”

you nodded, unable to find words to respond.

“say it” he urged, his eyes searching yours. “i need to hear you say it.”

“im yours” you said, your voice trembling but steady. “and you’re mine.”

a slow smile spread across his face, the tension in his shoulders easing. “that’s my baby” he said softly before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

for the rest of the night, jaemin stayed with you, holding you close and whispering soft reassurance until the doubts and insecurities that had plagued you began the fade.

—

the next day, you woke up feeling lighter than you have in weeks. last night jaemin’s words and reassurances play on a loop in your mind. but still, a small voice whispers doubts in the back of your head. words were easy. what if they weren’t enough?

you had not thought that you would be seeing him again so soon but later that day your doorbell rang and opening it you found jaemin standing there holding a small bouquet of flowers and a very serious look on his face.

“hi” he said softly.

you blinked, taken aback. “hi.”

he stood in silence, handing you the flowers without a single word, eyes glued to yours. you took them uncertainly, heart thudding in your chest.

“get dressed angel” he said, his tone brooking no argument.

“what?”

“i’m taking you out. you’ve been questioning me, so i’m going to prove to you that you’re the only one. anything my pretty girl wants, she gets. and i want to show you just how much you mean to me.”

you stared at him, unsure of you should feel touched or skeptical. but something about the determination in his eyes made you nod. “give me ten minutes.”

—

twenty minutes later, you found yourself siting in jaemin’s car, the flowers resting on your lap, he didn’t tell you where you were going, when you asked, he just smiled.

“it’s a surprise pretty girl” he said.

after about fifteen minutes, he pulled up to a small, secluded park. you raised an eyebrow as he grabbed a large bag from the trunk and gestured for you to follow him.

“what is this?” you asked as he led you to a quiet spot under a large tee.

“just trust me” he says, setting the bag down and pulling out a thick blanket. he spread it in the grass, then stared unpacking what looked like a picnic.

“you planned this?” you asked, unable to hide your surprise.

he looked up at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “i’ve been planning this since last night. i just… needed to make sure you know how serious i am.

you sat down on the blanket, watching as he pulled out an array of your favorite snake and drinks.

he reaches across the blanket, taking your hand in his. “i know i’ve been bad at showing it before, but im here now, and im not going anywhere.”

you swallow hard, your emotions threading to overwhelm you. “jaemin..”

“im not done.” he said, cutting you off gently. “I know you’re sacred. and i know i’ve given you resins to doubt me, but I don’t want you doubt me anymore.

he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet ouch, your eyes widened as he opened it to reveal a delicate silver bracelet with a tiny charm in the shape of a heart.

“this isn’t just some random thing” he said, holding it up. “i want you to have it because every time you look at it, i want you to remember you’re mine, and im yours, no one else’s”

your throat tightened as he fastened the bracket around your wrist, the cool metal hitting your wrist.

“i don’t need anyone else” he said softly, his fingers brushing against your wrist. “your the only one i want angel, always”

tears welled in your eyes, and you blinked them away quickly. “jaemin, you didn’t have to do all of this..”

“yes i did” he said firmly, “because your worth it, you deserve to feel special, to feel loved.. my pretty girl.”

the word hung in the air between you, and you felt your breath catch.

“love?” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

he gave you a soft smile, his eyes shining with an emotion that made your chest ache. “yeah.. loved, because that’s how i feel about you.”

you didn’t know how to respond, so you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder. he held you tightly, his hands running soothingly up and down your back.

“your the only one baby..” he murmured against your hair. “always..”

in that moment l, surrounded but the quiet hun of nature and the warmth of his embrace, you finally believed him.

[scarletwinterxx]

the grumpy cat's secret soft side - chwe hansol imagine

hiiii ~ tbh i liveeee for the black cat turn into golden retriever type of guy🥺😭😅 this one is soooo cute, i hope you like it🤍 i’m trying to make up for being gone in the past weeks hence why the back to back posts.

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’re hanging out with your friends at a café, and, as usual, Vernon is sitting at a corner table, a frown fixed on his face. His arms are crossed, his eyes barely leaving the book he's reading, and his presence is just… intense. You know the drill—no one dares to approach him unless absolutely necessary.

Your friends chatter away, but their eyes keep flicking toward Vernon, trying to gauge the seriousness of his aura. You can practically hear them whispering:

"Does he even smile? He looks like he's plotting something dark."

"I bet he has some secret double life where he's a villain or something."

You roll your eyes, amused by the misconception. Sure, Vernon has this reputation of being the "grumpy cat". The guy who scowls at anyone who dares to speak to him but you know the real Vernon. The one who’s soft, playful, and okay, maybe a little too clingy when you're alone.

You sip your coffee, trying not to laugh at the thought of what they would say if they knew. They think Vernon is all sharp edges and cool indifference, but when it’s just the two of you? He’s a total golden retriever.

Later, the café empties out, and it’s just you and Vernon. You lean against the table, watching him flick through his book, clearly trying to seem like he's deep in thought.

"You know, you should really smile once in a while. People are starting to think you're some kind of cold-hearted villain."

He grunts in response, his eyes not leaving the pages "I don’t need to impress anyone. Why pretend to be something I’m not?"

You can feel the smile tugging at your lips. If only they knew how dramatically different he was when no one else was around. Just the other night, he’d insisted on cooking you dinner and then gotten mad at the TV when you laughed at a cooking show he didn’t even like. 

And the way his voice softens when he talks to you? Don’t even get you started.

"Mhm, sure. Just make sure no one sees you with your 'scary' persona, or they'll think you’re a supervillain." you tease him, a playful smile on your face

Vernon finally looks up at you, raising an eyebrow.

"You do realize you're the only one who gets to see me not acting like a 'villain,' right?"

You grin, taking a casual sip from your drink.

"Yeah, lucky me."

Fast forward to a few days later. You're out with Vernon and a few friends, walking through the park when you trip over a crack in the pavement. It's not that big of a fall, but you scrape your knee, and it stings just a little.

No one notices at first—except Vernon. His eyes snap to you, and you can see the panic flicker across his face. 

Before you can even fully recover from the stumble, he’s already by your side, crouching down with an expression that can only be described as dramatic concern.

"Oh my god, are you okay?! Did you hurt yourself?"

You blink, slightly surprised at how intense he’s reacting. He’s usually so calm in public, but now his eyes are wide, his hand hovering near your knee like he’s afraid even the slightest touch might cause more harm.

"It’s just a scrape, Vernon. I’m fine." you stutter, still surprised by his actions

He shakes his head vigorously, ignoring your reassurances, his face completely serious.

"No. You’re not. You're bleeding, and... you’re my responsibility!"

You blink at him wide eyed, "It’s really just a small scratch. It's not like—"

"Small?!" He looks at the tiniest red mark like it’s an open wound that could be fatal. His voice grows louder. "You’re going to need a bandage! I’ll—I'll carry you home!"

You can’t help but laugh at how over the top he’s being. The guy who looks like he’s plotting world domination in front of others is now losing it over a scraped knee. But he doesn’t seem to find it funny at all.

"Do not laugh! You’re injured, and this is serious business." he scolds you, already helping you up still chuckling, as he holds out his arms like he’s ready to scoop you up at any moment.

"I don’t need you to carry me, Vernon. I can walk." you assure him

"I insist." 

He’s so dramatic about it that it almost seems like he’s going to faint from the sheer concern he’s radiating.

"Is he seriously offering to carry you?" Dino asks, watching the whole scene

“What the hell is happening?" Seungkwan mumbles

You hear your friends muttering from the sidelines, their voices full of surprise, and you can’t help but smirk. This is the first time they’ve seen Vernon act this way, and they’re all shook by it.

"Vernon, seriously. I’m fine!"

But he’s already kneeling in front of you, looking up at you with wide, concerned eyes, ready to scoop you up into his arms like you're the most fragile thing in the world.

"Nope. I’m not risking it. Let’s go home. You need rest, and I need to make sure you’re not going to pass out or something."

You can’t hold back your laughter anymore."You're impossible."

"I’m just trying to keep you safe."

You finally let him win, letting him gently lift you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world, completely ignoring the curious stares from everyone else around. And despite how embarrassing this all is, you can’t deny it. You love how much Vernon cares about you. The "grumpy cat" persona is a total act.

You lean your head on his chest, feeling the warmth of his embrace.

"You know, I’ve never seen this side of you before."

"Good. Keep it that way. I’m only like this for you, got it?" voice full of seriousness

"Got it."

And in that moment, you realize, as much as Vernon tries to hide it from the world, he’s completely smitten with you—and you wouldn't have it any other way.

[oleanderflower]

Bruce Wayne x Reader: You Are What You Are To Me

Summary: He’s going to do it! He’s going to ask his wife if he can sleep with her! Maybe!

info: F/readers like early 20s and Bruce is like 35-38 depending on how you want to read it. Also title based of this song: Paul Anka- You Are My Destiny

warnings: inexperienced reader, kissing and some petting ? nothing too explicit (i tried to write smut but i chickened out..)

a/n: sorry for the abrupt ending I lost energy and it felt okish enough :( this, unbetaed, mistakes made are my own! please let me know what you think

3.4k words

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~•~•

Bruce had never considered himself the kind of man to hesitate. He made decisions with precision, moved with purpose. Yet, as he walked down the dimly lit hallway toward her room, he found himself second-guessing every step.

This was a mistake.

It had to be.

And yet, here he was, about to ask a question that could change everything.

Their marriage had been a matter of convenience, a calculated agreement meant to bolster his Bruce Wayne persona and protect his identity as Batman. She wasn’t some wealthy socialite, nor a woman from Gotham’s elite—she was just… her. A normal woman who had stumbled into his world at the wrong place, at the wrong time. Or maybe the right time, depending on how he looked at it. It was supposed to be a simple arrangement. She played the part of his devoted wife in public, and in return, she gained financial security, protection, whatever she needed.

But over time, things had shifted.

She had slipped past his carefully built walls with her humor, her kindness, the way she treated him like a person rather than an untouchable figure. And somewhere along the way, without meaning to, without wanting to… Bruce had started to fall for her.

Now, standing outside her door, he questioned everything. Was this even fair to her? To them?

Before he could talk himself out of it, he exhaled and knocked quietly, almost hoping she wouldn’t answer.

There was a soft shuffle, then the sound of approaching footsteps before the door swung open.

And there she was.

She blinked up at him, her eyes lighting up as she smiled, laughter already in her voice. “Bruce!” she giggled, noticing the hesitant little wave he gave in return. “What’s up? You need something?”

He swallowed, his usual composure faltering. “I have a question. Do you mind if I come in?”

“Yeah, of course! It’s no problem.” She stepped aside, waving him in before teasing, “Seriously, lover—” she giggled, “—this is your house. You don’t need permission.”

Bruce stepped inside, his lips twitching slightly. “Maybe, but this is your room. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

She rolled her eyes, shutting the door behind him. “Nonsense. Come in, sit, and tell me what’s up.”

He hesitated for only a moment before taking a seat in the chair by her window, hands clasped together as he considered how to say what he came here for.

How did he even begin?

She settled onto the bed, legs crossed beneath her as she watched him with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “Alright, Babe,” she said, tilting her head. “Spit it out. You’re acting weird—even for you.”

He exhaled through his nose, rubbing his hands together before finally meeting her gaze. “This arrangement… our marriage… it started as a contract. A cover. We both knew what we were getting into.”

She nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “Right…”

“But over time, things changed,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “You changed things.”

Her brows lifted slightly, but she stayed silent, letting him continue.

“I never expected to enjoy this,” he confessed. “I never expected to… enjoy you. Your company. The way you fit into my life.” He let out a soft, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “I didn’t think this would work. That I could let someone in like this.”

Her expression softened, but he could see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

“And now?” she asked gently.

Bruce swallowed. This was it. The moment of no return.

“Now, I want more.” He leaned forward slightly, searching her face for any sign of hesitation. “I want you.”

Silence settled between them, thick and heavy, and for the first time in a long while, Bruce felt vulnerable.

Her lips parted slightly, surprise flashing across her features before something else took its place—something unreadable. “You mean…”

He nodded once, forcing himself to hold her gaze. “I want to sleep with you, be with you, in all ways.”

A beat passed. Then another.

And then she let out a quiet, breathless laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “Wow,” she murmured. “You really don’t do subtle, huh babe?”

Bruce exhaled, somewhere between frustration and amusement. “I thought being direct would be best.”

She studied him for a long moment, and he let her—let her see that he meant it, that this wasn’t just about physical attraction or convenience. It was her. It had always been her.

Then, slowly, she smiled.

“Close the door, Bruce.”

Bruce’s breath hitched, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides. He had prepared himself for rejection, for awkwardness, maybe even for her to giggle and think he’d been joking with her.

But this? This quiet invitation—this acceptance wrapped in a soft smile—made his pulse stutter.

For a moment, he just looked at her, as if trying to commit this to memory. The way the firelight flickered against her skin, the way she watched him with curiosity and something else he wasn’t ready to name.

Then, he did as she asked.

He turned, pushed the door closed with a quiet click, and when he faced her again, she was still watching him—waiting.

“So,” she said, leaning back against the headboard, her fingers idly tracing patterns against the fabric of her blanket. “You want me. Just like that?”

Bruce exhaled slowly, stepping closer, but not sitting—not yet. “Not just like that.” His voice was lower now, more certain. “I want you because I—” He paused, struggling with the weight of the words. “Because I care about you. More than I should. More than I planned to.”

Something flickered across her face, something real.

“You’re saying this isn’t just about sex,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.

“No,” he admitted. “It’s not.”

Her lips pressed together as she considered him, and he let her—gave her the time she needed, the space to decide.

Then, she tilted her head, a tease tugging at the corner of her mouth. “So, let’s say I say yes. What happens then?”

Bruce finally sat on the edge of the bed, close enough to feel the warmth of her body, but not quite touching. He reached for her hand, hesitating only briefly before brushing his fingers against hers.

“Then we stop pretending,” he said simply.

She let out a breath, then started to giggle before gripping his hand more firmly and looking at him.

“Babe, you know you’re like… my first relationship, right?”

Bruce paused, processing that. “…You mean the first relationship you’ve ever had was a contract marriage? Not even, like—kissing another person? Or being with them?”

She shook her head slightly, amused. “I’m surprised the great Batman didn’t figure this out already, but nope. Never even held hands with someone romantically until I got with you. And in the beginning, it was all just for the contract—the cheek kisses, the way I held onto you in public. That’s why I’ve always been so silly with it. I’ve never done any of this before.”

Something sharp and possessive curled in Bruce’s chest. He was her first. The only one. And now, he was certain—he’d be the only one ever. Because he wasn’t going to let her go.

“Batman doesn’t have to know everything,” he muttered.

She burst into laughter, full and bright. “That’s what you got from that?”

“I’m processing right now,” he grumbled, rubbing a hand over his face.

She only laughed harder, shaking her head. “Take all the time you need, big guy.”

Bruce let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair before looking back at her. She was still smiling, still watching him with that easy amusement that had somehow wormed its way into his life and refused to leave.

“I just didn’t expect that,” he admitted, his voice quieter now.

She shrugged. “I figured it never really mattered. I mean, our whole relationship started as an act, so it’s not like I needed to bring it up. And besides…” Her fingers toyed with his, tracing idle patterns against his skin. “You kind of made it easy.”

His brows furrowed slightly. “What do you mean?”

She smirked. “Well, you weren’t exactly pushing for anything at the start, either. You’re the king of personal space, Mr. Wayne.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, conceding the point. “That’s fair.”

She leaned back against the pillows, watching him with something softer in her expression now. “But, honestly? I’m glad it was you.”

That made him pause.

She exhaled, her gaze flickering to where their hands were still loosely linked. “If I was gonna have a first for all of this—holding hands, pretending to be married, even just trusting someone like this—I’m glad it was you.”

His chest tightened, something deep and unshakable settling inside him.

“You’re not pretending now,” he said, more a statement than a question.

She shook her head, smiling just a little. “No. Not anymore.”

Bruce exhaled slowly, letting the words sink in. Then, with deliberate intent, he brought her hand up to his lips, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against her knuckles.

Her breath hitched.

“If I’m your first,” he murmured, his voice low, “then I’ll make sure I’m your last.”

Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t pull away. Didn’t look away.

Instead, she squeezed his hand, her lips curving into something small but certain.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I think you already are.”

Bruce’s heart stuttered in his chest at her words, something warm and unexpected flooding through him. For a man who rarely let anyone close enough to matter, who had always kept himself at a distance, hearing her say that hit him harder than he’d expected.

He moved closer, just enough to feel the warmth of her breath against his skin, his hand still holding hers but his other moving slowly, carefully, to rest against her cheek. His thumb brushed over her skin, the motion almost absent, as if he were memorizing the feel of her beneath his touch.

“You don’t know what that means to me,” he said quietly, the words low and gravelly, like they came from somewhere deep inside him. “I’ve never let anyone this close. Never let anyone in like this.”

She didn’t answer right away, instead tilting her head slightly into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment. “I think you’ve been letting me in a little at a time,” she murmured, her voice soft but sure.

His breath caught at the tenderness in her tone. “I’m not used to this.”

“I know,” she replied, her eyes opening again to meet his. “And that’s okay.”

For a moment, neither of them moved, the air thick with unspoken things. Bruce didn’t know how to move forward, how to bridge the gap between the man he had been and the man she made him want to be. The part of him that had always been about control, about keeping everything in place, was at war with the part of him that wanted to simply let go and fall into her, to trust her like he had never trusted anyone else.

He lowered his head, lips brushing against her forehead in a slow, lingering kiss. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, the words heavy with the weight of his own vulnerability.

She smiled softly, gently cupping his face with her free hand, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “You don’t have to figure everything out all at once.” Her eyes sparkled with a playful glint. “But I wouldn’t mind you figuring this out.”

He chuckled quietly, the sound low and amused. “You’re not making this easy on me, are you?”

“Isn’t that the point?” she teased.

Bruce couldn’t help but smile, the pull of something unfamiliar tugging at him, something lighter and freer than he had ever let himself be. “I think you’re right.”

She leaned in then, closing the distance between them, her lips brushing his in a kiss that was slow, exploratory, yet filled with the weight of everything that had led up to this moment.

And for the first time in a long time, Bruce Wayne—no masks, no pretenses—let himself fall into it completely.

The kiss deepened again, slow and full of promise, as if the world outside ceased to exist. With each gentle movement, each shared breath, Bruce felt himself slipping deeper, losing himself in the warmth of her touch, the taste of her lips, the rhythm of her heart beating in sync with his. Time felt irrelevant, and all he could focus on was her, the way she made him feel.

He broke the kiss for just a moment, his forehead resting against hers, his breath shaky but steadying. His pulse was loud in his ears as he searched her eyes, trying to grasp the enormity of what had just happened. She was watching him with that soft intensity, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks, and for a moment, he couldn’t help but just watch her in return.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low, a vulnerability slipping through the cracks of his usually composed facade. “I mean, after everything… after everything we’ve been through, are you sure this is what you want?”

She opened her eyes, and the gaze they shared spoke volumes. It was the quiet acknowledgment of all they had built—of the contract, the moments of closeness, the way their dynamic had shifted over time.

Her smile was soft, unwavering. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” she replied, her voice steady but filled with warmth. She reached up, tracing the line of his jaw, the touch sending a ripple of heat through him. “I didn’t think I could be, but here I am.”

Bruce’s heart beat faster, a surge of emotion overwhelming him. He wasn’t used to this—being so open, so close, so vulnerable. But with her, the walls he had spent years building seemed to crumble bit by bit. It was strange, terrifying, but exhilarating.

“I never thought I’d get this close to anyone,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But with you… it feels like everything else fades away.”

Without thinking, he leaned in again, his lips finding hers with renewed urgency. This kiss wasn’t slow—it was desperate, filled with the months of unspoken longing, the quiet moments when he wanted to reach for her but had always held himself back. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her in closer, his other hand gently cupping the back of her neck. She responded immediately, her arms wrapping around him, pulling him in as if she, too, couldn’t get close enough.

For a few minutes, it was just them—no pretenses, no masks, no expectations. Just two people caught up in something that had started as an act but was now something so much more. The kiss was hungry, fierce, yet tender, as if they were both trying to absorb the other into themselves.

Eventually, they broke apart, their breathing heavy, their foreheads resting against one another as they tried to catch their breath. Bruce’s chest rose and fell with each breath, his heart racing in his ears. He had no plan, no clear path ahead, but for the first time in a long time, it felt okay. The future didn’t need to be decided now.

His lips found hers again, slower this time, gentler, but no less passionate. Each kiss was a promise, each touch a reassurance that they were here, together, and that was all that mattered in that moment.

They pulled back again, both breathless, but this time, she opened her eyes and reached up, fingers threading through his hair, messing up the strands that had fallen loose.

Bruce hummed in contentment, tilting his head into her touch. “You’re good at this,” he murmured, his voice still thick with desire.

She giggled softly, her hand tracing his face, following the contours of his jaw, his cheekbone, the line of his lips. “I think I’m just getting started,” she teased, before leaning in to place soft, scattered kisses along his face, his eyelids, his nose, his jaw.

Bruce chuckled, the sound warm and deep, something unguarded in it. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting her do what she wanted, getting lost in the sensation of her hands on him, her lips on his skin. It was a new experience, one he hadn’t even known he wanted until now.

He breathed out a laugh, letting himself get lost in the moment, in the way she moved, the way she made him feel like everything was right for the first time in so long.

This—her—was something he couldn’t have imagined, but now that it was happening, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

As she kissed his jaw, Bruce could feel the hesitation in her touch—small, fleeting moments of uncertainty that gave way to something else. Despite the soft, tentative movements, there was a confidence to the way she held him, a growing assurance in the way her lips moved against his skin. It was clear that she was still learning, still figuring this out—this intimacy, this closeness—but somehow, that made the whole thing feel more real, more grounded. There was no pretense between them.

Bruce, for his part, was fully aware of her inexperience, the way her hands seemed to linger a little longer than she might have intended or the way she seemed to carefully gauge each movement, as if testing the waters. But despite that, she was doing just fine. She was more than fine. Her kisses were soft, but not shy; tentative, but with an underlying desire that made his heart race.

He felt a rush of affection for her—how brave she was, even when she was unsure, even when she was still figuring out what it meant to be this close to someone. It made him realize that, for all his experience, there was something equally precious about this shared vulnerability. It made him want to be more open, to be a little less controlled for her sake, for both their sakes.

Bruce took her hand, guiding it gently back to his face, encouraging her to touch him with a little more confidence. “You’re doing fine,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against her skin. “Better than fine. Just relax.”

She met his eyes, a small, uncertain smile tugging at her lips. “I… I’m trying,” she admitted, a slight giggle escaping her. “This is all… new.”

“I know,” Bruce replied, his voice soft but filled with warmth. “But I like it. I like that it’s new. We don’t need to rush.”

She smiled, more at ease now, and her fingers slid from his jawline to his neck, then up to his hair, her touch growing more deliberate. She leaned up, meeting his lips again, this time with a little more conviction. The kiss was slower, more exploratory, as if she were testing the waters, but she didn’t pull back this time. Instead, she allowed herself to feel him fully, and in turn, Bruce felt his own control slip, just a little.

His hands moved to her waist, pulling her a fraction closer, and this time she didn’t hesitate, her arms wrapping around his neck as she deepened the kiss, matching his movements with surprising ease. Bruce couldn’t help but smile against her lips at how she was learning to navigate this, how her natural curiosity was turning into something far more confident, far more sensual.

