#cas + past self

[angelsdean]

weaklings: UGH imagine if they made destiel canon but had cas come back in a female vessel to do it, making it het and homophobic

me, rubbing my evil bisexual hands together: IMAGINE. if time travel shenanigans had dean meeting lady cas. AND THEY FUCKED. (and also fell tenderly in bisexual love. aughhh 😭)

[shallowseeker]

Piggybacking off of this, time travel AU fic where young Dean is sparkly-eyed-over-the moon about having a stationary home and secretly and transparently (if you know how to look) overflowing with joy that he's living with Cas Cas Cas like, he's actually aware of his secret crush earlier than you think hello?!

And past!Cas is the one who's like...WHAT IS YOUR MISSION??? THIS CAN'T BE YOUR MISSION ARE YOU INSANE, KEEPING A PET NEPHIL?????? LUCIFER'S ABOMINATION AT THAT???

...

...

>:C

Fuck you AND your abomination child, too.

And then.

Then past!Dean gets upset with past!Cas because what-you-don't-want-to-live-with-ME-(and Sam), Cas? You hate Jack???? Look at him, he's a likeable kid!

And so. Past Dean starts passive-aggressively comparing his Cas to the "better-version-of him future Cas," at every chance he gets.

Past Dean to future Cas: "You can't possible be this little dork. You're another angel possessing the same vessel, aren't you?"

[your-unfriendlyghost]

weird dream a few nights ago

Yeah idk freaked me out a lil bit lol, wanted to try roughly capturing the feeling of it ya dig?

I pretty much never have nightmares, so when I do, I remember them. Happens like once every two years, but there’s always teeth. I always wake up from them feeling vaguely on edge and very unsettled, which is bizarre for me. I don’t have any phobias or specific fears, but when I’m asleep, I guess I suddenly get really scared of teeth.

there’s no valid reason for this to happen- I’ve never had any scary experiences with dentists or teeth, I’ve never lost a tooth in a traumatic way, I don’t have all that many cavities really…

[colorlessjay]

Your back to the future AU is my favorite thing on the internet!!!!!! I love it so much!!!! They are so sweet and funny. I love your art work and style! ♥️♥️♥️♥️ How do you think s6 Dean would react to seeing s16 Cas in a cowboy hat?

Probably like this:

Part 6 of "Back to the Future" AU

Castiel continues to be very very vague about who his husband is (spoiler: it's S16 Dean) and is trying so hard not to just outright laugh in Dean's face

Meanwhile, Dean is questioning a lot of things about himself. He doesn't think he can last any longer in the future, and he's no closer to figuring out where he's future self is (spoiler: S16 Dean is in the past)

Part1 || Part2 || Part3 || Part4 || Part5 || Part6 || Part7 || Part8 || Part9 || Part10 || Part11 || Part 12 || Part13 || Part14 || Part15

---

if you like my work, consider checking out my Kofi!

[nineteenninety-six]

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ Chocolate Bars and Injuries

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader

AN: I ofc watched The Pitt and became obsessed so here’s a fic! Beware of medical inaccuracies and ooc-ness and there should be a second part because I can’t stop my self

TW: Parental death, usual medical injuries etc

Synopsis: Jack unintentionally bonds with a young patient and then somehow even more unintentionally, falls for his older sister.

PART TWO PART THREE

Dr Jack Abbot would never admit it, especially aloud but he was terribly bored. The ED wasn't exactly busy at that moment with borders waiting in the hall waiting to be transported to the appropriate departments in the hospital. Dr Shen was in triage with a med student, residents were tending to the higher priority patients coming through triage, and Dr Ellis was checking in on patients which left Jack bored at the nurses station and Jack Abbot 'hated' being bored, especially on shift.

He eyed the patient board, hoping for something even slightly interesting. Just as he was going to take another coffee break when a new case appeared on the screen. A simple adolescent with a supposed fracture, low stakes but it was something to occupy his time and so he pushed himself to his feet and swiped a tablet from the charging station, making his way to the room.

You tried your hardest to comfort your little brother as he wiggled uncomfortably on the hospital bed, trying to keep him from moving his injured arm but as time passed, it was getting increasingly harder for you to do so.

A traumatising experience months ago had meant that when you suggested taking your brother to the hospital after an accident on the jungle gym earlier that day had ended up resulting in a meltdown. It had taken hours of convincing and begging, along with a promise to get a new toy for him to finally agree and you found yourself in a sweet spot in the hospital that night. It was late enough that the rush of the day crowds had left but too early for the late night antics crowd had not yet arrived so they only had to spend an hour in the waiting room before they were shuffled into the ED and onto a free bed. Your brother had already had his x-ray taken when you arrived and so you were just waiting for the results.

You were internally debating whether or not you should quickly run and grab a chocolate bar to placate your brother when the curtain was drawn open and you were greeted by a doctor and a nurse.

"Hi there, I'm Dr Abbot" The man's eyes flicker between the two of them on the bed and then his tablet. "And I've heard you've hurt yourself little guy."

Your little brother, Caspian, whimpers in response, curling up even closer to you.

"We had a fall at the jungle gym earlier," You responded as you tried to untangle yourself from your brother, "He hurt his arm."

"I've got the x-ray results here and it looks like you've got a fracture so we'll give you a cast and then you'll get to go home." Dr Abbot turns to the nurse beside them and quickly mutters off what he needs before the nurse nods and leaves them.

"You hear that Cas?" You turn to your brother, "Nice and quick!"

Caspian's pout deepens, "Chocolate?"

You huff a disbelieving laugh at him before you turn to Dr Abbot who watched the both of you with a curious look.

"Is there a vending machine here?" You ask, already reaching for your purse.

"Yeah, down the hall and around the corner" Dr Abbot tells you, "I'll stay with him, the nurse will be back shortly."

You turn back to Caspian, cautious of how he would do without her, "I won't be long. Please behave for Dr Abbot"

You stepped past Dr Abbot as you left and he was momentarily dazed by the scent of your perfume as you breezed by. He watched you until you disappeared from his line of sight and then brought himself back to reality. For all he knew, the kid on the bed was yours and you were probably married as well.

Caspian eyed Dr Abbot with apprehension as the doctor took a seat on the stool. The doctor was generally quite awkward with children, of course he came across them and treated them when they arrived in the ED but talking and interacting with children was just out of his comfort zone. 

"So, uh, what's your favourite chocolate bar?"

Caspian giggles at his questions, his shoulders retreating from his shoulders as he considers his answer.

"Kitkat!"

Dr Abbot laughs, "Yeah? I like that too."

"I'm going to get a new toy tomorrow!" Caspian bragged to the doctor.

Jack couldn't help but laugh again. He had no idea why but he finds it easy to talk and get along with the kid.

"Yeah..Because you're doing so good today?" 

"Uh-huh!"

You returned shortly with a handful of chocolate you had got from the vending machine, interrupting their conversation and Caspian perked up at the sight of you, eagerly reaching for a kitkat.

"Thank you~" Caspian spoke around a mouthful of chocolate.

"Don't be gross and don't speak with your mouth full." You chastise Caspian, as you dumped the rest of your haul into your bag but Dr Abbot spied the smile on your face despite your words.

Soon the nurse returns with the supplies for the cast and Caspian is brought back to earth, crying into your shoulder as you try to comfort him.

"You can sit with your mom little man, but you gotta shift a bit so I can access your arm."

You freeze momentarily at his words. It's not the first time you've been mistaken as his mom, you're most definitely old enough to be but since you've gotten custody, it's happened more frequently.

"Oh I'm not his mom. I'm his older sister." You correct the doctor.

"Oh" Dr Abbot pauses, "My apologies"

You shrug, "It's fine. No worries"

Dr Abbot was silent as he wrapped Caspian's arm, only breaking the silence to ask him what colour Caspian wanted before he returned to his work. Truthfully, he wouldn't normally do something like this but it was quiet in the ED that evening and he had also taken a little liking to the quiet boy and his sister.

After he had done the final patches, he looked up and saw Caspian half asleep in his sister's arms and so he lowered his voice as he spoke to you.

"We're done here." Dr Abbot shifted his stool a bit closer to you, "It'll take around four to six weeks to heal and the nurse will be back with your discharge papers and your care plan that outlines the next steps."

"Thank you" You smile at Dr Abbot, "Seriously. Cas doesn't have the best experience in hospitals and I don't know how you did but he felt calm around you. He is usually quite upset and irritable but I think he likes you."

"Ah, it wasn't me, he's a cool kid." Dr Abbot felt shy, almost, of the gratitude he was receiving.

After you thanked him one last time before he left, you waited patiently for the nurse to return but as you dug in your bag for one of the chocolates you bought earlier for a snack, you unknowingly woke your young brother.

"Dr Abbot likes KitKat…" Caspian murmurs against your shoulder, surprising you.

"Holy sh—" You gasp, your heart thundering against your chest, "Did I wake you?"

Caspian nods before he repeats what he said, "Dr Abbot likes KitKat."

"...Yeah I heard you…" Your words trail off as you get a sudden idea, digging back in your bag for a random receipt and grabbing a pen nearby.

Hours later, long after you and your brother had been discharged, Dr Jack Abbot was sitting at the nurses station, taking a breather after a sudden rapid set of back to back patients. He was sipping his coffee and talking to the night shift charge nurse when the nurse he had worked with earlier made their way over to him with something in their hand.

The nurse had a soft smile as they passed over the item, "This was left behind for you."

Jack reached for the item, a curious expression on his face. "By the kid?"

The nurse nodded before they left, returning to other patients.

Jack looked down at the item and smiled. It was a Kitkat bar wrapped in an old receipt that had a little note scribbled on it.

'Cas said you liked Kitkats. I hope you enjoy it ❤'

Veronica, the night shift charge nurse curiously peers over at him, "What's that?"

Jack waved the chocolate bar before he opened it up and took a quick bite before he elaborated, "The sister of the kid with the broken arm left this for me. She bought a bunch from the vending machine earlier."

Veronica smiled at him, "That's kind of her."

Jack smiled to himself, "...Yeah"

It would be just under two months later when you see Dr Abbot again but at least this time it was you in the hospital bed and not Caspian.

It was nearing one am and you were relaxed in the hospital bed, sleep tugging at you as you tried your hardest not to drift asleep. Caspian was fast asleep in your lap and you felt almost jealous of him. If your palm wasn't almost split in half and burning in pain, you would have gone to sleep and gone to the hospital the next day but alas that wouldn't have been a good idea.

You were on the edge of falling asleep when the door opened and a doctor introduced himself.

It was Dr Abbot again.

The doctor paused at the end of the bed, recognising you as well.

You sat up, the urge to sleep disappearing at the sight of the doctor, smile tugging on your lips, "Dr Abbot, it's you again"

"You know, most people don't see an ED doc twice in a month and if they do, they usually aren't happy about it" Dr Abbot replied as he read over your chart.

“Can I be technical and count them separately?” You joke, “Once as a family member and once as a patient, they can’t be combined.”

“Says who?” Jack asks, pulling up a stool up to your side to examine your wound.

“I say,” you joke once more, pausing when Dr. Abbott looks up at you. “Or do I need a doctor’s backing as well?”

His movements are gentle, pausing to give you a moment to breathe after you wince in pain when he gently pulls away the dishcloth you had haphazardly wrapped around your hand after you had sliced it open. His words are soft as he explains his actions, his voice a low murmur that sends a warm shiver down your spine. His touch is soft yet firm, confidence and warmth radiating through his gloves as he pokes and prods around your wound.

"How did this happen?"

"Lost a fight against a craft knife" You laugh.

"Yeah, those don't tend to end well." Jack murmurs, eyes still on your hand.

"I found some of those DIY decorations online and decided to try it out," You huff and roll your eyes, "I think next time I'll just stick to stuff in the stores."

"It's going to need stitches" Dr Abbot announces as he pulls back and stands, "I'll be back with the nurse and then we can get started."

Dr Abbot disappears quickly but the door slamming behind him wakes Caspian and now you were tasked with calming the tired and irritable five-year old with one hand but when Dr Abbot returns, all of Caspian's bad mood disappears at the appearance of the doctor. You were surprised he even remembered Dr Abbot but you weren't going to complain.

"Dr Abbot!" Caspian beams.

"Caspian!" Dr Abbot indulges the young child, "How's your arm?"

Caspian flaunts his cast free arm proudly, "It's better now, it doesn't hurt nomore!"

"And you're keeping out of trouble? Being good for your big sister?" Dr Abbot asks, gently guiding your arm into the correct position as he pulls the tray of equipment he needs closer.

Caspian nods before you pass him your phone and send him to the chair in the corner of the room so he can entertain himself and not see you get stitched up.

"I wanted to apologise again about last time" Dr Abbot says as he meticulously stitches you up after he numbed the area.

At your confused expression, he elaborates, "When I called you Caspian's mother."

"You're not the first one to think that so don't beat yourself up. I'm twenty-five years older than him so it's a common assumption," You clarify, laughing at the shocked expression on the doctor's face, "I was a 'oh shit we're too young to have kids baby' and he was a 'oh shit we're too old to have kids baby'."

Jack can't help but be curious, his mouth opening before he could stop himself, "And you take care of him? What about your parents?"

At this, your expression changes slightly. Your brows lower and your lips pout a bit, "They uh- died a few months ago…car accident."

Once again, Jack had shot himself in the foot.

"My apologies. Again." Jack murmurs as he finishes up the stitches, "I apparently can't help but put my foot in my mouth whenever I speak to you."

Your lips quirk at his admission, "You get nervous when you speak to me?"

Jack's eyes flicker up at you, his own lips falling into a small smile, "Are you teasing me?"

"More like flirting but I think I need to brush up on my skills." Your eyes never leave Jack's face.

Oh how Jack wanted to flirt back but you were young. Too young, he tried to rationalise. He was in his mid forties and you were in your early thirties at most. Both adults yes, but Jack tries to convince himself that the age gap is too large.

Jack will always deny it but you were certain you saw him flush. Red spread across the top of his cheeks before he tucked his head down in embarrassment. Jack finishes stitching and wrapping your hand in silence before he pulls away, telling you the next steps once you've left the hospital. Feeling guilty of putting him on the spot, you reach out to grab his wrist with you non-injured hand, pulling him to a stop,

"I'm sorry," You apologize, "If I overstepped or made you uncomfortable. It wasn't my intention, I promise." 

"No harm done, I assure you." Jack tries his hardest to appear unaffected, stepping away from you, "We're done here, the nurse will be back soon with your discharge papers."

"Actually," You reach back out to take hold of his arm and shyly look up at him,"If you have the time, can you keep an eye on him for a moment? I need the bathroom."

Jack considered it for a moment, he wasn't needed at the moment and all the nurses needed to do was call his name and he'll come running so he agreed, "Sure."

You squeeze his arm thankfully before you leave the room which catches Caspian's attention and he watches you leave with wide eyes. 

Jack turns to the young boy, "I enjoyed the chocolate you left me last time."

Caspian's eyes light up at Jack's word as he climbs down off of the chair before he climbs onto the bed so that he is closer to Jack. "I told her you liked 'em!"

Jack paused, the idea of reciprocating the chocolate gifting entering his head. 

"Hey kid," Jack focused back on Caspian, "What's your sister's favourite chocolate?"

Caspian's nose scrunched in disgust as he answered, "Bounty…gross!"

Jack's own nose scrunches in disgust at the answer, "...Yeah you're right about that kid."

Soon you return back to the room, the nurse not far behind you as they hand you the discharge paper for you to sign.

"Did you drive here? How are you getting home?" Jack asked, concern leaking through his words.

The nurse flashes him a curious look, a doctor did not usually concern themselves with how patients were getting home.

You peer up at him from where you were signing the papers, "No we taxied. We'll be fine won't we Cas?"

"Yep!" Caspian chirped.

Jack paused as if he wanted to say more before he eventually nodded, wishing them well before leaving. Jack immediately made his way to the vending machine and bought a Bounty chocolate bar and when he returned to the nurses station and pulled out a post-it note and a pen, he paused as he thought about what he should write before settling on, 

'Let's hope the next time I see you, it isn't in my ED. Enjoy. - Jack Abbot'

"You're not going to leave your number?" Teased Veronica over his shoulder.

In a moment of doubt, he asked her for advice, "It's not too much is it?"

"No! It has a good mix of flirting and you, Sergeant grumpy" Veronica assures, referencing the nickname he had garnered during his time at The Pitt.

Jack watches as the nurse guides you and your brother out of the ED and Veronica leans down to whisper in his ear, "You're running out of time."

Jack knows she is right so he quickly follows after you,  the chocolate bar held firmly in his hand as he searches for you in front of the hospital. 

"Hey," He calls your name, jogging up to you, holding out the chocolate bar towards you, "A little birdie helped me return the favour."

You looked down and smiled at the bounty chocolate bar in your hands, "My favourite! This little birdie of yours is very smart."

You grin down at Caspian who simply smiled tiredly, the late hour affecting him now.

Just then the taxi pulled up, and you placed the chocolate in your pocket as you focussed getting Caspian buckled inside but before you made your way into the cab, you smiled at him. A full sincere smile that leaves Jack breathless.

"Thank you Dr Abbot, for everything. You've made our hospital visits durable and Cas has really taken a liken to you. Really, thank you for everything" 

With that you wave at him before you climb into the cab which shortly pulls away leaving Jack alone in front of the hospital, kicking himself for not writing his phone number on the post-it.

Jack let out a dismayed sigh before returning back to the ED, regretting letting you leave without a number.  

[theothernads]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ. SECRETS . [Y.JW]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱‧₊˚━━━━━━━━━━━━━

○ SYNOPSIS: After making it to university, you found yourself finding comfort in a cat café worker not too far from your lectures. The cute worker seemed to have a knack for making you fall for his charm. And, how could you not? Your chemistry was perfect- but you never thought that he had secrets and that Jungwon was your secret as well. As much as you two tried to keep everything behind the scenes, things don't always work out the way they should.

○ PAIRING: Boxer!Jungwon×fem!rich!reader

○ WARNINGS: fighting, so suggestive it's acc crazy, blood, classism? Self-doubt, profanity, I made one of the members a villain, cute, fluff, ANGST (Imao), boxer Jungwon (deserves a warning bc it's iconic af)

○ NOTES: Okay. I did it. Please enjoy. This took forever to edit, but hopefully, you all like it!! It's been in my drafts for too long. Ever since No Doubt came out, lmao😭. Thank you for everyone who asked to be on the taglist!! Please give feedback. I would love to hear it!! Okay, muah!

╰┈➤ LIKES, COMMENTS+ REBLOGS are appreciated!

○ WC: 21k+

○ ִֶָ࣪☾. [DREAM LIBRARY]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ᥫ᭡.━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

AS A DAUGHTER OF A CEO AND A NURSE, YOUR PARENTS OFTEN PILED THEIR LANDSLIDE OF PRESSURES ONTO YOU. With you as the only child in their lavish home, their attention and lectures often find you daily, ready to exhaust your mind into another brainless talk.

But, it wasn't only your parents. It was also your lonely thoughts swarming your inner monologue like a bunch of pests.

Your parents, on the other hand, had you wrapped in their protective blanket, to the point where you were suffocating, not knowing when you could catch fresh air that wasn't supplied by them.

It wasn't easy per se. The studies that entailed your life had beaten you over the head and forced your eyes down to the textbooks and past papers. Those almost became your friends if you didn't scowl at them as much as you did.

Your parents were great, even if they flooded your head with reminders and words that you needed to become someone, anyone.

Anyone with money, of course.

That was the pinned priority. It was almost the only thing you wanted at the end of the destination. The end of the route was hopefully going to university for something in the medical field.

The light on your mother and father's face was the only thing keeping your vision on the set road before you. It was... exhausting. However, you worked through days, sleepless nights, calloused thumbs, and a lost appetite to get you a step closer to your supposed dream.

Getting accepted into that university wasn't as thrilling as you thought: the smile on your parent's faces, their boasts to your family didn't lift the anchor that had rusted in the pits of the ocean that was your mind.

It often felt as if you were drifting away from reality when classes started.

One particular day, you bunked the class by saying you needed the bathroom, when in reality, you sauntered right out the glass doors and onto the street.

Breathing the air without too many of your own classmates stitched your composure together again, and you found yourself wandering down the busy roads

You stopped when observing the mocha and brown lettered words on a cream sign. A cat café. Your feet moved on their own, pushing the door and placing your shoes in a slot on a black shelf.

The staff directed you to the room, and as you entered the main area, you spotted all types of feline friends lounging and sauntering around.

Swiftly moving in, you sat in a random spot, admiring the cats of all colours, the short and long furs—they were truly a melody, a soothing balm to your heated head.

And new potential friends that you could confide in and expect them to listen without a word of resistance. Oh, to live as a cat — carefree, jump as high as you want, and you could run away without consequences.

Oh, the dream.

A certain brown and black cat with a fluffy coat around its face approached you in your daydream, meowing quietly. The cream collar was engraved with "Belle." She was adorable, to say the least.

Her friendliness knew no bounds as she nudged her head into your hovering palm, rubbing her furry face.

For the first time in a while, you smiled, and one could argue that it sounded as if you were in the pits of depression—but you weren't. You were simply deprived of the quiet moments like this.

If you stayed a minute more in that damn lecture hall, you would have stabbed a pencil into their oh so precious desk.

Tentatively letting your fingers scratch beneath her chin, you heard another purr, her green eyes blinking slowly as she shifted her head to seek your comfort.

Her fluffy coat made you want to genuinely bite her—not hard, but maybe kiss her to bits until her paw warned you of her rising annoyance.

"Belle!? Where are you, girl..?" A voice called out that snapped your personal dream bubble.

When you glanced at the source of the voice, there was a young man with honey, golden skin, hickory eyes, and blonde locks resembling a cloud.

His wavy hair and feline eyes made your heart hitch a little. As if his presence hit you like a stone that your body didn't brace for. You weren't prepared.

Said man came over after realising that Belle was spending her careless time with you. Oh. He was coming over, and you're staring like a hawk. An idiot was a more fitting name.

Straightening your back, you glanced back at Belle and let your fingers fall away. The cat obviously protested, meowing—or whining—as her little face pecked at the hand on your lap.

The man slowed as he saw you, his fist holding something, but he was careful as he crouched before the feline. Right there, you noticed his veiny forearms, and you had to look away.

"She never comes out," he began saying, hand expertly rubbing behind her ear. A smile lifted your lips once more.

"I feel special," you said with a speck for amusement. He chuckled and nodded.

"I think you may be. She tends to hide in the dumbest corners. Kind of annoying," mumbled the man. His fists unfurled, and Belle's head perked to see the treats in his hand.

A long meow slipped into the air, her eager self padding to the worker (you assumed), and instantly munching. You could just combust.

For the cat, of course.

A smile graced those lovely, rosy lips of his, the other hand stroking Belle on her head encouragingly. In that moment, this man looked soft and warm. As if you were sitting near a furnace after a long, hard winter day. Something to melt the thick, icy anxiety wedged in your chest.

"She's adorable," you murmured, her tail snaking past your lap, wanting attention in all directions, it seemed. The man nodded and lifted his gaze finally.

They scanned your own, calculating but not intense at all. Then, he spoke. "I'm Jungwon, by the way."

A nice name that suited his perfect face, perfect dimples, and perfect voice.

Damn, what were you thinking? Internally scolding yourself, you nodded in acknowledgement with a small smile.

"I'm Y/n. Nice to meet you," you mumbled softly. The sparkle in his gaze shot by in the darkness of his eyes. Another smile.

"Pretty."

From that alone, you were ready to just bash your head into the wall to deal with the flusterment floating in your face. He said it so casually, delivering it with that deep voice of his that scratched your brain right.

Blinking profusely, your gaze averted to Belle, knowing your neck was burning, and the flames of shyness were reaching the apple of your cheeks as well.

"Thanks." You stroked Belle on her back as she munched contentedly on Jungwon's palm. He noticed your glittering eyes and the lashes fluttering on your cheeks.

Jungwon sat beside you, cross-legged and holding out his hand. "Do you wanna feed her..?"

Without a single thought from your frazzled brain, you nodded. Jungwon was pleased, an easy smile breaking out as he gently took your own left hand.

Even the warmth in his hand ignited all kinds of tingles in your fingers, making the heat constrict and hug your heart.

From his apron pocket, he picked out a few brown treats into your own palm, and Belle was instantly impressed.

Her furry face dug into your hands, licking up the treats, and you felt as if her silent sounds healed and patched up the stitches of exertion from the past couple of days. Who knew just a feline friend could soothe the craks in you?

"So, you work here..?" You asked the obvious question. Jungwon chuckled slightly, eyes fixed on your hand.

"Yup. Shifts are easy, and I get to talk to the cats instead of myself."

"You probably talk to yourself at home," you teased back.

"That's why I needed to work here. To hide it." Jungwon grinned, lifting those beautiful eyes of his. "But alas, my secret is revealed."

He was funny. Cute. You liked the way he easily loosened the stiff bolts in your muscles, as if it didn't take much effort.

You smiled, petting Belle behind her fluffy eyes, feeling somewhat content in the brief silence. Jungwon eyed the backpack slumped by your side and glanced back.

"So, you running away from home, or do you just have a lot of things in there?" He asked with mirth, eyes darting to the crumpled bag. Oh. That. A reminder of how you left class unattended and on impulse.

"Oh... that," you said with a forced chuckle, eyes focused on Belle rather than the beauty before you. "I bunked class."

"You're a student? Damn, you're devious," Jungwon remarked with a jab of amusement. You rolled your eyes and smirked.

"Very. It's the most I've gone against my parents," you said without thinking.

You instantly regretted it. You didn't plan to blurt that out and reveal the speck of the harsh expectations crushing you and all to a stranger. You clenched your eyes shut for a moment before opening them.

"So, rebellion?"

"That's a bit much," you mumbled with a slightly offended pout. Jungwon stroked Belle, fingers accidentally brushing yours, and your hand retracted sharply.

The tingle crazing up your arm was warm, uninvited, but made your heart pound just a little faster. He began to laugh at your comment.

"I guess so. You want to tell me why you're starting your rebellion?" He urged you on, meeting eyes again.

"It's not a rebellion!" You protested, and Belle's little face peered up at you, as if she was judging you for purposely making a wall of lies and denial. Jungwon and Belle waited, expectant.

Sighing, you began to unravel your life story as if it was a ball of yarn running away from you before you could catch it. All the way from high school to exams that opened up the gates to university until now to how dead you felt in class, taking a course for the sole reason of pleasing your parents.

It's not like your chosen health care course wasn't an enjoyable path—you chose that route because, yes—you did find something valuable in stem subjects, and found it bearable to endure the hurdles that came with it.

However, sitting in the lecture hall and typing, writing mindlessly on your convertible tablet, the energy had diminished like a candle nearing the end of its wax.

Jungwon listened, stroking Belle's back as she settled on his lap. No words slipped into the conversation, letting you pour your heart out to him, a total stranger.

When you finished, he let out a deep puff of air, as if he was exhausted for everything you said. "Damn..."

Tucking your side fringe behind your ears, an empty chuckle came out. "Yeah. I love them and all, but it's... exhausting. But, my mind won't let me disagree with them. After all, they just want me to live well."

He shook his head, and Belle jumped off his lap and scurried away, deciding to leave you and him in solidarity.

"What about you being happy? Peaceful?" He asked, stretching his legs out forward, leaning back on his hands. "What's the point of living well on the outside when... you need to also live well internally? If that makes sense."

The words carved into you like a harsh reminder—your own guts telling you to say something. But your loyalty was your biggest enemy, and it had the best leverage.

You weren't smiling anymore, nor speaking, and Jungwon sighed, dropping his own eyes to his lap, as if there was already something brewing behind his eyes.

A beat of silence passed, and Jungwon looked up. "I ran away."

Your eyes shot to him, bewildered. The reaction made him chuckle, but there was memory frozen in his eyes.

"Yeah... you're better than me. If they forced me into taking university, I would've crashed out. I mean, I already did." Jungwon shrugged.

Waiting in silence, you let him go on.

"It's started when I was younger. My father was an alcoholic, a smoker, the whole lot. My mother was ill. So, she was even more irritable. With both of them on my back, going out was an escape." Jungwon rushed a hand through his blonde locks, eyebrows furrowed as if it hurt to clutch the dead roots he had left behind in memory.

"I bunked classes. I didn't care, I just needed to be doing something on my own. I had my friends, we messed about, I will admit. But, nothing bad. Just me, my friends being loud and... smoking here and there. But, I knew my luck would run out."

By now, a white cat padded over, collar jingling softly and climbed into your lap. Smiling, you found something light-hearted in the midst of this talk.

"My dad got the phone call from school. Those assholes called them, and he nearly pushed me into... into the stove. He was yelling, angry, called me useless," Jungwon said as he swallowed down the harsh marks of the past. "But, I wanted it out. Finished school. Grades were mid, but I didn't care."

He let out the nth sigh, gazing at the random wall as if he was rewatching the memory.

"One day, he blew up on me. He was drunk. My mother was okay, but she was also hoping for good grades. Too much expectations, too much demands." Jungwon's gaze narrowed. "I wasn't enough. I didn't impress them. And nothing could."

Jungwon grit his teeth, remembering the moment he had stormed through the house, pulled out a black duffel and backpack, and stuffed every corner of them until it couldn't anymore. It was painful and impulsive.

"I ran. I left with my friend and found my own way. And now, I work here. For about 2 years now." He finished, nodding and letting the weight of his shoulders lift.

You couldn't imagine running with your friend, being along and unstable. You loathed it, but it didn't mean that he didn't hold bravery for making that decision. Letting out a puff of air, you turned to Jungwon.

"I'm glad you're okay now. I honestly can't imagine it. It must have been terrifying," you said softly, sympathetic. Jungwon sensed your tone and dismissed it with a shake of his hand.

"Hey, don't worry about it. Because I'm fine now. I'm stable, I don't need those assholes anyway," he said with a newfound strength. Or perhaps, a strength that had bloomed ever since he left the claws of his home.

"Like I told you, the cats keep me company," he said, letting the white feline jump out his lap and join the rest of his friends. You smiled, finding the café an easy path to soothe the weight on your soul.

As if you needed this.

Jungwon, admiring your adorable face, grinned to himself, not missing the way his heart fluttered, as if something was newly born there. It was enticing all the same.

From then, you visited the cats, or Jungwon, often. You skipped classes sometimes or came afterwards with some friends to catch the eye of the cute worker, letting your small desires be fulfilled every time you and him exchanged a discreet look.

Most of the time, you came alone in hopes of letting the pieces of your heart be bared to him, to let him examine whatever you put out there.

You think it worked. For example, in this one situation, you were trying to lure the cats to your hand full of treats, but no matter how much you cooed at them, they blinked at you as if you were an idiot. You stood once more, and Jungwon, noticing it, appeared behind you in an instant.

The emanating warmth forced your heart to run laps, skip beats, and leap in the tight confines of your chest. He was so close—chest hovered by your shoulders, his breath subtly hitting your right ear. A shudder rippled down your spine.

"The cats can't reach your hand if you're standing normally," he said softly by your ear.

You glanced only to stare at the stars that were his hickory eyes and the roses that were his pink lips.

Jungwon had to be the personification of beauty himself—the type of beauty that couldnt be captured by a normal lens because it simply wouldn't do him an justice. Experiencing just his presence without any second thoughts was as if you were face-to-face with the galaxy itself.

Realising you were staring, you let him lower you to the ground until you sat on your knees, and he crouched behind you. His warm hand held your wrist, angling it, making the tingles bite up your nerves until you felt your heart sprint.

Then, he clicked his tongue, and like the cat whisperer he was, the feline friends all came jumping and padding over with curious tails and mouths. You let yourself stroke a few of the fluffy heads, aware he never moved away.

"Thank you..." you said softly. Jungwon chuckled, and he boldly rested his chin on your shoulder. It was so soft that you nearly missed the pressure of it, but you didn't.

The stupid smile tugged at your lips, his hand retracting from your wrist to rest gently, experimentally on your waist. When you didn't pull away, he sighed into your neck, letting his silence fill in the rest.

It was a song of no words, but you loved every second that passed where he filled the gap in your neck, memorising your skin. The moment elicited a blossom of new flowers—bold, vibrant, and exciting. You wouldn't mind if Jungwon brought out more of those from within you. The flowers crawled up your chest, caged your heart into something strong and something immovable.

Only when a customer alerted the bell did he pull away with one last squeeze to your waist, imprinting the print of his warm invitation. Your gasp was soft, barely audible, but his cheeky self just upped and went away.

One thing about Jungwon was that mischief was an ingrained and crucial part of him. Whether it br through his teasing words or his sly hands brushing past you like the wind.

And, another part of him you had also discovered was the speck of secrecy he kept in the cracks.

It had been a gloomy November morning, the city alive and moving as you strolled towards the familiar cat café. Classes had been exhausting, and you craved to ease the storm irking the ocean that was your mind.

Each part of your head was waterlogged, filled with destructive waves that washed and swept over every other thought that threatened to keep afloat.

Whenever that happened, you went to the cat café, climbing up the familiar brown steps, dinging the bell as you opened the door, and slipping on the comfortable slippers before sauntering to the main room.

The familiar warm light illuminated the cream and pastel pink walls and the various cats padding or lounging around on different surfaces.

Your presence managed to alert the particularly shy cat that never revealed herself. Or, your best friend.

"Hi, Belle," you cooed, crouching down and stroking her furry head. She meowed and licked the tip of her nose swiftly, as if curious about your visit. You laughed softly and scooped her into your arms, and she made home within your embrace.

Her furry self was a remedy for the strenuous school day.

Naturally, you were here for one other person, though—Jungwon. As if detecting your dilemma, Belle jumped out your arms and padded deeper into the café, leading you to the counter where Jungwon's back was turned to you.

The sight of his broad back, the muscles peeking out from his shirt, even under the brown apron he wore. His blonde locks were messy, tousled as a cloud.

"Hey, Won," you said, approaching the counter with an easy grin. Jungwon flinched slightly, putting the air pod out, and he turned only to reveal an undeniable display.

Brows furrowed, you rushed to the counter to examine the red scar stitched into his cheekbone, the redness blooming around it like a field of pain.

"Jungwon, your cheek..?" You said, pointing to the obvious wound, worry budding in your eyes. Realisation flickered over his face, hesitantly letting his fingers caress over the spot before he sighed.

"Yn, it's nothing. Just a small accident," he said, giving a dismissive smile. You didn't believe him. The scar seemed shallow, almost as if he had bumped into something with an aggravating force.

"What accident?"

"You know, the cats. Shadow was kinda hard to get back in his bed," he easily replied, leaning on the counter before you on his elbows, smirking as if he knew something you didn't.

You stared for a good few seconds before your hand lifted to his wounded cheek, and he let you. Heck, he leaned into your hand, the warmth rushing through your nerves; the worry still stood strong.

"What brings you here so late today?" Jungwon mumbled, his breath hitting your wrist. A tingle weaved through your blood and embedded itself into your skin as if to connect you and him.

Sighing, you brought yourself to move away from the topic of his cheek, eyes downcast. Jungwon clutched your palm, bringing his rosy lips to the pulse of your wrist. Your breath hitched.

"I... It's just one of those days. And I thought my worries would go if I saw you, but it seems I have another to think about," you explained.

Jungwon hummed into your wrist, again waving off your concern as if a speck of dust that was tickling his nose.

"Will you let it go?" He asked in slight mirth. You shook your head, and he chuckled. "It was Shadow the cat. A scratch. You know how he is."

"I don't." You blankly stared at him as he kept your wrist to his lips. Relenting from the position, he came around the counter, towering over your form, leaning on the counter.

"Believe me. Yeah?" His voice was honey as he asked that, cocking his head to reach your gaze. You hate how it worked because you gazed up at him with those adorable eyes of yours, and he tapped your chin.

"Help me close up. Maybe you can help Shadow calm down," he said, chuckling at the way your pout appeared and nudged his heart.

"Great. Maybe we can get matching scars," you said sardonically, pushing off the counter and heading to lock the door.

Jungwon scoffed, still facing where you had stood, finding your attitude infuriating, but enticing all at the same time. You were some kind of sweet drug, and he wanted it to invade his senses.

With the cats all in their designated spaces with the other staff, Jungwon was with you at the front, but he was cleaning the dishes. A few cups and straws.

You sat on the counter, watching his honey tan skin, the way his sleeves were rolled up and revealed the veins running down his arm and bedazzled his wrist. The undeniable warmth stirred in your cheeks, finding it ridiculous how you were inept at keeping your composure together.

Where Jungwon washed away, he smirked slightly as he spotted your sparkling gaze on him. You weren't very discreet. Not when your head stayed in the same place before darting away every few seconds.

The tap turned off. Jungwon dried his hands before stalking to you ever so slowly and stood before you with his shadow looming over you.

When your eyes met his, he swore his heart skipped a beat, skipped the hesitation; his hands pushed your knees apart, and you squeaked as he pushed himself right closer to you, hands slithering around your waist.

The warmth rained on your cheeks, and your eyes widened from the proximity. "J-Jungwon—"

"Shh..." He murmured, hands pressing your lower back and forcing your body too close. Tentative hands gripping his shoulders, the hitch in your breath betraying how your composure crumbled and allowed him to peek into what you truly wanted.

"Can I kiss you..?" He whispered when he leaned in, face inches away from yours. From here, the scar was clearer; it was dull, yes, but his whole cheek bone was tainted with red, as if Shadow the cat punched him with those petite paws as well.

There was no time to even think of the scar when he got too close, eyes darting back to his hickory ones. The stare held until you finally nodded to his question.

"Thank fuck," he mumbled before his lips swooped in and captured yours. Soft. Really damn soft.

Your breath hitched once more out of the many, his lips firmly moving against yours like a strong gale against a flower bed. It rendered you breathless, but when you pulled away, you gripped his biceps tighter and dived in for another.

Startled, Jungwon tightened his embrace around your waist, feeling the curve of your body press into his, your lips now littering and staining admiration onto him

When you sighed again, he departed for some air, breaths slightly shaky. Your lips were slightly swollen, eyes glistening with something new and exciting that made his hunger crave more of whatever you were enchanting him with.

He saw the exact way you silently asked for more, those pretty eyes of yours fluttering at him, beckoning him closer. He was under your spell because why did he lean in for another?

Your hands tightened on his shoulders now, lips a feather away from each other, eager for another long reunion—

"You two are fucking disgusting." Jay had his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at Jungwon instantly distancing his lips.

A storm of heat wrecked your body and cheeks, and now you wish you would crawl into the dirt and bury yourself there. You gave a small wave to Jay, who gave you a nod of acknowledgement mixed with the repulse.

A slight chuckle escaped Jungwon, hands still locked around your waist. "You could have just walked back into the other room."

"And leave you two unsupervised? On the counter? As if I hadn't seen this before?" He inquired, each question heightening your embarrassment. But Jungwon didn't even mind it, smirking impishly at Jay.

"What movies have you watched?"

"Shut up."

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The marks persisted. Some days, it would be mostly on his face, and then other days, the scars would bloom on his jaw, shoulder, and at one point, you saw him wince, clutch his side when he bent down to grab the cat bowl.

It was painfully clear he was concealing something beneath the surface, and he wanted to keep you out.

But fine. If he didn't want to tell you, why would you force him? Logically, it wouldn't be serious if he never told you otherwise. So, you dropped the idea of the suspicious little wounds at random spots and let it go.

Until today.

Another day, another decision to bunk the later class. It was two hours long, meaning two hours of absolutely useless droning from that professor you despise.

Walking down the streets in the gloomy weather, you puffed some air into your fingers, scolding yourself for not doing the smart thing of bringing your gloves.

November was hit with a silent storm of cold, the freezing air everywhere at once, giving no one respite from its breath.

Which is why you want to go buy gloves right now. The shop you love was down the street after the corner of these other meticulous ones. The idea of buying yourself something was so greedy but gratifying; you know you probably have gloves packed safely in your home, abandoned, but here you were, shopping for a pair more to join the collection.

When you turned the corner, a familiar blonde sparked in your peripheral vision. Now, there weren't a lot of blondes in Korea, but this was... certainly a coincidence, right?

Your supposed situationship was not going down some dodgy and dark alley with Jay? They strolled with ease as if this path was the most familiar route they had walked upon.