Even if she was still inexperienced, she had an intuitive understanding of him, of what he needed in this moment. She responded to him with a kind of instinct he hadn’t expected, one that made him feel like they were truly discovering each other, not just physically, but emotionally, too.

“See?” he murmured between kisses, his breath shallow. “I told you you’re doing great.”

Her lips curled into a smile against his, and she kissed him again—more urgently now, as if she was no longer afraid of getting it wrong. There was no right or wrong in this moment, no perfect way to do it. It was just them, together. She pulled him even closer, their bodies pressing against one another, her movements growing more sure, more confident with each second.

And Bruce, feeling her give herself to the moment fully, couldn’t help but get lost in her again, in the way she kissed him like she was learning, like she was willing to take that chance with him, despite everything. The world outside their room didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except this moment, this feeling of connection that was unlike anything Bruce had ever felt before.

[stardi]

𝟎𝟎𝟏, PLAYING CUPID

pairing! anakin skywalker x fem!reader

synopsis! r2-d2 can't stand seeing anakin and you fight, so he decides to play his favorite game: being cupid!

warnings! verbal fight, fluff, artoo being such a cutie little droid :c

word count! 4.6k

note! this is the longest shit i've ever written in my whole life 😨 IT'S ALSO INSPIRED BY A DREAM I HAD WITH ANAKIN HEHEHHEHE so it's special, i hope you like it as much as i do <33.

my mother tongue is spanish, so i ask for your patience and a lot of kindness in case you want to make an observation about my narration, grammar or spelling. thank you!

© stardi - all rights reserved. do not repost, translate or modify without permission and credits!

The time had long surpassed the stroke of midnight, yet fate had conspired to hold you, Anakin and R2-D2 captive in the war room, surrounded by maps and holographic projections of the enemy's forces. As one of the highest-ranking Generals, the weighty responsibility had fallen upon you and Anakin to devise a strategic plan, one that would orchestrate the downfall of a fortified Separatist stronghold nestled upon a remote planet.

Your eyes felt heavy, your head pounded, and every inch of your body was begging for some rest. All you yearned for was respite, a sanctuary within the confines of your bunk, where you could surrender to slumber's embrace for an entire week. Looking over at Anakin, you could tell that he wasn't feeling any different from you, his body language betraying his exhaustion, letting you know that you weren't alone in your misery. You couldn't help but wonder how much longer you and your best friend could keep going like this.

You hated war.

It was a brutal business, and you hated every moment of it. Its destructive nature, the lives it claimed, the endless planning and executing was taking its toll on you.

Yet, you soldiered on, fueled by the hope that your efforts would make a difference.

With bleary eyes, you rubbed at the fatigue-induced haze, striving to maintain focus amidst the flickering glow emanating from the tactical map. In that moment, Anakin turned to you. A adorable yawn, one he tried to suppress but failed, escaped his lips with a slight suspire. It was a stark contrast to his imposing figure; strong, broad, and towering. It was in these small, vulnerable moments that his true essence shone through, captivating your soul like nothing else.

You wondered if he knew how cute he looked when he was tired, or how every little gesture of his was beautiful in its own way.

"I think we should launch a frontal assault," suddenly, his confident and resolute voice broke through your thoughts about him. His index finger moved at a specific area and your gaze followed his hand. An undeniable knot of worry coiled in the pit of your stomach. The location he had singled out was no ordinary point on the map; it was a fortified entrance, a bastion of enemy resistance that had withstood countless assaults. "We'll hit them hard and fast, overwhelm their defenses, and take the base in a matter of hours."

"That's a risky move," you interjected, unsure about the feasibility of his plan. His illogical proposal took your sleep away in less than a second. "The Separatists have had time to fortify their position and they'll be expecting us. We could lose a lot of men if we charge in blindly."

"We're Jedi, not cowards. We can handle whatever they throw at us."

"But what if they have some kind of surprise waiting for us?" you countered, your own frustration growing as you watched Anakin's tired eyes roll in exasperation at your objections. His pretty, oh, so pretty eyes. "A trap? A minefield? A hidden weapon? We need to approach this mission with caution."

The General let out a long, drawn-out sigh, his brows furrowing deeply in annoyance. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms in front of his chest in a clear demonstration of displeasure. The weariness in his eyes was overshadowed by an unmistakable expression of disdain as he peered at you, a seemingly conviction that you, in that moment, were the dumbest living form in the entire vastness of the galaxy.

"Caution?" he exclaimed, the word escaping his lips like a bitter scoff. "We need to seize the initiative and strike while the iron is hot. Our troops are ready, and the time is right."

Exhaustion was mounting, and you could feel a dull ache pulsing through your temples. Instinctively, you rubbed your forehead in a futile attempt to alleviate the fatigue that threatened to cloud your judgment. A silent plea to the gods or the Force itself crossed your mind, a pray to grant you the patience and wisdom necessary to navigate the turbulent sea of Anakin's unwavering determination.

He's so stubborn.

It was legendary, he could be as immovable as a mountain. His obstinacy resembled a deep-rooted tree, firmly entrenched in his convictions, rendering it nearly impossible to sway or alter. You had long known this about the man you loved the most, and you were aware of how difficult it could be to change his mind once he was set on something. This quality of his, simultaneously admirable and frustrating, had been witnessed by everyone on numerous occasions.

And now it was putting the mission at risk.

A pang of guilt struck you as you thought back on the many times you had given in to his plans or ideas to avoid a conflict that wears out your mind and heart. You knew deep down that it wasn't worth it, that sometimes it was easier to concede than to argue. But today, now, this case was different. This time, the stakes were higher, you couldn't let him put your troops in unnecessary danger just because you wanted to avoid an argument. Your decisions could make or break the success of the mission.

"I'm not saying we should be cowards, Anakin. I'm saying we should be smart. We need to think about the bigger picture here," you stated calmly, trying to reason with him, leaning forward in your seat to trace your finger along the terrain as you spoke. "We can send in a smaller team to gather intel. Then, based on what they find, we can make the best decision about how to proceed. We need to minimize our losses and maximize our chances of success."

Anakin's intense gaze held yours, and you felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, he was genuinely considering your suggestion. His eyes seemed to search yours for a moment, as if weighing the options and possibilities. But, as quickly as that flicker of possibility had arisen, it was snuffed out by the curve of his lips, which seemed to twist into a disapproving sneer.

"I appreciate your input, Y/N," he replied, polite but tinged with a dismissive tone. Running a hand through his tousled hair, he caused a few strands to fall gracefully back into place. That gesture would have normally made your heart flutter, however, the gravity of the situation kept you firmly grounded. "But I know what needs to be done. We're going with my plan," he concluded like a definitive statement, standing up from his seat with a data-pad in his hands, approaching the droid that was holding other maps for you. "R2, come here. Help me with something."

Unacceptable.

You sat there for a moment, stunned and speechless, trying to process what had just happened. Had he truly made the final call without giving a second thought to your perspective? Just like that? Was he so convinced of his own rightness that he was willing to dismiss your opinions entirely? The audacity! The heat of your rage begin to rise in your chest as you watched him compare maps with the droid without any worry or disturb at his behavior. How dare he? You wanted to scream, to lash out, to tell him exactly what you thought of him and his I'm-always-right attitude. But at the same time, you knew that wouldn't solve anything.

Summoning all your willpower, you took a deep breath, clenching your teeth with fervor and mentally counted to ten, harnessing your emotions as you rose from your seat walked purposefully toward him.

You closed the distance, your gaze weighed heavily upon the back of his neck. It pierced through his consciousness, momentarily causing a flicker of confusion to ripple across his features, drawing his attention to your presence. However, after a fleeting moment of acknowledgment, he redirected his focus back to the droid, continuing with his task, seemingly dismissing the impact of your unspoken message.

"You're not even willing to consider other options?" you questioned. The words hung in the air, suspended between you and Anakin. Yet, he stood unmoved. "You're just going to charge in blindly and hope for the best?"

"It's not blind," Anakin emitted a chuckle, dripping with sarcasm. He didn't even bother to face you, his voice carrying a hint of condescension. "It's a calculated risk."

"Anakin, we're supposed to be a team," you crossed your arms, your voice firm but tinged with a touch of pleading. "We should be working together on this."

"I am working with you. I just don't agree with your strategy," his annoyance was palpable as he finally set aside his data-pad, pivoting his well-built frame to face you, his gaze piercing with impatience. "You're too cautious, too hesitant. Your plan will only hold us back. I know what I'm doing."

A slap in the face. That's how it felt. You had always been willing to put yourself in harm's way for the greater good, but you knew that there was a difference between bravery and foolishness, a thin line you weren't willing to cross. Anakin, on the other hand, seemed to have a hard time distinguishing between the two.

"I'm holding us back?" you shot, incredulous. You didn't notice the way your voice was slowly rising. "You're the one who's being reckless and impulsive. As always," Anakin's narrowed eyes burned with indignant fury, his initial annoyance transforming into a smoldering anger that threatened to consume the room. You knew that your words had struck a nerve, even though they held a semblance of truth.

As the tension in the room thickened, the air heavy with unyielding wills, R2-D2 beeped urgently, his mechanical voice punctuating the air seeking to intervene. The astromech droid, more than just a resourceful companion, was a friend, his loyalty extended beyond mere service; he cared deeply for both of you, aware of the underlying, unspoken feelings that bound you together. Every subtle interaction was etched into his memory circuits, everything. From the stolen glances and telltale blushes provoked by compliments, from the extended hugs that lingered longer than necessary after arduous missions and the occasional brushes of hands. He longed for nothing more than to see you both happy and united, free from the burdens of conflict.

And he was determined to fulfill his longing, he was going to put an end to the argument, and maybe take advantage of the situation a little. A mischievous thought flitted through his mechanical mind: Did the two of you know about his favorite game?

"Not now, R2," Anakin snapped, caught up in the heat of the moment, waving the droid away. "I am the problem now? You're the one who's being selfish, thinking only of your own safety and not the mission at hand."

"That's not true. I care about the mission, and I care about our troops. I just don't want to see them die needlessly because of a hasty decision," a mocking and arrogant smile stretched across his face.

"You don't have the guts to make the tough calls, do you?"

The way you gasped.

Even R2 seemed taken aback, emitting an surprised beep that mirrored the incredulity you felt. For a moment, you struggled to find your voice, your jaw hanging open in a mix of astonishment and anger. Then, your throat let out a bubbling laughter of disbelief.

"Oh, you don't want to do this," you managed to choke, a sense of warning in your laughs. Anakin's expression shifted, his defiance growing even stronger as he raised his chin, a challenging sparkle in his eyes. His audacious stance seemed to say that he was ready to engage in this verbal duel, if you weren't fighting already, unafraid of the consequences. It was a side of him you had seen before. That stubborn, headstrong Jedi Knight loved pushing boundaries.

"Maybe I do."

Fearing the situation could deteriorate further, R2-D2 acted with a subtle nudge against Anakin's legs, a gentle insistence in his movements as he sought to capture the Jedi's attention, his beeps growing more insistent. Anakin, vexed by the interruption, cast a frustrated glance downward, emitting a groan of annoyance in response.

"R2! Can't you see we are talking? Wait a minute," he scolded.

"No, this is not a talk," you shocked your head angrily. Even as you felt your frustration rising, you feel a twinge of gratitude towards R2 for his attempts to defuse the situation.

"You started this," he accused. "You're always looking for an easy way out, a safe option. But that's not how wars are won. Sometimes you have to take risks, make sacrifices, and do what needs to be done."

"You think I was born yesterday? I perfectly know that. But I'm also not willing to throw away lives for the sake of a bold move," you gritted your teeth, unable to hold your tongue any longer. "If you can't see that, then maybe you're not the leader I thought you were."

Anakin's gaze met yours, and within his eyes, a flicker of surprise mingled with a tinge of remorse, shattering the facade of his unwavering confidence. You knew that your outburst had caught him off guard, but you also knew that it was necessary. You had stood up for yourself and demanded to be heard, and you were not going to allow anyone to dismiss your contributions again.

"What?" he spat, low and dangerous. You stood your ground, refusing to back down.

"You heard me."

"You're questioning my leadership now?"

"I'm questioning your judgment," you declared. "And I won't stand by and let you put our troops in unnecessary danger. I'm not being coward, I'm just following the Jedi Code. You should try it sometime."

Before Anakin could formulate a response, a sudden force propelled him forward, jostling him from behind. R2-D2 had maneuvered into position, pushing Anakin until he stood mere inches from you, nose-to-nose. The unexpected proximity caused Anakin to stumble, a sharp intake of breath escaping his lips and a flush of pink embarrassment danced across his cheeks. The notion of an almost-kiss left him and you momentarily breathless, his eyes evading your gaze as they instead fell upon his mechanical confidant. The droid's incessant beeping were playful now, and lively tiny jumps from side to side seemed to exude an air of amusement.

"Hey, watch it, you little scrap pile!" Anakin scolded the droid, his tone tinged with shame. The close proximity had nearly led to a secretly wanted but inadvertent intimacy. "What are you doing?!"

"Don't talk to him like that!" you chastised him. R2 had been trying to diffuse the situation, to ease the tension that had been building between you and Anakin. He just wanted to help.

Or at least that's what you thought.

"He's pushing me!"

"He's trying to say something!"

"No! He's just being annoying, just like you!"

"Annoying?! Anakin!"

"What?! Nothing of this would have happened if you have just agreed with my plan in first place!" R2-D2 persisted in his efforts, he pushed Anakin from behind once again, yet this time the Jedi anticipated the droid's intentions, bracing himself against the opposing force. Turning his gaze toward his diminutive companion, his expression hardened with resolve. "R2, I swear to the Force, I am going to deactivate you if you don't stop this!"

"I did it because you're being arrogant and stubborn! You think you're better than everyone else, but you're not!"

"Oh! Yeah?!"

"Yeah! You're just a hothead who can't see past his own ego!"

"Don't you dare talk to me about ego!" he yelled back, his voice dripping with venom. "You're the one who can't stand not being in control! You're so afraid of failure that you're willing to sacrifice our chances of success just to cover your own ass!"

Despite Anakin's threats, R2-D2 remained undeterred in his mischievous intervention. With an assertive nudge, the droid propelled Anakin forward once again, causing him to lose his balance and cascade towards you. In a split second, Anakin's reflexes kicked in, his hands reaching out instinctively to catch you, his muscular and warm arms enveloping you protectively. With an agile twist of his body, he positioned himself in such a way that he took the brunt of the fall, ensuring your safety as you both tumbled to the ground.

With your head pressed against his chest, the rhythm of Anakin's rapid heartbeat reverberated in your ears, its intensity mirroring the emotions exploding within him, evident in the way his grip tightened around you even after the fall. In the midst of the unexpected entanglement of limbs and bodies, you found yourselves drawn together in a way that surpassed the boundaries of mere friendship. There was a tenderness to the way your bodies intertwined, as if they were seeking solace and connection by themselves.

You two were close. So close.

The proximity allowed you to intimately perceive the essence of his physical presence, catching the distinct scent of his masculinity that lingered in the air. It was an alluring fragrance, an intoxicating essence that elicited a subtle flush of color upon your cheeks, betraying the effect he had on you.

Looking up into Anakin's eyes, you saw a mixture of concern and anger, his gaze fixed on you as he assessed your well-being. His cheeks flushed with a shade of crimson that only heightened his attractiveness, intensifying your own blush. Yet his focus remained on your safety. Only after confirming that you were unharmed, he shifted his attention to the mischievous droid, his features contorted with frustration and irritation.

"You— Stupid droid!"

"R2," you whispered shyly, a hint of complaint in your voice as you attempted to extricate yourself from Anakin's anatomy. However, as you made your initial move to stand up, an unexpected force pulled you down, causing you to crash back onto his chest. With a perplexed glance downwards, you discovered that both of your zip belts had become entangled, linking your bodies together in a awkward predicament.

You tried to suppress a nervous laugh, but it escaped you, and Anakin joined in. Fingers fumbled and intertwined, attempting to untangle the fabric that held you captive, but the more you struggled, the tighter the clip seemed to become. You could feel his muscles tense under your weight, and you were sure he could feel your trembling hands.

"I-I— Let me—"

"No, stay still. Let's— U-Uh—"

"No— Look, I can— E-Em—"

Just when you thought the moment couldn't become any more mortifying, R2-D2 intervened with a sudden burst of loud beeps, followed by the unmistakable melody of a romantic tune, causing both you and Anakin to freeze. The notes of the music filled the room, creating a whimsical backdrop that seemed to amplify the fluttering shared between you and Anakin. Eyes widening in surprise, you turned to look at Anakin, his expression reflecting a mixture of horror, embarrassment, and a desire to vanish from sight.

"What the- R2, stop that!" Anakin's voice rang out, filled with flustered exasperation. The poor guy looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. "Stop it! N-Now!"

But R2-D2 seemed impervious to Anakin's distress, emitting an innocent beep while unabashedly continuing to serenade you both with melody, pleased with the romantic atmosphere he had created.

Unable to contain yourself any longer, you burst into laughter, escaping in a series of happy chuckles that echoed through the room as you watched R2 dancing with the music. Amidst your amusement, you glanced at Anakin, a playful glimmer in your eyes as you sought an explanation.

"What is he doing?" you asked, the giggles still in your voice, your innocent curiosity blending seamlessly with the light-hearted mirth that sparkled in your eyes.

"I-I don't know!" his attempt at feigning ignorance crumbling as a genuine warmth began to radiate in his eyes. Deep down, he couldn't deny that R2-D2's intervention seemed too intentional to be mere chance. Anakin knew that the droid was aware of his hidden affections for you. "I- I swear, I don't know what's got into him. Maybe he's malfunctioning or s-something," Anakin's stammered words failed to conceal the knowing glimmer in his eyes, hinting at a secret he was not yet ready to reveal.

"It's funny," you confessed, a soft smile adorning your lips as your laughter subsided. "Are... you okay?"

"Am I okay?" he repeated, genuine surprise mingling with tenderness in his voice. He paused in his attempts to untangle the belts, his gaze locked with yours. "I am not the one who almost got crushed. Are you okay?"

"But you got crushed! What are you talking about?" you playfully retorted, your laughter mingling with the harmonious melody surrounding you. With a gentle tilt of your head, you regarded him, your smile radiating warmth. "I'm okay," you assured him.

For a suspended moment, the room transformed into a sanctuary of shared vulnerability. As your gaze remained in his, an rare language flowed between you, conveying a depth of understanding that transcended words. In that silent exchange, you detected a subtle shift in Anakin, a softness that belied his earlier brashness. His eyes held a tender gleam, and his touch carried a gentleness you hadn't witnessed until now. Could it be that he felt the same way about you that you did about him? Somehow?

"I'm sorry," his voice murmured, the words almost lost amidst the tender notes of the music. "I didn't mean anything I said earlier, I didn't mean to insult you. I'm just under a lot of pressure. We both are."

"I know, Ani, I know," you nodded, your voice filled with sincerity and compassion. "I'm sorry, too. I also didn't mean to insult you."

R2 emitted a contented series of beeps, seemingly delighted with the outcome of his meddling. Sensing the need for privacy, the droid swiftly departed, leaving the two of you alone. Anakin's brow furrowed in confusion, his attention momentarily diverted by the departing droid.

"Hey! Hey! Where are you going?!" he called out, a trace of annoyance lingering in his voice. Evidently, the source of the current situation was still fresh in his mind. "Come back here!"

And in that instant, you knew it was now or never.

When would an opportunity like this present itself again? When would your hearts be so unguarded, the connection so palpable? The urgency within you propelled you forward, overriding any fears or doubts. You realized that regardless of his response, you had to seize the moment, to convey your feelings through a single, fleeting act.

Unburdened by the need for reciprocation, overriding any fears of rejection or potential consequences, before Anakin managed to separate your belts, you leaned in impulsively and pressed a loving kiss upon his cheek.

His impulsivity can be contagious, you had discovered, and the galaxy reduced to the electrifying touch of your lips against his skin.

Though the contact had been briet, you sensed his unconscious inclination, the way he instinctively leaned his cheek closer to your lips as if seeking a lingering connection. As you gingerly pulled away to witness his reaction, you almost screamed like a schoolgirl caught in the throes of a blossoming romance.

There he was.

His face, already flushed from earlier events, now sported a hue even deeper pink, near to red. His cheeks seemed to puff up slightly, a result of the endearing and slightly bewildered smile he struggled to conceal. His eyes blinked, almost in slow motion, as if he had just awakened from the most enchanting dream imaginable.

And it was only because you kissed his cheek.

"What was that for?" he managed to utter, his voice barely rising above a whisper, as if grappling to find words to articulate his whirlwind of emotions.

"Just because."

That was all he needed to hear.

Anakin's hands gently cradled your face, his touch sending tingles of anticipation through your body. You felt a rush of warmth spreading from your cheeks to the rest of your being, his thumbs caressed your skin tenderly as he drew you closer, closing the distance between your lips.

The moment your mouths met, time seemed to stand still. The world around faded away, leaving only the soft press of his lips against yours. It was a sweet sensation, filled with a blend of longing, desire, and a hint of uncertainty, as if he wanted to convey all his feelings through this single form of love.

As you melted into the kiss, surrendering to the magic of the moment, you could feel Anakin's grip on your cheeks tightening ever so slightly, his fingers intertwining with the strands of your hair. It was a gesture of both longing and possessiveness, a silent declaration of the emotions that had been building between you for so long, a confirmation that he was here, in this moment, fully present and committed to the love that bloomed between you.

It was better than you imagined. It was much better than he had imagined. It was just... perfect. Right. True.

But as with all things, the kiss eventually came to an end. Reluctantly, you and Anakin parted, breathless and dizzy, with lips tingling, both gasping for air.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his voice filled with awe. "I shouldn't have done that."

"I shouldn't have done that, either," you whispered. His eyes searched yours, seeking a hint of regret, remorse. But he didn t find it. Instead, he felt a pull towards you, a desire for more.

Anakin's stared at you, a silent beg in his eyelids for permission. Driven by an insatiable longing, you leaned in once again, your lips seeking his with urgency and surrender. Time seemed to stand still as your souls intertwined, and just as the kiss was taking the path you wanted, you remembered how it was that you ended up in this precise moment.

The mission.

You kindly pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, your foreheads gently met. The world slowly seeped back into focus, but the imprint of that stolen kiss remained etched upon your very being.

"We should get back to planning," you said, trying to sound practical and composed. Anakin let out a childish complaint, his touch lingering on your cheek for a short moment before reluctantly withdrawing.

"Yeah, we should," he sighed. As much as he wanted to continue kissing you, he knew that you had a mission to focus on. "I'll give you this one. We'll send in a small team to gather intel tomorrow. But I'm telling you, we're going to need to be aggressive if we want to win this."

"Aggressive, yes. Reckless, no."

Anakin's expression softened, and he nodded in agreement. You offered a warm smile in response, wanting to rise from your position on the ground. But before you could, you were pushed back down by the entangled belts, causing your body to collide once again with Anakin's chest. You groaned in frustration, feeling a bit embarrassed for forgetting about the belts in the heat of the moment. Anakin, however, laughed heartily at your clumsy attempt and pulled you close to him, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around you.

"I don't think I mind being stuck like this for a little longer."

꒰°˖ ✧ any spelling mistakes will be corrected soon !ㅤׄ  ₊ ᵎᵎ 

✃ graphics made by: me

ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗ ˢʰᵃʳᵉ ˢᵃᵛᵉ

━━M𝓐STERLIST !

[sunnydbeam]

I love Alpha and Beta so much, and I absolutely ship them! I'm sure they would look really cute together if Beta wasn't so scared of Alpha </3

I also wondered what Alpha would do if he had the chance to get close to Beta without fears

I have to say, honestly, I'm glad there are people who ship them too, because I have several sketches and drawings of these two that I may share at some point hehe

On the other hand, yes, Beta is afraid of him, and that's a problem. He's the only reason Alpha usually doubts himself, and he's the only one that Alpha really bothers to seem as friendly as possible with

That doesn't mean Beta is always running away from Alpha. He's often nervous in his company, but if he needs help with something, he'll most likely ask for it (after much thought), and Alpha will be happy to oblige! Any hint of trust is everything to him

Alpha wishes he could comfort Beta 《more often》 in his anxious moments without making him even more nervous. It depends mostly on how “cooperative” Beta is at the time. Alpha will usually approach slowly and feel him out; if Beta doesn't flinch from the first moment, he will decide to approach quietly, crouching down beside him and still keeping some distance

Some asked earlier what Alpha would do in this kind of situation when it comes to comforting someone, and this is his procedure across the board!

I can't draw at the moment, so have a lil fluffy drabble!

Word count: 1k+

CW: slight mentions of anxiety. This is a Gamma Code concept and may contain spoilers for the fic. This is also not checked, so may contain spelling/grammar errors. Hurt/Comfort. Mild angst. Fluff. SFW

__________

It’s like a switch flipping on. A little sound, fragile, like a muffled sob, catches his attention. His head snaps toward the source, body pivoting on his heels with the faint squeak of rubber soles. Instinct kicks in. He moves, silent, careful.

Alpha peers through the crack of the slightly open door, and what he sees makes something inside his mechanical body twist, like an internal static crackle, a sharp overheating in his chest. If he had a heart, it would lurch. But he hides it well.

His red eyes glow faintly in the dim light as they scan the room. No one else is here, just his little sweet Beta curled up on the floor in the corner of the near-empty white room, hugging his knees. The overhead lights are dim, but the muted glow catches on the edges of Beta’s purple rays, barely visible beneath his yellow hood.

Alpha doesn’t blink. He watches with cold, calculated stillness, only for his expression to quickly shift, softening into something both fond and quietly resigned.

Beta is overwhelmed again, burying his face in his knees, shaking like a leaf in the wind. His frame curls inward, fragile, trying to disappear. Scared.

Something inside Alpha fractures.

Every time he finds Beta like this, it shatters him. It makes him want to reach out, to cradle him close, press him to his chest, and hold him there until the tremors subside. Until the fear melts away. But it’s hard when, most of the time, he isn’t allowed to get close at all.

His metaphorical heart clenches painfully. Beta always pushes him away. The reasons are obvious. Alpha is painfully aware of every single one.

He steps forward, then hesitates. The serpentine mechanical arms on his back remain still—calm, unthreatening, and he moves carefully, testing the waters. Beta doesn’t flinch too much, only tilting his head slightly in acknowledgment.

It’s a good sign.

Alpha waits. Longing to approach but unwilling to impose. Beta makes no sound, doesn’t pull away. He sits there, unmoving, eyes downcast.

That has to be permission.

The red robot moves closer, and his large frame is silent. He lowers himself to the floor beside Beta, carefully, knees together in an almost formal posture, leaving just enough space between them. Not too close. He doesn’t want to overwhelm him.

The silence is heavy.

Alpha glances at Beta from the side, taking in the soft glow of his purple rays, mostly hidden beneath the folds of his hood.

Alpha parts his lips but hesitates. Then, quietly—

“What’s overwhelming you, Beta?” His voice is low and measured. “Can I help?”

Beta doesn’t answer. He shifts — just a little movement — turning his head slightly between his arms and knees. Just enough for Alpha to catch the glimmer of one visible blue eye.

Silence.

Beta trembles. Not much, but enough. A clear sign that Alpha’s presence unsettles him. But he doesn’t move away, and that’s good.

Then, softly, hesitantly — Beta speaks.

“It’s just… today’s tests were too much,” he whispers. “I don’t think I did well. And they got mad at me.”

Alpha’s fingers twitch. His voice drops, sharp.

“Did they hurt you?”

Beta flinches, and his shoulders jump slightly. Alpha’s tone had come out harsher than intended. He forces himself to suppress the rising tension in his system.

“N-no…”

The energy within Alpha stabilizes. His body cools.

“You can’t do anything wrong,” he murmurs, his voice quiet, soft, almost as if thinking aloud. “You’re perfect.”

Beta looks up, startled and confused. A deep, luminous purple blush blooms across his face before he hurriedly looks away, shoulders curling inward.

“Wh… Why would you think that? Sometimes I feel...” His voice stammers. “… useless.”

Beta finally meets Alpha’s gaze, and freezes.

Those red eyes. Watching. Wide. Bright.

A strange light flickers behind them. Something unreadable. Something Beta never quite understands.

“That’s not true,” Alpha says. “And you don’t have to serve them.”

Beta’s circuits buzz with uncertainty.

“… Isn’t that our purpose?” he whispers. "The reason we were created? To please them…?”

Alpha shifts closer. He leans in, reaching slowly, hesitantly, gloved fingers brushing the edge of Beta’s cheek.

“They don’t get to mold you,” he murmurs. “They don’t get to define you.”

His voice is calm and steady.

“What humans think doesn’t matter. You are you. Quiet, timid, sweet in a way only you can be.” A pause, a flicker of warmth, then he says tenderly. “And you’re cute and perfect just like that.”

Beta’s blue eyes widen. His hands twitch against his knees and he starts shaking.

“I wouldn’t change a thing.”

It’s ironic to him to say when, sometimes, he loathes himself so much.

I wish I could be like you, he thinks. A strange pressure coils in his chest plate. He ignores it.

Beta’s gaze lowers. He looks like he might cry. His lips part, trembling, but the words catch in his throat, faltering into incoherent murmurs.

It’s… adorable.

Alpha’s fingers twitch.

“… Can I hold you?”

Beta doesn’t answer right away. He hesitates, then —slowly, barely — nods.

Alpha doesn’t waste a second.

He moves carefully, pulling Beta into his arms, wrapping all four around him, pressing him close.

A tiny, glitchy sound escapes Beta’s vocal system. His hood slips down, and his rays coming out in surprise.

Alpha loves those vibrant rays.

“Shh… It’s okay,” he whispers, one hand stroking Beta’s back. “Everything’s okay.”

His grip tightens, just slightly.

It feels unreal. Holding him finally.

He never wants to let go.

“You’re okay. You’re strong. I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”

Without thinking, he shifts, pulling Beta fully onto his lap. Beta stiffens, startled, but doesn’t resist. He stays still. Shy.

Alpha processes the moment, his system adjusting to the unexpected warmth in his circuits. It feels… right.

“Please,” he breathes, his voice softer now, “don’t be afraid of me anymore.”

His eyes slip shut. His face presses against Beta’s shoulder.

His fingers move, trailing over Beta’s rays, mapping their sharp edges with care, no fear, no hesitation—just gentle reverence. His touch is light. Loving. Worshipping. Adoring.

He's pleased when Beta relaxes slowly.

Alpha presses closer. The sensation of Beta against him is grounding, steadying. Alpha doesn’t care that his frame wasn't built for this. He wants to hold him. It’s comforting.

Alpha adores him too much. And it almost hurts.

Beta’s presence is all he has.

And it’s more than enough.

“…Please,” Alpha whispers, barely audible, “no more fear.”

_______________

[onceuponanotherassumption]

You’re a mess I’m a mess and that’s alright (Jason Todd x Reader)

Masterlist

Note: Jason gets injured during a mission and reader’s there to patch him up.

•

•

•

Of course it had to happen on a night when she wasn’t assigned to patrol. An hour after her shift at the hospital ended, she got a call to head straight to one of Bruce’s safe houses. That only meant one thing, someone was hurt.

“Sorry for making you come all the way here, an ambush was the last thing we expected to happen.” Dick gestures for her to come through.

“Don’t be silly,” (y/n) discreetly eyes his body for any sign of injury. “You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”

“Just a few cuts and bruises, no biggie. Jaybird got the worst of it though.” Dick nods over to the hunched figure sat on the couch, looking half-conscious yet still alert of his surroundings. “B and the others are still out there dealing with the aftermath, I’ve already scouted the area. You guys should be safe.”

“Just go, they need you.”

“Thanks (y/n), I won’t be long. Take care of him for me!”

As the door closes to a shut, she makes her way to the small living room where Jason was. His helmet was off, momentarily forgotten and thrown to the side.

“Jason…” (y/n) approaches him with a worried sigh. “Do you mind if I take a look?”

“Go ‘head, doll.” He managed to answer. His brows furrowed as he grasps the edge of his top, pulling it over his head. Among the old scars and fresh cuts that littered his sculpted torso, (y/n) immediately finds the source of his discomfort.

His shoulder.

The area looked as if it were hastily bandaged, most likely Dick’s doing while they were still out fighting. With his permission, she slowly unravels the messy knot of the bandages. Blood was starting to stain them, so she quickens her pace. She couldn’t help but grimace at the sight of the deep gash on his shoulder, rummaging out a bottle of disinfectant from her bag.

“What caused this?”

“Some…kind of dagger—fuck!” Jason hisses as a damp cloth comes in contact with his wound.

“Keep talking.” She gently ushers, her free hand coming up to caress his warm cheek (hoping to distract him from the stinging pain).

“Penguin’s men were all carrying these modified weapons that he smuggled from Bludhaven.” Jason continues, his own hand resting atop of her own, eyes closing as he tries not to think about whatever (y/n) was doing. “One thing we didn’t take into account.”

“Are you hurt anywhere else…?” Jason looks up to find (y/n)’s displeased expression. He’s reminded once more of how she hated seeing him hurt. He wordlessly wraps an arm around her waist and tugs her closer, with the intention to placate her worries.

“Probably broke a rib…’m not sure.” At least he thinks he did. He’ll know for certain once the adrenaline wears off. Until then, he was content to bask in his girlfriend’s presence right in front of him.

“Anything else…? Like a fever, perhaps.” It wasn’t even phrased as a question, (y/n) already knew the answer. From the moment he started acting very clingy with her (not that she disliked it), to the odd warmth radiating off his body that was akin to a fireplace.

“Uh…maybe?”

“I knew something was off last night, the air conditioner was running but you were sweating like you just went out for a run.” And she called herself a doctor, (y/n) internally scolds herself.

“I thought it’d go ‘way on its own. Sorry, doll.” He confesses.

“You really need to stop hiding stuff like that from me, but that’s not important right now…I need to bandage your shoulder again.” She however struggles to reach an arm out to her bag on the floor, having to slightly bend down since Jason had no intention of letting her go. “I can’t get my—ah!”

Out of consideration, Jason (with his fever-addled mind) opts that the best way to assist her was to lift her up onto his lap. He holds her close, grabbing a clean roll of bandages from her bag and discarding it beside him. (y/n) definitely wasn’t expecting that, eyes wide at how close their faces were. She would’ve been embarrassed, had she not been accustomed to their close proximity on a daily basis.

“This isn’t helping your shoulder, Jason.” She attempts to escape his grasp, trying to avoid aggravating his injury further.

“Trust me, doll. It’s helping me plenty.” He tightens his hold around her, forehead pressed against her shoulder.

“Fine. Just hold still…” Never in her entire career as a doctor had she ever attempted to dress someone’s wound in such a compromising position. If her colleagues had seen her like this, she would probably lose her job (a bit of an exaggeration on her part).

Granted, it didn’t really matter. She won’t be a doctor for much longer, not that Jason was aware yet. It wasn’t that difficult for her to part from her job, she had no emotional attachment to it in the first place. It was after all, only done to keep up ‘civilian appearances’ after an incident years ago where her identity as a vigilante almost got leaked out. She preferred to be out fighting with Jason and the others, it offered more of a thrill than having to treat the sick in a room that smelled strongly of disinfectant. And that way, she could keep a closer eye on him.

“I know it’s unfair of me to ask this…” The hesitation in her tone must’ve spoke volumes, Jason doesn’t waste a second to lift his head to meet her gaze.

“You can tell me anything, pretty girl.” He combs his fingers through her slightly unkempt hair.

“Please try not to get hurt again.”

“Try, huh? Only if you do the same.” He didn’t make any word of promise, and she understood why. Their line of ‘work’ was a huge risk in itself, they were bound to get injured whether they liked it or not.

“I’ll try my best, Jay.”

“That’s my girl.”

[perseidlion]

Fandom needs to have a serious conversation about the difference between a sexual character and a predatory one.

A character who is comfortable in their sexuality, is a flirt, and attempts to charm other characters isn't a predator by default. Predatory behaviour ignores signs that the attention is unwanted. Predatory behaviour means ignoring consent and pursuing someone when they're clearly not interested and blatantly ignoring their wishes.

Conflating the two downplays ACTUAL predatory behaviour and makes it harder to spot both in fiction and in real life. It's also different in the context of a story than it would be IRL. It's important to keep in mind that the purpose of fiction is to have narrative tension, conflict, and character development. The purpose of fiction unless it is religious or for children, is not to model ideal behaviour. A story for mature adults trusts that its audience knows the difference between permissible behaviour in real life and permissible behaviour in fiction.

Still, someone flirting with someone when they aren't immediately into it isn't some transgression. Neither is continuing to pursue someone or show attraction when they aren't given a hard no or directly blown off. ESPECIALLY in fiction where one party playing hard to get is a common story element.

The difference between a predator and a sexual person is emotional intelligence and an ability to both read and respect body language and signs. An emotionally intelligent flirt will back off when they know their attentions are unwanted. But shooting their shot to see how the person responds isn't evil behaviour, nor is trying to convince the person of their merits.

If this were true, a lot of people would never get together both in fiction and in real life. You can never 100 per cent know how a person is going to respond when you flirt with them. That's why flirting exists, to test the waters. Not every relationship starts with friendship, either. A lot of people jump right to romance. Also, sometimes people aren't into it immediately because they haven't thought about it. So the response can be ambiguous. There's been a worrying trend of people vilifying and painting characters as criminal/problematic/evil for simply being sexual and making their desires known. This is a prudish attitude that is very damaging - especially when levied on queer people who have historically been vilified, criminalized and experienced violence for expressing their sexuality.

It may be uncomfortable if someone expresses sexual attraction to you when you don't want it and don't reciprocate it, but if it's done respectfully, it isn't a crime. The crime comes if they ignore your wishes and pursue you anyway, or objectify you. **Addendum to note that I am talking about flirting that approaches a person like a real human being and not an object. This doesn't apply to say, dudes trying to talk to women on public transit with headphones in, or street harassment of any kind. I'm talking about flirting that comes from a place of respect and genuine interest at an appropriate time and place. Edited to add proof that the Cat King is definitely reading emotional signals from Edwin that encourage him to keep flirting:

[natsgrave]

FAVORITE CRIME | elizabeth olsen

i hope i was your favorite crime, 'cause baby, you were mine. i do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other sites. plagiarism is a crime!! masterlist whispers of heartache m.list

→ warning: self harm

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

know that I loved you so bad, I let you treat me like that. I was your willing accomplice, honey.

It was a crisp autumn afternoon, and the park was alive with the vibrant hues of fall. The air was cool, filled with the earthy scent of fallen leaves, and the sounds of children playing and dogs barking created a lively backdrop. Y/N was sitting on a bench, enjoying the tranquility of the moment, when she saw Wanda hurrying towards her, a look of urgency in her eyes.

"Y/N!" Wanda called out as she approached, her breath slightly ragged from running. She plopped down beside Y/N, her cheeks flushed from both the cool air and her haste.

"Wanda, hey! What's up?" Y/N asked, surprised by her friend's sudden appearance and obvious distress.

Wanda took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I need your help. It's a bit crazy, but I really need you to do me a favor."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What kind of favor?"

Wanda glanced around nervously before speaking. "Remember the girl I met at the bar last night? Her name's Alex. Well, she just texted me, and she wants to meet up again. She's really interested, but… I don't know how to say this… I kind of panicked and told her I already have a girlfriend."

Y/N blinked, taken aback. "Wait, what? Why would you say that?"

Wanda sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I don't know, Y/N. I guess I just freaked out. I liked her, but I didn't want things to move too fast. And now she's asking to meet my 'girlfriend.' That's where you come in."

Y/N stared at Wanda, trying to process the request. "You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?"

"Please, Y/N," Wanda pleaded, her eyes wide with desperation. "Just for today. Alex is supposed to meet us here in half an hour. I promise I'll explain everything to her afterward. I just need to buy some time."

Y/N sighed, seeing the genuine worry in Wanda's eyes. She couldn't say no to her friend, even if the situation was bizarre. "Alright, fine. I'll do it. But you owe me one, Wanda."

Wanda's face lit up with relief and gratitude. "Thank you, Y/N. You're the best. I swear I'll make it up to you."

and I watched as you fled the scene, doe-eyed as you buried me. one heart broke, four hands bloody.

They spent the next hour walking through the park, chatting about various topics. Y/N was surprised at how naturally the conversation flowed. She found herself genuinely enjoying Alex's company, and it was clear why Wanda had been interested in her. Despite the initial awkwardness, the three of them laughed and talked as if they had known each other for years.

At one point, they stopped by a small café in the park to grab some coffee. As they sat down at a table, Alex excused herself to take a phone call. Y/N turned to Wanda, her voice low.

"She's really nice, Wanda. You should have just told her the truth from the start."

Wanda sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "I know, Y/N. I just… I didn't want to mess things up. But I can see now that this was a mistake."

Before Y/N could respond, Alex returned, her phone call finished. She sat down, a thoughtful look on her face. "So, how did you two meet?"

Wanda took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly. "Alex, there's something I need to tell you. It's about Y/N and me."

Alex's brow furrowed in concern. "Is everything okay? You two seemed so happy together."

Wanda shook her head, her eyes meeting Alex's. "That's just it. Y/N and I… we're not actually together. We're just friends. I asked her to pretend to be my girlfriend because I panicked when you asked me out."

Alex's eyes widened in surprise, her expression a mix of confusion and hurt. "Wait, what? You two aren't…?"

Wanda nodded, guilt washing over her. "I'm so sorry, Alex. I know it was wrong, and I should have been honest from the start. I just… I didn't want to lose the chance to get to know you better, and I got scared."

Alex was silent for a moment, her gaze focused on the table between the three of them. Finally, she looked up at Wanda, a small, rueful smile on her lips. "You know, I appreciate you coming clean. It takes guts to admit you were wrong."

Wanda reached out, her hand covering Alex's. "I'm really sorry, Alex. I promise I'll be honest with you from now on, no matter what."

Alex squeezed her hand gently, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Okay, Wanda. Let's start fresh. No more lies, just honesty."

you used me as an alibi, I crossed my heart as you crossed the line, and I defended you to all my friends.

Y/N was lounging on the couch, flipping through a magazine when her phone buzzed. It was a text from Alex. She hesitated for a moment before opening it.

"Hey, can we talk? Need to ask you something about Wanda."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. She knew this conversation was coming sooner or later. She took a deep breath and typed a quick response. "Sure, what's up?"

A few minutes later, her phone rang. Y/N picked it up, trying to keep her voice steady. "Hey, Alex."

"Hey, Y/N," Alex said, her voice tense. "I just wanted to check something with you. Was Wanda with you the whole weekend?"

Y/N's mind raced. She knew Wanda had canceled her date with Alex, and now she had to cover for her. "Yeah, she was," Y/N lied, her voice steady. "She needed some time to unwind, so we just hung out at my place."

Alex sighed on the other end. "I see. She told me you needed her and that's why she canceled our date. It just seemed a bit sudden."

"Yeah, I wasn't feeling too great," Y/N continued, sticking to the story. "Wanda came over to keep me company. She's a really good friend."

There was a pause. "I guess… I just felt like she was avoiding me," Alex admitted. "It's been happening a lot lately."

Y/N felt a pang of guilt. She didn't want to lie, but she also didn't want to betray Wanda's trust. "I'm sure she's just been busy," she said, trying to sound reassuring. "You know how life can get sometimes."

"Yeah, maybe," Alex said, her tone still doubtful. "Thanks for clearing that up, Y/N. I appreciate it."

"No problem," Y/N replied. "Take care, Alex."

"You too." She said before hanging up.

Y/N let out a sigh of relief, but the weight of the lie still hung heavily on her. She decided to call her friends, Natasha and Maria, to talk things through. She dialed Natasha's number first.

"Hey, Nat, can you come over? I need to talk."

"Sure, see you in a minute." Natasha replied without hesitation.

Next, Y/N called Maria. "Hey, Maria. Can you come over? I need to discuss something important."

"Of course, I'll be there soon." Maria responded.

Half an hour later, Natasha and Maria arrived at Y/N's apartment. They could tell something was bothering her.

"What's going on, Y/N?" Natasha asked, sitting down on the couch.

Y/N took a deep breath and explained the situation. "Alex called me earlier, asking if Wanda was with me the whole weekend. She told her she canceled their date because I needed her, but that's not true. I lied and told her she was with me."

Maria frowned. "Why would Wanda do that? That's not fair to you or Alex."

"I know," Y/N said, running a hand through her hair. "But I didn't want to betray her trust. I didn't want to betray her. Wanda's been going through something, and I think she just needed some space."

Natasha crossed her arms. "Still, it's not right for her to put you in that position. She's being selfish."

"Yeah," Maria agreed. "She shouldn't be dragging you into her mess."

Y/N shook her head. "Wanda's not bad. She's really sweet and kind. She's just been… distant lately. I don't think she knows how to deal with whatever she's going through."

Natasha sighed. "I get that, but it's not fair to you. You deserve better than to be caught in the middle of this."

"I know," Y/N said softly. "But I care about her. She's my friend, and I want to help her."

Maria placed a hand on Y/N's shoulder. "We understand that, Y/N. Just don't let her take advantage of your kindness. You need to look out for yourself too."

"I will," Y/N promised. "But I'm not giving up on her. I know the Wanda I care about is still there, even if she's going through a rough patch."

Natasha nodded. "Just be careful, okay? We're here for you."

"Thanks, guys," Y/N said, feeling a bit better after talking to her friends. "I appreciate it."

As Natasha and Maria left, Y/N sat back down on the couch, her mind still racing with thoughts about Wanda. She hoped that whatever Wanda was dealing with, she would find a way to come back to the friend Y/N knew and loved. Until then, she would stand by her, even if it meant telling a few white lies along the way.

and now, every time a siren sounds, I wonder if you're around 'cause you know that I'd do it all again.

The tension in the apartment had been building for weeks. Y/N could feel it in every interaction, every forced smile, and every vague excuse. Wanda had been distant, using Y/N as an alibi for her mysterious disappearances. Y/N had tried to be patient, but tonight, she couldn't take it anymore.

Y/N paced the living room, waiting for Wanda to return. When the door finally opened, Wanda walked in, looking tired and somewhat annoyed. "Hey," she said curtly, tossing her keys on the table.

"We need to talk." Y/N said, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt.

Wanda sighed, not meeting Y/N's eyes. "Can it wait? I'm really tired."

"No, it can't," Y/N replied firmly. "You've been distant for a month now, Wanda. You've been using me as an alibi to Alex, and I'm getting tired of it. What's going on?"

Wanda's face hardened. "I don't need to explain myself to you," she snapped. "I have my own life, Y/N."

"But we're supposed to be in this together," Y/N said, tears welling up in her eyes. "I love you, and I feel like I'm losing you. Why are you shutting me out?"

Wanda crossed her arms defensively. "Maybe because you're smothering me," she retorted. "I need space, and you're always there, always needing something from me."

Y/N was taken aback. "I'm not smothering you. I'm just trying to be there for you, to support you. But you keep pushing me away."