The buildings on this side looked... reserved, residential, even. This was no place that Jungwon could know because he never talked about anything else. Or, he never wanted to tell you of anything else he was doing. The mere thought made a crack of doubt in your stomach, the crevice thin, but undeniably there.

Do you follow?

Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. So, as a cat would, even though you were far from it, you crossed the road and sauntered swiftly into the same narrow path.

You had no idea where you were going and decided to follow this random dude, careful not to alert anyone. They all worse dark clothes, and here you were, wearing a cream coat. You were just asking to be looked at.

Whatever. The alley was dark for the most part except the tiny streams of light illuminating the black door at the utter end.

The dude opened it languidly, disappearing. Like the spy you were, you opened it swiftly and snaked yourself into another dim hallway.

"I better not break my ankle," you mumbled to yourself, using your palms to direct yourself down the only path that was also deprived of light. More doubt cracked whatever contentment you had with Jungwon the more you crept down the dark hallway.

What business did he have here? It wasn't normal to casually stroll up to a place like this and act as if he was entering the park or something. Too many questions relentlessly hit your head as you lowered yourself down some stairs when you heard it.

A crowd. Not even the demure mumbling—it was loud. Strident, and you could hear jeering, cheers. The dude opened another door, light spilling in instantly. Not wanting the darkness clinging to you, you rushed through the cheers louder now, but the room you were in was empty except the multiple, absent boxing rings.

Boxing. Jungwon. What?

In a way, you could see the connection of events: the sudden scars that popped on his skin like daisies on a normal summer day. But even then, your thirst of curiosity wasn't quenched, and, as much as you wanted to explore this empty hall, you strode silently behind the dude.

The door he next opened was through another hallway, but at least there was a single bulb to provide the weak excuse of light. It was grey, plain, and had no indication of what stood behind it, but the closer you ventured, the more those cheers became prominent.

The dude seamlessly opened it and entered like the wind. Puffing out some air yourself, you approached it and buried the anxiety of what you would find. Maybe Jungwon. Or maybe something terrible.

What you didn't expect was a dim, shady part of the building with a boxing ring in the middle, a crowd swarming it with their cheers and conversations, and bang in the middle was Jungwon.

Shock froze your body, all your nerves as you stood away from the crowd, afraid of exposing yourself.

He was sweaty, to say the least; he donned a white shirt, blue pants with thick, white boxing gloves, and his golden hair stuck to his forehead. His feline eyes were sharp, focused on the opposing player, who just about entered the ring.

The referee, you assumed, stayed in the middle, holding this microphone, grinning widely.

"Welcome to the next round! Remember to put the money on the person that would most likely win!" He explained to the crowd.

Bets. Money. Gambling. The sudden doubt and bewilderment snaked around your chest and throat, making it hard to even breathe. You leaned against the pillar, mostly to stay hidden.

"As you know him, we have our returning fighter—Jungwon!" The crowd cheered at his name, familiarised with his status. From that, you knew he came here often.

The MC introduced the other dude, but you honestly weren't listening. You were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that Jungwon was a fighter for this gambling underground fighting thing.

When you glanced at the building, you saw the abandoned atmosphere, the lack of equipment or care in the mouldy walls. There were a few tables here and there, chairs stacked around randomly with neglect. It was totally different from the other side you came from.

"Fighters..." the MC said again, moving back so that Jungwon and the other dude could bump fists. The sudden movement of his veiny arms, slightly bruised somewhere, made your stomach flutter at the sight.

You almost cursed at yourself for focusing on something so irrelevant.

He's fighting, and here you are, flustered over the tan colour of his flawless skin. Shaking your head out of it, the ding rang through, and the crowd jumped and cheered louder.

Jungwon was poised, circling around and keeping a distance at first from the dude dressed in a blue tracksuit. You couldn't stop looking, the crowd fading out in your ears.

Then, Jungwon lunged so fast in a single stride, his fist connecting swiftly with the man's ribs that it pushed him back.

The blue man backed up, then struck his first move. The fist flew towards Jungwon in the face, but he only defended, arms brought up vertically before his gaze. The crowd cheered again when Jungwon's posture grew aggressive, eyes sharpening instantly.

One glove hit the blue man's ribs again, the left side, and his other used the distraction to deliver a left hook sharply to his jaw. You gasped as the blue dude staggered backwards, hitting the ropes.

This man, the same dude who worked at a cat café was beating a man up. In a bet. It was as if you went down a rabbit hole and ended up somewhere absurd and nonsensical.

Jungwon didn't end there and used blue dude's foot failure to deliver two sharp blows to his stomach, causing him to double over. Another chance that Jungwon saw—he rained his fists down to the man's nape, then shifted to delivering brusque punches to the side of his face.

Almost as if you could feel the strength put into it. Whatever strength it was, it sent the dude to his knees, head writhing on the floor of the ring.

Even when the cheers erupted louder than before, the only thing floating to the surface was how secretive Jungwon was. He had managed to mask the scars with silly excuses and mishaps—but this?

This was a whole other level of what you expected. And he kept it a secret from you. Why? You couldn't find it in you to claw at the anger; rather, you were just bewildered.

Stepping away from the pillar, you planned to head out and clear your polluted head of the dark lights and dark fight. Even then, you cast one more glance back, and your breath hitched as Jungwon's gaze turned to you, freezing you in place.

His smile faded, just like your knowledge of him from the past few weeks, and he tore off his boxing gloves before hopping down to the musty ground. The crowd gave way as the winners went to get their money, and the losers grew desolate.

For some reason, you remained in place, hoping that whatever he was about to say would eradicate this new view of him. But it was selfish to think that you could just ignore what you saw, to keep this memory in a bubble that you hoped to never pop. Though, it wasn't reality.

With a calculated walk, he approached swiftly but softly locked your fingers together and led you away from the main scene towards a different set of doors, his expression saying absolutely nothing. You let him do so.

The silence once entering the hallway was harsh, almost suffocating. His heavy footsteps broke it as he pulled you along to this door, shoving it open and revealing a simple locker room.

Clean, lit, and well-organised.

Once you were in, he shut and locked the door, his back facing you, as if he didn't know what words to say. Even you, who had a plethora of thoughts and questions, couldn't bring yourself to inquire what kind of shit just went down back there.

Jungwon sighed, leaning on the door on his elbows before turning; his face was shining with sweat, a small bruise on his jaw with golden locks damp and stuck to his forehead. When he saw your perplexity, he quickly glanced away.

It's fine if he didn't want to talk. Your voice was still lost, even whilst he was doing a brief shower in the next room. Sitting on a random bench, you heard the water stop running behind you, the rustle of the metal rings as he pulled the curtain.

This was too intimate, but if you weren't so confused, you would have acknowledged it and allowed to twist your thoughts into a blushing mess.

There had to be something reasonable; a crevice that you missed that contained the reason of his expressive dance of aggression. You fiddled with your dress as he moved behind you, head lowered and desperate to shed light on the answer.

"Y/n..?" His voice rang out behind you, as if the time had finally come to face him. You were silent, unmoving.

The footsteps came around, and suddenly, he was crouching before you, his blonde locks now fluffy, his body donning a black shirt and loose pants, and his hickory eyes stubbornly gazed at you.

It just managed to melt whatever was frozen in your chest and mind. Almost.

Tentative, he held both your hands, careful, but you didn't pull away. You actually missed it. You missed more than that; your gaze flickered to his lips but darted away, sighing.

"Why did you come here—how did you even find this place?" Jungwon began saying softly, squeezing your hand.

"Is that all you're worried about? How about you tell me what this place is?" You remarked, the doubt from before resurfacing like a solid piece of ice to prick your nerves.

Jungwon sighed and held your hands tighter, not wanting to lose whatever connection had you and him tied together. "I will, I just..."

He hesitated. "You weren't supposed to find this place."

"And yet, you're in it. And, so many people are as well. It wasn't hard to follow," you said again quietly, your breaths shaky from containing your bewilderment and apprehension.

What if this was an illegal gambling thing? What if this could get him pulled into a storm with the law if he was found out? Too many risks, and he's so calm about it.

"Okay. I'll explain." He stood from the floor before seating himself beside you, searching for the beginning and the reasons deep in his memory.

"It's underground fighting. They bet on us, yeah, but it's optional. It doesn't make it better, but the reason why I joined is because of the money," he said. Your left hand was in his lap, interlaced with his own fingers, while your gaze remained on the floor.

"You know how I told you I ran away?" He said with hope, to which you nodded slowly. "I needed quick money. Extra, quick money. The cat café wasn't enough, I turned to this. I couldn't stand being a burden, and I still can't."

The more he explained, the more he managed to melt that icy doubt away, soothing it. You listened, eyes flickering to his, which held the shining gratitude for your patience.

It made you realise that he wanted your understanding rather than keeping you in the dark. He took the effort, and you couldn't look away.

"Not only did I learn boxing, I learned how to be in control of my own life. All my life, I was never enough, and it was always shoved in my face. Boxing helped me just... vent. And, not to hurt people — that's not the point. But to finally feel like I was doing something useful to myself and that I wanted to do it for myself. The skills I gain here—they're mine." He held your hand tighter, sensing the relaxation in the way you grasped his hand back.

Jungwon knew yours and his life was different: you had money stuck to your background and present, privilege floating around you like a bubble, whilst he scraped his life, took the token of bravery to get where he was today. He didn't expect you to understand easily, but what he did know was how you radiated empathy.

You held his hand tighter, finally facing his heavy eyes with guilt for having so much bewilderment and judgement hitting at him. "I'm sorry. I just... I was confused."

You didn't expect his soft chuckle, but it gave you the gnawing butterflies all the same, heat creeping up your chest and your neck.

"Don't worry about it. It's my fault for not telling you earlier." Jungwon smiled.

"So, Shadow, the cat wasn't responsible for this one?" You asked, cupping the side of his jaw with a new field of purple and red on his skin. Sheepishly, he grinned again from your reminder of his web of lies.

"No. He wasn't," Jungwon replied with mirth. You tutted.

"You threw him under the bus. I knew he was a sweetheart," you said with a small pout of disbelief. He chuckled, having the strong urge to nibble on your lower lip, but he held back. He rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. That was my big secret. I blamed the cat for my antics." He leaned in slightly as his grip crept to your waist, hooking around you like a sly snake desiring one thing. The touch made you squeak, your eyes widening slightly.

"I can't believe you're defending the cat so easily..." He mumbled, tugging you closer until your hands gripped his shoulders and your faces were close enough to entice you.

There was an intense mischief in his eyes, ones that sparkled in the way that you loved it, in the way that you couldn't reject.

"The cat didn't keep secrets," you remarked softly, hands sliding around his nape, making him intake a sharp breath before chuckling at the infuriating sass you always hit him with. He tightened the grip on your waist, fingers pressing into the small of your back.

"Okay. I got it. No more secrets," Jungwon said, now a breath away from your lips, staring with warmth and a promise that shone heavily in his gaze.

"Promise?" You whispered. Jungwon smirked and nodded.

"Promise," he murmured back before closing the distance between your lips, the softness capturing yours and making your mind blank. No thoughts dared to interrupt you as your lips moved fervently against his.

Jungwon huffed and delved into another, tongue boldly tracing the seam of your lips, crossing whatever boundaries you had set. He hadn't even confessed to you, but friends don't kiss like this.

You don't even like the idea of friends. It left a bitter thought, like a scent lingering after many days. And you grew sick of it.

With a groan, your lips parted and the warmth of his tongue joined yours; your heart pounded, the drums of them raging and bellowing in your ear. It was as if your heart was declaring what you had for Jungwon even if you didn't say it.

He pulled you closer, hands strongly lifting you onto his lap, straddling him only for you to clutch his collar, tilting your face as you kissed him once more, stealing his breath. Jungwon breathing chuckled against your pretty lips, one hand cupping the back of your head, and the other enclosing your waist.

He trapped you in his touch, and you weren't complaining. You felt the heat of his torso against yours, body curving into his like a perfect puzzle.

When he finally departed, he breathed heavily, soft pants exchanged between the two of you. With your forehead against his, Jungwon's gaze met yours again.

Desperate and mellow, wanting to yearn for your trust again, for your touch to soothe the guilt stuck to his nerves.

"No more secrets."

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Over the past month, you and him shared kisses in privacy, going on dates whilst you tailored lies for your parents to wear.

It wasn't like you were embarrassed—no—but your parents had standards of who you dated. If they found out you dated a boxer, someone that worked at a simple cat café, they would certainly freak out and subtly implement more supervision than needed.

And, you didn't need that right now. To be treated like an inept child unable to think for herself.

He understood, and he made sure to make every kiss and touch last longer, to stretch across oceans and make you forget that you were drowning in the tasks of everyday life.

Though, Jay did fully ban you and him after hours in the café after he found you and Jungwon making out in the janitors closet.

"Are you guys homeless, or do you just like making my day worse by doing it at a public place," Jay had said, making you shield yourself with Jungwon and his laughing self.

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Well, one day...

Jungwon was working, as usual, when these girls nearby gossiped among the feline friends. He slightly paused his work at the counter, pretending to be fussed with his monitor.

"If your man doesn't get you at least, I don't know, a promise ring, is he even in the same relationship?" One girl scoffed as she sat on the floor nearby.

Now, Jungwon wouldn't usually care about such conversations, but his imaginary ears perked anyway: if it wasn't for your birthday coming up, he would ignore them. Except, the idea of getting a gift sent a heavy stone of doubt into his chest. He was too curious now and let his curiosity overtake him in an attempt to soothe the lament anchoring at his ribs.

He inched closer, masking it as a job to dust off one of the pastel counters.

"For real. They have to mean it, and that means getting something expensive," the other girl said with a giggle.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, gripping the cloth a little tighter. Your birthday was soon. And he wanted to make this perfect and worth it. Even if he had to do one more fight to scrape that money.

Jungwon raised a sceptical eyebrow, rubbing down the counter more to get rid of the nonexistent dirt. With your birthday being soon, the only priority was making sure that his gift was weaved with sincerity. But, what was worth that sincerity?

Was it the money? The expenses? Did he need to scrape more cash to prove his love for you through his gift?

To be honest, he wouldn't mind enduring more fights if that meant lighting up your eyes with those stars that always uncovered themselves with any ray of joy.

You were worth all the bruises.

Besides, he didn't want to let his financial situation set a barrier as to what he could do to deliver an adequate present. With what you endured during university, working hard to stay afloat in your studies, you probably craved a moment of respite, a moment in a bubble that was far from reality.

When he got his break, he sat down in the café where it was empty, Shadow curling in his lap as he scrolled online for a 'promise' ring. It couldn't be hard. It also couldn't be that expensive.

He was thoroughly wrong when he stumbled across a decent and dainty ring but immediately tossed his phone on the floor when he observed the string of zeroes and numbers.

Before the decimal point as well.

A puff of air left him, forcing out the lingering cloud of apprehension.

Shadow meowed as if he was judging him, those green eyes blinking up at him. Annoyed, Jungwon frowned and crossed his arms.

"You don't even have fingers. You can't judge me."

Shadow immediately jumped off his lap, making Jungwon's exasperation sunk deeper into his chest. He threw his arms in the air. "I didn't mean it!"

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Jungwon thought long and hard to the point his brain must have burned itself out, his patience being thinner than the strand of hair.

Who knew the stress of gifts would be weighing down on his soul that much. At boxing practice, his hooks were messy, unfocused and he ended up jolting pain up his shoulder.

There wasn't anymore time because your birthday had arrived; the skies were somewhat cloudy, the icy air nipping at his skin and brushing past his golden locks. Jungwon avoided the cold by a black coat and a thick scarf that practically swallowed his face.

"Jungwon!" You squealed from afar, jogging to him with a bounce in your step. He couldn't help but smile, his heart warming as you jumped into his arms, and he spun you around.

Those soft giggles of yours filled his ears, like honey, and he grinned down at you once safely on the concrete.

"Happy birthday, my love," he said with a tilt of his head, finding your sincere joy utterly adorable. He held your waist as you gripped his shoulders.

"Thank you! Nice scarf, by the way," you commented, hand running down the orange and green fabric, the thickness surprising you.

"Thanks. I can't risk catching a cold on my day off," he murmured, kissing you firmly on your temple. That alone sent your heart to beat too fast for your own good, your breath hitching as he did. You could never grow tired of this type of intimacy.

"So, you wanted to take me out?" You began to walk with him down the street in your thick coat. Jungwon nodded.

After he had searched for a promise ring, he found himself meeting dead ends at every corner. It was frustrating, to say the least, but it meant scavenging for a new solution to the gift problem.

"Well, I know you love doing your nails. And, I think they're due for another check-up, right?" He asked as his warm hand hoisted yours to his gaze, firmly clutching yours. Indeed, some nails were chipped away with time.

"Yeah, yeah, I am due. But, you don't need to," you reassured Jungwon earnestly. As if you had said something ridiculous, he scoffed as he focused on the path ahead.

"It's your birthday. Why wouldn't I do your nails. I want to do something meaningful for you," Jungwon explained, his voice soft and layered with endearment.

You clutched his hand tighter, somehow wanting to connect you to him more than you already were. Both hands swung between you and him as the warmth threaded delicately into your chest. "It can get pricey, that's all."

Jungwon stopped walking, and you were pulled back to spot the igniting determination.

"I want to. I know what I want," he said, taking a close step forward to linger over you. "And that's to make you happy."

Flutters erupted in your stomach again, small butterflies freed in the pits of your guts, making a smile tug your lips. He was sweet, so full of personality, and you always saw his kindness in the way it decorated his actions.

How could anyone not like him? You would rather leave that irrelevant question unsolved.

You started walking again, pulling him along with a stupid, giddy smile and intertwined hands.

Jungwon didn't comment on it, letting the internal glee shower you like blossoms.

Watching you at the nail salon was not as boring as he thought it would be. The interior was soft and dim as the nail technician chipped off the older charms, scraping the glue off your nails.

To Jungwon, it looked painful, but you weren't even flinching from any agony. Or, you were really good at hiding it.

Whatever it was, Jungwon didn't complain because he, himself, was enamoured by the way you yapped about your day, something about this girl at university annoying you out of your mind during lectures.

But did Jungwon know the details? No. Did he even pay attention to what the girl said that apparantly ripped you to academic misery? No.

When he had looked at you in that moment, it was as if the sunlight magically appeared, beaming down on you, making your laugh seem like a symphony that soothed his soul, and your mannerisms after each incredulously sentence was oh so endearing. You were like an angel, blinding all his senses with your light. He sat there with his chin propped on his palm, eyes unblinking.

"And, you know I hate team projects—hey, are you listening?" Your voice snapped him out of his daydream. He cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed.

"Yeah, of course," he murmured as if it was an obvious answer. By the look in his sheepish smile, you knew none of your words actually settled in his mind, and rather, it flew away before he grasped any understanding.

"Really? What was the guy's name?" You asked, challenging him. He rubbed the back of his neck, pouting in concentration.

"Um... Ben—"

"I'm not even talking about a guy! I was talking about Yena! A girl," you whined to him, trying not to move for the technician. Jungwon chuckled and put his hands up in a mock surrender.

"You got me," he said with a smile absent of any guilt. How shameless.

Huffing as you turned away from him, your pout only invited his fingers to playfully poke them, the gesture forcing the heat to stitch into your stomach and chest. You could never get used to this, the butterflies that practically lived inside your guts and sensed your love for him.

Again, you stuck your tongue out, determined to prove that it didn't affect you so much, but you had a hint that he knew what he was doing and he was welding it as a weapon.

After the nail appointment, your stomach was grumbling loudly, needing something digest. Jungwon simply led you down the street, pointing to multiple restaurants.

The nails did do some damage, but he wouldn't mind paying for your food either. Ultimately, you decided on this normal ramen shop, the interior dim and brown, the lighting exuding warmth, and a wave of tranquillity.

"Ugh, I'm starved, Wonie," you said dramatically. Jungwon grinned, gently nudging you by the waist to the booth at the back of the building.

"I know. You must be so tired from sitting there and watching your nails," he murmured playfully, clearly enjoying the way you sent a soft glare to him, one dormant of any aggression.

Well, once the food was ordered, you and him had the chopsticks at a ready, the steam of the food wafting in the air, and a stack of tissues on standby.