"Because I can't breathe with you around!" Wanda shouted, her eyes flashing with anger. "You act like everything is about you. Did it ever occur to you that maybe I need time to figure things out on my own?"

Y/N's voice broke. "Wanda, I just want to help. I want to understand. Why are you being so cruel?"

"Because maybe you don't belong here, Y/N," Wanda said coldly. "Maybe you never did. You should have been gone and never been born."

The words hit Y/N like a physical blow. She stood there, stunned, as Wanda grabbed her coat and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her. Y/N's knees gave way, and she collapsed onto the floor, her mind reeling with Wanda's words.

The silence in the apartment was deafening. Y/N sat there for what felt like hours, the weight of Wanda's words crushing her spirit. "You should have been gone and never been born." The phrase echoed in her mind, relentless and cruel. She felt numb, the emotional pain so intense that it was almost physical.

In a daze, Y/N found herself in the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She hardly recognized the person looking back at her. Tears streamed down her face as she opened the medicine cabinet and took out a razor blade. Her hands shook, but her mind was made up. She couldn't live with the pain, with the feeling of being unwanted, unworthy.

The next few moments were a blur. She felt a strange calm as she dragged the blade across her wrists, watching the blood flow. It wasn't until the room started spinning and her vision blurred that she realized she was losing consciousness.

Y/N woke up to the beeping of machines and the sterile smell of the hospital. She looked around, disoriented, and saw Natasha and Maria sitting beside her bed, their faces etched with worry and grief.

"Why did you do it, Y/N?" Natasha asked, her voice breaking. "Why?"

Maria wiped her tears, looking at Y/N with a mixture of sadness and desperation. "Please, don't ever do that again. We love you so much. We can't lose you."

Y/N felt a lump in her throat as she whispered, "Is she here?"

Natasha and Maria exchanged a glance, their silence speaking volumes. Y/N's heart sank. She already knew the answer.

"No," Y/N murmured, tears streaming down her face. "She's not."

Natasha took Y/N's hand, squeezing it gently. "We're here for you, Y/N. We're not going anywhere."

Maria nodded, her eyes filled with determination. "We'll get through this together. You're not alone."

Y/N nodded weakly, her heart aching with a mixture of relief and sorrow. As she lay there, surrounded by her friends, she realized that she needed to find her own strength, to heal and move forward, even if it meant doing so without Wanda.

But she hate the fact that if Wanda asked her, she knows that she'd do it again. For her. For Wanda.

It's bittersweet to think about the damage that we do, 'cause I was going down, but I was doing it with you.

Y/N had always prided herself on her resilience. She had faced challenges head-on, never shying away from adversity. But lately, life had become an unending series of disappointments and heartaches. She felt like she was drowning in her own thoughts, the weight of the world pressing down on her.

One particularly dreary evening, Y/N sat in her dimly lit apartment, staring blankly at the television. The sound was on, but she wasn't really listening. Her phone buzzed beside her, but she ignored it, too numb to care. She had been in this dark place for weeks, and each day seemed to blur into the next.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Y/N didn't move. She assumed it was just another delivery she hadn't ordered, or perhaps a neighbor. But the knocking persisted, louder and more insistent this time.

"Y/N, it's Wanda. Open the door."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. Wanda had been her rock, her constant in the chaos. But she had been pushing everyone away, including Wanda. She sighed and slowly got up, dragging her feet to the door. She opened it to find Wanda standing there, concern etched on her face.

"Hey," Wanda said softly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. She took one look at Y/N and immediately wrapped her in a hug. "I've been so worried about you."

Y/N felt a tear slip down her cheek. "I'm sorry, Wanda. I just… I didn't know what to do."

Wanda pulled back slightly, looking into Y/N's eyes. "You don't have to do this alone. You're not alone. I'm here for you. Always."

They moved to the couch, and Wanda made Y/N a cup of tea, insisting she drink it. The warmth of the tea and Wanda's presence seemed to thaw some of the ice that had formed around Y/N's heart.

"You don't understand, Wanda," Y/N said, her voice trembling. "Everything feels so hopeless. I can't see a way out."

Wanda took Y/N's hand, squeezing it gently. "I know it feels like that now, but you're stronger than you think. We'll get through this together. I promise."

Y/N nodded, tears streaming down her face. "I'm so tired, Wanda. Tired of fighting, tired of feeling like this."

Wanda wrapped her arms around Y/N again, holding her tightly. "Then let me fight for you. Let me be your strength when you can't find your own. We'll take it one day at a time."

As the days turned into weeks, Wanda remained by Y/N's side, helping her find small joys in everyday life. They took long walks in the park, watched movies together, and shared quiet moments that slowly brought Y/N back to life. Wanda's unwavering support and love were the lifeline Y/N desperately needed.

Months later, the roles reversed. Wanda had been struggling with her own demons, overwhelmed by the pressures of life and the haunting memories of her past. One evening, Y/N found Wanda sitting on the floor of her apartment, tears streaming down her face.

"Wanda?" Y/N said softly, kneeling beside her. "What's wrong?"

Wanda looked up, her eyes red and puffy. "I'm so tired, Y/N. Tired of pretending everything is okay. Tired of fighting these battles alone."

Y/N took Wanda's hands in hers, squeezing them reassuringly. "You're not alone, Wanda. I'm here for you, just like you were there for me."

Wanda nodded, her tears falling onto their intertwined hands. "I don't know what to do anymore."

"We'll figure it out together," Y/N said firmly. "You were my rock when I needed you. Now let me be yours."

They spent the night talking, Y/N listening as Wanda poured out her heart. Y/N held Wanda as she cried, offering comfort and understanding. They talked about everything— Wanda's fears, her regrets, and her hopes. Y/N reminded Wanda of her strength, of all the battles she had already won.

"You've been through so much, Wanda," Y/N said gently. "But you're still here. You're still fighting. And that's what makes you incredible."

Wanda looked at Y/N, her eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Y/N. For being here, for believing in me."

Y/N smiled, brushing a tear from Wanda's cheek. "We're a team, remember? We face everything together."

As time went on, their bond only grew stronger. They supported each other through the highs and lows, always ready to catch the other when they fell. They celebrated victories, no matter how small, and faced challenges head-on, knowing they were never alone.

One evening, they sat on Y/N's balcony, watching the sunset. The sky was painted with hues of orange and pink, a beautiful end to a long day. Wanda leaned her head on Y/N's shoulder, sighing contentedly.

"Thank you for everything, Y/N," Wanda said softly. "I don't know where I'd be without you."

Y/N kissed the top of Wanda's head, smiling. "You don't have to thank me. We're always there for each other. That's what love and friendship is about."

Wanda looked up at Y/N, her eyes shining with love and admiration. "Forever and always?"

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest. "Forever and always."

Yeah, everything we broke, and all the trouble that we made. But I say that I hate you with a smile on my face.

Y/N and Wanda had been inseparable since the day they met in the third grade. They were the definition of troublemakers, always coming up with new and inventive ways to wreak havoc in their small town. Now, as teenagers, their bond had only grown stronger, and their antics more daring.

One sunny Saturday afternoon, Y/N and Wanda sat on the curb outside the local convenience store, sipping on their stolen sodas. Mr. Rogers, the store owner, had long given up trying to keep the two from sneaking drinks without paying.

"Okay, what's the plan for today?" Wanda asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/N grinned, wiping soda from her mouth. "I was thinking we could 'borrow' old man Fury's tractor and take it for a spin around the park."

Wanda's eyes widened. "You're insane, Y/N! He'll kill us if he catches us."

"Which is why we won't get caught," Y/N said confidently. "Come on, live a little!"

Wanda laughed and stood up, pulling Y/N with her. "Alright, let's do it. But if we get caught, I'm blaming you."

They made their way to old man Fury's farm, sneaking past the barn where he kept his beloved tractor. Y/N hot-wired the vehicle— an impressive skill she had picked up from watching too many heist movies— and they were off, the engine roaring to life.

They drove through the town, laughing and waving at bewildered pedestrians. By the time they reached the park, a small crowd had gathered, cheering them on. Y/N and Wanda took turns driving, each one trying to outdo the other with their daring maneuvers.

"This is amazing!" Wanda shouted over the noise, her face flushed with excitement.

"I told you it would be!" Y/N yelled back, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

After an hour of joyriding, they decided to return the tractor before anyone could trace it back to them. They parked it back in the barn, carefully covering their tracks.

As they walked away, Wanda nudged Y/N. "We're getting really good at this."

Y/N smirked. "We're the best."

Another day, they decided to sneak into the local movie theater after hours. It was an old building, the kind that still had a reel-to-reel projector. Y/N had found a way in through a loose window in the back.

Inside, they explored the empty theater, making their way to the projector room. Wanda found an old film reel and, with a little help from Y/N, managed to set it up.

The screen flickered to life, showing an old black-and-white movie. They sat in the plush seats, munching on popcorn they had brought with them, feeling like they owned the place.

"This is perfect." Wanda said, leaning her head on Y/N's shoulder.

"It really is." Y/N agreed, feeling a warmth spread through her chest that had nothing to do with the buttery popcorn.

Their adventures weren't always so harmless. One night, they decided to sneak into the school pool. It was a warm summer evening, and the thought of swimming under the stars was too tempting to resist.

They climbed over the fence, stripping down to their underwear before diving into the cool water. They swam and splashed around, their laughter echoing in the still night.

"Can you believe we're actually doing this?" Wanda asked, floating on her back and staring up at the stars.

"We can do anything." Y/N replied, her voice filled with conviction.

Just then, the sound of a flashlight beam cutting through the darkness made them freeze.

"Hey! Who's there?" the night guard shouted.

"Time to go!" Y/N whispered urgently.

They scrambled out of the pool, grabbing their clothes and running for the fence. They barely made it over before the guard reached them, sprinting down the street in fits of giggles.

"That was too close!" Wanda gasped, leaning against a lamppost to catch her breath.

"But it was worth it." Y/N said, her eyes shining with exhilaration.

Despite their frequent brushes with trouble, they never got caught. Their reputation as the town's resident troublemakers only grew, and so did their bond. They were two halves of a whole, perfectly in sync.

One afternoon, they sat in Y/N's backyard, sprawled out on the grass and staring up at the clouds.

"Hey, Y/N?" Wanda said, turning her head to look at her friend.

"Yeah?" Y/N replied, still gazing at the sky.

"Do you think we'll always be like this? Best friends, causing trouble, having fun?"

Y/N smiled. "I don't see why not. We're unstoppable, remember?"

Wanda laughed. "Yeah, we are."

They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only comes from years of friendship.

"You know," Wanda said after a while, "I don't think I could have survived this town without you."

Y/N turned to face her, a serious look on her face. "Me neither, Wanda. You're my best friend. My partner in crime."

Wanda grinned. "Forever and always?"

"Forever and always." Y/N agreed.

They both sat up, and Y/N suddenly nudged Wanda playfully. "Hey, remember when we stole Mr. Roger's garden gnome and put it in Principal Stark's office?"

Wanda burst out laughing. "Oh my god, yes! He was so confused. That was brilliant."

Y/N chuckled. "Good times."

Wanda leaned closer, a mischievous glint in her eye. "So, what's our next adventure?"

Y/N pretended to think. "Hmm, how about we—"

Before she could finish, Wanda tackled her, and they both tumbled to the ground, laughing and playfully wrestling.

"I hate you!" Y/N said jokingly, a wide smile on her face.

Wanda laughed, her eyes twinkling with joy. "I love you too."

They lay there in the grass, catching their breath and laughing together, knowing that whatever trouble they found next, they'd face it together, as they always had.

oh, look what we became.

A few days later, Y/N was discharged from the hospital. The ride home was quiet, the weight of recent events hanging heavily in the air. Natasha and Maria were by her side, their presence a comforting reminder that she wasn't alone, even as she felt the void left by Wanda's absence.

Back at her apartment, Y/N sank into her couch, exhaustion washing over her. Natasha and Maria bustled around, making sure everything was in order. Maria brought her a cup of tea, while Natasha checked her medications and left a list of do's and don'ts on the fridge.

"You need anything else, Y/N?" Maria asked softly, sitting beside her.

Y/N shook her head, staring into her cup. "No, I'm good. Thanks for everything, both of you."

Natasha knelt in front of her, placing a hand on her knee. "We're here for you, no matter what. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call us."

"I know," Y/N said, offering a small, grateful smile. "I don't know what I'd do without you guys."

As the days passed, Natasha and Maria remained a constant presence. They took turns checking in, making sure Y/N was eating, getting out of bed, and taking care of herself. They were there when she needed a shoulder to cry on and when she needed to be distracted from her thoughts.

However, Y/N's relationship with Wanda had become a ghost haunting her every waking moment. She couldn't bring herself to face Wanda, couldn't bear to see the woman who had once been her world. The close friendship they had shared now felt like a fragile thread, frayed and on the brink of snapping.

One afternoon, Natasha found Y/N staring out the window, lost in thought. She approached quietly, sitting down beside her.

"You've been avoiding her." Natasha said gently, not needing to specify who 'her' was.

Y/N sighed, her eyes never leaving the view outside. "I can't face her, Nat. Every time I think about her, I just… I feel everything all over again."

Natasha nodded, understanding. "It's going to take time. And it's okay to need space. Just remember, you're not alone in this."

Y/N turned to Natasha, tears brimming in her eyes. "I just don't know how to move on from this. How do I let go of someone who meant so much to me?"

Natasha reached out, taking Y/N's hand in hers. "You don't have to have all the answers right now. One step at a time, okay? And we'll be with you every step of the way."

"I loved her, more than I should have."

Meanwhile, Wanda was struggling with her own turmoil. She regretted every harsh word, every moment of distance she had put between them. She wanted to reach out, to apologize, to try and mend what had been broken, but fear and guilt held her back.

One evening, Wanda stood outside Y/N's apartment building, hesitating. She had been there for almost an hour, working up the courage to go inside. Just as she decided to leave, Maria stepped out of the building and spotted her.

"Wanda?" Maria called out, walking towards her.

Wanda turned, her heart sinking at the sight of Maria's stern expression. "Maria, I… I was just leaving."

Maria crossed her arms, looking at her intently. "She's been through hell because of you, Wanda. What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to see her, to apologize," Wanda said, her voice breaking. "I never meant to hurt her like this. I… I love her."

Maria's expression softened slightly, but her stance remained firm. "You've done enough damage. Give her the space she needs. If she wants to talk to you, she'll reach out. Until then, respect her boundaries."

Wanda nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. "I understand. I'm so sorry, Maria. For everything."

Maria sighed, her anger melting into empathy. "Just give her time, Wanda. And maybe someday, she'll be ready to hear you out."

Wanda watched Maria walk away, the weight of her mistakes pressing down on her. She turned and left, hoping that someday, she would have the chance to make things right.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N slowly began to rebuild her life. Natasha and Maria continued to support her, helping her find new routines and rediscover old passions. Y/N started painting again, the act of creating something beautiful offering a solace she hadn't felt in a long time.

One evening, as Y/N worked on a canvas, Natasha and Maria sat nearby, watching her with quiet pride.

"You're really getting back into it." Maria said, admiring the vibrant colors taking shape.

Y/N smiled, a genuine warmth in her eyes. "It feels good. It's like… I'm finding pieces of myself again."

Natasha nodded, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and hope. "We're so proud of you, Y/N. You're stronger than you know."

Y/N set down her brush, looking at her friends with gratitude. "I couldn't have done this without you two. You've been my rock through all of this."

Maria reached over, squeezing Y/N's hand. "And we always will be. No matter what."

As they sat together, the sun setting outside, Y/N felt a flicker of hope. The road to healing was long, and the scars of her past might never fully fade, but she knew she wasn't walking it alone. And with Natasha and Maria by her side, she felt ready to face whatever came next.

Months passed, and Y/N continued to avoid Wanda. The once close friendship seemed irreparably damaged, and every time Y/N saw Wanda from a distance, her heart ached with a mix of longing and pain.

One day, while shopping for groceries, Y/N ran into an old mutual friend of theirs. They exchanged pleasantries, but Y/N could sense the underlying tension.

"Have you talked to Wanda?" Agatha asked cautiously.

Y/N shook her head. "No. I'm not ready. I don't think I ever will be."

Agatha nodded sympathetically. "She misses you, you know. She talks about you all the time."

Y/N's heart clenched. "It doesn't change what happened. Some things can't be fixed."

As Y/N walked home, her thoughts were a turbulent mix of past and present. She knew she had to keep moving forward, even if it meant leaving some parts of her past behind.

Back at her apartment, she found Natasha and Maria waiting for her, their expressions a mix of concern and support.

"How was your day?" Natasha asked, her tone gentle.

Y/N smiled faintly. "It was okay. Just ran into someone from the past."

Maria raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Y/N shook her head. "No, it's just… a reminder of everything. But I'm okay. I have you guys, and that's enough."

Natasha and Maria exchanged a glance, then pulled Y/N into a hug.

"We're here for you, no matter what," Maria whispered. "You're never alone."

all the things I did, just so I could call you mine.

After so long, Y/N finally found the courage to face Wanda. The thought of seeing her again had gnawed at her for weeks, and now, standing in front of the café where they had agreed to meet, her heart pounded in her chest. As she pushed open the door, the familiar chime of the bell overhead sent a wave of nostalgia washing over her.

Wanda was already there, seated at a corner table, her fingers nervously tracing patterns on the surface. She looked up as Y/N approached, a hesitant smile forming on her lips.

"Hey," Wanda greeted softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Hey," Y/N replied, taking a seat opposite her. The air between them was thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence heavy and awkward. Y/N glanced around the café, memories of happier times flooding her mind. This place had once been their sanctuary, a haven for shared laughter and secret confessions. Now, it felt like a foreign land, tainted by the weight of their fractured friendship.

Wanda broke the silence first. "I… I'm so sorry, Y/N. For everything. I never meant to hurt you. I was selfish and careless, and I didn't realize how much I was pushing you away until it was too late."

Y/N listened, her eyes focused on the table. She could feel Wanda's gaze on her, pleading for understanding, but she couldn't bring herself to meet it just yet.

"I know I messed up," Wanda continued, her voice cracking. "I was dealing with a lot, but that's no excuse for how I treated you. You were always there for me, and I took that for granted. I'm so, so sorry."

When Wanda finished, Y/N took a deep breath, finally looking up to meet her eyes. "I appreciate the apology, Wanda. I really do. But it doesn't change what happened. The damage has been done."

Wanda nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. "I know. And I don't expect you to forgive me right away. I just wanted you to know how sorry I am."

Y/N sighed, the weight of the past months pressing down on her. "Do you know what it's been like for me? You disappeared when I needed you the most. I had to deal with everything alone, and it felt like a part of me was missing."

Wanda bit her lip, her guilt evident. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I wish I could take it all back."

"I covered for you, Wanda," Y/N said, her voice growing more intense. "I told everyone you were with me when you weren't. I defended you to our friends, even when they told me to let you go. I did all of that because I wanted to believe that you still cared. Because I loved you."

Wanda's eyes widened in surprise. "Loved me? Y/N, I…"

"Not just as a friend, Wanda," Y/N interrupted, her voice trembling with emotion. "I loved you. I still do. But not in the way you think. I was in love with you. And every time I lied, every time I covered for you, it was because I wanted to feel like you were still mine in some way."

Tears streamed down Wanda's face. "I had no idea, Y/N. If I had known…"

"It wouldn't have changed anything," Y/N said, shaking her head. "You've changed, Wanda. Our friendship isn't the same anymore, and I don't think it ever will be. I've spent so long pretending, holding on to a hope that you'd come back, but the truth is, you're not the same person I fell in love with."

Y/N continued to confess her love, the words tumbling out like a dam had finally burst. She needed to let it all out, to say everything that had been weighing on her heart, as if this was the last chance she would ever get.

"You don't understand, Wanda," Y/N began, her voice trembling. "From the moment we met, I knew there was something special about you. I felt this connection, this bond that I couldn't explain. I loved the way you laughed, the way you saw the world, the way you made me feel like I was important. Every little thing about you drew me in."

Wanda sat silently, tears streaming down her face, as Y/N continued.

"I remember the late-night talks, the secrets we shared, the way you made me feel like I was the only person who mattered. I fell in love with you, not just as a friend, but deeply, completely, and utterly in love. You became my world, Wanda. You were my everything. And I was so scared to tell you because I didn't want to lose what we had."

Y/N's voice broke, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. "But then you started pulling away, and it felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest. I didn't understand why you were distancing yourself, why you were using me as an alibi. I tried to hold on, to keep our friendship alive, because I couldn't bear the thought of losing you. I covered for you, I lied for you, all because I hoped you'd come back. Because I loved you so much, it hurts."

Wanda's shoulders shook with silent sobs, "You were my light, Wanda. And when you left, it felt like the world went dark. I kept telling myself that you'd come back, that things would go back to the way they were. But I can't keep pretending anymore. You've changed, and maybe I have too."

Y/N's eyes locked onto Wanda's, a mixture of sadness and resolve in her gaze. "I've been holding on to this hope that you'd see me, really see me, and realize how much I love you. But I can't keep doing this to myself. I need to move on, to find a way to heal. I need to let go of the idea of us, because it's tearing me apart."

Wanda's voice was barely a whisper as she spoke, her eyes filled with regret. "I never wanted to hurt you, Y/N. I wish I could take it all back."

"I know," Y/N replied softly. "But we can't change the past. We can only move forward. And as much as it hurts, I need to do that for myself. I need to let go of you, of us, so I can find a way to be happy again."

all the things you did. well, I hope I was your favorite crime.

Wanda's tears continued to fall, her expression one of deep regret. "Y/N, I… I never meant for things to get this bad. I never wanted to hurt you."

Y/N shook her head, a mix of anger and sorrow in her eyes. "But you did, Wanda. You hurt me again and again. You pushed me away, used me as an alibi, lied to me, and broke me over and over. Every time I tried to reach out, you shut me down. You made me feel like I wasn't enough, like I was nothing."

Wanda's voice trembled. "I know I made mistakes. I know I was selfish and careless. I'm so sorry."

"But sorry isn't enough," Y/N interrupted, her voice rising with the pain she had kept bottled up for so long. "I can't keep pretending that everything's okay when it's not. I can't keep letting you back into my life only for you to tear me apart again. It's suffocating, Wanda. Every time I see you, it hurts so much that I can barely breathe."

Wanda's face crumpled as she tried to hold back her sobs. "I never wanted to be the reason for your pain. I wish I could make it right."

"You can't," Y/N said, her tone resolute. "I've tried to forgive you, to move past it, but every time I think I'm okay, you come back and everything falls apart again. I need to let go of you, Wanda. I need to find a way to heal, and I can't do that if you're still in my life."

Wanda's voice was barely audible. "Are you saying we can't even be friends?"

Y/N nodded, tears streaming down her face. "Yes. We can't be friends. Seeing you, talking to you, it's just too painful. I hate you for what you did to me, for how you broke me and made me feel worthless. But even after all that, I know I'd do it all over again for you. That's the worst part. I'd let you hurt me again if it meant I could be close to you. And that's why I have to walk away."

Wanda reached out, but Y/N stepped back, shaking her head. "Please, Y/N, don't go. We can fix this. I can change."

"It's too late for that," Y/N replied, her voice cracking. "I need to do this for me. I need to find a way to be happy without you." She paused, "Because the more I love you, the more it hurts. I don't think that's how it should work."

With that, Y/N turned and walked away, each step feeling like a weight was being lifted from her shoulders, even as her heart ached with the loss. She knew this was the right thing to do, even if it hurt like hell.