"Thank you, Won," you chirped just before your utensils dug into the tteokbeokki. Nothing but pure affection bloomed in his eyes as he smiled again, one with sincerity.

"Anytime."

The dinner was a success with you yapping once more about the food, the nail design which you were utterly grateful for, all inspired by Pinterest. He only nodded and smiled, attentive to your voice as ingrained into the walls of his head.

He would carve your voice into his mind if he had to ever capture your exuberant gesticulations.

It made him think and realise that you probably didn't act like this at home. That you were forced to be demure about your wants and wishes, having to withold your tongue in the depths of your chest.

It was cruel that you couldn't find your voice, like this, to confront your parents; it wasn't just the studies, but it was also the fact that Jungwon was a secret. Someone in the shadows of your life, as if he didn't deserve to be brought into the light.

The thought prickled his composure, tingling his skin, and his grip on the chopsticks tightened as your voice droned on. It was something he didn't want to ask, but it came out before he could decide the rationality.

"Are you... embarrassed of me?" Jungwon stared at you with a stillness that stopped your previous conversation. There was a weight burning in his eyes, small as a spark, but still powerful to evolve into something more.

With a nervous chuckle, you tilted your head at him. "Of course not, Wonie."

He hummed, eyes leaving yours for a second to pick up some of the rice cake; your gaze was still burning into him, trying to dissect what he was implying. And why.

"I see."

"Why would I be embarrassed? You're literally one of the best people in my life," you countered again when his voice dimmed.

Jungwon knew he should understand. There was more to it, but in his head, he wanted to remind you that there were other options other than staying in the confines of your parents' boundaries; you could always trek down a different path, a path paved by your decisions. However, it was easier said than down.

"No. It's just that... I don't buy you luxuries, I barely take you out. I fight, for peace sake," he explained, his voice anchored by his own insecurities. His words alone told you he was secretly sinking in his own reluctance.

Your hand reached out to his, gripping it firmly. "I don't care."

I don't have a big ass job or working a corporate nine-to-five," he went on again, making your heart sting. You held his hand tighter, his eyes flickering to yours.

"I don't care. Really." You attempted a small smile that only made his questions rise deeper from below.

"Then, why keep me a secret?" He asked, rubbing your knuckles softly with the pad of his thumb. The question caught you off guard, your thoughts unsteadily rocking at sea from it.

It was true. Why didn't you? Because, what? You're scared of your parents, friends? Scared they would separate you and Jungwon?

Yeah, it was a valid fear. You don't care that Jungwon doesn't have the most colourful job in the world, but that doesn't mean you were embarrassed of him.

"I just don't want to deal with their shit," you said softly, grip tightening in his as if you tried to convey the weight of your parents on him. Jungwon held your gaze, munching slowly.

"You shouldn't be afraid of them. You're already doing so much for them, the least they can do is let you date," he replied, the tension bolted in his words.

"I'm not scared of them... I just don't want us to be separated. I really like you, Jungwon. I can't lose you," you suddenly rambled on, pouring out the vulnerability you always preserved around him. With his eyes softening, understanding slowly stitched in his gaze.

"I get it. I like you, too. But, I don't you to exhaust yourself by keeping me a secret," he murmured as he glanced back down, something clouding the hope that once stood there.

"I will tell them one day. They're just... on my back with studies and stuff," you explained again, recognising your own words was just a mask of the excuse underneath. Though, Jungwon nodded and smiled with a resigned sigh.

"I know. I don't want you stressed." He held your gaze, blinking with those eyes always void of judgement.

That was one thing you love about him—the undeniable understanding he had with your situation, how you always found a respite, an oasis in his arms. It made you feel as if you could tell him anything.

And, as he said before, no more secrets.

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APPARANTLY, GRADES WEREN'T THE ONLY THING YOUR PARENTS WERE CONCERNED ABOUT.

Having her tug down a dress down your thighs, you kept protesting and frantically questioning her; each time, she hushed your concerns and sewed your complaints shut.

It grew worse when your mother haphazardly did your hair, earning a few agonised protests.

"Mother, what are you doing—"

"Stop moving, Y/n!" She scolded.

Soon enough, you were downstairs and pulled into the lounge. It would have been a normal sight if you didn't see a new set of eyes and faces, all peering at you as if you were the newest thing to be displayed.

Discomfort stitched your chest into a tight space when you saw new sets of faces, eyes all peering curiously over you. There was an elderly man and woman accompanied by a younger dude with pale skin and moles etched under his eye and on his nose.

"Ah—here's my daughter!" Your father exclaimed, putting an arm around your shoulder, hoisting you deeper into this mess. Sending a look of bewilderment to your parents, they completely ignored you.

"She's lovely," the other woman said, patting the younger boy's arm softly but excited.

"Introduce yourself," your mother said with a hinted demand in her tone. You knew better than to question her right now: she had that look where her eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowing with glittering expectation.

Clearing your throat and waving slightly, you gathered your voice whilst they all pointed their gaze on you, the stares like needles to your skin.

"I'm Yn. Nice to meet you," You said. The other parents, plus the boy, all grinned at your tone, mistaking the confusion as courtesy.

Again, the other elderly woman nudged the young boy softly to go forward like you did. Once he did, offered a cordial handshake.

"I'm Sunghoon. Nice to meet you, too."

Said Sunghoon was gorgeous, of course. But, that didn't answer the question in the spotlight. It was still very much distracting you. You sent a look of bewilderment to your parents.

"Yn, Sunghoon and his parents have expressed an interest in you."

That made your whole world freeze. All your nerves totally halted in place, your brain chemistry dying down from that single sentence as you stared at her wide-eyed.

Shock shot right through you, stunning all your nerves into ice, even your thoughts. With wide eyes, you stared at your parents as if they had held the gun and triggered the bullet.

What the hell????

...

The dining room lingered with silence except the occasional clink when you absentmindedly stirred the straw in your glass. Gorgeous Sunghoon was poised beside you, drinking. And the parents?

They went to the kitchen as if to let the chemistry blossom between you and him. But, there was nothing but dead roots in place with your patience discreetly withering with it.

It's your parents and their damn noses digging into your love life and rearranging that as well.

Wasn't the studies enough? What were they so worried about? Were you that socially unavailable that you couldn't open your shell to new people? Is that how they saw you?

Then, there was Jungwon, who easily peeled away your barriers, finding the key and treading right into your heart. And, wherever he stepped, flowers bloomed behind him and created a sprightly path of life.

Now? This Sunghoon dude singlehandedly lifted all your walls up into immovable stone.

"Yeah, so that's where I want to work. My father thinks I can take after him in a few years, even though I kind of know everything." Sunghoon took another sip of his glass while you zoned out, circling the straw in your untouched drink.

"So, what about you?" He asked, fully facing you. It startled you for a moment, but you restrained the urge to roll your eyes, and set your cup down.

"I'm still in university, so. I just entered actually." You glanced at him, masking the boredom prickling your internals. Sunghoon smiled, but one filled with curiosity.

"Doing something in healthcare, right?"

Whenever you heard the core word, a single petal died in your head, making it hard to eve keep the composure alive. Even then, you nodded once and distracted your impatience by gripping the cold glass.

He hummed, as if pleased.

"Hard, but rewarding." He set his finished glass down, now leaning on his knuckles, examining your features with interest, as if trying to decipher how you truly felt.

In reality, you would do anything to be with Jungwon and do absolutely nothing because simply orbiting around him would ease all creases of boredem that you had right now. It was quite telling.

The silence stretched on for long, and you know you should have made some small talk, but this whole encounter, quite frankly, pissed you off to no ends, your serenity thinning to a strand.

Honestly, it was a way for him to take the hint that you had no interest to take this further into the future.

Besides, your interests laid elsewhere.

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YOU THOUGHT THAT WAS THE END OF IT, BUT NO. After that awkward day, you were prepared to meet Jungwon in disguise for a 'study session' with your classmates in town when your mother knocked on the door.

Without waiting a response, she barged in with a sly smile that curled your guts into tight knots.

"Sunghoon wants to meet you again!" She exclaimed, coming up to you when she noticed your heavy tote bag. "Where are you going?"

"I told you. The library," you said with a lie, making sure all essentials were packed in.

"You can't! He's coming over as we speak," she said, making you gawk at her as if she had shot another bullet at you.

"Mother—I told you that I'm not free today!"

"It's just studying. You won't be missing anything," she remarked with a hand on her hip, demand layered underneath her tone.

The dread, at this point, had rotted away in your chest, making your protests die in your vocal chords. You just sighed and dropped your bag onto your bed whilst she careened towards your walk-in closet.

The frown tugged at your lips at the thought of putting down a date with Jungwon, who had his day off today out of all days. The universe had other plans to subdue your happiness for some reason. What would you tell him?

Come to think of it, you hadn't told Jungwon of this unexpected courtship. It totally slipped your mind because you thought it was a one-time thing. Now that your mother brought you the news, unease bubbled at the pit of your stomach, as if the topic itself caused nausea.

If you told him about Sunghoon, it would just be messy: telling your boyfriend about the courtship looming over you like a storm cloud was not the best conversation to have. Besides, you are going to fully reject Sunghoon and make sure that this mess doesn't extend any further.

Telling him about Sunghoon would just be messy: who even wanted to break that to their boyfriend that another man was trying to sprout something nonexistent? It was almost laughable. Except, you were going to reject Sunghoon and make it clear that your stone walls would not crumble for him. Meaning... none of this would evolve further.

Your mother returned with multiple hangers, droning on and on about how to impress the family.

When she wasn't looking, you rolled your eyes.

Again, the dinner at the table was mostly held by the chatter of the parents, their boisterous laughter and audacious words about work and business was a enough to lull you to sleep.

Whilst your fork stabbed into a strawberry, Sunghoon sipped his tea once more, his gaze landing on you and attempting to break apart your expression.

"You don't look pleased," he stated quietly, not enough for the parents to hear. A small sigh escaped your lips when thinking of how to approach this without seeming like a brat about it.

"Can I be honest, Sunghoon?" You turned to him slightly. He nodded easily.

"I'm not... interested in taking this further," you admitted, not knowing why apprehension weaved into your chest and made itself clear.

Sunghoon looked away for a moment, maybe to contemplate why, or maybe to decide what to even do with that information. Then, he exhaled a slow breath that gave you no clue as to what emotion was flowing through him.

"I kind of know," he began to say, careful but resigned. You raised an eyebrow.

"I understand." He looked back at you with uncertainty and something else stitched deep within. You held his gaze before speaking.

"It was nice to meet you and all, but i think this will be our last meeting." You glanced back at the fruit salad sitting idly on the table, neglected and growing cold. Sunghoon hummed, nodding once.

Then, the silence rolled in again like a thick fog that prevented any words from rising to your lips. Relieved or anxious—you don't know.

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Jungwon wasn't the type to be suspicious of you. Or anyone, quite frankly. But, when you cancelled last week on the date that was a rain check on your other cancelled date, the insecurity anchored down in the depths of his chest.

There had to be a reason, of course. You couldn't be purposely doing so—you were too smitten, too entangled with his string of fate, and he knew you were in too deep.

So, what was the reason really? When he had asked you what happened, you texted something vague, something indubitably stitched with a secret.

Jay came over as Jungwon leaned back on the boxing ring, slapping a hand on his back, jolting him out of his thoughts. Jungwon cleared his throat.

"What are you thinking so deeply about?" Jay asked, snagging the bandage roll on the platform by his shoulders.

Jungwon could name a few.

"Nothing. Just... thinking." Jungwon crossed his arms despite the stones of doubt lurching at his internals. It was quite damn hard to ignore.

"Thinking. Hm, yeah. I've tried that," Jay mused with amusement, making Jungwon glower at him. Putting up his hands in mock surrender, he said, "hey, I'm just teasing.

"I know. It's just that I... ugh." Jungwon groaned, running a hand through his hair because his uncertainty was too strong, but it was also formed on the basis of nothing. All these negative thoughts formed without foundation, yet they were sky-high and dangerous.

Jay waited patiently for Jungwon to gather himself.

"I just feel insecure, you know?" Jungwon started as Jay bandaged up his wrist with the protective layer.

"About?"

"My girlfriend."

"Oh, good God," Jay said with a roll of his eyes. "What, trouble in paradise?"

Jungwon ignored the comment, even though a punch to Jay's arm was awfully enticing. But, he digressed. "Not really. But, maybe it's just me."

"Talk to me, bro," Jay urged on with his back leaned against the platform. Those words coming from his trusted friend were enough for him to just undo the knot tensing his muscles.

"She blew me off twice. And, I know she's super busy, but we didn't go out on my day off. Was kinda stumped," Jungwon explained with a hard hand through his locks. Jay whistled slightly.

"Well, did she explain why?" Jay asked with a tilt of his head, lurching the bandage roll into the air and catching it methodically.

"Yeah. She said something came up with her family. Twice." Jungwon frowned again, thinking from square one.

"You trust her, right? Like, she won't go running off with another man," Jay said but the younger one caught onto the joke snuck into his tone. Jungwon's ground his teeth together.

"She won't."

"Just making sure before I tell you that your girlfriend probably has her reasons. And, also just talk it out with her if you feel that disturbed by it. Seriously, you haven't even got into the ring," Jay exclaimed, gesticulating to the empty platform behind both of them.

Jungwon sighed again, deciding that the only way to distract his damn thoughts was to fixate on a choreography that was his boxing skills.

Once his boxing gloves were on and Jay wore the punching puds on each hand, he switched his brain off, and strengthened his shoulders, one hand near his face, the other slightly forward.

The sharp punches rang out through the empty room, each jab done with laser concentration. Of course, you lingered in his head with your pretty eyes and easy words, but along with you came the dark rain cloud of doubt, threatening to dampen his focus.

Jungwon went to deliver the punch harder, only for his body to stiffen and not turn. When the punch landed, pain struck up his shoulder like a bite, and he grunted.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Jay said, lowering his raised hands. Jungwon grit his teeth, patting his shoulder with the gloves still intact on his left fist, trying to ignore the crumbling calm.

"Don't ask. I'm having a bad day," he mumbled, leaning back against the sturdy ropes. Jay scoffed.

"Yeah, bet you are. You've been having one of those for days," Jay remarked, ripping off the velcro and dropping the punching pads to the corner. Jungwon watched, gaze wavering between reality and his memories.

The effect you had was magnetic and he didn't know if he liked how his thoughts all drifted to you, your lovely words, the sparkle in your eyes that seemed to fuel his igniting love.

Jungwon leaned over the thick, sturdy ropes, observing the other boxers loitering around the platforms, or having a quiet snack on the benches. One thing that did startled him out of his daze was the door creaking open harshly.

It hit the wall, a bang clattering through, and Jungwon tensed slightly upon seeing a neat and put-together dude. He had black hair, messy and loose like he had not bothered to brush most of it, and had a black shirt with pants.

The slight quirk of his eyebrows as he scanned the room gave the impression that he didn't stumble onto her on purpose. The smug smirk sent Jungwon's composure on another lake of fragility.

Jay stood straight, leaning over the ropes. "Um, are you lost or something? Never seen you around here before."

Said man gazed at Jay, then to Jungwon's prickly scowl before smiling diligently. He waved a hand in dismissal.

"I'm okay. I know where I am, but you're right about me never being around here before," he began to say, his voice deep, lingering in the air sharply.

"Can I ask why you're here? You don't look... appropriately dressed," Jungwon said with a tilt of his head.

"Doesn't mean I'm oblivious in my destinations. I can still grapple just as efficiently in trousers and a shirt." He grinned at Jungwon, making the mental tightrope tremble more.

This dude gave him an overwhelming wave of off intuition.

"I hardly believe that." Jungwon fired back, making some of the people on the room silence, and for Jay to give subtle jabs of warning through his narrowed eyes. Though, Jungwon was blind and could not see anything except the handsome man on a black attire that only seemed too inappropriately dressed for boxing.

The man smiled, but it was unsettling, like there was something locked away, concealed. He walked up to the platform Jungwon was stood on and tilted his head.

"You wanna bet?"

Jungwon instantly had all his composure and logic fly out the window and melt as he furrowed his brows. This dude had the audacity to challenge him, to question the strength of his skills that he built brick by brick.

Leaning over the sturdy strings, he glared down at the said dude. "Yeah. Bet."

That's how Jungwon found himself opposite the smartly-dressed dude wearing boxing gloves. It was infuriating. Not only was he wearing trousers, not even fit to stretch for comfort, but he was wearing shiny, smart shoes.

The type that glared when the light hit them, and they were slightly pointy. How ugly was that. Jungwon scowled deeper, the bitterness twisting in sharply, making him get into the stance.

"I'm Sunghoon, by the way," the man said as he circled around the opposite side. Jay watched cautiously from one of the empty corners. Jungwon didn't give two shits and scoffed.

"I don't care," he said before circling closer, swiftly and with impatience tainting his movements. He lunged forward on his left, right, then jabbed with both hands.

Sunghoon defended, bringing both hands up to cover his face. He grit his teeth before seeing the oppurtunity, and delivered an upper hook to Jungwon's stomach.

A small grunt left him, but he knew it wasn't hard. Recovering from the slight ache clutching his skin, Jungwon recoiled back a few steps.

What was wrong with him? His movements weren't usually so sloppy, and he could normally predict the next moves and construct a defense, a response before it even played out.

Now? Oh, now his skills felt shadowed. Out of the light, and it peeved him greatly.

Sunghoon circled again, assessing and scanning Jungwon head to toe, as if he possessed the same ability to predict his punches. How? To Jungwon, his skills couldn't be mirrored.

Maybe he was really having a bad day.

Narrowing his gaze, Jungwon huffed a breath and lunged forward. A dance from his left, right, left again and jabbing with force.

Sunghoon scowled, shifting to his left. The oppurtunity shined to him and Jungwon delivered a rounded and swift hook to Sunghoon's jaw, making him stumble back.

He couldn't help the satisfaction swarm his ego, but he didn't want to let it get to his head before the match was over, though.

Fire flamed in Sunghoon's gaze. Before he knew it, Sunghoon side-stepped quickly, deceiving Jungwon as he shifted from his right to the left. Not being able to keep up, Jungwon stumbled back when a harsh ache rippled through his right side.

Gritting his teeth to avoid the bubbling anger, he went to strike when Jay appeared, intervening with a stern glance. "That's enough."

Jungwon and Sunghoon panted slightly, recovering from the brief match that probably lasted a minute. Jungwon wouldn't mind if he had 5 more minutes to beat the ego and shit out of this cocky, rich dude.

Someone needed to knock that smugness off his high horse.

"Jay hyung, what gives?" Jungwon muttered with a flicker of frustration. Jay scoffed and crossed his arms, still standing defensively between the two.

"First of all, this dude isn't dressed properly," Jay said, nudging a thumb in Sunghoon's direction, who was ripping the velcro off the gloves. "And second, you haven't been having the best streak of practice."

Jungwon's ears flamed alight, the embarrassment from all his inept punches and techniques catching up to him. He didn't want to think about it, but when he did, the anger crashed down like merciless hail.

Just everywhere and undeniably jarring.

"I don't care. He wanted a match, I was about to give him one," Jungwon snapped at his best friend, who already had disbelief stitched into the lines of his face.

Sunghoon scoffed, shoving the gloves off to the floor, facing Jungwon. "It wasn't like you were winning."

"Oh, yeah? Let's finish the match right now—"

Jay intercepted, putting a hand on Jungwon's shoulder before his ferocity could act out. With a firm glare, Jay spoke. "Don't. We're not finishing anything. You need to calm down, even you, shiny shoe dude."

Sunghoon shrugged, not minding the weird name.

Jungwon slumped his shoulders, the anger gripping his head with thick claws, making it impossible to even think without glaring. He just hard the desperate urge to pummel his face until it was bleeding, until his own arm cramped.

Jay sighed and pushed Jungwon softly in an attempt to get him away from that pit of anger he was falling into. "Go, Jungwon."

He would have followed his hyung's orders had it not been for that imperceptible smirk curled at Sunghoon's lips. It made him look weak, as if he let Sunghoon run past the finishing line, when Jungwon hadn't even unleashed his full potential.

For what reason Jungwon felt so pertubed, he had no idea. Maybe it was because this Sunghoon dude was everything he was not. Money seemed to exude off him like his own personal scent, whilst Jungwon had cat hair clung to his trousers.

Ripping off the damn punching gloves, he discarded them before shoving past Jay to jab a finger at Sunghoon. "You think you won this?"

Sunghoon simply smirked, tilting his head with hands tucked into his pockets. "I don't need to say it, do I?"

"Nothing has been proved. Come back here this Friday, and then you can 'prove' yourself before an audience," Jungwon muttered with stones of hatred embedded in his tone. Sunghoon just scanned, unmoving.

Then, he sighed and nodded dismissively. "Fine. This Friday. I want to make it fair."

No words came to mind as he saw Sunghoon manoeuvring himself to the ground and dust his hands as if it was an easy task. But, to Jungwon, there was a stronger flame engulfing his thoughts and nerves, blinding him in the rage.

Jay, to say the least, was not impressed.

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The Tuesday was slow and, surprisingly, peaceful. Classes moved at a snail pace, lectures lasted for miles, and the only thing that kept you energised was the fact that Jungwon proposed to take you out today to a café.

One that he randomly found on tiktok and sent to you at midnight like the impulsive nocturnal he was. But, you weren't any better because you also lived as the night owl in your home.

The night held a different serenity. The silence was the constant melody that accompanied you in the late hours of night no matter how unhealthy it made your sleep schedule.

Refraining a yawn, the lecturer soon ended the class, and you packed everything up swiftly to get out of there. Three hours of that was enough to make a crack in your mindspace.

Today was going to be good—going to eat out with your boyfriend, share stories and secret jokes that tightened your bond even more.

Pushing past the glass doors, you descended the stairs and saw the familiar, black car with a familiar figure leaning on the door. A smile instantly appeared on your lips when you saw Jungwon looking cosy in his black hoodie and pants, his blonde hair reaching past his ears to form a messy style of a mullet.

"Won!" You exclaimed, jogging to him as he smirked at you, arms opening with an immediate welcome. Crashing into his arms, you engulfed him with your cheek on his warm chest. A minty scent pervaded from his neck, and you nudged your nose at him with a satisfied hum.

"You smell good," you commented, peering up at him. He chuckled with mirth before pinching your cheek.

"For my girl, of course," he said as you whined in feigned pain, swatting his hand away. Eventually, his sneaky hands glided around your waist and settled there, like home.

"What's the first thing on the agenda?" You asked excitedly. Jungwon pretended to ponder, eyes leaving yours as if to recapture his memories before returning to yours.

"Food, food, and more food." He lowered his lips and pressed a firm kiss to your forehead. The warmth travelled up your neck and cheeks, fully rendering you to his merciless affection.

"Perfect plan," you said with a nod.

"Of course it is, I planned it," he remarked, squeezing your waist a little before hauling you with him to the car. You laughed, holding onto his shoulders.

"I can walk, you know?" You giggled as he spun you around and firmly pinned you to the passenger door, his brown eyes twinkling with mischief.

"It's fine to carry you. You're like my personal accessory. I wish I could carry you in my pocket," he said, leaning in with words becoming closer and more intimate.

At his comment, you shook your head with an amused scoff. "Says you. Everything you do is cute. I want to put you in my pocket."

Acting offended, he put a heart to his chest as he tilted his head with a silly smirk gracing his lips. "You wound me, princess."

You and him shared laughter for a few seconds before he saw the light die out in your eyes, your gaze darting behind him, and your grin crumbled.

Jungwon, the ever curious one, did the same and squeezed your waist in worry.

"What's wrong?" He asked carefully as your gaze flickered back to him with newfound worry rising to the surface.

"I..."

You couldn't say anything, and with slight impatient curiosity, Jungwon turned over his shoulder, wondering what had gotten you all flustered like that.

It wasn't the sight he wanted to see, though: walking towards you and him with deliberate ease was Sunghoon, his crisp white shirt underneath his black blazer standing out in the somewhat empty street.

Even those damn shoes tapped like a death knell approaching you and him. Jungwon's gaze darkened, the previous jokes and humour vanishing in a flash, as if the rage he stored away had burned it all.

This dude must be following Jungwon. Of course. Why else would this dude have any speck of audacity to confront you and him like this? The urge to deliver a clean punch with just his knuckles was strong, the instinct like gravity.

The thing is, Sunghoon wasn't even looking at Jungwon with surprise—he was looking at you, as if he had discovered something odd and strange.

You shifted uncomfortably in his arms, leaning off the car and untangling yourself from him slightly, apprehension laced in your actions.

"Y/n, what are you—" Jungwon tried to mumble when Sunghoon called your name like old friends or something. The initial shock was a whip to his thoughts.

"It's funny meeting you here..." Sunghoon finally came within distance, smiling dangerously as he glanced at you, then Jungwon. Jungwon knew that he was commenting some kind of dots, that there was a clockwork of thoughts chiming inside that asshole's head.

Protective, Jungwon stepped forward. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

From the side, he could sense your confused glances between the two of them. Sunghoon simply tilted his head, jerking his head to you in a gesture.

"I was going to pick Y/n up," he replied easily, hands snug in his pockets. There it was again—another strike of confusion forming on the skin of his thoughts. Sunghoon knew your damn name.

"How the hell do you know her name?"

This time, Sunghoon gave an amused look before speaking.

"Well... this is truly funny," Sunghoon said with a slight scoff before darting his eyes to you, as if he had caught you in a web of acts. You quickly glanced away to Jungwon, who was blinking away.

But, Jungwon wasn't satisfied, his questions pricking him as he turned to you and Sunghoon.

"What the fuck is going on?" Jungwon muttered, impatience dappling his tone, and you could clearly see it.

Sunghoon chuckled and stepped towards your stiff stature, jabbing a thumb in your direction. "She hasn't told you?"

Now, the impatience was slowly burning his composure right on the spot. He grit his teeth, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"

A sigh escaped your lips, full of more worry of how to untangle this situation because it looks so wrong. Jungwon glanced to you, trying to soften his gaze.

"What haven't you told me?" He asked, taking a step closer to you with somewhat desperation. You know you couldn't hide it anymore. Not when Sunghoon decided to shove you right into the fire.

And, it wasn't fair to him either—to hide the secret that was Sunghoon and his courtship. Gulping hard, you glanced at Jungwon.

"... My parents wanted... they did this a few weeks ago. They wanted to set me up," you began saying, your voice barely fighting past the guilt. Jungwon narrowed his gaze.

"A few—do you mean two weeks ago?" He interjected with his body bolting with tension in every joint, thinking of those times you blew him off for those dates.

The panic seized your nerves, and you quickly stepped to him. "Yes, but I literally decided that I didn't want to do this! So, I don't know why Sunghoon is even here."

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow as it was all turned on him, staring at you as if he was calculating something before a glint shone through his eyes. You didn't want to find out why.

"Don't tell me... this is your secret boyfriend. And you haven't told your parents?" He scoffed, smiling with those menacing fangs peeking through. The doubt fully cracked Jungwon's composure now, the insecurities of the past few weeks rising to the ground and wringing around his ankles.

"That's not the point. I asked why you are here?" You interjected quickly with somewhat impatience as you glared up at him. Sunghoon just grinned.

"I wanted another chance to explain to you why our parents think we're a good match. But, I no longer think I need to be the one explaining," Sunghoon answered slyly.

Jungwon looked down, breathing slowly through his nose before staring at Sunghoon, thinking of so many things to say to this asshole, and to you.

"And, I'm not the only one who needs an explanation," Sunghoon added on as he looked to the brooding Jungwon, as if he recognised him. That's where your confusion sprouted.

"How do you...?"

"Boxing. The other day, we had a somewhat pleasant match, but we couldn't 'prove' ourselves," Sunghoon answered quickly, and neither you and Jungwon missed the smug tone buried beneath it. He clenched his fists tighter.

"I didn't know that." You glanced at Sunghoon, but he just let out a huff of amusement.

"I didn't know this either. But, hey, we all got secrets, don't we." Sunghoon crossed his arms, the mirth pricking all his words and the way he stood and gave you the same look. His words stung you, the hypocrisy in your own actions swinging back at you as you tried to divert the topic.

"I told you we wouldn't work out," you exclaimed in distress. Jungwon didn't understand how deep you and this dude went, but he knew for sure, that he disliked it deeply. He stared at you now.

Sunghoon dismissively waved his hand, fueling your irritation and desperation more. You huffed, running a hand through your hair before firmly turning to the taller male.

"Sunghoon. Leave. Please." You uttered the last bit with a prickle if desperation, observing how his resolve crumbled. He shrugged, giving one last look to you before narrowing his gaze at Jungwon.

Then, he sauntered away.

The silence between you and him could have measured mountains as you shifted on your feet, too apprehensive to even meet your boyfriend's eyes. Even from here, you could sense the questions he wanted to press.

"I... I can explain—" You tried to say, but Jungwon whirled around, lips pursed, shoulders tight as much as his jaw. You realised the delicacy of his mind right now, the trust dimming in his eyes.

"Why wouldn't you tell me? What...?" Jungwon groaned quietly, running both palms down his face in an attempt to rub off the exasperation in his features. You stepped forward, your thoughts jumbled in a mess.

"I... I didn't think it was important," you uttered, to which he scoffed now, hands by his side.

"You didn't think that it was important to tell me someone was courting you? That your family set you up? You know what?" Jungwon shook his head, eyes darting frantically as he crossed his arms in disbelief. "That's not the point. You could have taken the chance to tell them you're already dating someone."

Here it was again—the idea of pulling back the curtains to expose Jungwon to your parents. "Jungwon, I can't do that!"

"Why?" Jungwon snapped back in a way that shocked you. But, he didn't care. He stepped forward, putting a hand on his chest when you didn't reply.

"I know why," he began saying before adding on, "You're embarrassed of me."

Shock and denial mirrored in your own gaze whe you shook your head. Jungwon found it hard to believe anything else.

What other reason was there to hide the love blossoming between you and him, the unique petals that grew from the seed of your bond? No one else could replicate it the way you and him have. Yet, here you were, putting him deeper past the curtains into isolation.

The thought brought small shards of doubt and hurt to prick his nerves, to make his stomach tighten until he felt sick.

"I'm not embarrassed, Jungwon—"

"Then, why won't you tell them? Huh? To protect me?" Jungwon almost could laugh as he shook his head again, the denial and pain clashing together in a fight he couldn't predict.

The first fight he couldn't predict.

"No, you did this shit to protect yourself!"

You involuntarily flinched at the harshness in his words, but with your voice seemingly lost, Jungwon went on.

"Why do you let them do this to you? I get it—they want what's best for you, but do they get a decision in every part of your life? Over me?" Jungwon asked again, some of his voice losing its edge, but the anger was undeniably shadowing it. Your frown weighed deeper.

"I don't want to lose you. If my parents find out—"

"I don't give a shit about your parents. If it's us, then you should believe in that!"

Anger engulfed, suffocated you like a thick fog, forcing your thoughts and words so quickly that you didn't process your next remark.

"Of course you would say that when you ran away from yours."

The silence stilled him again as your words physically twisted his chest. He could almost spot the regret quickly forging in your eyes, but he was fixated on one thing.

When he told you his past, he told you that in complete confidence, to let his own anguish be lifted off his shoulders. He didn't expect it to be made into a weapon of steel that left him speechless and bewildered. No matter how much anger was brewing in him, the aftertaste of hurt lingered bitterly.

He stepped back, and you shakily stepped forward, remorse flooding your eyes and extinguishing that irritation. Though, Jungwon didn't want to hear it.

"J-Jungwon, I didn't mean that—"

He didn't listen, stepping back with a lump caught in his throat, his head on the verge of erupting. It was too warm, too suffocating despite being outside in the chilly weather. Heck, he wasn't even looking at you.

Yes, he left his parents because their control was like enduring constant stabs to his sanity. If he stayed any more, he would have been a shell of himself, a body with no soul to move him forward. Thinking of home now, he didn't want to retrace those footsteps.

His eyes met your teary ones, acknowledging the guilt beginning to ripen. His own breaths quivered but he forced himself to speak.

"I did. Yeah. But because they controlled me. You think I don't know controlling parents? I do. But I did something about it. It's about time you did as well. Stop latching on to everything they give you." He was breathless by the end of it but the message was firm and unmoving in his gaze.

It forced a shudder to pervade your body, the guilt growing like a toxic plant that only you were to be blamed for. Another step forward, but you flinched as Jungwon put a hand up to prevent anything else.

"I'm sorry," you whispered as he backed away, the agony storming in his eyes, the way he clenched his jaw a little tighter. You couldn't stop him.

You didn't want to stop him because deep down, you knew how he had wrung out the truth and found the seeds of reason as to why you kept him hidden.

It was your fault.

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THREE DAYS.

That's how long the silence stretched on for. And it was killing you. The more you sat and thought about his points, his anger, the more valid you found it to be.

How could you? The realisation struck deeper than any blade could, making you want to just scream and rewind the clock.

But, you couldn't, and you had no idea how to start off the conversation when you had offended him and practically watered his insecurity into a full-fledged plant.

University was rough, and on this fateful Friday morning, you gave in to the sickness plauging your mind and stayed in bed. Your mother didn't question it, but you know she would mumble about it later under her breath, and then depend on the wind to mask it.

When you had finally dressed into something more casual and washed up, you stared down at your phone, the reflection speaking to you in more ways than one.

Not only did you keep him hidden, but you also used his past against him. Whatever indignation you had at that moment crumbled like sand. You had no reason, no justification for the way you turned on him—and for what? To fabricate your own flawed actions? The look in his eyes pummelled you with stones.

Not telling your parents was a weak wall you had built to save yourself from lectures, from the disapproval that would have grown from telling them. But, you knew it wasn't worth the guilt that had blossomed in its place.

If you really thought about it, his insecurities had risen to the surface many times, chilling the conversations into awkwardness, and instead of melting away those internal problems, you just allowed it to freeze something unknown in the relationship.

You should have asked him how to solve this problem. Not how it would affect you: after all, two people make a relationship tick in perfect clockwork, and you only thought about yourself.

You groaned to yourself quietly, facing your ceiling now as you flopped back on your pillows, the stinging remorse burning your chest until tears rose to your eyes. It wouldn't do. The iciness would prevail unless you went out yourself to find him and his warmth.

A knock came on the door, and you lifted your head when your mother came in with some water and tea steaming up from a cup, all placed on a wooden tray.

Discreetly, you wiped your tears as she settled down the tray on your bedside table, sighing slightly. "Do you feel better?"

"Somewhat. Thanks." You took the cup of tea, the sweet scent and steam hitting your nose. When the liquid warmed your throat, it reminded you of the chill remaining in your bones.

She straightened, crossed her arms calculatingly. You didn't like how she was standing so you sipped your tea again.

"By the way..." she began saying as she sat on your bed. "Have you talked to Sunghoon? I still haven't been updated on whether or not you like him. He seems quite interested in you."

That name nearly made your eyes roll. Sunghoon—the dude that secretly boxed and then had the audacity to seek you out after purposely breaking the boundaries. He didn't seem to care.

Not only that, but the distaste he practically struck at Jungwon was clear from the way his narrowed gaze and smug smirk had appeared. It infuriated you, as if Jungwon was something beneath his shoe.

You shook your head, holding your cup tighter. "I don't like him. I thought Sunghoon said that."

"He didn't though. And why do you not like him? He comes from a respectable family?" She asked again and again.

The words almost made you cringe, the irony on them clashing in your head. Respectable? More like arrogant.

"He's not my type." You huffed, and your mother narrowed her gaze.

"Then, what is your type? It just seems like an excuse," she accused again, the slight sharpness cutting into her tone.

Instantly, you thought of Jungwon: he had those big, brown eyes, and they held galaxies within them whenever he was with you, when he took care of the cats at the café. His blonde fluffy hair and the small giggles he would let out that had the ability to draw you away from reality and replay it like a melody you desired to hear for centuries.

Most importantly, his support and understanding. Things he easily practised and sculpted with no trouble. He was so selfless.

And you failed to realise that.

Realising your mother was still awaiting an answer, the urge to just go find Jungwon grew. But, you want to make things right if you were to ever make you and him right.

"Mother. I don't. Like. Him." You sighed, putting the cup down onto the bedside table. She sighed, rubbing a hand to her temple, as if you had broken a valuable item.

"Why?"

"Because I just... don't," you said again, standing up as you went to your vanity, needing physical space before you lashed out.

Jungwon's name crept up your stomach, your chest and his presence swarmed your system. Your mother stood as well.

"That's not a reason, Y/n," she remarked back. And, you realised you had gotten her argumentative tendencies, hearing a lot of yourself.

You faced her again, Jungwon's warm presence once again wrapping around every thought in your mind, locking into each corner of your head.

"I just don't want him—"

"Are you serious? He's smart and respectable, and he would take care of you." She started listing off.

But, he wasn't like Jungwon.

"He's even secure, he would listen to you."

Not like Jungwon.

"And, I don't understand why you're holding back when I'm trying to help you—"

Your composure shattered as you snapped your eyes to her.

"Because I already have a boyfriend!"

You stood there, shoulders and body tense as your mother's face morphed from disbelief and shock to some kind of frustration that hardened instantly.

The silence was a heavy blanket, suffocating you instantly as you shifted on your feet. Then, your mother stepped forward once.

"You already have one?" She said quietly, her tone bruising. You lost your voice in that moment, so you just nodded once.

"Who? And why wouldn't you tell me?" She snapped again, making that familiar irritation grow in your chest.

"... I... I met him at a café."

"And? Who is he? Does he have a well job—"

"He works at the café." You corrected her, your voice dimming slightly as her eyes widened. You thought her damn eyeballs would fall out of their sockets.

"Works at a café? Y/n, what were you thinking?" She exclaimed.

"I'm thinking that this is a nice guy. And I really like him," you began saying, your arms falling to your sides, meeting her gaze with truth.

Jungwon had managed to leave a permanent print on you, a print full of colours and sweetness, of vibrant fun to light up your world.

"And, I don't care that he works at a café. He treats me so well, and he might not have a degree like you want people to, but I don't care," you explained with sincerity.

Your mother nearly gasped, running a hand over her temple again with stiffness. "He doesn't have a degree? Are you even thinking of your future?"

"I am! He would treat me well in the future! I'm not a child! I know who he is," you exclaimed again, voice rising against her own condescension, her oncoming tide of a lecture. She narrowed her gaze.

"I... I can't believe it." She touched her forehead again as if you had inflicted a disease on her. You grit your teeth, deciding it was enough.

On absolute impulse, you stormed to your bag and snatched it before walking right past her. She scurried after you, eyes threaded with clamouring alarm.

Y/n—"

Completely ignoring her, you walked right out of the house whilst she trailed after you with countless protests.

But no more would she control you or dictate that part of your life. She can't dictate your heart and bend it to her will. Jungwon already had it, and it was his to cherish.

You practically jogged down the street and realised she stopped chasing but you were moving, and found yourself ordering a taxi and speeding away. There could only be one place that Jungwon could be that you could think of.

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The cate café was still lit up by the time you were there, and you wasted no time in entering and rushing into the space. As you put the slippers on, you slid open the door to find the flurry of cats wandering about.

The sight would have calmed you if Jungwon wasn't on your mind. Without batting an eye, you strolled up to the counter to see Jay working on the till, tapping something. When he saw you, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Hey, I didn't expect to see you," he said with a slight smile. No doubt he's probably heard what happened between you and Jungwon, the pure selfishness you expressed.

Clearing your throat, you glanced up. "Is Jungwon here?"

Jay gave you a resigned look, shoulders slumping in a way that made your heart twist with dread.

"He asked me to cover for him." Jay sighed, something flashing through his gaze. You caught onto it, staring unmovingly until the desperation made you lean onto the counter.

"Do you know where he is. I need to talk to him." You blinked at Jay as he shifted in his place, eyes darting to and fro as if watching his thoughts run and crash into each other. "Please."

Jay glimpsed at your eager expression, and sighed. But, he nodded, which meant it worked.

"He's... he's at a boxing match," Jay finally said. Your heart leapt, too many thoughts rising. The guilt had released its poison again, making your eyes shut to recover.

A boxing match. With an audience, probably. You can't just wait for him. You were about to thank him when Jay interjected again.