Wanda watched her go, her heart shattering with every step Y/N took. She knew she had lost something precious, something she might never get back. And as much as it hurt, she knew she had to let Y/N go, to allow her to find the peace she deserved.

your favorite crime 'cause baby, you were mine.

[theconstellationprincess]

Whumptober day 13: familiar curse.

Celebrimbor had resigned himself to being the last descendant of Feanor, the end of the line, and then he met Elrond. Kind, wonderful Elrond who calls Maglor and Maedhros his fathers. Perhaps he is not alone in his standing after all.

-

When he first meets Elrond, he is unsure of what to expect, because while he trusts Gil-galad to not send him someone dangerous or untrustworthy, it was Celebrimbor's uncles who took Elrond and his twin from their family, who kept them for a number of years, away from elven society.

During that first day, neither of them bring up Feanor, the Silmarils, or the oath. Celebrimbor allows himself some peace when Elrond seems more nervous about the fact that Celebrimbor is a well-known smith than that he is related to the House of Feanor. His fascination with Celebrimbor's work is flattering, though uneccessary, and Celebrimbor finds himself thoroughly charmed by the peredhel.

This ease is why, when Elrond enters Celebrimbor's office the following morning wearing a cloak embroided with the star of Feanor, he promptly chokes on his tea and sputters, unable to tear his eyes away from the design. Elrond is worried, rushing over and checking on Celebrimbor with concern in his eyes and a frown on his lips.

Waving his concern off, Celebrimbor straightens and sets his tea down. Now that Elrond is closer, he can see the design even clearer, and it is most certainly the 8-point star that Celebrimbor is still fond of, even with all of its... associations. Elrond must notice his gaze, because he follows it to the cloak, and to Celebrimbors surprise, blushes.

"I apologize, I had only thought-" Elrond takes a shuffling step backwards, hands grabbing at his sleeves and turning his face away from Celebrimbor and towards a bookshelf. "I cannot wear them in Lindon." Oh. Oh. The explanation offered is hesitant, unsure, and absolutely heartbreaking. Most of the elves in Middle Earth do not take kindly to those who bear the symbol of Feanor, but Eregion is a settlement unlike any others. A large remainder of those who are still loyal to Feanor and his sons reside in his city, loyal now to him.

"You have no need to apologize, Elrond. It simply... surprised me. I was not aware you held any love for the Feanorians." Celebrimbor replies slowly, taking another sip of his tea while he waits for Elrond to respond. Celebrimbor observes his face, which rapidly transitions between confused, distressed, and then finally settles on slightly manic humour.

"Lord Celebrimbor I-" He laughs, running a hand through his hair. Celebrimbor begins to feel worried when by the end of the laughter it sounds more like sounds of anguish than joy. "I suppose I should have rather asked for your permission before counting myself among those of your house."

"Permission before- Elrond what are you talking about?" Celebrimbor asks, standing and approaching the half-elf, whose legs seem to falter beneath him for a moment. Celebrimbor rushes forward, supporting his weight- far too light honestly, does Ereinion not take care of his herald?- for the moment it takes for Elrond to recover.

"It is well known, in Lindon. As a child I found little sense in censoring my words. I used to only refer to them as atya and atarinya, but that is reserved now for certain company." Elrond clearly sees something in his expression, because he squints and then speaks very slowly, as if to a child. "Maedhros and Maglor. Elros and my foster fathers. I belong to the house of Feanor- though I can... I cannot, if it makes you uncomfortable, Lord Celebrimbor. You are the last of the blood relatives in the family." Elrond's smile is bitter, the light in his eyes dimmed, and Celebrimbor can't have that now can he?

"Forgive me, Elrond, for making you question your place. I was not aware that you viewed Maglor and Maedhros as more than those who haunt your dreams." Celebrimbor speaks softly, backing up and taking his seat once more. He nods to the seat across from him, waiting for Elrond to sit, because he still looks peaky, before continuing. "Though you are not related by blood, if it is as you say and you consider Maedhros and Maglor your fathers, than I see no reason why you should not have claim over the title of descendant of Feanor."

Elrond looks relieved, and Celebrimbor momentarily reflects on the fact that this might be one of the oddest mornings he has ever had. Only yesterday he had been worried over the fact that Elrond may try to claim reparations for the wrongs Celebrimbor's house had done to him, but instead he has gained a... cousin. A relative.

"Lord Celebrimbor, I apologize. We got very off track and I do not seem to recall my purpose for coming to your office." Elrond says after a few moments. He looks lost, and Celebrimbor- who had already decided he quite liked this peredhel yesterday- finds himself with the desire to prevent that look from ever being on Elrond's face again.

"It is of no matter, Elrond. And you may drop the title, after all we are cousins." The blush returns to Elrond's cheeks, a pleased smile twisting the corners of his lips despite the way he clearly tries to stop it. Celebrimbor smiles back, taking a sip of his tea and grimacing, for it has grown cold. He sets it down with a sigh, and he intends to make polite conversation, but what falls from his lips is instead, "How much do you know of the oath?"

The smile on Elrond's face falters, and Celebrimbor curses his clumsy words, he should not have asked that. He is not sure he even wants to know, for he would not wish the up close experience of wrath the oaths caused on anyone.

"I know enough," The reply is quiet, contemplative. "They took us. They left us. Twice. I will not get to see them, even when I sail west." The last sentence seems to be the undoing, and Elrond's voice falters, thick with emotions. Celebrimbor nods, once, and then clears his throat.

"You will have me, cousin." Celebrimbor assures, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. He has long accepted that he will not be able to reunite with his family, but it is fresher for Elrond, and it makes the old wound feel as though it has begun to weep anew.

Elrond sniffs, tries to discretely wipe his eyes, and then steers the conversation towards Celebrimbor's broach. Celebrimbor indulges, how could he not? And they resume the easy manner of discussion from yesterday.

-

"You will have to let me forge you one," Celebrimbor insists over dinner, as the topic of the broach is brought up again. Inspired by their conversation this morning, Celebrimbor had shown Elrond some of his recent work, because he is not above seeking praise. Elrond is very generous with his praise, and Celebrimbor asks to see Elrond's recent work, if he has any to offer.

Written works are hesitantly handed over, a mixture of what clearly works for the High King and personal projects. "You are a gifted wordsmith," Celebrimbor had muttered out, reading through the pages. He is glad that he looked up for a moment, because the smile on Elrond's face shone brighter than any silmaril.

At Elrond's suggestion, they move away from his works and back to Celebrimbor's. They discuss matters of forging and metals, matters that Elrond is surprisingly educated about, until dinner. Celebrimbor catches Elrond staring at the broach, and so offers to forge one for him.

"You will do no such thing," Elrond protests, taking a sip from his wine. He is relaxed, smiling, and Celebrimbor knows then that he must forgore Elrond something, a souvenir for his time in Eregion.

"I will," Celebrimbor states simply, chuckling when Elrond continues to protest. Feanorian stubbornness knows no bounds, but Elrond cannot stop Celebrimbor from forging, and Celebrimbor knows that Elrond is far too polite to refuse a gift. He will win, in the end.

-

The day Elrond is set to leave Eregion, Celebrimbor presents him with a small jewelry box, smirking. Elrond glares at him, but it is short lived, when he opens the box to find the broach. It is beautiful, Celebrimbor knows, but the reverence with which Elrond looks at it is unexpected.

"Thank you," Elrond says, voice suspiciously thick. Celebrimbor chuckles good naturedly and hugs him, tightly.

"You're welcome." He replies softly, "You can repay me by coming to visit again soon."

"Very well." Elrond agrees, pulling out of the hug and looking at Celebrimbor, deep into his eyes. "I will see you soon, cousin."

[bkgexe]

rotary devotion

caleb (love and deepspace) x reader ✾ part 2/2 ✾ 19.7 (35k total)

✾ info! part one

✾ tw! yandere-adjacent activities typical in canon. f!reader referred to w/ gendered language and she/her pronouns.

✾ notes! reminder of angst with a happy(ish) ending lmaoo. smut in this part uhhh they r pretty switch-y both of them so watch out for that also dry humping + oral f!receiving + they're both weird as hell. read on ao3 if u would prefer!

He’s done everything they’ve asked of him. He’s achieved one of the highest ranks in the Farspace Fleet. He’s reintegrated himself into your life somewhat smoothly. He’s become powerful beyond measure, refined his Evol to a point that his strength and precision are unmatched. Ever has modified him into something different, something he can’t come back from. He’s their perfect weapon. 

Surely this means they can fix you now. He has to have done enough.

Professor Lucius doesn’t usually respond to Caleb’s requests to meet, but he was insistent this time. He made threats he really had no place to make. Knows that their worst nightmare would be Caleb killing himself and wiping out all the progress they’ve made. They know he has the willpower to do it, too. He knows he’s just a weapon. Understands that ultimately, all he’ll become is a machine. He wants to live, but he wants you to live more.

His only regret would be leaving you permanently. Inflicting that trauma on you a second time and not being there when it comes time to heal. 

The professor always conducts his meetings in the gardens. Something about the positive impact of nature on mental well-being. A line straight out of a textbook. Lucius has never felt like a real person. He’s like a machine, too, even though he beats out Caleb in the competition of flesh and blood.

“Colonel.” Lucius has a hard time putting respect into his voice when he says this. As if Caleb got his position through Ever’s string-pulling alone, as if he didn’t put in hard work and sweat to get where he is. 

“Professor.” Caleb affords him the same courtesy. He doubts the piece of shit in front of him earned this title in any real, concrete way. 

Lucius has a watering can. He tilts it over some blooming azaleas, pink-white blossoms reaching up towards the sun. Droplets of water catch on the petals, pulling them backwards harshly, damaging the flowers. There are real groundskeepers that do this work, but Lucius likes to play at caretaker. “This must be important if you threatened to go to such a drastic extreme,” he says. He watches the azaleas sway in the light breeze instead of looking at Caleb. “Yet you’re wasting my time with silence.”

“I’ve done everything you wanted. And I’ll keep doing more,” Caleb says. He takes his hat off, worries the rim of it in his hand, the one he can feel with. If he can keep his nerves to this one spot, then the professor might believe that he’s approaching this with boundless confidence. “It’s time for you to fix her.”

The expression that overtakes Lucius’s face is grim. Something about it makes Caleb’s stomach twist uncomfortably, makes him feel like he’s about to be pushed off the edge of the gardens, fall to the ground below. 

He’s fifty floors up. The fall would be long. He’d think about you all the way down. 

“Are you really in a place to be making demands?” Lucius asks. “You don’t think I’ll actually let you end your life without my permission, do you?”

“I do,” Caleb says, “because you agreed to this meeting. Even if you have some kind of control over me, there’s a chance that it could slip. I’m a quick shot. Won’t even need five seconds.”

Instead of responding to the threat, instead of killing Caleb right out to prove that he’s unnecessary, instead of folding immediately because his plans could be rendered impossible—Lucius smiles. It’s a terrible, gut-wrenching thing. The smile of a man that hasn’t felt joy over anything except the suffering of others for too many years to count. “Well, Colonel, I have some wonderful news for you.”

Caleb doesn’t breathe. He’s afraid that Lucius is going to say that somehow, out of his sight for five minutes, they’ve already killed you. If your name comes out of the professor’s mouth, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. His heart rate is already climbing dangerously high, and he tries to breathe deep and even. Keep things calm inside of him. He can’t lose more than he already has.

“She no longer requires our help.”

It’s not at all what Caleb had expected to hear. Internally, his confidence falters. There’s information he doesn’t have. Something important they’ve neglected to tell him. Is this how you feel every time you find out something new he’s been keeping from you? No—he does that to protect you. Lucius has kept something important under wraps for this very moment, to undermine Caleb when he thinks he has an upper hand. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

That smile again. Sharp-edged, the way a wolf smiles its way into an animal’s skin. “Her aether core has been repaired. She found another fragment and used it to stabilize the one in her heart.”

[                                      ] telling the truth or not. [                     ] for you.

“Your silence speaks of confusion. I’ll make it simpler: she will live a long, healthy life. Well—as long and healthy of a life as a Hunter commonly lives. There’s no risk anymore.” Lucius nods, as if trying to cajole Caleb into nodding with him. “Everything you’ve done for us… We appreciate it, but it seems the reward you were seeking has already been granted.”

Everything he’s done for them. [                                                                                   ] forgive him. You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t, he’s sure of it. He [                                                                                                          ]. So you would be okay. So they would fix you.

“You should be happy. It’s what you wanted.”

You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. Even as emotion crawls up his throat and makes him feel like he’s going to throw up, like he’s [                                                             ], he’s so relieved by the fact that you’re okay.

“I believe it was the Onychinus leader that helped her acquire the fragment she needed. Her lover. Seems his time was better placed than yours in the end, no?”

[                                                                                         ]. [                                                                                                ]. [                                                                            ]. [                                                                                                                     ]. [                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             ]. [                                                                                           ]. [                                                                                                   ]. Her lover.  [            ]. [                                       ]. [       ]. Your [           ]. [                                                                                  ]. [                                                                                                                                                                                                                           ]. [                                      ]. [                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          ]. [                                                     ]. 

The Toring Chip pulls him back from the precipice when he’s being yanked off of the professor, when [                                               ] and there’s blood on his hands. Lucius [                                              ], his nose surely broken, front teeth [                              ], but he still smiles. Nothing Caleb has done has been for anything, and [                                                   ] for you, because he loves you, because he would do anything for you. 

He fights against the guards that pull him away, metal arm freeing itself easily. They shouldn’t have made him so strong. He breaks [                                                     ] before they subdue him, before [                                               ]. He’s on the ground. His face is pushed into grass, into dirt. [                                                                                                ] and it meant nothing. It meant nothing. 

But you’re okay. You’re okay and he could cry with relief. He is, he thinks. Something is so deeply wrong inside of him and he doesn’t want to be that way. He loves you. He loves you so much. He loves you so, so much and you’re going to be okay. He [                                                            ] if he ever even so much as gets a glimpse of the guy that [                         ] you. Her lover.

Someone else took his job from him. He’s the one that’s supposed to protect you. That’s supposed to heal you. That’s supposed to be there when you need him. And he was gone for so long that you [                                                                        ] with someone that wasn’t him, and he’s going to kill someone. He’s going to kill someone. He’s going to put Lucius in the ground.

There was another way. Of course [                                          ]. Ever has lied to him so many times that he should have assumed, but there was another way to heal you. His impulsiveness got him here. If he’d just waited instead of believing them outright, he could [                                                                  ] and he would be whole and maybe you’d love him the way he wants you to.

Sound cuts in and out. It feels like his brain is a processor, overheating, melting into hardware. He hears the guards holding him down ask the professor if they should dispose of him and he laughs. Because he would love to see them try. He could break their necks easily if his head wasn’t pounding the way it is, if the chip wasn’t working overtime to subdue him. He could turn these people into paste. (She would be afraid of you. She would be so afraid.) He’s losing more of himself with every passing day, with every emotional lapse of judgement, and he wishes he could go back.

He just wants to be the boy that dried your hair for you after you showered, that sat with you on the porch in late summer and held you in his arms as you read to him from whatever book you were in the middle of. He didn't even need context for what you read to him—he just wanted an excuse to hear your voice for as long as he was allowed.

“Let him go,” Lucius says through the blood in his mouth. “He’s learned his lesson.”

When the guards let him go, he can’t stand up immediately. The cool dampness of the ground beneath him is the only thing that keeps his head from feeling like it’s going to cleave itself from his body. There are gaps in places there shouldn’t be gaps. (She can’t see you like this.) There are white spots in his vision that feel permanent. He claws at the ground with his hand and he can’t feel it, he can’t feel it, the same coolness that touches his face, that stains his skin.

His hand. His hand isn’t real. [                                                        ]. That’s why. Replaced. Cold metal. Can’t feel you with it. (Want to so bad.) Your lover. Can’t feel you with it at all and didn’t even know you’d memorized the details of him. The stretch marks that are gone. He loves you so much. Of course you’d notice. He loves you so much.

“Get up.”

Your palm against his chest. His heart beating under your hand. You could tear it out. He wants it to be yours. He loves you so much. Your lover. Summer heat, buzzing and sticky. Sitting on the porch with you. He can’t feel you with it. Cold metal. He loves you so much.

“You’re embarrassing yourself. Get up.”

Buzzing in his head, like the low drone of summer. Sticky heat. God, he wants you. Your lover. Caleb. I didn’t sleep with him. He needs you to know. He needs you to know. 

A foot nudges his side. His coat. The uniform of the colonel. He gets to his knees, then stumbles to his feet. His head is lightning, heat, pain. His vision is black at its edges. He needs you to know. Know what? Your lover. He loves you so much. Caleb. I didn’t sleep with him. Summer with you. (She likes to wake up at nine, so you’re up at eight.) Vacation, when he monopolized most of your time. Mornings he made you breakfast. In the afternoon, he took you to amusement parks, movies, any restaurant you wanted. You liked the shitty place a few blocks away that only did shakes and burgers and fries. (Don’t swear in front of her.) A little more upscale than other fast food places. No drive-thru. Strawberry or chocolate, sometimes with whipped cream. You changed your mind enough that he could never preemptively order for you. Didn’t want to get it wrong. It made him feel like he didn’t know you sometimes, the fact that he couldn’t tell what you were going to want just by your mood. 

He wants to be that boy again. 

He wants to be that boy again.

He wants to be that boy again.

He wants to be that boy again.

[                                              ].

“Colonel?” someone asks, and it’s your voice. It’s not your voice. You wouldn’t call him that. Caleb. He wishes it was your voice. (She shouldn’t see you like this.) He misses you. He wants something but he can’t remember what it is. He misses you. “ Colonel.”

“Yeah,” he says. His voice is rough, breaking in his throat. Trying to swallow past the feeling of the gravel in his mouth proves difficult. Trees stand tall above him, growing strong even on top of this building. The azaleas seem to glow, their pink and white blooms fully highlighted by the beaming sun. Their scent is on the breeze, light and honey-like. Spongy earth gives slightly beneath his feet. A fertile garden. A verdant paradise. Breathing deep used to ground him. Now it just reminds him that he’s alive.

A security guard stands in front of him. Lucius is gone. Probably to the infirmary. Blood still adorns Caleb’s knuckles. Dirt is caked into the knees of his slacks. (You’re disgusting.) The guard crosses his arms, impatient. He’s asked Caleb to do something that he didn’t hear. Leave, probably.

“I’m going,” Caleb says. 

The guard doesn’t stop him. He stalks back through the garden, into the professor’s observatory and to the elevators. There’s a destination in his heart, somewhere he needs to be so badly he could choke on it. 

He needs to find you. He needs to find your lover.

˚✧ ﾟ.

His childhood, a list of wants: safety, warmth, food.

There were no parents in the picture, as far back as he can remember. Fate twisted unfortunately, putting him in a foster home run by a group of scientists. Foster home was too good a word for what it really was—an orphanage, essentially, that just managed to pass during inspections by governmental child care services.

Ten kids, including you. The lab across the street. Constant visits, though he managed to avoid them for a long time. Sometimes kids didn’t come back. Adopted, the matron of the house would tell everyone. No one thought about it too hard. It meant there would be more food for the rest of you. 

Each item on his list, crossed off daily. Just. He learned to be self-sufficient, learned the finer points of dealing with people. The matron liked him best because he was charming, kind, looked out for the other kids. The kids liked him best because he would give them his treats, breaking whatever candies or baked goods he received into pieces to share with everyone else. There are laws to give and take. People follow them because they’re born into them. They don’t even realize they’re adhering to doctrine.

But Caleb realized. He knew, even at eleven, the basics of what made people tick. 

They took you the most often. Something changed at a certain point, and Caleb was no longer the favorite. You were—quiet, tiny you , with your small voice and empty eyes. At first, he resented you for it. You’d get bigger portions than anyone else, the way he used to. He lost some of his leverage with the rest of the kids. Less to share with them. He lost special privileges with the matron. Staying out later to play with his friends from school became more of an argument, asking for any sort of allowance was rendered impossible.

You acted like you didn’t know anyone. It bothered him. It made him seethe, in fact, that even though you were younger than him, you acted like you were above him. So he did what he was good at. He observed you. Watched, learned, interacted with you more to try to get a read on you. Laughed with you, told the same jokes he told everyone because it made them feel secure. You can always trust someone you can laugh with. Slowly, he came to understand. It wasn’t that you were acting like you didn’t know anyone.

You were forgetting. They were making you forget.

Every time you went to that lab, you came back with your eyes even emptier, your hands always balled into fists. You chewed on the ends of your hair and sat on your bed and didn’t move until mealtime. Because you were scared. You didn’t know any of these people. You didn’t know where you were. 

Caleb’s list of wants was small. Self-sufficient. But he considered, even then, what it would feel like to extend that list to you. Safety, warmth, food. He had never been a provider. Taking was easier for him, especially when he could do it with a boyish smile and an ingratiating thank you.

They started bringing Caleb to the lab on his twelfth birthday—and before then, he thought he understood. He thought he had come to understand you.

The worst part was that they didn’t make him forget. Or maybe that wasn’t something they were doing—maybe your brain was rewiring itself, protecting you from the things inside that building. From the serums injected between fingers, the centrifugal stress tests, the cell mutation, the machines that froze the body to a point of near-death and the machines that would warm it until it felt like being burned alive, the Evol amplifiers, the sensory-deprivation chambers, the forced body enhancement, the interviews with their questions that didn’t make any sense but felt terribly important.

Caleb grew eleven inches in three weeks. None of his clothes fit him. His skin burned—burned like it did in the machines, burned with the way it was begging his bones and muscles to stop expanding, burned with the wrongness of his sudden growth spurt.

His childhood, a list of wants: food, quiet, relief from the pain.

Taking care of you started with reintroducing himself every time you returned from across the street. Turned into removing the ends of your hair from your mouth when you were anxious, letting you play with his instead. He’d go to school with tiny little braids in his hair that you left there, brush it off when anyone made fun of him. Portions of his food were saved for you. You always got to shower first, when the water was hottest. The matron would sometimes put the best treats aside for him, old loyalties, and they would be yours without you even having to ask.

Each time you forgot sent him back to the beginning. Slowly, you would begin to talk to him. Slowly, you would begin to smile. He could do this as many times as you needed. Even when his bones ached with a pain that no child should ever have to know, he would make sure that you were clean and fed and content as possible with the life the two of you had been given.

The number of children in the foster home dwindled and he started getting restless. Started worrying when they took you away, even though it was clear that something about you was very important to the people across the street. If you didn’t return, he didn’t know what he would do. He’d already gained incredible control over his Evol. He made you laugh by floating things in the air, sailing paper airplanes across the cramped space of your communal bedroom. They made him do more at the lab. They made him crush things even bigger than him. Cars, tons of solid metal, massive slabs of rock.

Sometimes smaller things. Sometimes things that were scared, that reminded him of you in their innocence.

It was hard for him to touch you after those days. You’d ask him to braid your hair and he’d have to say no, even though it killed him to say no to you. Because he didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve to touch you and find solace in your presence when he was capable of such things.

His childhood, a list of wants: your safety, your happiness, a place to rest his head.

The Chronorift Catastrophe itself couldn’t touch his small list of priorities. The woman that found him in one of the camps for lost or orphaned children was one he recognized. At first, he was scared. She had interviewed him once. Twice, she had been the one administering the needle into the delicate skin between his fingers.

But she made it clear that something about now was different. She didn’t want to take him back there. She promised. And though he would never say this out loud—there were things he knew he could do if she reneged that promise. Things he would hate himself for, but things that were necessary.