"He has a match with this guy. This new, rich guy. It was a bet," he said, making the description describe Sunghoon perfectly from those brief words.

Then, the worry took its new place in your thoughts, floating thickly, chilling your body. He was fighting Sunghoon? No, no, no. Not that you minded Sunghoon getting beat up, but you don't want him to see Sunghoon and then have his insecurities jab at him again.

"You have to take me," you burst out again, holding the counter tightly. Jay hesitated before glancing at the clock. A few seconds later, he shrugged.

"Yeah, fuck it. Only an hour left of the shift," he muttered before flinging off his apron. "Help me close up."

With rushed actions, you helped Jay out with the cats, closing up the shop and then hopping into his car as he drove deeper into town. All the while, your hands twiddled over each other in your lap as you tried to think of what to say to Jungwon.

He was worth everythin —worth every lecture and look of disapproval. After all, this was your life, and, for once, you wanted to hold the pen and write down what you wanted.

The early evening sky approached over Seoul, light rekindling to the lamps on the roads and pavements. The closer you got to your destination, the more your urge grew to just jump out the car and run there yourself.

Jay would have joked about your state, but you seemed genuinely distressed and didn't comment on it as he steered into the next road.

Once parked, you and Jay got out, the darkness casting shadows over the narrow alleyway. Jay didn't stutter with directions as he led you down the path and back into the familiar alleyway.

You didn't question it, too eager to reach Jungwon and pour out your apologies for everything you had done.

Once reaching the dark doors, it was as if you were walking into a void from how absent the light was. Hesitating slightly, you pushed through it, the determination rising again.

When you walked forward a little too quickly, you bumped into Jay's back as he yelped.

"Sorry," you mumbled. He waved it off, even though you didn't see it, and helped you into the open light of the normal boxing ring, the slightly flickering lights, and the emptiness that surrounded it.

Just like before, you and him went down that dim corridor until reaching the thick metal door. Jay was the one to push it and let out the roar of cheers and encouragement.

The room was just the same as before, but this time, it was busier, it had more seats and tables filled with drinks and plastic cups, the shop-bought lights blaring brightly at the one platform that had two men fighting on it.

People clustered around the platform, cursing or cheering, a concoction of both that truly displayed the violence they were eager to bet on.

Jay led you in, and then turned his head a few times, but grew defeated. Leaning in close to you, he said, "I'll look for Jungwon in the locker room. You stay here in case you see him."

Agreeing to that plan, you let Jay go to be left alone with the crowd and your potential regret.

You were making a thousand different strategies to apologise, and even then, you couldn't even create a clear path of that. Everything was too disorderly.

You should have written a damn letter on why you were a terrible girlfriend.

When the cheers reached a peak, you glanced up to see one of the men, the black hair, blue jacket, and sharp nose. You nearly gawked as you saw Sunghoon triumphantly raise his arm in victory.

The host gestured for someone to drag the other dude off the platform, and the unease that surrounded Sunghoon was now too much to ignore. The smugness in his face was persistent as ever, soiling your memories and comfort towards him.

"The new guy has won two fights so far!" The host exclaimed, earning another nonchalant smirk from Sunghoon.

For some reason, this felt too horrid. As if Sunghoon's smile was purely because of the abrasive hits he had managed to get down, to almost build a ladder that his ego could climb and never come down from. It was purely a reach for dominance and internal power. It made you sick.

You gripped the pillar tighter, watching as Sunghoon scnneded the crowd before the host started grinning again.

"And so, for the next round, we have one of our best fighters attending! Let's see if our new guy can beat him. You know what they say—the third time is the lucky charm!" He exclaimed into the mic, and the crowd erupted again into ferocious cheers that forced your heart to pump faster.

You didn't like those words, the anticipation it had leaking into your veins like ice. As you watched closely, the host moved, and the people whistled and cheered again as a familiar blonde hopped onto the stage with big, white gloves.

When you saw the blonde locks, no doubt you knew it was Jungwon, and you were right. It was him, but there was a tightness in his shoulders, the tension in his jaw and the burrowed eyebrows. Even his brown eyes held a black hole there instead of a million stars.

You don't know whether it's because your relationship had smashed to the ground, or if Sunghoon's face was a clear target that provoked him. Or both. It was rational in a way.

But the sight of him tugged on your heart. The sharp gaze made your heart flutter in the midst of all of this coldness. As if your silly heart still managed to find a way to be drawn to his warmth and grow alive again.

The urge to stop him and just kiss him right there was a good idea if only you didn't have social anxiety and if you had already talked to him. Which you didn't.

The host grinned again, sly. "A juicy bet, this one. Remember to put your money in! And then, the fight can commence!"

People shifted and manoeuvred, but all you could focus on was the heavy steps Jungwon did as he circled around, Sunghoon doing the same as they kept their distance. Arrogance was a badge that Sunghoon wore visibly, the smirk living on his lips whilst a frown prevailed on Jungwon's.

The crowd thickened again, and you didn't realise people joining and entering, but you knew there was no way of getting to the front unless you wanted to become the people's personal rug. You kept to the pillar, leaning on it.

"Okay! Is everyone ready for the next fight?"

The crowd basically yelled in response, some not even speaking, just screaming. The host laughed and then gestured something. Sunghoon and Jungwon came to the centre and bumped fists. Jungwon's jaw ticked even more.

The host grinned and moved back out of the ring before a sudden bell went off. You held your breath.

Sunghoon lunged first with a bold jab which Jungwon defended, lifting both arms vertically to display his veiny arms.

There you go again, staring at something irrelevant like a new teenager. As if he wasn't your boyfriend.

When Sunghoon rained down on the jabs at his defensive arms, Jungwon slid to the right and delivered a hook to pummel his ribs, and then delivering an uppercut to his jaw that sent the crowd in a blaze of excitement.

Sunghoon recoiled and recovered in an instant and backed away, circling from the attack. Jungwon, however, he was tracking him, following his footsteps, a sudden fire igniting within when he hunched his shoulders and got into stance again.

Sunghoon sneered and, once again, lunged with a ferocious uppercut to Jungwon's stomach, and he kept going at it.

You gasped, straightening as you saw Jungwon's face contort in pain, but he used that oppurtunity to rain down punches on Sunghoon's nape and shoulders, delivering three sharp ones before Sunghoon faltered and moved away.

There was a slight slither of satisfaction in your stiff body, and you stepped closer for a better look, the lights from above hitting your eyes.

This time, the crowd almost gave a collected groan and laugh, as if they were mocking Sunghoon. It seemed to egg him on as he straightened, glaring at Jungwon as he circled about again like two opposing lions in a battle.

You saw Sunghoon say something to Jungwon, something that made Jungwon's composure break as he suddenly charged forward.

The crowd gasped and roared in exhilaration as Jungwon jabbed at Sunghoon's torso, unhinged and unrestrained. Sunghoon brought his weight to his left, then swiftly to his right.

Jungwon wasn't ready for it and stumbled back harshly when Sunghoon delivered a hook to his back and a jab to his side.

Your breath hitched, eyes trained on a retreating Jungwon, taking his eyes off Sunghoon to the crowd, towards you.

When your gazes met, electricity shot through you, making you straighten your posture. You wanted to tell him so much, but he was the first to look away when Sunghoon slowly approached again.

The brief eye contact left you hollow, empty, and your shoulders deflated slightly.

Jungwon watched closely, a newfound thought clouding his eyes when Sunghoon smirked again, fists close to his face.

The crowd was too loud, his body stiff and tired, and his mind burned in exasperation. Jungwon grit his teeth and let Sunghoon shift from foot to foot, getting closer.

When he was close enough, Jungwon stepped on his right and pivoted, ultimately turning his back onto him first, but his elbow collided with Sunghoon's side.

He grumbled, but Jungwon didn't let him recover from the stumble as he let furious punches spitfire at Sunghoon, right at his ribs and side.

He didn't know if he breathed, he didn't know if pain tinged at his knuckles and shoulders, he just hailed down on the hits until Sunghoon stumbled back, tripping over his own feet.

Even with Sunghoon on the ground with his arms vertically up before his face, Jungwon took the chance to stand atop him, aiming the damn punches at Sunghoon's stomach.

Sunghoon groaned in pain, squirming away, and even attempted a shot at getting back at Jungwon, but he only took the oppurtunity to deliver a sharp hook to his jaw.

The people around the platform practically broke into another roar, supporting Jungwon's newfound violence. For some reason, he kept punching, practically raining punched on Sunghoon's face until his hands weakly rested atop his head and when the bell went off.

Sunghoon was on the ground for too long, and the crowd all jeered and yelled in dispute or celebration.

Jungwon stood, not bothering to help Sunghoon up as he glanced up and saw you again, your eyes wide, desperate and sparkling like it always did. The adrenaline kept his thoughts running, so he turned away and got off the platform.

That made you walk. He can't leave you there. Your chest was too tight and holding too much to just suppress back into your head and bury away.

Remembering that locker room again, you retraced your steps as you walked around the crowd, rushing into the familiar grey hallway, pushing past the doors.

You saw the way he best Sunghoon. As if he was reassuring himself of something, something to prove. But he shouldn't need to prove anything to anyone, especially not to you.

You let your own fear control your love life, play you like a helpless puppet, and ultimately drain Jungwon of the love he deserved.

Once approaching the familiar locker doors, you flinched when Jay was the one to open it, eyes almost holding an epiphany.

"Jay..." you said breathlessly. He rubbed the back of his head.

"He came in here just now. In the shower," he said, stepping out into the hallway before you. Normally, the thought of him showering would be too intimate, but you were more eager to fix the cracks in the very trust you had broken

"Thank you, Jay."

You didn't wait for a response before bursting into the room, the small locker room empty except the shower running in the adjacent room. You bit your lip, fighting yourself on waiting for him or to talk to him from behind the curtain.

Your thoughts were splintering, about to burst past the dam that held you back. The surge of impatience was hard to suppress, and you entered the shower area with hope that it was only Jungwon occuyping the stall.

To your luck, you only heard one, and a single curtain was drawn at the utmost end of the bathroom.

"Jungwon?" You called out, your voice slightly held back, testing the waters. The shower turned off, and you heard movement, but nothing that was his voice.

Taking it as a cue to move forward, you inched closer to his curtain, fingers twiddling, the worry and burden of your own thoughts anchoring at your feet, like rusted shackles.

"Won. I... you don't need to talk because... you don't need to argue. I'm here to apologise. I was an idiot," you began saying, the lump in your throat forging through like steel.

"You know that, but... I don't want to lose you. And... I got so mad. I shouldn't have. I should have listened to you, but I got angry because... I didn't want to accept that you were right." You shakily breathed, head dipped as tears welled at your eyes.

You felt pathetic, but you wanted to push through it because he wasn't to blame.

"I... I am scared of my parents, and that just made it easier for them to control. I should have... I should have told you about Sunghoon, and I should have told them earlier about you. Because, Jungwon, you are so good for me. You're literally... the best thing I have ever had, believe it or n-not," you said with a slightly breathless and sad chuckle.

You sniffled, tears running down your cheeks silently, the vulnerability seeping through with every streak of tears.

"I can't... buy this anywhere else. You're seriously... a r-rare kind. You're not something I could ever buy. You're just... a miracle. I shouldn't have kept you a secret."

You let out another quivering breath, the silence threatening your composure even more as you wiped your eyes.

"You don't need to f-forgive me, even if I have told my mother about you. I just want you to know that you helped me at least take the first step," you said more quietly, not realising the quiet figure that stepped out from behind the curtain.

You kept going, the dam now freely flowing, streams of thoughts rushing out. "And... I love you, you know? You seriously... have given me so much. And, I didn't even try the same for you."

A hand cupped your jaw, lifted your face as your breath hitched in alarm. There he was, the anger distant now, with something softer and understanding. Guilt. Which you didn't understand. He was wearing a white t-shirt, black slacks, and he looked fresh.

The bruise on his jaw formed, but he didn't care as he stepped closer, both thumbs stroking your cheeks, wiping the tears away. You didn't deserve this much sincerity.

"Stop... stop apologising," he said softly, not being able to endure anymore tears blinding the sparkle in your eyes.

You weren't having it, though, your arms encircling his waist, face digging into his chest with more tears running down your cheeks. You don't even know why he's apologising when you were the one that created the hurdle.

He sighed, his arms tightly locking around your body, a cheek pressed to your forehead as if it was the only way he could connect any deeper with you.

"I don't like seeing you cry," he whispered, his own voice trembling. When you heard the quiver, your eyes lifted to see the remorse etched into his face, the frown anchoring his lips. "You don't need to apologise."

"But, I do. This... this all happened because of me. And I was totally out of line. And—"

Jungwon placed a finger on your parted lips, silencing your breathless self. He managed a small smile, but it wasn't completely weaved with joy. Just slight endearment and apprehension.

"To make you feel better, I forgive you, Y/n." He touched your tearful cheek, wiping away the guilt staining your skin. He didn't want to have you feel all that burden.

Confusion sparkled again in those gaze of yours.

"I forgive you. Even if... that comment did hurt, I know it wasn't... from a bad place. I know you have expectations to meet, but I also knew you were holding yourself back." Jungwon held your shoulders now, melting away the iceberg that froze in the center of your chest. "Do you know how much that hurts me? Seeing you have to hide something you love?"

You knew all too well how hard it was to even talk against your parents. The loyalty was a noose around your neck, and you had no courage to pull it apart.

He lifted your chin again when you glanced down, firm, wanting your utmost attention. "You shouldn't even have to feel scared. They shouldn't have that power over you. I just wanted to help you."

"I know... I'm so sorry, Won," you mumbled tearfully, and he smiled in sympathy again, shaking his head in feigned disappointment.

"What did I say about apologising?" He said softly, his tone dry of any type of command. Even then, you wiped your eyes, seeing his features even more now.

"I should have told you," You said again, voice hoarse as you wiped away your tears with your sleeves. He nodded, agreeing with you but the blame dimmed within you. It was just him and understanding.

One of the things you absolutely adored about him. Even after all of this, he still held the highest standards of care, making sure it was the most significant thing he needed to consider.

He held your shoulders, lips pursing and releasing a sigh through his nose. "I just don't want you hiding."

After all of this, he still spoke to you with softness, mellow demands and pleas. It took you everything not to apologise again.

"I know. I realise it now. You are right. And, I don't want to lose you," you said, gazing up at him again, the warmth of his hands grounding you.

"Me either. I could have... reacted better. I'm sorry for that," he said, thumbs rubbing the edges of your collarbone through your shirt.

You held his wrists, smiling after a while actually. "N-no. You didn't deserve my selfishness."

"You give yourself too much credit." He chuckled lowly again, shaking his head as your hands splayed at his warm chest.

"I think I deserve it. I caused the problem and tried to fix it. I... I told my mother. Let's just see how she takes it," you replied, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, giving him the opportunity to slide his hands to your waist, hugging you once more.

The thought of having to go back, face your mother and her possible lectures unsettled your stomach and appetite. You sighed as he slightly swayed you and him, chin resting softly atop your locks.

"I don't want to go back home," you whispered, sighing. He tightened his grip, stilling, and you noticed it, glancing up. Something was brewing in his eyes, dark, eager.

"Stay with me then." He retorted, voice slightly lower, practically sending your nerves to shudder from the spine down.

His eyes were cloudy, losing touch of reality and its problems. He pulled you closer, your torso bumping into him as your breath hitched.

"Well?" Jungwon murmured when you stayed silent. This was different, exhilarating, and stronger than any kind of pull you had experienced. And your heart thrummed, singing a different song and making you nod.

"Of course."

As soon as you said that, he pushed you back into the shower cubicle, your shoes tapping swiftly on the ground as you gasped. He pressed your back into the damp wall, but you didn't give a care when he crashed his lips to yours, moving desperately and trying to prove something different.

Love, perhaps.

"Mm, I missed you," he murmured against your lips, hooking his hands around you, one at your lower back and another to cup your head. Your eyes were shut, hands clutching his shirt and kissing him.

There were no words needed. The pull you ached for was clearly displayed when you bit his lower lips, now gripping his nape. He groaned loudly, not giving a care on whether anyone would walk in and hear.

The air was heavy, suffocating you in his embrace, but you craved more. You craved the anchoring love of his, the type to keep you rooted to him, even if it consumed your organs and thoughts like water.

Jungwon didn't stop, lips departing only to pepper deep and eager kisses down your jaw, all the way to your ear. Your breath hitched, but he held you tighter, hands skimming down your back until the hem.

As if testing the waters, he deftly untucked your shirt, and you sighed loudly again. You could almost feel his smirk on your skin, travelling down your ear and the side of your throat.

Taking it as a sign, Jungwon's hands dived beneath the fabric, roaming up your bare skin. You hummed again, and he pressed more insistent kisses into your skin, daring to suck.

You groaned breathlessly, your eyes fluttering shut as he pressed you flush to him, his built torso molding against your soft ones.

"Fuck, you're so hot," he groaned against your neck, nipping at the skin, making your breath hitch more, chest heaving against his. You held onto him tighter, feeling his hands running up your bare back, dancing across your spine in a perfected plan until he reached the clasp of your bra.

That alone sent a thousand ripples to shake your composure, a reminder of how he could take you apart and how you would plead for more of that type of destruction.

With his kisses heavy on your throat, you groaned breathily again, arching your body to curve perfectly to his. Jungwon knew his constructed calmness was about to crumble into an avalanche and reduce him to rubble at your feet.

He didn't open it opting to squeeze your sides and kiss your lips again, tongue tracing carefully. There was no patience remaining there and, if there was, it would have been consumed by the heat in your belly.

The slight dim lighting made it better, and you couldn't suppress the slight whimper as he pressed his hips firmly to yours to test your limits.

Jungwon smirked against your lips, departing for a second, and his one hand snaked to your chin, tilting your dazed gaze to his. Your hands stayed on his shoulders, your skin tingling with delight.

Jungwon's own gaze was swarmed with something, more cloudy, stormy with an urge that he couldn't hold back from.

"I could keep you like this all day. And, you would let me, wouldn't you?" He murmured, his teasing words striking you with heat. You fluttered your eyes at him, tilting your head as his warmth ran through you.

"We both know the answer to that," you replied. Jungwon smiled wickedly again.

"You act as if that's something annoying you." He chuckled, lowering his lips to your neck again and completely shattering the weak composure. He kissed, hands returning to your bare back, down to your hip and forcing you closer to him.

"Well, a shower room is not the place I imagined this to be happening," you remarked with a voice failing to hold together. He laughed lowly again, his smugness running through your collarbone. You held his nape again, and he squeezed your hip.

"We can wait. I don't want to rush you," he said, still managing to ask. You know it's the bare minimum, but you felt lucky whenever he did.

"I want you. So much." Your eyes met his when he lifted his head, eyes heavy with wisps of desire.

"I want you, too. Clearly," he said, accentuating his hips to yours, making it obvious. Your throat ran dry, suddenly aware of how far you were going, and that you weren't willing to retract.

"So much for waiting. Your body doesn't want it," you said, teasing him despite the way his own self elicited something heavier to flutter and consume your heart. He scoffed, still close enough for you to be molded to him.

"I know. I should really learn to hold back. Maybe you can ease it?" He said, raising an eyebrow as if his innuendo went unseen. Rolling your eyes, you pushed his shoulder slightly.

"Why do you need me to help your situation. Use your brain," you said with a chuckle when he had that familiar infuriated, yet amused, expression.

"You're killing me here," he murmured lowly again, lips and inch from yours, his threats doing nothing to lower your smile. "Gee, I wish I could just control my hormones, you know?"

"A real man knows how to," you teased again, being dramatic and exaggerative.

"Well, I guess I'm not real then. Just a figment of your amazing imagination. It's all in your head," he replied, contemplative as he firmly pressed his hips again. Your breath stuttered.

Even then, you didn't let the banter go unanswered. You locked your arms around his neck, staring up at him.

"My crazy imagination is making me see a crazy man. I think I'm having a weird dream thing right now." You grinned, eyes flickering to his lips. "I don't want to wake up."

At your sweet words, even if tied to a joke, softened his cloudy eyes, replacing it with the urge to kiss your forehead. His lips were soft, lingering on your skin and he let himself caress your cheek, as if you were the most luckiest thing that could enter his life.

"I love you." He breathed in the scent of your hair. Your eyes fluttered shut as you hugged him, grateful for it all. Grateful that you could be understood, forgiven after your selfish acts.

"Love you, too."

Just as he went in for another kiss, the curtain flung open behind him, making you and him jump. Standing there was Jay, his eyes scanning the scene, the hands around your waist, the fact that you were nestled in a shower stall.

Grimacing heavily, Jay rubbed his temples. "Seriously?"

"You didn't need to pull back the curtain, by the way," Jungwon said with a smirk, finally distancing himself from you slightly.

"And let you two continue God knows what in here?" Jay inquired, shooting daggers more at Jungwon than you. Warmth ignited your cheeks at being caught by Jay for the nth time.

"This is a public space."

"And yet you pulled back the curtain of someone's shower stall," Jungwon remarked sharply. Jay just waved it off, as if that wasn't the point. Jungwon grinned.

"You know, I'm right."

"No, you're not! I expected you to make up, not make out," Jay said with a huff, even though half of that was true.

"I would ask what movies you watch, but clearly you haven't watched a movie about fighting couples," Jungwon said with a wicked grin. Jay ran a hand through his hair, disgust sweeping over his eyes.

"Jungwon?"

"Yeah?"

"Get the fuck out." Jay sighed, and then glimpsed at your figure curled behind Jungwon, gaze slightly mellowing around the edges. "Not you, though, Y/n. Respectfully, leave."

━━━━━━━━━━˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱‧₊˚━━━━━━━━━━

"STOP BEING SO NERVOUS."

Jungwon huffed, brushing a hand through his newly cut blonde hair, only for it to flop back into place again. He frowned as you held his wrist.

"Stop, Won. You don't need to be doing that. And, I think wearing formal is enough," you said before dragging your eyes down his body clad in a black shirt, trousers and his pine green jacket.

He was being overly ridiculous, letting the doubts of meeting your parents get ahold of him.

After you had told your parents of Jungwon, they seemed reluctant, but ultimately, they had never seen your eyes sparkling with so much sincerity when you had talked about him. They knew that the care ran deep, too much to just forget about.

That's how you found yourself walking with Jungwon to your home, happily holding his hand and even squeezing it reassuringly. A subtle grip of his hand returned, and he let out another releasing breath.

"You're sure they won't hate the blonde?"

"No?"

"And, I'm not even wearing a tie."

"My father doesn't even wear one. He gets lazy sometimes and wears a clip-on," you said again, giving him that sweet smile of yours. Jungwon's frown remained, bottom lip jutting out as much as his anxiety acting like a sore thumb.

In all honesty, you know your parents will have questions, but that's the point of a relationship—to fight for it, to avoid any possible hurdles and untangle them together.

You wished you had done so earlier.

Jungwon nearly gawked as he stared at your home, the silver gates twice his size enough for him to know you weren't just an ordinary girl.

Of course, you were different, but damn, your home called him broke in five different ways.

"Okay, you ready? We can always cancel if you have any problems," you said, turning to him. Jungwon found it too adorable as your eyes sparkled up at him.

But, there was no point holding it off into the future. Otherwise, he would never get there. Holding your hand a little tighter, he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

"Yeah. Let's go. They're probably waiting."

Jungwon wanted to curl up and shrivel on the spot when he met your parents.

The reason?

He meant to give a handshake and found his hand curled into a fist as if he was dabbing up Jay.

The internal embarrassment hit him like bullets, making his smile tight and his cheeks flush slightly. He knew you were laughing to yourself at the side but decided against glaring at you.

Anything to hear your happiness.

Even then, his parents scrutinised, as if they had a built-in system to recognise his sincerity, and then, they nodded and gave a small smile.

"Welcome, Jungwon." Your mother said, those eyes mellowing as she lead everyone into the dining room. Taking it as a good sign, you held his arm, then slid your fingers to his, interlacing them, as if you had finally reached something you had been looking for in the dark.

All at once, those intricate webs of doubt broke so easily. It almost felt like dust.

After having some tea, Jungwon finally breathed when he went up to your room, eyes taking in the cream tones, the colours that were taken from your personality and embedded in the bedsheets, jewellery and stickers around the room and vanity.

You spun in the room, presenting your room with a small smile. "Welcome! Where do you want to explore first?"

"This room could take two business days to explore," Jungwon mused with a smirk, staring at the big perimeter that was your room.

"Does that mean you can stay over then?" You remarked, mischief glittering in the sky that were your eyes. Jungwon grinned, sauntering over to hold your hips.

"I mean, I don't want to just crash over here," he said, leaning down with voice clouded with intensity, slowly fogging your head as well. He squeezed your hips, maneuvering you back, and back until you sat on the bed before him. You raised an eyebrow.

"You're already manhandling me. Haven't we gotten past that stage?" You joked, crossing your arms. He rolled his eyes, smirk remaining like a stain he couldn't remove.

"Well, if you say we've exceeded boundaries..." He bent down over you, forcing you to slightly lay down on your forearms. "Can we explore here first?"

The heat exploded in your cheeks, refusing the ability to act indifferent here. Ugh, he always managed to crumble your composure so effortlessly.

"You're a freak," you said, giggling as your hand swatted at his chest. Jungwon shrugged, eyes wandering down your body before capturing your gaze.

"It's not like you don't like it," Jungwon said, tilting his head, continuing to inch closer as your breath hitched.

"I don't, so."

"We were kissing in a male public shower stall. I think you are just as much a freak as I am," he said with a chuckle, low, and made your stomach flutter. Even then, your stubbornness struck your next words.

"That's different. I was trying to make it up to you. Technically, you got me into the shower stall." You laughed as he suddenly hovered over you, a knee coming between yours as your back met the bed.

The mischief never faded, though, along with your grin that he loved a bit too much. He stared as if calculating and then leaned down again.

"You have a bit of a smart mouth on you," he murmured with his deep voice, lips a few seconds apart, eyes mesmerising you.

"So, I've been told," you replied back just as smoothly, eyes never leaving his alone, glittering with something genuine and true. He smiled again, a little softer this time.

"Yeah, well, can it kiss me then? I've been waiting all day," he said, hips pressed against yours now, his arm maneuvering your leg to hitch about his waist.

The action alone bloomed heat in your cheeks, and wildflowers that sprouted and rooted into your body with love. You cupped his jaw and brought his lips down to yours.

Accepting the invitation, Jungwon moved his lips softly against yours, savouring his time and your lips. Like a secret and silent conversation he never wanted to leave alone.

You wrapped your arms around his nape and he slid his hand to your waist, pressing in the comfort, the trust he had for you, almost as if he was molding it into your bones.

He departed and braced himself above you, tilting his head to stare down at you.

"You're perfect, you know?" He breathed, as if he didn't look like a fairytale himself.

"And have you seen yourself?" You remarked with a laugh. He rolled his eyes with no hint of aggression and gazed at you, as if he was analysing something.

Or, more like his gaze melted into you, softening and ultimately leaving him mellow and serene.

"I love you, you know?" He said again. Those words—you could never get tired of them. Every time he did say it, the world lit up again, and it was only you two in this world, gravitating towards each other.

Your breath hitched, your grin dying down into something more honest and tender. At the end of the day, you would rather not be with anyone else but Jungwon.

His sincerity was unmatched to anyone else you ever met. You may be biased in that finding, but with him, it was certain that the bond bridged between was sculpted with trust, care, and love. All of it needs attention to stay indestructible. Heck, you may have stayed as a puppet if it wasn't for him.

You didn't want to lose him at all.

"I love you, too... my freaky man."

"Oh, shut up." He grinned, nuzzling his nose against your cheek, his breath caressing you. It was cruel, but you laughed with him.

Sometimes, you think about it even later—why you kept something like him a secret. It was fear and insecurity that had clashed in your brain, eradicating all the logic you usually had.

And, for what? Validation? The type of validation that you would never reach because your parents stretched it to the ends of the Earth?

Even you have limits. You had let yourself believe that there wasn't when it came to pleasing your parents. In result, you had buried and crushed your desires in order for theirs to take their place. Though, because of that, failure came easier to recognise rather than the current success you had in your hands.

From there, you learned that you wouldn't keep your desires a secret.

Besides, your parents didn't even kill you anyways when you said you were dating Jungwon. So, it's a win.

Even years later, the remnants of guilt sometimes floated up again. Keeping Jungwon a secret didn't bring you comfort in the slightest; it only brought burden and doubts to you both. Keeping him in the dark meant he hadn't deserved to be brought to the light.

But Jungwon deserved everything.

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ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ[NOTES]: omg! Hi! If you made it this far? Wow. You all are amazing 😭. I'm sorry this was so long, but i hope you enjoyed <3

Thank you <3

⋆ཐིཋྀ[TAGLIST]: @haengi @yajw @hollxe1 @vixialuvs @dreamiestay @wontechno @jungwonchocochipcookie @meowwwon @page-espoir @dearestdreamies @yunjiiin @fancypeacepersona @readeryaknow @flawlessapollo6 @urmomssneakylink @wonys-won @vvenusoncasual @jellymiki @llearlert @xylatox @firstclassjaylee @jellyluv4eva @jayjw16enxp @tya0 @curryyed @kimbabikidding561

[casvonriegan]

I tire of desiring romance so much when it is also the thing I'm most afraid of.

Every time someone approaches me with romantic interest, I shut down.

Whenever I develop a crush on someone, I repress it. I never pursue it. And then wallow in self-pity when nothing comes to pass. Or they find someone else.

How do I get over this. My heart craves nothing more than to find my Person. The Person. My Partner in Everything. But I have put up so many self-built walls and obstacles.

It isn't even that I have a history of bad romances? I've had one (1) serious relationship in my life. And all things considered, it ended on fairly amiable terms.

Why can't I just let myself try to find my Person. What am I so afraid of.

[rosones]

social media au - being an actress dating choi seunghyun pt. 6

liked by y/n, & 2,484,212 others

ttt ✓ - more to come

view comments

user - he gives 2016 tumblr vibes sooooo much

user - he NEEDS to post more selfies

user - my husband fr

user - maybe babygirl is a 37 year old Korean man named choi seunghyun

y/n ✓ - mr yummy

liked by author

liked by y/n, xxxibgdrgn, & 6,381,798 others

ttt ✓ - EXILE , THE ALBUM . 5.5.25

view comments

user - we are SO back

userlikesphotography231 - is this a drawing of y/n??

user - /@userlikesphotography231 considering the gorgeous silhouette + the fact that Top is obsessed with her, most likely is her lol

xxxibgdrgn ✓ - so happy for you, my brother 🤍🌼

ttt ✓ - /@xxxibgdrgn 🤍🤍🤍

user - so fucking excited for his comeback

user - as a VIP, I used to pray for times like this 🥹

user - already album of the year and it ain’t even out yet

liked by y/n, xxxibgdrgn, gq, & 7,342,447 others

ttt ✓ - Vogue Korea

view comments

user - he’s SO fine

user - y/n better share him

y/n ✓ - MY man

liked by author

user - this made my hole weak

user - jawline sculpted by the gods

the following article was written by journalist Kim Do-Yun & published by Vogue Korea .

T.O.P Returns: A Candid Conversation on Redemption, Love, and ‘Exile’

By: Kim Do-Yun

Choi Seung-hyun—better known as T.O.P. for years, was one of K-pop’s most enigmatic figures: a deep-voiced rapper, a captivating performer, an artist who thrived in mystery. But mystery turned to scandal when his 2017 marijuana case sent shockwaves through South Korea’s entertainment industry. The fallout was brutal, the silence that followed even more so.

Now, after years spent in near-complete solitude, he’s back—not just with music, but with acting, love, and a newfound perspective on life.

Throughout my interview with him, he exuded a quiet confidence, different from the playful arrogance he once carried as a member of BIGBANG. He has always been measured in his words, but that day, there was something more—an openness, a willingness to be seen for who he truly is, not just who the public wants him to be.

Facing the Shadows

“I won’t pretend it was easy,” he admitted. “There was a time when I thought I might never return to music or acting. I felt like I had lost the right to stand in front of people again.”

Following the scandal, T.O.P withdrew almost entirely from the entertainment world. There were sporadic updates—glimpses of his art collection, a few cryptic Instagram posts—but nothing substantial.

“I needed time,” he said simply. “Time to understand my own mind, my mistakes, and what I wanted from life. I spent years writing & making music with no intention of releasing it. It was a way of surviving, I think. But at some point, I realized I didn’t just want to create in the shadows anymore.”

That realization birthed his upcoming album, Exile, a deeply personal project that delves into themes of isolation, redemption, and transformation.

The Concept Behind Exile

“I see Exile as a letter to my past self,” he explained. “It’s about being cast out—sometimes by others, but more often by yourself. It’s about wandering, finding meaning in solitude, and ultimately, choosing to return.”

The album is a drastic departure from his earlier work, blending experimental hip-hop and jazz influences. The soundscape is layered, atmospheric—reflecting the emotional depth of a man who has lived through both adoration and condemnation.

“There’s pain in the music, but there’s also hope,” he continued. “It’s not just about suffering—it’s about what comes after. How do you rebuild yourself when the world thinks you’ve already fallen?”

The lead single, Ashes, encapsulates this journey. “It’s about burning down what no longer serves you and rising from it,” he explained. “Not in a dramatic way—no big explosion. Just embers, slow and steady, turning into something new.”

Reclaiming His Place in Acting: ‘Squid Game’ and Thanos

But music isn’t the only thing marking T.O.P’s return. His casting in Netflix’s Squid Game Season 2 sent fans into a frenzy, a bold choice for an artist who had stayed away from the spotlight for so long.

“I never thought I’d act again,” he admitted. “I had offers over the years, but I wasn’t ready. Then I read the script for Squid Game 2, and something in me woke up. It was exactly the kind of story I wanted to tell.”

In the highly anticipated sequel to the global phenomenon, T.O.P plays Thanos, a complex and ruthless figure within the deadly games. Unlike the participants struggling to survive, Thanos is a former winner—one who chose to return.

“He’s not a traditional villain,” T.O.P clarified. “He’s someone who understands the system better than anyone else. He’s cold, calculating, but not without emotion. He knows what it takes to survive, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes—not for money, but for something deeper. Something he lost.”

The role demanded an emotional transformation. “The hardest part was getting into his mindset. Thanos isn’t just playing the game—he’s manipulating it. He’s someone who has seen too much, lost too much.”

The weight of the character stayed with him long after filming wrapped. “I think I related to him more than I expected,” he admitted. “Not in his actions, but in his solitude. In that feeling of being outside of everything, even when you’re in the center of it.”

Love & Chaos

It was on the Squid Game set that T.O.P met someone who would change everything—his co-star, Y/N. Their connection, first built through long filming days, soon grew into something deeper.

“She saw me for who I was, not just who the world made me out to be,” he said, a softness in his voice. “There’s something freeing about that—being with someone who knows both your darkness and your light and chooses to stay anyway.”

For someone who spent so long rebuilding himself alone, letting someone in was no easy task. “I used to think love was another thing I had lost the right to,” he confessed. “But she changed that.”

Their relationship became public in a way that no one expected—through a series of intimate photos posted on Instagram. They felt raw, real, and unlike other polished celebrity relationships.

“I was nervous,” T.O.P admitted. “Not because I was ashamed—but because I knew how people might react. I knew what it meant to expose something so personal in a place where people think they have the right to dissect every part of your life.”

Y/N, however, had a different perspective. “She told me, ‘Why should we hide something that makes us happy?’ And she was right,” he said. “For so long, I lived in fear of what people would say. But love isn’t something to be ashamed of. If anything, it’s something to be proud of.”

Now, with both Exile and Squid Game, their love story is no longer a secret—but he’s still extremely protective of it. “I don’t need people to approve,” he said. “I just need her.”

Looking Ahead

As our conversation started nearing its end, I asked him what he hoped people will take away from his return.

“I don’t expect everyone to forgive me, and I don’t expect to go back to who I was before. That person is gone,” he said. “But I hope people will listen. Not just to the music, but to the story behind it. I hope they see that exile isn’t the end—it’s just another beginning.”

With Exile set to drop and his acting career reignited, T.O.P is stepping into the spotlight once again—not as the idol he once was, but as an artist and a man who has found his way back from the shadows.

——————————————————————————————————

I wanted to write that little article portion because I wanted to add something unique to this fic, this part is also why I took a little long to post something new !! I haven’t written like an actual piece of writing on this account so I’m like excited and nervous at the same time lol. anyway, I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it !! xx

[luvfy0dor]

“You Know That I'm Obsessed With Your Body ♡⁠˖” BSD Men x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Chuuya Nakahara, Osamu Dazai, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Sigma, H.P. Lovecraft

Warnings; Suggestive, kisses, hickeys, bite marks, allusions to self harm (Dazai), sh scars (Dazai), prolly a little ooc

Description; BSD men and their physical attributes

A/n; CAS lyric title!!! But I cannot bring myself to write reqs RN so............but guys i actually talked to a guy OMG never thought I'd have big enough balls but I got his ig ^w^

⑅Chuuya Nakahara⑅

Chuuyas arms are beautiful to you, they're not insanely buff and they're not thin, but at a perfect equilibrium. They're decorated with intricate tattoos and beautiful colors, and sometimes small dotted lines left by your teeth or maroon spots formed by your love and passion for each other. You loved feeling them wrap around your torso or waist with him leaning his head against your back, letting all the thoughts in his mind flow from his mouth like a waterfall. Other times, he'd hang his arms over your shoulders, letting you feel his biceps against the nape of your neck, ghosting over the baby hairs on your skin. His arms can carry you too, no matter your weight. If it'd make you feel better, he'd use his ability to help and reassure you that he won't drop you or let you get hurt.

“There we go, darlin', see, I told you I wouldn't let you get hurt. Literally not even the strongest gust of wind could knock me over with you right now, so quit worrying.”

⑅Osamu Dazai⑅

Dazai has such a gorgeous torso, bandaged or not. His skin is soft on contrast to the rough and volatile life he's always lead. The only patches of skin that aren't smooth are the ones that are littered with past scars, whether self inflicted or from other people. When Dazai trusts you enough, he'll ask you to help him take off his bandages before bed, letting your fingers brush over the rigid bumps and sharply inhaling while adjusting to your sweet touch in a new, naked place. He lets you kiss the scars and it helps him feel a little relaxed receiving your acceptance through soft kisses and affection instead of being pitied or shamed for his past. It's not like you encourage it, but you don't waste your breath on lecturing him on why he shouldn't have. It's in the past, so instead you'll offer your support for him now rather than dwelling on what you can't change.

“Mmnn...your lips are so soft on my back, baby...keep going, sweetheart, you know how much I love feeling your kisses on my skin...”

⑅Nikolai Gogol⑅

Nikolais thighs could resurrect a dead man, and you couldn't help but feel the same way every time you had your head between or against them. Occasionally your hands would hold them apart and squeeze or grope at them, feeling the firmness beneath the palm of your hand. The pressure from your fingertips leaves temporary pale spots with every pinch and your teeth and tongue leave red ones in your wake as you kiss, suck, and bite all over his thigh, and he loves it. Nikolai loves the harsh feeling of your teeth clamping around his skin, making him gasp and giggle in excitement with a hand on your neck encouraging you to continue. He's got a higher pain tolerance, so if you like to give lovebites, especially on thighs, he's your guy.

“Ah-! Oh, don't worry dove, it doesn't hurt. You know I have a good pain tolerance! You can keep going, hehe, I don't mind it.”

⑅Fyodor Dostoevsky⑅

Fyodors hands are thin and pale aside from some select spots with higher blood concentration. His nails are bitten down to the quick almost always and his fingers are bony and thin. They rest gently on your hips when you sit on his lap while he types or just relaxes with you, his thumbs rubbing circles into the fabric of either your top or bottoms. Sometimes they'll travel upwards, resting against your midsection and making you shiver from their low temperature. He'd laugh under his breath at your reaction and slide them further up, loving the idea that he has you squirming in his grasp. Otherwise, he'd keep a hand on your thigh, rubbing it out of habit modestly. In public he keeps his hands to himself, but in private his hands have a mind of their own.

“Are they that cold, Moya Lyubov? You'll get used to it eventually, unless you'd like to find your own way to warm my hands up?”