He needed the help of an adult. Of someone that had some kind of power, some kind of status after Linkon was nearly destroyed. I don’t know where she is, he told her—and she knew he was talking about you.

The worst part about rebuilding his life after the Catastrophe was that you had forgotten again. It felt more significant this time. A new home that he was learning at the same pace as you. He didn’t know how to protect you because he didn’t know what threats to look out for.

Josephine was kind. Caleb would tell this to anyone that asked. But there was something stopping him from forgetting the way she looked at him when she administered the needle—the way she looked through him, the same way he was sure she had looked through you. 

And it’s not like the experiments didn’t leave their mark. He had his own problems, sure—frequent body aches, chills that put him in cold sweats for hours, joint freezes that he had to push through, forcing himself past limits that couldn’t be breached healthily—but yours were worse. Whatever they’d done to you left you with a heart condition that had to be monitored. Doctor’s appointments every other week, medication that ruined your appetite. He tried to keep you fed, but it was hard when the idea of eating pushed you to tears. You hated the hospital. You hated the medication. You hated the pain. How could he ever look Josephine in the eye and genuinely thank her for taking the two of you in when this is what her experiments had done to you?

Caleb was very good at a lot of things. Gifted, one might say, if you only considered the pretty parts of the consequences of his childhood. He was not very good at forgiveness. 

It’s why he was never fully able to let go, allow Josephine to take care of the two of you alone. Caleb always considered himself your caretaker. He was the one that was looking out for you first—Gran was just a necessary second, a legal adult that would assure you both had a roof above your heads that you couldn’t be taken from.

Stability helped. You adjusted quicker with less stress. Smiled faster, began talking to him like a friend within a week instead of a month. It was enough for him. His list of responsibilities fulfilled. His purpose was to be there for you. 

Even when you were at school, in different grades, he would find you at lunch. Abandon his friends to sit with you. When he aged out of your school building and started attending the high school down the street, he had a long talk with the principal that allowed him to leave his last class twenty minutes early to pick you up every day. 

People are the same. They’re driven by wants and needs that are so easy to take apart, to play into. He could be your best friend, taking you to the mall on weekends to shop with you. He could be your guardian, chiding you when you stayed out too late with a friend. He could be your doting older brother, picking you up everyday to walk you home. Whatever other people needed him to be in order for them to allow him to be right next to you.

It didn’t matter what they thought. What he was to you was different—something deeper, too nebulous to be titled. He was your everything, and you were his. As it should be.

The time he spent with your hair was sacred to him. His favorite memories of your childhood: pulling at the ends to bother you, massaging shampoo into your scalp with firm and careful fingers, lying his cheek against the top of your head and breathing in the scent of you. 

You let it grow out after moving into Gran’s. As it got longer, it should have become more of a nuisance. Another thing to take care of. But because it was a part of you that he got to care for, he never really minded it. He researched styles, spent hours watching videos on hair care, monopolized your time at home so he could practice on you. He wanted to take such good care of your hair because it was important to you. Something he found out while doing another thing he shouldn’t have been doing. 

Eavesdropping was second nature to Caleb. Growing up the way he did, he always tried to be a step ahead. To know when you would be taken across the street, when he would. To see if he could glean any information about what was going on from the adults that purportedly cared for the two of you. He’s no different at Gran’s house.

A conversation he overheard, Gran on the phone with your therapist: post-traumatic stress disorder, an unhealthy attachment to things that feel familiar. To your hair, to your few remaining belongings that made it through the Catastrophe, to Caleb. Anything that felt like it was intrinsically yours. 

He focused on the hair because focusing on the implications of him being intrinsically yours, even then, could have torn him apart. Could have made him jump the gun at fifteen, to tell you that somehow he knew that he would always be yours, that you were destined to be side-by-side for life. Even in death, he wanted to rest beside you.

Something was very wrong with him. He knew this, even then. Knew that if he went to therapy like Gran wanted, they would pick him apart the way they’d picked you apart. They’d say he had post-traumatic stress disorder, impostor syndrome, a protector complex. That he was unhealthily attached to you—that he believed you were intrinsically his. 

This was all easy to figure out on his own time. It wasn’t that he wanted to be ignorant to the things wrong with him—he could just deal with it by himself. He didn’t need other people to tell him what was wrong and then give him some half-assed advice on how to be better. The things that were wrong with him weren’t going to make his life worse. They were going to make your life better. He’d always be there for you, whatever you needed, whatever complex that meant he had or whatever attachments that meant he had formed.

His childhood, a list of wants: your comfort and to exist beside you. And he knew he could provide comfort to you, despite his shortcomings. 

He was sixteen when he received his first confession. There wasn’t a point before that where he had considered dating anyone—even considered romance as a concept in his life—and that extended to after. You didn’t like it when he explained what had happened. He was kind, as always, and turned the girl down nicely. You took the card the girl had written for him, still unopened in a cream envelope adorned with shooting star stickers, and ripped it apart. 

There isn’t a clear, defining moment in his past where he knew you would always be where he wanted to end up. But this moment serves as a clear indication in his head of the beginning of the messy period where he had to figure out the extent of what he wanted from you.

Caleb hated the attention he got in high school. No one knew him but you—he made sure of that. And yet droves of guys and girls would line up to give him little gifts at the end of the school years, would pass him notes in class asking if he liked anyone, would get close to the other guys on the basketball team in an effort to find out things about him. It was all because of his past—the body given to him through unnatural means, the charisma he learned through trauma.

He resented people for wanting him for those things. But he didn’t really care either way what they thought about him. He was eighteen years old when he became positive that the only person he was ever going to date was you. He’d marry you, too, if that’s what you wanted. A massive wedding that he’d spend his entire savings on, or something small, just friends, even just the two of you. Or you didn’t even have to get married, if you didn’t like the idea of that. Whatever you wanted. Whatever way you would have him. He was yours down to his veins, down to his blood, down to his cells. He belonged to you.

When you received your first—and only—confession in high school, Caleb realized that it went both ways. You belonged to him, too. 

You told Caleb about it right after school, like you couldn’t keep it in. You were terrible at keeping secrets from him. He loved that. The guy asked you out on a date, said he’d seen you around and thought you were so pretty, that he’d be kicking himself if he didn’t ask you out.

The guy was a soccer star. Tall, handsome, nice enough. In Caleb’s year, which meant he was too old for you. He’d be going to college on a scholarship the same time Caleb would start at the DAA, because he decided he could provide for you as a pilot. This guy would be an athlete in college and then do some shitty, run-of-the-mill job afterwards. (Don’t swear in front of her. You have to be a good example.) And who did he think he was, asking you out now ? Was he gonna date a high-schooler while in college? Had he even thought about how he’d keep in contact with you while he was away? How he’d make sure you were eating enough, make sure that you were happy?

No. Of course he fucking didn’t. (Language. Careful.) Caleb was the only guy thinking about these things that young. It was okay if it was him because he was meant for you. He’d take things at your pace, obviously—he was just getting everything ready for your future together. He liked to be prepared.

So he talked to the guy. Of course he was nice about it. Didn’t want to embarrass anyone. Just told him to keep his distance, that you were off-limits.

What are you, her brother? 

No, he said, and no, no, no, no, no, he wasn’t even though some people liked to say that he was, he wasn’t because he was going to be yours one day and you were going to be his.

Then what’s the problem? C’mon, man—doesn’t she look sweet?

Sweet. The way he said that about you. A suggestion.

Caleb attended a soccer game for the first time that Saturday. It was a shame that the guy who called you sweet fell the way he did while shooting and tore his Achilles tendon. He lost his scholarship. Couldn’t run anymore. Need that in soccer. Those kinds of injuries never fully heal. 

No one asked you out after that. Other students looked at him in the hallways and whispered, all speculating on his Evol, the rumor of its power. Didn’t the guy that fell ask out his little sister, or whatever she is to him? No, surely Caleb—golden boy Caleb, captain of the basketball team and all around great guy—wouldn’t do something so drastic. So insane.

Sweet. Sweet. 

Things like desire were foreign to him until they weren’t. The guys on his team always talked about women in ways that disgusted him, in ways he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Just like the guy that fell and hurt himself. They talked about what they wanted to do to the models they saw on social media, even to the girls they shared classes with—and he just didn’t understand it. The depravity.

And then one day he got home from shooting hoops at the park with his friends, and he needed to shower before he saw you because you always complained when he was sweaty from playing sports. Without even thinking, he opened the bathroom door—and you were changing into something comfortable for the night. All he saw was the exposed skin of your back, the curve of your ass in black underwear, the softness of your thighs. He closed the door as quickly as he could and apologized. Apologized again. 

He had been hard in his lifetime, obviously, but he was so hard he couldn’t think. Just the image of you in his brain, the idea of him touching the soft skin of your lower back, his hand cupping your ass and squeezing just enough to hurt. (You shouldn’t want to hurt her.) Sweet. He got it. He understood and he hated himself for it.

He was appalled at his own thoughts for a long time. This pushed him away from desire in other ways. He felt sick when his friends started talking about sex, about what they were doing at parties with other people. He refused to get himself off, which led to a lot of long evenings lying in bed staring at the ceiling and a lot of ice-cold showers. He rarely gave in to his desires, but when he did, he couldn’t look you in the eye for a week. If he came in his sleep it didn’t count. Dreams didn’t count, even though each one heavily featured you and your soft, pliable body under his hands. He was overly sensitive, pent-up. You’d brush past him in the kitchen and even the feel of your hip bumping his, the smell of your shampoo, would get him so hard he’d have to excuse himself and lie down.

Everyday was an exercise in restraint. An exercise in self-hatred. (You’re disgusting.) He’d already decided he was going to be with you forever, but you didn’t think of him like that yet. He was going to be good for you and wait. He would still talk to you all the time and take you to the mall and braid your hair for you and listen to you read to him and he would be good .

And he was. He went to the DAA Academy and he was. But it was easier to give in when he was alone. Without you one room over, the guilt felt less like a vice and more like a garment. He wore it without being strangled by it—but he still wore it.

The first time he purposefully got himself off in years was with a scrunchie you’d given him to take to school braided through his fingers. It wasn’t the most pleasant sensation. There was no lube or spit because he didn’t want to ruin anything that was yours. Besides—he wanted it to hurt, because then he was paying for thinking about you like this. It took maybe four strokes. He came so hard that he couldn’t stop the loud, strung-out whine that rose from his throat, couldn’t look at himself in the mirror when he went to the bathroom to clean up, couldn’t stomach the guilt when he hand-washed your scrunchie in the sink with dish soap.

Rationalizing his behavior became a practiced skill. Everything he thought about you that was somewhat akin to sweet was okay—because you were going to want him the way he wanted you. One day, he would touch you the way he imagined touching you and you would sigh into him, you would tell him that it’s okay to need you the way he does, that you need him just the same. 

(Disgusting. Disgusting. You can’t choose this for her.) But he wasn’t choosing it for you. It’s just how things would happen. No one else knew your likes and dislikes, the way your tone of voice changed when you were asking for something. No one else knew how to take care of you when you were tired and didn’t want to ask for help. No one else knew the way you liked your hair braided, your favorite meals, your picky nature when it came to the preparation of tea and coffee. He could know you in other ways. More intimate ways. He would know all of it. You wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. No one could love you the way he could. 

He grew into adulthood knowing this. He was the only one that could protect you. That could save you from your own body, from the experiments that shortened your lifespan by whole decades. You couldn’t die before him. If you did, he would’ve failed. He made contact with scientists in lofty organizations, he charmed his way into meetings with people that a DAA pilot could never be important enough to meet. He was going to protect you forever and always. Like wedding vows. Because you couldn’t leave him. He wouldn’t let you.

The plan had been in place since you graduated high school. The first real secret Caleb ever kept from you. The first one he felt bad about. So when you both returned to Gran’s during your first ever vacation from the Hunter Academy—when you sat with him on the porch like everything was normal until it wasn’t—he had to stop himself. What’s going through your head, baby? he asked. Couldn’t help it. Called you baby in his mind every single fucking day, because you belonged to him and he belonged to you. Your face in his hands. God, he wanted to kiss you. He wanted anything you’d give him. Whatever you were ready for. But he knew he was going to have to leave you. To protect you, to heal you. It would be better to wait until after. If he kissed you then, knowing he’d have to leave you, break your heart—it would be messier when he came back. 

It was for the best. This way, you could be together for the rest of your lives. Once he came back, did what he had to do for Ever, everything would work out. 

His life, a list of wants: you and nothing else.

˚✧ ﾟ.

Caleb breaks more than a handful of laws figuring out the identity of your lover.

Getting into the Hunter Association’s database was as easy as monitoring its access port and lifting a username and password from the first person he saw log in. Their information is a joke—a name, a voice file, some info on the guy's Evol—but it does lead him to some of his connections in the more dangerous parts of town. 

Obviously, people don’t want to talk. The leader of Onychinus—a dreadful figure, someone with no remorse, who kills with a snap of his fingers. He can’t believe you got mixed up with this guy. But it’s hard for his contacts to ignore him when he’s hitting them with enough G-force that their legs begin to shatter, and that makes getting a name and some poorly-scrubbed CCTV footage easy. (She would hate you if she knew you were doing this.) 

Sylus. He’s younger than Caleb thought he would be. Still too old for you. He’s handsome, and Caleb is sure that he’s charming, too. He’s probably playing you just like that asshole that asked you out when you were a sophomore in high school. 

He’s gonna break this guy’s teeth. He’s gonna go to the N109 Zone and scrub Onychinus from the planet like a stain.

But first, he has to talk to you about it. He hasn’t slept in thirty-six hours. Nowhere near as bad as he had to put up with in pilot training, but still. His adjutant is keeping everything in order at the Fleet. Something feels like it’s ending, and Caleb isn’t completely sure whether or not it’s his own life.

When he checks your location, you’re at home. It’s nine at night, so you shouldn’t be in bed yet. He comes directly from the other side of town. There’s still blood on his knuckles. Dirt still stains his slacks, the elbows of his coat. His face, he’s sure. He hasn’t tried to see what he looks like, even though he usually likes to make himself somewhat handsome for you. You’ll have to forgive him this one time.

Caleb only second-guesses coming straight here when you open the door after he knocks—your face immediately twists in concern, your hands go to the sides of his face to brush away dirt, blood, whatever’s left behind from the past two days. 

You pull him into a hug and he could almost forget everything. He wraps his arms around you and curls into your embrace and he could just be whatever you want him to be. It doesn’t matter if you’re with someone else. (It does. It does. She shouldn’t be with him. You can be better than him.) Just let him stay. Let him be with you however you’ll allow. He’ll take anything. He’ll be your guard dog if you want. Stay awake every night at the foot of your bed. Turn his face into your hand to feel your warmth when you praise him for being good. He’d take that. 

His head hurts so badly, even though he’s not missing anything right now. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. Maybe he can never let himself rest enough to feel the extent of his pain until he’s with you, where he can finally be himself. He considers it a weakness—that vulnerability that you claw out of him. But it’s yours to claw out, like anything else you might want from him.

You’re talking to him. He didn’t realize. His head is roaring so loudly that he couldn’t hear your pretty voice. Your hand is in his hair. Fingers gently massaging his scalp. Isn’t he supposed to be the one doing this for you? Your other hand runs down his back, wraps around his waist. Pulls him closer. That’s all he wants. Closer.

“Tell me what happened,” you say. “Please.”

He wraps his arms around you, and he winces at the movement. His joints are aching, skin burning, body screaming at him to rest. It reminds him of high school. It reminds him of everything that’s ever been done to him and all he can’t have and all he wants—a small list, the contents of which are too much to ask for.

“...a bath, if you’re hurting,” you’re saying. Holding him. It feels like he’s floating in and out of his head. He wants you to hold him always. He’s scared to ask you the thing he needs to ask you. You look up at him and you’re worried, which you should never be about him. “We can get your joints loosened up. Okay?”

He nods. Whatever you want. You smell so good. Did you shower when you got home from work? He loves the conditioner you use. You’ve used it since late high school. He knows exactly when you switched, actually. Beginning of junior year. This brand helped your ends stop splitting so quickly after Caleb would cut your hair. Did anyone cut your hair for you after he left? Or was this dramatic change the first time you’ve cut it since he died?

“You’re gonna have to let me take you to the bathroom, though.”

Your voice is so pretty. Everything about you. (The prettiest girl in the world.) He was always so blown away by you when you’d buy new dresses, do your hair nicely. Nothing compared to when you dressed up for his graduation in the dress he’d bought you, though. He nearly lost his mind. He bought that for you. He provided for you, picked out what you were wearing. It was one step removed from dressing you himself. His ears are ringing, his head pounds. He wanted to steal you away then. To keep you somewhere separate from everything else, to make you his in all the ways that mattered. He loves you. You're wearing one of his old shirts. He can feel the material pilling beneath his fingers. He loves you.

“Hey—please. Look at me, baby.”

It’s the term of endearment that does it. He likes that. He wants to see your face when you call him that. “Baby?” he asks, almost teasing, pretending that he doesn’t feel like he’s been shredded to pieces inside because even if you did really call him that, there’s another man you’re saying it to as well.

“Caleb,” you say—no, repeat. He misheard you. You didn’t call him baby. 

There was a steadiness to your voice, a confidence that made him believe you were calm in this situation. When he really looks at you, he can see that isn't how you actually feel. Maybe you did call him baby. Maybe he’s knocked you so far into anxiety that you’re not thinking straight. You look sick from worry. Lines between your brows, marring your forehead. You’re worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. Without your arms around him, both hands are clinging on to his lapels, nearly shaking. And your eyes—

You’re scared you’re going to lose him again. He realizes it too late. Why else would he show up like this, bloodied and worn, in the late hours of the night? The last thing he wants to do is make you feel like this, and once again, he’s been selfish. You’re his priority, but he keeps unintentionally putting himself first. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he tells you, and you visibly relax. Not completely, but some. Your shoulders lower, your grip on his coat leaves the realm of white-knuckling.

You take his hand and bring it to your face—like you’re about to kiss his knuckles. You don’t. Wishful thinking. You examine the skin. It’s the hand he can feel, two knuckles split and the rest patched in dried blood. (You came here to ask about her lover.) He should. It’s important. You touch the scar on his ring finger, the one he got protecting you years ago. When you do actually end up bringing his knuckles to your mouth, pressing a gentle, meaningful kiss to the scar, his thoughts feel less important. 

You gaze up at him with that look in your eyes and he can’t deny you. You’re everything to him. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Okay?”

Caleb follows you to the bathroom, watches you run the tub, put in the same bubble bath solution that he used to use when you were younger. Orange blossom scented, with epsom salts. The one he used to pick up from the drugstore when he was around thirteen because the burning in his skin returned. Crying out against his natural growth spurt after he’d already had his artificial one. You were too young to know that. Or—you weren’t, but Caleb wanted to keep that information from you. How often he was in pain, how much it affected his day-to-day. All you knew was that Caleb took baths, so you wanted to take baths too. 

One of his most precious memories: your elbow was injured from softball practice, but you needed to wash your hair. You, in a swimsuit in the bathtub. Caleb, on his knees behind you. It’s the only time he’s ever been there for the whole process. The shampoo and conditioner, assorted lotions you left in afterwards. The comb he used to detangle your hair held firm in his hand, tacky with product, until it cramped. The whole moment is steeped in orange blossoms, the smell of your damp skin. The feel of his hand cupping the back of your neck longer than necessary to keep you still. 

You face him, the water running, that same scent in the air. Floral, light, with a slightly earthy undertone. And quietly, you begin to undress him. His breath catches in his throat. He can’t move. You push his jacket over his shoulders, let it fall to the ground. Undo the buttons of his shirt. Pull its ends from where they’re tucked in, let that fall on top of his coat. 

When you start taking off his slacks, he catches both of your hands in one of his. The wrong one, mechanical. He wants to feel you. He can’t stop staring at the point of connection, how much bigger he is than you—and despite the clear disparity, the power he could have over you, your fingers hook into the top of his belt buckle. “I can do this part,” he says, but his voice is pitchy. He’s not good at hiding how he feels when it comes to you. Especially not when you’re touching him. His mind blanks, he loses a little piece of his sanity that’s always belonged more to you than to him.

You nod. Don’t make a move to try to free yourself. Your fingers stay there, curled into his belt. The tops of your knuckles graze his stomach right above the band of his slacks, your skin meeting coarse, dark hair and the veins that he’s always thought run a little too visibly south of his waistline, and he has to stop himself from moaning at just that—such a light touch that he feels sick in the head at how much it affects him. 

“I want everything off,” you tell him. And then you pull away and turn around.

Caleb can feel that his face is hot. Knows how obvious that must be to you. He removes his shoes, his socks. (You should’ve taken them off at the door. You’ll have to clean her floors for her later.) Peels off his dirt-stained slacks. And you said everything. He’s already achingly hard. Your knuckles on his stomach, your fingers curled into his belt. It doesn’t take much for him when it comes to you. He doesn’t want to scare you.

It feels like a power shift—asking him to undress when he’s like this, when you’re still fully clothed—but you’ve always had power over him. It doesn’t matter how vulnerable Caleb makes himself in front of you. You’ve always had access to all of him, whether you wanted it or not. So he does as you ask. “Now what?”

“Get in the tub, obviously,” you say. He can tell you’re rolling your eyes. Wishes you would turn so he could see it. So you could see him. 

Would you like his body? It’s a good one. It serves its purpose. He takes care of himself. Needs to, for his job, but also because he wants to be desirable to you. It’s never felt like it’s his. The muscles, the height—how much of that was given to him? Forced upon him? Even if it’s not fully natural, he can at least make it into something you would want. That’s why he’s so careful about his diet, so precise with his work outs. He doesn’t want there to be anything you could find that you wouldn’t like. If he’s perfect for you, then there’s one less reason for you to leave him.

He gets into the bath. It’s not like the one you had in the house growing up, free-standing and large. It’s a smaller apartment. The bath is caged in on three sides by tiled walls, a small shower head juts out of the tile four feet above him. He’s too tall for the shower, too large for the entire space. His knees protrude from the water awkwardly. You probably fit in here perfectly. Damp skin, the smell of you when you’re warm and wet. He hopes you blame the unintentional noise he makes on his body being tired and the feeling of lowering himself into the warm water.

The bubbles are built up to a point where he’s pretty sure you won’t see how hard he is for you. He doesn’t want to scare you. He doesn’t want to scare you. You’re going to touch him. He’s decently sure of it. Take care of him the way he should be taking care of you. He doesn’t want to scare you, but the sheer scale of his want for you is enough that sometimes he thinks the stitching at his seams could come apart, that he could turn into someone different entirely just to finally find out how you would say his name when he fucks you.

He puts his face in his hands, pushes his index and middle fingers against his closed eyes until it hurts. (Disgusting. She’s taking care of you and you’re thinking about her like this.) He takes a deep, shaky breath as quietly as he can. There’s no way you don’t hear him in the small bathroom. “Okay, I’m in,” he says, and he wishes that just once he could control himself when it comes to you. That he could stop thinking like this when you’re caring for him, that his voice wouldn’t sound that fucking pathetic when he spoke to you, that he could be the same boy that washed your hair when you were teenagers and it was all so innocent. He loved you then. He loves you now. It sounds simple. He wishes it was simple.

He wants to be that boy again. Remembering something he’s forgotten is always painful. His eyes burn. He can smell the epsom salts more than the orange blossoms now, the mineral tang of rock and earth.

You lower yourself to your knees. The bath prevents you from being behind him, the way he was when he washed your hair. You’re at his side with a washcloth, and you put out a hand, palm up. Waiting. “I need to clean the cuts.”

Of course. You’ve gotten so good at taking care of him. Maybe when he left, you learned because you suddenly had to take care of yourself. There was no one else to do it. No one who would do it right, at least. “I should be doing this myself,” he says. Offers you his hands despite this.

You remove the blood from his knuckles gently. Thoroughly. The cuts aren’t as bad as they looked before, with their aftermath adorning them. “Thank you for letting me.”

You know him so well. Better than anyone. You know how much he hates letting people down like this—letting you down. He’s the one that’s supposed to be strong. That shouldn’t need this. He was built for it. If anyone else ever saw him like this, he would kill them. Not because he can’t admit weakness—because this is only for you. His vulnerability is only for you. You don’t need to thank him for it.

“Will you tell me what happened?” you ask. 

“Question for a question?” Like when you were both little. He just wants you to answer him honestly.

You let his hands fall, satisfied with your cleaning of his wounds. “Okay,” you say, a little hesitant. Like you always are with him now. You drag the washcloth across the width of his shoulders, then back and up the length of his neck, dampening the hair at his nape.

He leans into your touch, lets his eyes close. How often he’s wanted to be at your mercy. Something in him wants you to hurt him, to take back your pound of flesh. Do the very thing he did to you. “I was given some intel I had to follow up on.”

“That’s… vague.” You massage circles into the back of his neck, thumb and forefinger on either side of his spine. Gentle, with the washcloth, but firm.

Quietly, appreciatively, he groans. A noise pulled from deep within him, part of him that hasn’t been treated with this kind of care before reacting. Autonomic. Tears on his face. Burnt neurons. Your lover. “Who’s Sylus?”

Your fingers still, but your hand doesn’t leave his neck. You freeze up like prey. And Caleb has always been your predator. You clear your throat, weakly resume your massage. “That’s Hunter business. I can’t tell you anything about him. You know that, Caleb.”

“I know it’s not Hunter business,” he corrects. “Not entirely.”

You pull back then, and when he looks at you, your brows are drawn tight and low. The look on your face is the same as when you were about to argue with him because you thought he was doing something unfair. He loves the way you get frustrated, the roughness in your voice whenever you fight back. “And who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“It does,” you say, voice hard. “Question for a question, right? Because you can’t let go of the same games we played when we were kids. So answer my question.”

What does he say to that? Someone that’s been watching you longer than he has? A corporation that has the resources to know these intimate details about your life? He’s not sure how to answer.

“This is your problem, Caleb. You always think you know best.” You’re fully removed from him, on your knees next to the bathtub. The washcloth drips onto your thighs, below the hem of your shorts. He hopes you don't get cold.  “What are you really asking?”

Another question he feels that he can’t answer outright. Admitting to himself that he loves you is easy. Admitting his jealousy is harder—the way it curls into his lungs, eviscerates him every time the idea of you with another person crosses his mind.

“You want to know if I fucked him.”

He flinches—not used to hearing you speak like this. He was a good example growing up. He made sure of that. “Jeez, pip. You don’t have to be so—”

“What? Blunt? Vulgar?” You roll your eyes and his dick throbs and he feels so gross for wanting you like this. 

He loves it when you’re a little angry at him, when you’re tired of his bullshit and call him on it. (She probably acts like this with him, too.) And there’s the jealousy again, curling, cutting. No one should hear you speak like this but him. He wants to put his thumb in your mouth and make you whine around it. (No. No. Jesus, dude.) 

“I’m an adult, Caleb. I had to grow up when you died,” you say. “I can talk about these things.”

“I know you can.” And he likes it, as much as it makes him feel ill. It’s just—you can talk like that, but he doesn’t want it to be about someone else. He wants it to be about him. “I know. I’m sorry.”

You go back to washing him, and he doesn’t stop you like he should. You soap up the sides of his neck, the wide expanse of his chest. Both shoulders. When you lean over him, he can smell your skin. The same body wash you’ve used since high school. Your sheets used to smell like this when he’d do your laundry. This and your sweat. The way he wants you is the way he’s always wanted you: primal and all-consuming. He wants to prepare himself for you like a meal, feel your teeth dig into his skin. You drag your hand lower, beneath the water. Across his stomach. 

He doesn’t stop you. He doesn’t stop you but he should. 

When your hand brushes against his erection, he hisses through his teeth. He tried not to—really, he did. But—god. Your hand. Your hand. 

You still entirely. You’ve been avoiding eye contact with him, but now you make it. You’re chewing on something in your pretty head, deciding how to move forward. He should have stopped you. He doesn’t want to scare you. Only a little. (It shouldn’t be any at all.) Just enough to see your eyes widen, to see you pull your lower lip between your teeth.

A decision is made. You keep going, slower, maintaining eye contact. Caleb knows he’s leaking ridiculous amounts of precum into the water. He gets a little messy when he thinks of you. As if he’s ever thought about anyone else. And now—you drag the washcloth up the underside of his cock, and he can’t maintain composure. His head falls back, he exhales sharp and hard. You pull another noise from him, a pitchy whine that reminds him of the first time he got off to the thought of you when he was away at school, finally able to voice his desire without you sleeping one room over. Too loud, too desperate. 

He should be thinking harder about this but he can’t. All the blood in his brain has gone straight to his dick, and he tries and fails to stop his hips from bucking as you continue to touch him, the cloth drawn up his inner thigh, then back down towards his hip. You lean over him again and everything is the smell of your skin, the soft brush of your hair against his chest.

Your hand travels upwards, out of the water. Across his chest again. He’s so sensitive that it doesn’t matter that you’re not touching him directly. Every caress feels like your hand wrapped around him, gets him embarrassingly closer to a precipice that he never thought he’d reach with you.

“Is this really all it takes?” you ask, and he can’t tell if you’re amused or pleased or mad at him. He’ll take anything but disappointed. He doesn’t want to be something you don’t want.

You lean over him, bring your face close to his. Your breaths mingle. The taste of mint. You’d already brushed your teeth, ready for bed, before he interrupted your evening with his shit. With his need for you. 

He doesn’t deserve what you’re giving him right now. He’s being selfish again. Taking when he should be giving. He doesn’t even know how you feel about him. Everything is wrong about this. You lean closer. Your foreheads touch. 

“Don’t— oh .” Your hand ghosts the length of his cock again, then traces up the taut lines of his stomach. He’s gonna finish like this. He fucking knows it. He wants to pull you into the bath and feel the line of your body against him, the warmth of you tucked against his skin like a card hidden up a sleeve. Your breath is on his lips. God, you’re so close to him. Wrong. It’s wrong like this. “Hold on, pip,” he says. “Just—wait a sec.”

“Why?” you ask. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

The way you say that makes him sick. Nothing is simple like he wants it to be. Your voice is mean. It feels like he’s dreaming—one of his bad ones, where he feels guilty afterwards for wanting you. “Not like this,” he says.

“Then how, Caleb?” you ask, and you're frustrated. You're trying to understand but your patience is running thing and he understands. “How do you want me?”

The same way he’s wanted you since he was young. He wants to be your everything. He wants you to want nothing but him. He wants to be your protector, your lover, your home. He wants his life to start and end with you, for everything else to be secondary. His life, a list of wants.

He can’t be any of this for you. Not now. His brain is full of holes, his body doesn’t belong to himself. He’s not even fully human anymore. What happens when everything is taken from him? When he’s a shell of himself? He wants to believe that the ghost that’ll be left inside of his body will still care for you and protect you. But he’ll never know. Once the chip wipes out his love for you, he’ll have died. That won’t be him anymore. Loving you is so intrinsic to everything he is. It’ll just be his body, modified by Ever. His Evol, modified by Ever. His brain, modified by Ever. 

Their weapon. Not even yours. 

“I love you.” His voice breaks on the words. He says it quietly, like a secret you should already know. Something obvious. Not a confession. A reminder—and an explanation. I love you, so of course it has to be different. He feels like you should understand. Don’t you understand?

“But you’ve always loved me,” you say. 

He reaches for you. Your chin tilted by his fingers, pretty eyes looking up at him in question. What you’re asking is always a mystery to him, though it shouldn’t be with the way he knows you. Maybe this is why things have taken so long—you’re both afraid to answer each other’s questions, but you’re also both afraid to ask the right ones. “Is that a bad thing?”

“It just means you don’t want me like—that.” You refuse to meet his eyes while saying this.

How can he tell you how wrong you are without being cruel? Of course he wants you like that. He wants you in any way he can have you. “I’ve always loved you,” he says, “and I’ve always wanted you. But I know it’s not—right. I shouldn’t have felt like that.”

Your hand trails lower again, but nothing has changed on your face. You’re thinking, hard, that cute little line present between your brows that you get when you’re really considering something. “Why shouldn’t you feel like that?”

“I think some people could come up with a lot of reasons,” he says, and he laughs, breathy and nervous, because none of the reasons matter to him.

“I don’t care about what other people think,” you say. “Why do you think that you shouldn’t feel like that?”

His breath comes in sharp—you’ve dropped the washcloth and now it’s your nails on his skin, the scratch of them against his sternum, the tops of his abs. He’s trying to keep as clear a head as possible, but his body responds to you automatically. It’s attuned to you, like his cells are being pulled towards you, through you, attempting to merge just to have you closer. “So much of me is missing,” he tells you.

Your hand stills. Nails become the flat of your hand. Your palm on his chest. His heartbeat racing, then slowing, the chip in his head fighting to keep him calm. “Your arm doesn’t bother me, Caleb.”

“It’s more than that,” he says. “They’ve done a lot of shit to me, pip.” (Language.) But does that even matter anymore? You’re an adult. He has to let you be your own person. He has to let you grow up and tell you the things he doesn’t want to tell you because you deserve to know. He amends himself—says your name so you know he’s addressing you and not a memory. “I don’t think I’m all there anymore. I don’t think what’s in my head is me.”

“I know you,” you say.

“Better than anyone.”

“And I know that you’re still you.”

He can’t help but shake his head. You don’t understand because you don’t want to accept it, and he gets that. He’s a facsimile, but a very good one. That’s what happens when you build inside the shell of something else. When he rests his hand atop yours, holds it closer to his heart, you don’t stop him. For that, he’s grateful. Even if he’s not the version of Caleb you want, you’re at least allowing him this. 

“I wish it was all simple,” you say.

The same thing he’s wished for. He often thinks that the two of you were never meant to be separate beings. Sometimes he feels like he belongs in your head more than he belongs in his own. It’s what he wants the most—to meld into you, to fill all of the parts of you that you’re missing. Loving you is a close second. Possessing you is a dangerously close third.

“I’ve never been with Sylus," you say, and it's quiet but it feels very loud in the tiled walls of your small bathroom. "He’s a close friend. But that’s all.”

“It’s not even my place to ask you about that stuff.”

“It could’ve been,” you say. “You could’ve kissed me that night on the porch. When we were both home from school.”

Of course you'd think about that night. He had tried to protect you, even then. Stop your heart from getting broken when he couldn't tell you all the terrible things that were about to happen. “I could have. I should have.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I knew things were about to change," he admits. "I thought—maybe after.”

You pause to look at him. Had you known before this moment that he’d been aware that something terrible would come to pass? You won’t forgive him for it, but he would never expect you to. “It’s after,” is your simple reply for much too complicated a situation.

“I didn’t think they’d take so much from me.”

“You’re still you, Caleb." You stare at him for a moment, like you're saying something obvious that he should understand easily. "You are.”

“Not completely.”

“Then I want what’s left.”

“You deserve a lot more.”

“So do you," you say, "but this is what we have. I want what’s left. It should be mine already.”

Of course you'd think that. He loves you. “Come in here with me?”

You hesitate, looking between his exposed knees and his face. Considering something.

“Let me take care of you for a little,” he says.

This decides it. You undress in front of him and he’s rapt. Maybe he should give you some semblance of privacy—but he can’t. He’s imagined this so many times. He’s imagined how your body would feel pressed against his since he saw you half-undressed in the bathroom when he was barely eighteen years old. 

You take off your cozy pajamas, the scant underwear beneath. There could never be anything about you that Caleb doesn’t love—and this vulnerability is something he cherishes more than you know. The fact that you’ll undress in front of him and allow him to watch, to look at your body with every emotion he feels for you: love, desire, care, need.

Need to touch. Need to kiss. He wants to press his lips to every part of you. He wants you hanging from his maw by the neck. He wants his teeth to tear you apart, he wants to taste the way you feel when you’re scared and then assure you that everything’s okay, that he’ll protect you forever. He wants to tell you how beautiful you are but his voice is stuck in his throat along with his breath—everything knocked out of him with the realization that this is really happening.

The water is still warm when you slot yourself between his legs, press your back to his chest. He’s so incredibly hard for you but that’s an afterthought, something he hopes won’t make you uncomfortable. His head is blissfully quiet. He just wants to hold you right now. You sink against him and let out a breath that says finally, here I am. 

Finally, here you are. 

He wraps his arms around you, buries his face in the crook of your neck. Breathes in the scent of your sweat-damp skin. “Whatever’s left of me is always gonna be yours.”

“And I’m always going to be yours," you tell him. A promise. "So it’s mutual. Forever.”

He smiles at that, presses a kiss to your shoulder. He’d like forever with you. He’d love it. “Tell me about your day."

“I should—”

“No. Whatever you need to do, I’ll do it for you later. I just wanna hear about what you’ve been up to all day.”

The washcloth is easily retrieved from the edge of the tub—Caleb’s too tired to lean forward and grab it, so he pulls it into his hand with his Evol. Does the same with your body wash, lathers the cloth until he’s satisfied with the amount. Gently, he cleans you the way you cleaned him. Takes his time caressing every inch of you, holding you against him with his mechanical arm. 

It matters less to him that he can’t feel the way he pulls you against his chest, the way his hand feels splayed out across your stomach. All he’s focused on is his cleansing of your skin, the soft hitch of your breaths, the gentle way you speak to him. 

He listens to you talk about work, about missions and your coworkers and how your gun keeps jamming—which Caleb makes a mental note to check out for you later—then asks questions about the details. He just wants more. He wants to know everything about what you’re doing all the time. It’ll never not be fascinating to him. But his eyes grow heavy—the thirty-eight or so hours he’s gone without sleeping take their toll. 

You notice, turning to look at him. Cradle his face in your hands. “We should get you to bed, hmm?”

“No, I’m listening,” he says. “Promise. Keep telling me. I wanna hear what Simone said.”

You smile, and Caleb’s head blanks. He should ask if he can wash your hair while you’re in here. He should have done things different his whole life so he could’ve gotten to this part a lot sooner. 

“Caleb,” you say, and he knows what you’re asking.

He holds your wrists in his hands. Fragile but not. You’re strong, but he’s undergone more physical experimentation than you. A victory of traumas. He wishes his body was weak so you could break him. He would let you. “I won’t be able to go back to how it was before.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“Not now,” he says. “Not yet.”

“Not ever.” Your hands mirror as you touch him—trace his sideburns, the angles of his jaw, the backs of his earlobes. He curls his thumbs into the indents of your palms. 

“No matter what happens,” he tells you, “you’re never gonna get rid of me.” And it’s not a promise—it’s a warning. Because if you decide you don’t want him, he would never be able to decide that he doesn’t want you. His life. A list of wants. He doesn’t know what he’d do, but he knows it wouldn’t be good. There’s a part of himself that he can acknowledge but not confront. It’s the part that wants to lock you up, to keep you and tell everyone else you’ve left, that you’ve died, that they shouldn’t worry about looking for you. 

But that’s not even what’s distressing about the whole thing.

It’s the same part of him that wants to buy your clothes, to dress you every day, to pull your socks on and hold your delicate ankles in his too-strong hands, to brush your teeth for you because he wants to make sure you’re getting all the molars at the back, to cook all of your meals for you and straighten out your diet so it’s perfectly balanced, to feed you every bite of food from his fork, to hold your jaw in his hand as you chew to make sure you won’t choke, to carry you to every room and carefully place you on the couch or the bed or the counter or wherever you would like to exist next to him, to wash your hair and take his time keeping it healthy, to lather you up and clean you in the shower and do your skincare for you afterwards—

Something is wrong with him. When he says you won’t get rid of him, he means it. Once he has a taste of you, it’s going to unlock something inside of him that he won’t be able to put back together. And he’ll be so good to you if you never leave him. He’ll take care of you always, and try his best to make sure it’s the way you want to be taken care of. Not the thing he wants. He’ll be as normal as he can be and you can take him anywhere and call him anything and ask him for whatever you want. 

How to put this into words without scaring you? There isn’t a way.

“I wish I could see into your head,” you murmur, freeing one hand from his grasp and tapping a finger against his forehead, right between his eyebrows. 

“You don’t,” he says, because god, you don’t. He’s the exact kind of man that he wants to protect you from. But he’s also the only man that can protect you the right way. “There’s some bad stuff in there.”

You tap him again on the forehead, then on the tip of his nose. “I have a feeling it’s closer to what’s in mine than you think.”

What’s in his head is sick. He will always keep you safe from this. Instead of fighting you, he says, “Be sure you want this.”

And you smile. Allow your hand to sink back into his grip, your wrists once again both secure in his hold. A willing return to his grasp. “I am.”

When you kiss him, it’s the same kind of gentle as your voice. As your hands on his face. He follows your lead—you’re hesitant, clearly inexperienced, but that’s okay. He is too. He’s just thought about it more. He lets you deepen the kiss when you’re ready, only slides his tongue across yours after you’ve done it first. It’s slow, soft, incredibly intimate. Everything he knew a first kiss with you would be.

You’re so careful and precise, so gentle even though you treat everything with such firmness. His arms wrap around you to hold you steady, fingers curling into damp hair—when you moan, the noise small and breathy and completely his, he nearly loses his fucking mind. He moans back desperately, an exchange of sound, a price he pays into your willing mouth. 

You pull back to breathe, forehead pressed against his, hands still cradling the sides of his face. He has to breathe too—hasn’t figured out how to do it while you’re kissing him. It should be easy, but you make him breathless. Lightheaded. Like no air he could take into his lungs would be enough, because nothing could fill him like the feeling of your lips against his. 

He’ll get better at this for you. He’ll figure out the best way to kiss you, the things he can do with his tongue that’ll make you shiver against him. For now, he closes his eyes, catches his breath, leans into your touch. This is what people mean when they talk about heaven. If it was anything else, he wouldn’t want it.

He hasn’t shaved since two mornings ago. He’s sure his skin is scratchy against your palms. He hopes you don’t mind it that much. Can’t stop himself from asking, “What’d I do to earn that?”

“You didn’t need to earn it,” you tell him. “I just wanted to kiss you.”

He smiles and really has to look at you—just to find out whether or not this is happening. He doesn't deserve this. You’re so solid against him, so real even though he’s dreamed about kissing you more than anything else. He wants to give you everything. Wishes he could.

You smile, too—small, your lower lip pulled between your teeth like you’re trying to hide it. You don’t want him to give him a bright smile because you’re worried that he’ll get ahead of himself, get cocky in the way that always annoys you. He knows you too well, and you know him the same. It’s how he’s sure you’re aware that it’s too late for that. He’s already getting ahead of himself. He’s planning to kiss you every day for the rest of his life, and he’s damn sure gonna do whatever he needs to in order to make that happen. “Do I need to earn another one? Nah—I’m guessing you’ll just want to kiss me again.”

“That depends on whether or not you can keep your big mouth shut.”

He grins at you wide, all teeth and confidence. “Whatever you want my mouth to do, I’ll make it happen. Just say the word.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re clearly amused. He loves you like this. Happy. His. “I think I’m gonna make you earn it. Maybe that’ll shut you up.”

He leans forward, traces your jaw with the tip of his nose. Presses a kiss to the spot just below your ear. “I can do that—I’m an earner. Doubt anything’ll shut me up, though.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You like it.”

You hum in response, mirroring his movements—lips across his jaw, the spot under his ear, the column of his neck. You always take things farther because you never doubt yourself when you go for what you want. He’s always admired you for that. When it comes to you, hesitation is something he excels at. He doesn’t want to scare you.

But you don’t seem scared. You’re looking at him like you want to sink your teeth into his neck. And he’d let you. He’d enjoy it, too.

But this can’t be a comfortable position. Sitting between his legs, back pressed hard against the side of the tub because of the lack of space to accommodate you turning to face him. “C’mere,” he says, and puts his hands under your legs. Lifts you, turns you with his Evol until you’re comfortable on top of him, your thighs on either side of his hips. 

He didn’t mean to position you like this—not completely. The thought crossed his mind, about what it would be like to have you on top of him. But he’s good at controlling himself. Always has been around you, something he’s learned. Because he had to.

Maybe he should’ve asked you first. He doesn’t want to scare you. Never wants to scare you. He’s still hard for you and it gets worse when you lean forward, when the length of his cock presses against your stomach, when you kiss him again and this time he can’t remove the thought of what it would feel like while he’s inside you, fucking you slowly, carefully, the way you would maybe want him to.

He would have to control himself. He’s not sure what’ll happen if you ever allow him that—whether or not his thick band of patience and self-control will snap and he’ll live out his fantasies before he can stop himself. He wants to be the only thought in your head. He wants his name to be the only thing you can say. 

Not in a depraved way. Not in a disgusting way. He just wants to be the only thing on your mind ever. That’s one way to make it happen. And if he can take care of you while making that happen—if he can show you why he should be the only man that should ever be allowed to touch you, because he’ll treat you so well, because he’ll learn everything you like so quickly—he’d be happy. 

“You need to sleep. We should get you to bed,” you tell him. Still too close, your body pressed against his deliciously. It feels impossible for him to remove his hands from your hips. The feeling of his fingers digging into soft skin—he could tear you apart. 

He’s getting himself too worked up just thinking about it. You’re right. He should sleep. And he’s allowed to sleep next to you tonight. A blessing. A curse, maybe, considering the fact that there’s gonna be no way for him to take care of himself before you escort him to bed. What will win out, he wonders—his exhaustion, or his need for you?

One is very easy to overcome. The other—well. It’d be a waste of time to try to overcome that.

“Caleb?” you ask. You’re so patient with him sometimes. You never used to be. Is this from before he died, or after? He’s just been enjoying the feeling of his hands on your skin, your breath on his lips, your body flush against his. You tap his forehead twice with a finger, a careful knock. “You fall asleep with your eyes open?”

“They taught me how to do that at the DAA, y’know,” he says, pulling your hand to his mouth. He nips the fingertip you still have extended and he watches your eyes darken, your lips part. “That’s how I got through those dramas you used to make me watch when I’d come home for the summer.”

You roll your eyes and he loves you. “You watched The Duke’s Secret Bride on your own. I saw it in your streaming history.”

“Keeping an eye on me, huh?”

“Like you’re not doing the same.”

How much do you know? A better question: how much do you suspect? He’s careful. Nothing he does to watch over you should be able to get back to you. It’s all protected by the Fleet’s servers, which have been impenetrable long before Caleb took the rank of colonel. He could ask if that would be a bad thing—but he knows you like your independence. Knows that you would ask him to stop.

“I can’t tell if you’re trying to be mysterious by keeping quiet.”

“Is it working?”

“No,” you say.

“Damn,” he says. “Thought I was getting good at it.”

You’re silent for a moment. Thinking something over. “You have to decide,” you finally say.

“What do you mean?”

“Whether you want to go to bed, or…” Your gaze drops to his lips before you look away from him entirely. So cute. You can’t even say it to him. Does he make you nervous? He likes that he does. But he wants you to feel comfortable, too. Safe. “You have to decide,” you repeat, “because right now it feels like I’ve made all the decisions.”

“I want to take things as slow as you need me to,” he tells you.

“I just—it makes me feel like you don’t want... me.” You chance a look at him again. “Or—not in the way that I want you.”

So far removed from the truth, but he understands. It’s hard for him to believe this is happening, too. It seems that any moment now, you could reveal the truth—this is all an elaborate trick you’re playing on him, just to see how far he’d go. How deep his need is for you. 

He pulls you against him, fingers digging into your hips. Lets himself give in, just a little. Drags you up his length, tilts your hips back just enough that he can feel—god, you’re so wet. For him. He hisses out your name through his teeth, breathes out tight and shallow.

Your hands find his shoulders, you press your forehead to his. Say his name back, a call and response. The two of you forever. Together, the way you’ve always been. “More,” you say.

There has never been a request you’ve given Caleb that he’s denied you without good reason. And maybe his control is slipping, but he can find no good reason to deny you this. He digs his fingers into your skin hard enough to bruise—and you will, because he has to consciously think about how much pressure he allows his mechanical arm to apply. He can’t break you. He will never break you. 

Slowly, he pulls you down the length of his cock, then drags your hips back up. You make the smallest, sweetest noise against his mouth—and that’s it. He’s gone.

He’s rutting up against you like an animal, dragging your hips down hard, harder, until your hands go to his hair to pull, to hold on. The slick glide of his cock against your heat, the way your body moves when it’s completely in his control, the way you tilt your hips to chase your own pleasure—he’s not gonna last long. Every touch is like a live wire to his nerves, every breathy noise that comes from you like something out of his most twisted fantasy. He’s gonna fuck this up if things don’t slow down.

He opens his mouth to tell you this and all that comes out is a deep groan, and he needs to stop. He can’t last like this and he wants to take care of you and be a gentleman and so incredibly selfishly he doesn’t want to finish unless it’s inside you.

(Control this.) He has to. Fuck. He tries to even his breathing, slows his pace. Loosens his grip on your hips, and already there are bruises blooming. He was too demanding, took too much of what he wanted. “Fuck, pip, I’m sorry—”

“Caleb,” you say—no, beg, and your grip tightens in his hair. Where he slowed, you pick up your own pace. “I’m so close, please, just—your hands, I need them—”

He’s gripping your hips within his next breath, so tight that it feels cruel. Moving you again, because all he needs to know is that you’re close, too. The amount of times he’s got himself off to the idea of this—just making you feel good in any possible way—he wants to drown in you. He could die like this.

“Yeah, like that, perfect,” you tell him, and he likes the affirmation. Didn’t realize how much he’d like hearing that. “Like that,” you repeat, and one of your hands untwines from the hair at the back of his head, moves to lay flat against his chest. 

Slowly, slowly it creeps up, the curve between your thumb and pointer finger perfectly lining the base of his neck, the smallest amount of pressure on his windpipe. He makes a noise without really thinking, a little higher-pitched, a little desperate—and the way your eyes light up, the way your mouth curves in satisfaction—

He cums hard, his legs tensing up so quickly that they both cramp up. There’s no control of his body—he can’t stop himself from pulling you against him as your hips continue to rock against him—and fuck , he’s too sensitive for this—until you reach your peak, a sharp and vulnerable noise coming from deep within you, unlike anything he’s ever heard. 

You let him hold you. Sink into his embrace the way you’ve done every time he’s ever hugged you. Your body folding into him, tucked away at its edges. He wants all of you. Holding you is a mercy, something he feels he shouldn’t be allowed. Regardless, he closes his eyes, lets himself rest his cheek against your hair. Listens to your deep breaths, 

He says your name, like there’s nothing else to say. It always feels special to call you by your name after calling you something else for so long. It’s intimate to him. He wants to know if you feel the same, but this isn’t the time to ask. “You’re so…”

You pull away from his embrace to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Something good, I hope.”

Perfect. He was going to say perfect. The thought of your hand begging to curl around his neck just solidifies the fact. Is he into that? If it’s you—whatever you want, he’d be into it. He just never expected something so bold from you. “Is this—have you done this with anyone else?”

He shouldn’t have asked. It’s not his place. He knows that if you have, it’d be okay. Even though the thought makes his stomach fall through the fucking floor, he knows that he would have to be okay with it. 

But you shake your head and his exhale is like a holy blessing. It’s like learning to breathe at full capacity after only using half for years. Only him. He’s the only one that’s ever touched you, and the only one that ever will. All his. “It’s okay. If you have, it’s—you can tell me,” he makes himself say, because he is a good person. He has to be a good person for you. If he was truly a good person, he would tell you not to answer his question. To forget he asked.

But again, you shake your head. You can’t say it out loud, which is so incredibly endearing to him. Still, you manage to ask, “Have you?”

Bold in the way you question him, shy in your own answers. He loves you in a way he doesn’t think anyone has loved before. “No,” he says. “You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to be with.”

Maybe it’s too much—a view into his brain that might scare you. (You don’t want to scare her.) He doesn’t want to scare you. But he’s said it, and that’s that. You’re still here in his lap, your hand was still curved around his neck with intent, you still kissed him first.

“I know,” you tell him, and he understands—you’re not saying that you knew the whole time. You’re saying that you felt the same. That you waited for him, like he waited for you. You had ample opportunity to move on. The guy whose knees he shattered earlier told him about the way the Onychinus leader treats you, with soft touch and genuine care. 

And still you waited, even though his hands could never be that gentle. Even though he’s sure his crimes are on par or worse than this other man who could have claimed you if only you’d let him.

You pull the plug from the bath, run the shower. The both of you clean yourselves off and all he can do is look at you. Even when you’re in pajamas again—his shirt, his shirt—soft and cozy, he just can’t take his eyes off you. The night’s final destination is your bedroom—it’s unspoken, but after that, he’s not sleeping on the couch. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to be far from you ever again. He’s going to have to figure out how to manage being away from you when he could just forget everything and stay close. Just the two of you, his hands on your skin, your lips on his.

When the both of you are settled, lying together in bed, you say, “I always wanted to be your first. I didn’t think I would be.”

“Why would you think that?” he asks, almost affronted even though there are many valid reasons he can think of, even now, that would answer his own question.

You shrug, unable to look at him—not shy, never shy. But still getting comfortable with this kind of vulnerability in his presence. “You’re charming. You know that. And I know there were tons of people that wanted to get with you when you were away at the Academy. And you're—I mean, you know. I don't see why anyone wouldn't want you. You're pretty. And you're—big, and... People like that.”

He has to stop himself from groaning, instead dragging a hand down his face to try to physical push down his reaction. Your voice, saying these things—how long have you thought about him this way? Since you were nineteen, since that almost-kiss? Maybe he hasn’t thought about this more than you. Maybe it’s equal. If that’s the case and he finds out, he’s gonna fuck you into the mattress. He’s gonna lose his entire process of rational thinking. “If you keep saying things like that,” he tells you, and it’s a genuine warning, “it’s gonna be hard for us to go to sleep.”

You smile, amused, as if that was the intended reaction. “Fine. I can be merciful. But I want a kiss.”

Tomorrow morning, he will wake up and things will have changed, but not enough. He will have to report back to the Farspace Fleet as their colonel, and he’ll have to explain his absence to Ever, and the parts of his brain that he’s locked up to keep you safe will suffer without you. He will be a part of Ever’s plans until the day he dies. He will love you until his brain is torn apart by the chip that controls him and there is nothing left but a shell. Something that looks like him but is not. 

Right now, he’s still Caleb. He kisses you deep, slow, his tongue running across the roof of your mouth because he wishes he could exist there, right behind your teeth. He slides one big hand underneath your sleep shirt, tries to feel as much of your skin as possible. 

And who was he ever kidding? He’s not gonna control himself.

He slides your panties down your leg and tastes you for the first time outside of his imagination and this is the only place he ever wants to be. Tongue curling against you, inside of you, wet noises and the sound of your moans, and what did he do to deserve this?

Nothing. It takes a little longer than he'd like for him to make you cum the first time, but then he gets it. The way your back arches when he sucks, the way your legs tremble when he moans against you. He’ll learn everything. And his name, his name, his name, please, Caleb, baby, I want—

But it doesn’t matter what you want right now, because he’s giving you what you need. Worship as absolution. His fingers curling inside you and making you squirm until there are tears in your eyes, until you’re saying no more , but the thing is that Caleb knows you have more for him, and he’s happy to tell you this.

And you do have more for him. You do, and each time your thighs tighten around his head, and your legs shake after a while, a constant tremble, so he’ll hold them for you. Wouldn’t want you getting tired. 

When he loses count—seven? eight?—you finally push him away. Not the little weak nudges you’d given him throughout, but a shove with your full strength behind it, dislodging his head from the cradle of your thighs. He’s so hard for you, but nowhere close to finishing. He doesn’t think he can unless it’s your hands on him, your mouth—no. Maybe he can. Even the thought of that makes something in his stomach twist dangerously, makes his breath halt in his chest.

But there are more important things to think about—you look disappointed. This is the exact opposite of what he wanted. “Too much?” he asks, but he can’t quite get himself to apologize. He knows he won’t really mean it. But there’s also a part of him, ingrained like code, that makes him need to give you what you want. He took too much for himself again. Did what he knew was best for you rather than what you thought would be best.

“I don’t—I can’t handle it after that. I wanted you to—” And you can’t even say it now. All that bluster from earlier, talking about another man fucking you. Or—maybe he misunderstands. Because you say, “I want you,” and it’s clear what you mean but you’re so earnest.

You want him to make love to you. Not to fuck you. Because that would be such a callous way to put what crossing that final boundary would mean to you. But it’s a little out-dated, a little too much to use those words. There’s nothing else to replace them with. “I want you,” you repeat, and everything in him softens for you. His perfect girl. 

“Next time,” he promises, and he means it. He won’t do this to you again until you’ve had what you want. He’ll do his best to be good. To think about how it would feel to be inside of you—divine, he’s sure, and even that thought extends inside of him horribly, pulls tight like something ready to snap—instead of thinking about what’ll be best for you. 

He moves up the bed to kiss you, the lower half of his face soaked. Maybe he should clean himself off first? No. Not with the way you’re looking at him, not with the way you say come here, please . He kisses you with tongue, can’t stop himself from whining a little when he pulls back and sees your face streaked with your own cum.

“You didn’t…” you start. 

“I did,” he said. “Earlier, y’know—when you took advantage of a poor, tired man in your bathtub.”

You snort, roll your eyes, act like you’re annoyed. He could fuck the attitude out of you right now, make you apologize for it. Over and over until he’s satisfied—which, knowing him, would take a long minute. He can always tell when you mean it and when you’re saying sorry just to say sorry. And he’d make you mean it. 

No. You’re too overstimulated for that. And besides, he’s being good. He’s trying so, so hard to be good.

“Get yourself off,” you say. A command. 

His bravado dries up in his throat. The attitude is doing something different to him now. Something worse. “An order?”

“Yeah,” you say, consider something dangerous. “And you can’t use your hands.”

“Oh… my god.” The words are mumbled into the crook of your neck. His eyes are closed. Your voice is fucking incredible. “Do you want me to—how should I—”

“However you want,” you tell him, but he can tell you’re up to something. This is the sound of you when you’re up to something. “But be careful with me. I’m sensitive, remember?”

He wants to be anything but careful with you. You frustrate him to no end and also make him want to smile every second of the day when you play with him like this. He loves being your toy. Christ, that sounds—a little crazy. But that’s always what he’s been for you, so it doesn’t really matter all that much, he figures.

Your hips in his hands, he grinds himself against you. He’s careful to avoid where you’re most sensitive—really just ruts against your hip, your lower stomach, dick straining against his sweats. He has to reach out above your head, his fingers wrapping around one of the wooden slats of your headboard, because otherwise he’ll push you up the bed uncomfortably and he needs to fuck you. No—he needs you to be comfortable. That’s what he meant. His head is spinning and he wishes he wasn’t wearing sweatpants because he wants to feel your skin against him.

They’re going to be ruined but he couldn’t give any less of a fuck. He has to do what you ordered him to do. And even like this—god, you feel so good—he gets close so quickly. His breathing is shallow, labored. He tries to say your name but can’t. His noises are all broken, pitchy, too vulnerable.

The friction of your soft body against the underside of his cock is torture. Your shirt’s ridden up and he has one hand on your thigh and there are already so many bruises, little coin-sized marks from his fingers and mouth that say she belongs to someone . He wants you to do the same. He wants to have more than just scars from childhood that he gained for you. He already belongs to you but he needs it in every way. He wants your teeth to break the delicate skin of his lips and mark him up permanently, so everyone always knows.

He kisses you hard while he rocks his hips against you desperately, like he can tell you this without saying it out loud, and when he nips your bottom lip you return in kind, biting hard just the way he knew you would. Not enough to truly hurt him—but he’ll get you there eventually.

“So good,” you say—put your hands on his shoulders and moan into his ear, dig your fingernails into his shirt. It’s like he’s one step removed from fucking you for real and he thinks you know this, because there’s no real pleasure you could be getting out of this. Apart from the pleasure of seeing him do this for you. Seeing how quickly he unravels even when he’s only able to touch you like this. “So good,” you repeat. “My good boy.”

He cums so fast that it could be a record. Eyes screwed closed, fingers digging into your thigh and the slat of your headboard, nose buried against the crook of your neck. You smell like sweat and body wash and fuck, fuck , he wishes he was inside you, and he rides out the waves of his orgasm against you, dragging his oversensitive cock against your hip. He didn’t even cum this much in the bath—it’s copious, a stupid amount. He could be fucking this into you right now but he has to follow orders. He has to do what you want.

He’s talking shit and he doesn’t even know what he’s saying, just snippets of gonna fuck you so full of my cum next time and so sweet and bet your pussy’s even sweeter and thank you, baby, thank you and thank you for letting me cum and god, fuck, I love you, thank you so much. 

When his breathing has calmed, he realizes he’s putting a little too much of his body weight on you—but you don’t seem to mind. Your hands cradle his head, fingers tracing his hairline. He shivers a little at the touch, at the overwhelming after of probably the best orgasm he’s had in his entire life. 

“I didn’t think you’d like that so much,” you say. Amused, again. When did you get good at getting the upper hand on him like this?

He can’t look at you. There’s a better question he should be asking. Is he into that? And how many times is he gonna ask himself this question today? The real answer is that he thinks he’d be into anything if you were the one doing it. Maybe he has a couple hard nos, but not many. He’s so bent out of shape over you that he could get off to your bare shoulder, or the skin of your ankles between low-rise socks and a pair of jeans. Anything you do is sexy to him. 

He racks his brain for a response that doesn’t feel like giving in. It’s hard with the quiet emptiness that fills his mind, the contentedness of you holding him after letting him do some weirdly depraved shit. “You really have a mouth on you,” is what he settles on.

“Yep,” you say. Nip his earlobe. Jesus—you can’t get him worked up again. You cannot get him worked up again. “Does things like that.”

“Baby, please,” he says. He’s spent entirely. The inside of his sweats is uncomfortably sticky and slick. He needs to fix that and get you both to bed. “Please.”

You laugh. If it wasn’t his favorite sound in the world, he would pinch your cheek, maybe bite you back. Anything to annoy you a little. “Fine,” you say. Admitting to knowing what you were doing. “But let me clean you up.”

Finally, he allows himself to pull away from you. To hold himself up over your body, his face inches from yours. He taps your nose with one long finger, shaking his head. “Nuh-uh. You and those wandering hands. I think it’s best if I take care of that myself.”

“Ugh,” you say, dramatic, and he loves you. “Have it your way. Go clean up alone, I guess.”

“I’ll be thinking of you the whole time,” he promises. Something easy to keep.

You roll your eyes. “You’d better be. Leaving me by myself out here.”

“I’ll be back for you, duh,” he says, and kisses you like it’s his usual. Already a habit he never intends to break. “Can’t just leave you here all messy like this.”

“I don’t ever want you to leave me,” you say—and it’s a little more serious. Your mouth is still set in the small smile you have when you’re amused, but your eyes are devoid of mirth. This is you telling him seriously. I don’t ever want you to leave me, and the again is unspoken but understood by both of you.

“I won’t,” he says, but he’s terrified to make this sound like a promise. Not as easy to keep. “Not if I can help it.”

And you understand that he can’t assure you he’ll be there forever. He sees it in your eyes—something muted and hurt, but not by him. By the circumstance. “You’d better do everything you can.”

For you, he’ll always do this. He’ll claw himself back to life, he’ll tear apart whoever he needs to if it assures his freedom. He’ll work tirelessly to make sure that the only person he belongs to is you. This is what he needs to do now. This is his new command, his new set of orders to follow. “I will,” he says, and then repeats it. “I love you.”

You look at him for a moment, pensive. “In what way?”

“Every way,” he says. “I love you the way I loved you when I was a kid. But also differently. More.”

“More,” you repeat, and he wishes he was more eloquent. You’ve always been the one with the great vocabulary, the penchant for reading books for fun instead of just to figure out how to put together mechanical models or fix plane engines.

“I love you completely.” It’s the only way he can think to put it. “All of you. Everything. And I won’t ever not.”

Finally, you smile. A small thing he doesn’t deserve. “Tell me again,” you say. Troublemaker.

“I love you completely.”

“And you always will.”

He nods. “I always will.”

You take his face in your hands and kiss his cheeks, the corners of his lips. He’s never felt warmth like this. “Then you’re stuck with me,” you tell him, "because I feel the same way.”

And it’s enough for Caleb. It’s more than he deserves, and everything he’s ever wanted. His life. A list. What he’s wanted since he was too young to want it.

Just you, entirely and always.

˚✧ ﾟ.

Life with Caleb is all uncertainties. You knew that this would be the case. You can count on several things: if he can’t see you because of work, he’ll call you whenever he can. He’ll always tell you how much he loves you before he ends these calls. When he comes to see you, it’s always with a gift—a favorite snack, a trinket he saw in Skyhaven that made him think of you, sometimes a handful of blooms he’d picked from the apple trees near his home. 

You press them into bookmarks, encase them in resin. Pretty white blossoms flattened and kept perfect forever, a symbol of how he feels for you. They will outlast the both of you. Long after you’re both dead, the flowers will look exactly as they did when you sat with him on your couch and pulled them out from between pages of your oldest and heaviest book.

You will never be entirely sure that you won’t lose him at some point. You will never be entirely sure that Ever won’t do something terrible to him without his consent. You will never be entirely sure that he’ll come back from the Deepspace Tunnel when he flies off for his weeks-long missions. 

But he always loves you, and you always love him. This is undeniable, non-negotiable. 

He surprises you sometimes, too, when the both of you have time. Dates that are thoughtful and sweet. A weekend away together, when the Fleet can spare him.

In the depth of summer, he takes you out into the country. Tells you to prepare a bag with everything you usually need at home. Two hours from Linkon, a house sits on the edge of its own lake. An older build but obviously well-kept, with wood-panel walls and a wrap-around porch. It’s nothing you would have expected from him, until he takes you to the bathroom and you see the tub. Free-standing, like the one from your childhood home.

“Let me wash your hair,” he says. Asks, really, despite it not being a question. He’d spend the time doing whatever you wanted him to do—this you know. But you love that he asks, that he voices his wants. You love that his wants often involve taking care of you, even if that’s a little selfish.

He knows how to do everything perfectly. You taught him well when you were younger, and he didn’t forget. He never forgets anything you teach him. 

“It’s so pretty like this,” he tells you. Short, he means. Shorter than it was when you were younger. The most stark reminder that this is what has come after. You’re not nineteen anymore. Caleb isn’t at the DAA, so far away from you that sometimes you’d get scared he’d left without saying goodbye. You exist together as these new people you’ve become, love each other as well as you can.

You sit on the porch during sunset, after Caleb insists on drying your hair for you, too. You’re sure his arms are tired, his hands stiff. He doesn’t complain once. There’s a swinging bench, pillowed with a high back. Sitting between Caleb’s legs, you lean back against his chest, let his large body engulf you. He was right when he accused you of loving this. 

Fireflies dot the budding night sky. The forest that surrounds the lake turns dark, blends into the void that hangs above. It’s hard to tell between firefly and star. It’s hard to tell when exactly you knew what Caleb was doing by bringing you here, to this place that replicates your childhood home not in entirety but in a few very specific ways. 

Your childhood was nowhere near this grand, this isolated. You lived in the city. You were lucky to have a porch. You were lucky to have Caleb and you still are. “I love you,” you tell him, in this imperfect replica of the spot where he could have kissed you such a long time ago.

“I know, baby,” he says, presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

You tell him that you love him less than he tells you. You’re scared, sometimes, to still be so vulnerable with him. So much has happened. You’re still in the middle of so much chaos, an indeterminate end guaranteed for the two of you. When you say it to him, he doesn’t say it back—as if to not spook you. He knows your limits. Always, he will be the person that understands your boundaries without you having to say them aloud. 

“So are you going to kiss me or not?” you ask—a little antagonistic on purpose. You’ll thank him for doing this, for bringing you here, but you have to give him a hard time first.

Maybe you’re imagining it, but it’s like you can feel him smile, feel the amusement coming from his body as he holds you. “I dunno, pip. It’s special, being my first kiss and all. I’m nervous.”

“You’re so annoying,” you say, and you turn and pull him to you by the neck of his sweater and you kiss him, the way you should have the last time this happened, nineteen and hopeful. You forgot your own agency. You were scared of it, more accurately. 

There was something there to ruin. The same as the first time you kissed him for real, in your apartment after he came to you exhausted and bleeding. Believing him dead was what showed you that the risk was worth it. Because losing him without letting him knowing your true feelings was the most empty you’d ever felt. You couldn’t deal with that again.

You bite his lower lip—one of his favorite things while kissing you. It never fails to get a reaction, his hands always tightening their grip on you with intent. 

And he does, predictable in a way that drives you crazy. “During my first ever kiss?” he pulls back to ask, and you kiss him again and bite harder.

Exactly what he wanted, you’re sure. He groans deep, breathlessly, whispers your name between breaths. Done with joking, now. His hands pull at the ends of your shirt— his shirt, all you sleep in these days. 

You put your hands atop his. He stops kissing you to look at you in question, brows drawn up high, concern in his eyes. Did I go too far? is always the question on his lips, always the worry that sits in his bones. 

“Caleb…” you say, a soft reprimand. “You're trying to go farther during my first ever kiss?”

He laughs, then squishes your cheeks with one hand, forcing your mouth into a pout. “You think you’re so cute, don’t you.”

You narrow your eyes, your squished pout turning into a squished smile. He loosens his grip, hand instead cupping your chin, tilting your face up to his. “I think you think I’m cute.”

“I know you’re cute,” he says, and he means it. You can tell he does.

“Thank you for doing this,” you say. “You can be a sweetheart when you want to be.”

He wraps his arms around you, pulls you into his embrace. Rubs his chin against the top of your head, something you think he used to do to annoy you but that’s become one of your favorite ways to be touched by him. “Hmm,” he says, pretending to think about it. “Only for you.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” you say, because it’s true. You want him to be sweet only for you, the way you’re sweet only for him.

That’ll be the case until, inevitably, one of you leaves the other. Not by choice. By death or something worse. You wouldn’t leave Caleb for anything else—but you’ve gotten better at thinking less about the future and more about the present. About Caleb’s arms around you, his chin resting on your head, his hands keeping you grounded and steady.

“We should stay here forever,” he says, and you both know that you can’t. Soon you will leave, and life will resume, and the fears you’ll always have will be right back where they always are, sitting like rocks in your lungs. 

But that’s not now.

“I’d love that,” you tell him. Melt into his arms, breathe in the smell of his aftershave and earth-logged night and mineral oil. “Let’s stay here forever.”