⑅Sigma⑅

Sigmas jawline is so defined and Everytime you look at it, an overwhelming urge to kiss along it bubbles up inside of you. Sigma doesn't dislike it, but he'll act like he does, always squirming and playfully grimacing. Eventually he'll give in though, holding your hand while you pepper soft pecks along his skin. He'll return them all over your cheeks and nose, tickling your skin and making you giggle. You can't help but watch Sigmas fingers trace over his jawline while he's deep in thought about this that and the other, admiring how perfect it looks on him.

“H-hey, knock it off, I'm in the middle of fillin' out papers! I said quit it- huff...fine, just a few though! You're really distracting, you know that?”

Bonus; ⑅ H.P. Lovecraft⑅

His hair is so long and luscious- how could you not want to run your fingers through it while your sleepy boyfriend lays his head in your lap? The upper half is smooth and straight while it changes into silky curls towards the bottom, though they're not the tightest and allow for your fingers to brush through them with minimal effort. He loves the feeling of your hands against his scalp, giving soft hums and groans of a relaxed pleasure. His face has his usual neutrality regardless of how nice it feels to get his head massaged by his lover. He frequently lets you pull it into a ponytail or put it into braids or whatever style you please. He lets you brush it, too, as long as you start at the bottom instead of ripping the brush through his hair.

“Mnn...that feels nice, dear...don't mind if I fall asleep on top of you, I can't help it.”

A/n; I feel so bad for not getting to requests, something like this was the easiest thing to do this week though because I had mock trial comp right after school so i couldn't write anything from 8am-7;30 pm some nights and it was the end of the quarter so i had to focus more on school work.

[prythianpages]

When I Kissed the Teacher | Azriel

Summary: After crushing on Azriel for almost a year, Nesta dares you to kiss him during Valkyrie training.

Warning: reader thirsting for Az and fluff for my batboy ♥

A/N: @daycourtofficial suggested this song and idea! Though I did a poll and Az won, I couldn't help myself and also write a version for Cas (you can read it here) as a huge thank you for following and reading my stuff. I just reached 1K followers ♥

This is part of my ABBA x ACOTAR series (masterlist) where I dedicate a song to a character (:

The first moment you saw Azriel, you were instantly drawn to him. 

His sun kissed skin radiated warmth. The hazel depths of his eyes hinted at wisdom earned through ages. His dark hair, a cascade of silken strands, framed a face sculpted to perfection. The Illyrian leathers he wore were a gift from the gods themselves as they only highlighted the well-defined muscles that lay beneath…

And his wings? Gods, those wings of his. They were massive yet delicate and iridescent. The way they always unfurled with such grace had your own wings fluttering in response.

But it wasn’t just the arresting beauty that surpassed all males you’ve encountered that drew you in. It was the impeccable way he carried himself. The mastery he exuded in combat, the patience he had while training you because if you’re going to be honest, you’re sure you pushed him past his limits. Yet, no matter how tough he was on you during training, Azriel was always kind to you outside of training grounds.

It didn’t take you long to fall for him and it didn’t matter how much you unleashed your inner turmoil onto the punching bag. Nothing could shake the strange fluttering sensation in your stomach every time your mind drifted to him. It’s like there were a million butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Sweat glistens on your forehead and your eyebrows furrow in concentration, too lost in your thoughts to pay mind to the silent spectator that had arrived minutes ago…until he finally steps out from the shadows and speaks.

“I’d hate to be the one on your mind right now.”

A misplaced punch lands awkwardly, causing a sharp pain to shoot through your hand. “Azriel,” you breathe, your cheeks flushing as you cradle your hand close to your chest. If only he knew…

“Fuck,” Azriel curses, hazel eyes flashing with concern. He swiftly closes the distance between and gently takes your injured hand into his, inspecting it with a small frown. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You could never scare me.”

Azriel raises an eyebrow, eyes lifting to meet yours. “Is that so?” He replies, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I think I may be going too soft on you then”

“Soft?” You exhale in an incredulous manner, remembering the way your last training session with Azriel had ended. 

He had taunted you and your Illyrian blood had heated at the challenge in his words, allowing him to coax you into combating him. Of course, you were no match for him. You had begun training only a year ago, thanks to Emerie’s invitation. Azriel had centuries on you. Your muscles were still aching from the aftermath.

Azriel chuckles. “Come,” he says, guiding you back into the house. His hand holds onto your wrist lightly, being careful so as not to hurt your injured hand further. “Let’s get you patched up.”

**

As Azriel carefully attends to your hand, you can’t help the way your gaze lingers on him. His features are tense with concentration and concern, unbothered by the dark fringe that falls slightly over his eyes. Your uninjured hand is itching to run through those dark strands and brush his hair back for him.

You swear your heart skips a beat when Azriel lifts his gaze, catching your brazen staring. A flush spreads across your cheeks, and you quickly avert your gaze, missing the subtle, self-satisfied smile that graces Azriel's lips.

The sudden intrusion of Nesta breaks the spell, her figure leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms, an amused twinkle in her gaze. While you were oblivious to Azriel's reaction, Nesta, caught the soft smile he allowed himself.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Both of you turn your heads to find Nesta. There’s a smirk on her face as her eyes flicker between you and Azriel.

“Uh, no. Not at all,” you stammer, attempting to mask your embarrassment. “Just a little injury, that’s all.”

“Nothing to worry yourself over, Nesta,” Azriel chimes in, lowering his gaze to secure the bandage wrapped around your hand. “All done.”

“Thanks, Azriel.”

Azriel rises to his feet, and the shadows that dance around his shoulders seem to buzz with excitement over the soft way you had said his name. He pats your thigh, suppressing his smile as he stands.

Nesta's smirk transforms into a sly grin, her keen eyes not missing the way Azriel keeps his gaze averted from you to save you from further embarrassment. It doesn’t matter, anyway. His shadows are happy to inform him of the mortified look you send Nesta’s way followed by the way you silently mouth “stop” at her. 

"Well, that’s great news,” Nesta replies, grasping your uninjured hand and pulling you to your feet. “Thank you for taking care of her, Az. Now, if you don’t mind, y/n here is late to girl’s night.”

As Nesta ushers you out, Azriel watches with a mixture of amusement and warmth in his hazel eyes. Unbeknownst to you, the unexpected emotions that had taken residence in your heart were mirrored in Azriel’s.

**

Under the soft glow of fairy lights, you sit cross-legged on the plush rug, facing Nesta while Emerie and Gwyn sit on either side of you. An array of snacks, provided by the sentient house, sits in the middle of the circle you and your friends formed. And of course, it wouldn’t be a girl’s night without the age-old game of truth or dare.

“Your turn,” Emerie grins at you, exchanging a knowing look with the other two females. “Truth or dare?”

Given the mischievous glint in Nesta’s eyes, it was an obvious choice for you. Truth would be the safer option. Emerie’s grin falters, disappointed by your choice.

However, Gwyn sees an opportunity. She wraps her blanket tighter around herself, shifting in her spot eagerly. She leans forward to grab a chocolate covered strawberry before nonchalantly asking: “Do you like Azriel?”

Nesta scoffs, throwing her hands in the air. “Oh, come on. Like we even have to ask.”

“True,” Gwyn giggles. “But I want to hear her say it.”

Heat rises to your cheeks for the third time tonight, creating a persistent warmth that makes you wonder if you might give yourself a fever. Your friends collectively hold their breaths in anticipation. Nesta’s gaze remains fixed on you, unwavering.

“Yes.”

The room erupts into squeals and teasing remarks, and your eyes widen, urging them to hush, terrified that Azriel, who is upstairs, might hear. It’s a futile attempt as their cheers only grow louder, making you bury your face in her hands.

“He likes you too.”

Your peak out from beneath your fingers. “What makes you say that?”

Nesta laughs in response but Emerie and Gywn are quick to tease you even further.  Gywn assumes the role of Azriel while Emerie assumes the role of you as they exchange glances and lingering touches. The two females jump to their feet and wooden swords appear in front of them. You look up with a glare directed at the sentient house.

With a swift flick of her wrist, Gwyn uses her wooden sword to knock Emerie’s out of her hand. “Again,” Gwyn nearly growls as she tries to mimic Azriel’s deep voice.

“I can’t,” Emerie replies, feigning shyness.

“I don’t sound like that!” You cry out in disbelief, turning to Nesta. “I don’t sound like that, right?”

Nesta shrugs her shoulders, eyes sparkling with mirth at the scene before her. Emerie and Gwyn ignore your protests, continuing to pretend to be you and Azriel.

“Oh, Azriel, my love,” Emerie swoons, the back of her hand flying to her forehead while her other hand hangs in the air. “I think I sprained my wrist.”

Gwyn gasps dramatically, diving in to catch Emerie before she could fall back against the fortress of pillows behind her. “No, not my sweet y/n, who I’m absolutely smitten with” Gwyn coos, bringing Emerie’s “injured” hand to her lips and kissing it.

Then, Gwyn and Emerie absolutely lose it, the two females falling onto the fortress of pillows as laughter consumes them, unfazed by the glare you’re now directing to them. Nesta stifles her own laughter, turning her attention back to you.

“He definitely likes you,” she repeats, her words awakening the butterflies in your stomach. You wonder if she can hear them fluttering too. “But he won’t make the first move. You’re going to have to do it yourself.”

“Absolutely not!”

 Nesta grins at you. “We’ll see about that.”

“Whatever,” you huff out. “It’s your turn now. Truth or dare?”

The night wears on, filled with more laughter, more shared secrets, and the occasional embarrassing dare. You got your friends back by daring them to have multiple spoonfuls of ice cream and tomato sauce. The house keeps you well supplied with snacks and your glasses of wine never go empty.

When it’s your turn again, you hesitate for a moment. You had thought “truth” had been the safer option but now, you know there is no safe option.

This time, you decide to be brave.

“Dare.”

"Fucking finally," Emerie grins, looking at Nesta while Gwyn smiles at you. Their plan is unfolding seamlessly...

“We dare you to kiss Azriel tomorrow after training.”

Your eyes widen in panic. “What? No way!”

Nesta, seemingly unfazed, inspects her nails with feigned boredom. "Coward," she mutters under her breath.

Her words, though hushed, ignite something deep within you. Your Illyrian blood stirs, the challenge resonating in your veins. Your eyes narrow, fixing on Nesta. "What did you say?"

Nesta meets your gaze as she repeats herself. Louder, this time. “Coward.”

The room falls into a hushed silence as your friends await your response. You bite your lip, contemplating the audacious dare. It was not in your nature to back down from a challenge.

After what felt like an eternity, you let out a deep exhale.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

**

You didn’t sleep at all last night but as Azriel circles around you, his eyes holding a glint of challenge, you are wide awake. Emerie, Gwyn and Nesta watch from the benches facing the sparring grounds while Cassian watches from a closer distance, keenly assessing your every move. Too caught up in your feelings over Azriel, you had failed to realize that this morning’s training session was an evaluation of the skills you had been working on over the past couple of months.

To say you're nervous was an understatement because not only did you have to prove yourself as the aspiring Valkyrie you’d like to become, you also had to prove to Nesta that you were not a coward. Taking a deep breath, your grip tightens on your sword.

Azriel, with his wings casting shadows on the ground, moves effortlessly as your swords meet in a flurry of strikes.Though you struggle, you do your best to keep up and hold your ground, determination burning bright.

Sweat begins to cling to your skin and your envious of the way Azriel hasn’t even broken a sweat himself. With every strike of his and every parry of yours, he continues to push you, his strikes growing harsher and stronger. You literally blink and in that swift second, Azriel knocks your sword out of your grip. A hiss escapes you and you swear your hear Gwyn and Emerie snicker from the sidelines as they find this situation all too familiar.

With a sweep of his leg, you lose your balance and find yourself falling onto one of the training mats. Azriel’s lips twitch upwards as he points his sword toward you. “Do you yield?”

You are weaponless and at his mercy but your stubbornness continues to burn bright. “No.”

In a sudden burst of energy, you land a kick on him, knocking his sword out of his grip just as he did to yours. The bold move leaves him momentarily stunned, his shadows coiling back in surprise. You take full advantage of his distraction, hooking your other leg behind his knees and bringing him down to the mat with you.

Azriel can only blink up at you as you straddle him, eyes widening when he feels a dagger–his dagger–pressed against his throat. How did you–

He’s unable to finish his thought as you shift above him and swallows thickly at the sensation of your body on top of his. The way your breathing is shallow and uneven and the way he can feel the warmth radiating off your body–

“You will.”

Your words have his attention drifting back to you. A radiant smile breaks across your face and his own lips curl upwards, hazel eyes softening as they stare into yours. “I yield,” he murmurs, ever so quietly, you wonder if you imagined it.

Your gaze drifts down to his lips and then back to his eyes. He does the same. And then the next moment, you’re kissing him. Softly and hesitantly, at first, but when Azriel responds, your heart fills with warmth. Your lips move against his with eager urgency.

Truthteller falls from your grasp and you bring your hand to grasp at the back of his neck instead, pulling him even closer. His hands find their place at your waist to keep you in place but then screams and squeals are piercing through the air. You’re immediately pulling away and jumping to your feet, absolutely flustered because in the heat of the moment, you had forgotten all about the audience you had.

You glance down at Azriel, desperately seeking a sign, but his expression is a mix of surprise and confusion. He looks nearly petrified. Your heart races and you begin to wonder if perhaps, you are a coward because all you want to do is run.

Your hand flies to your mouth. Doubts claw at the edges of your courage. What if Nesta was wrong? What if Azriel didn't like you? And you've just made a fool of yourself in front of him and your friends. 

Turning around, your eyes meet with the delightfully entertained audience. Gwyn and Emerie, caught up in the drama, cling to each other with excitement and unrestrained giggles. Nesta stands with the same smirk she gave you the night before, though there’s a flicker of surprise in her blue-grey eyes. She hadn't expected you to follow through with the dare.

Meanwhile, Cassian’s gaze is fixed on the body behind you and he throws his head back in laughter. Ignoring the whispers and amused glances from those around you, you hastily make your exit, blind to the way you left Azriel a blushing fool.

Cassian approaches his friend, who remains rooted to his spot on the floor. Azriel is still processing the whirlwind of emotions you've stirred within him. There’s a teasing grin on Cassian’s lips. “Are you okay there, Az? You look a little–”

Azriel snaps out of the trance you've cast upon him to glare up at his friend. “Fuck off.”

He then jumps to his feet, dusting himself off and ignoring the curious glances of the females nearby. Determination fills his eyes as his head turns toward the direction you ran off to. He fears you have misinterpreted his initial shock and he can’t let this moment slip away. 

He needs to feel your soft lips against his again and more importantly, he needs to tell you that he feels the same way.

a/n: Hope you all enjoyed this one! Cas's version is already up!

tagging: @hellodarling1357, @kennedy-brooke, @scooobies

[netherfeildren]

FABLE OF THE DOG : 4. Figs

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x FMC

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Cowboy/Heiress AU; Explicit Sexual Content; DD/lg Dynamics; Daddy Kink; Spanking; Sub Space; Breath Play; Intense Daddy Issues; Size Kink; Size Difference; Squirting; Brat Taming; Past Child Abuse/Neglect; Mentions of Drug and Alcohol Abuse/Addiction; Mentions of Suicide Attempt; Discussions of Grief; Jealousy; Self Esteem Issues;

A/N: Sorry for the ten month long wait, I’m a lazy, procrastinating cad. It’s really freaking long, I know. I wanted to make it up to you, I really missed them, I had a lot to say.

The tags really, really mean what they say, heed them carefully, please. 

Word Count: 20.5K

Read on AO3

4. Figs

The child sits outside her father’s office, waiting. 

Long curls drip frigid down her shivering back, white nightgown buttoned to the tip of her mother’s own chin—that likeness which will one day be the cause of all her troubles, though she does not yet know it—and the pink furry slippers which are her most favorite. They’re soft and they sparkle, and when she wears them, it’s like she’s a bunny. 

“He’ll be out soon, darling, and then we can put you to bed,” Nanny says from the seat beside her. She nods, pressing her small shoulders tightly to the back of the hard bench, wishing the woman silent so that she might better focus on the sound of the deep voice coming from behind the closed door. 

It is her father’s voice, and it is most familiar to her like this. 

From afar. 

The fingers she stares down at are still pink from the bath, and she twists them tightly in her lap, sitting very straight and very still, pressing her mouth together to keep all the sound and all the movement inside of herself silent and motionless so as to trick time into moving faster. She is young, only six years old, but she has learnt the strength of her own will already. How she might exert it with the right people to get what she wants—how with others, it means very little, if anything at all. 

Beside her, Nanny sighs a sound full of impatience, and this the child recognizes quite well. She doesn’t like it either, that they must always wait for him, that her whole life seems to be filled with waiting waiting waiting. She thinks that she hates waiting. She thinks that if she were a wild rabbit out in the purple mountains she wouldn’t ever have to wait for anyone or anything. And she knows that she would like to let it all out, the impatience, the yawn that trembles at her jaw as she clenches her teeth together until it hurts, the cry for him to hurry up because she doesn’t want to wait for him anymore. 

The door opens suddenly, and a man she doesn’t know strides out, papers tucked beneath his arm. The girl’s father is a businessman, and this is why he is so busy. He is also a rancher, this is why she does not come first.

 She is young, only six years old, but she has learnt the truth of this already.

Nanny has slid to the edge of the bench, her ankles crossed over one another, long fingered hands folded stiffly in her lap. She is breathing very slowly, her shoulders moving in up and down waves, and the girl knows she’s forcing herself to do this to stay calm. When the girl doesn’t do as she’s told, this is how Nanny breathes, too. 

Finally, her father’s heavy tread approaches the door, muffled by the thick rug in his office, the hard satin underside of the beautiful boots he wears. And then he’s there, after more than an hour of waiting past her bedtime, he moves past his daughter and the woman he pays to raise her as if they hardly exist—their wait inconsequential.

“Sir?” Nanny shoots up off the bench, voice soft but stern, like when she is ordering the child about in the school room. 

He is very frightening, her father. And the girl doesn’t think that she looks like him at all, which is why he doesn’t like her. If she was more like him, he would like her better. But she knows that if she is very quiet and very still that he can be nice, and so she waits without moving, until he looks at her. 

“We’ve come to say goodnight, Mr. Kelly.”

He sighs a long drawn out moment, a big breath as he’s a very big man with big nostrils that flare widely when he’s found the girl particularly annoying. 

Once, she’d tried to put her finger in his nose, to measure how much bigger it felt compared to when she put her finger in her own nostril. There was a great fuss after that, and a mighty spanking. She never tried to touch him like that ever again after.

She is a child who learns her lessons very well. 

“Yes, alright,” he says in his deep voice, and she does love the sound of it, even if it never sounds happy or laughing, even if it scares her, too, for she can always recognize when he’s come back home just by the sound of it rolling through the house. And when he comes to crouch before her, folding all the way down to look her right in the eyes, the little girl has to work hard as ever to make sure she remains very still and very quiet so as not to cry. 

“Have you been good for Nanny?”

“Yes, sir,” she nods. He never calls her Miss Maria as the girl is required to when they are in the school room, learning. Always simply, Nanny. 

“Bill tells me you’ve been doing well in your lessons. Soon you’ll be riding on your own. That will make me very pleased.”

“Yes, sir,” again. She wishes she could make her voice louder so that he might hear her better, but it will just not come. 

He sighs and his big nostrils flare again, and she knows he is displeased. She can never make herself sound in a way that will make him happy even though she tries as hard as she can. “I’m going away for a few weeks, but when I’m back, I’ll come watch you. How does that sound?”

And at this oh so terrible news, as hard as she tries to stifle the movement or the sound or the yawn or the cries or anything that might make him bothered in any way…well, she is still very young, only six years old, and she has not yet learnt how to control all the things he so intensely dislikes about her. 

“But you just came back, sir, and now you’re leaving again.” It comes out of her small child’s mouth a whine that grates, and yet, despite this, he is still kind for a moment longer.

“It’ll go by like that,” he snaps his big fingers, makes a big sound she has tried to replicate and cannot. 

“Please, don’t leave, daddy.” 

Now she will cry, now the kindness will start to go. 

“It won’t be that long, salamander.” 

A large hand wraps around her small shoulder, squeezing gently, she flinches and a fat tear rolls over her apple flushed cheek. It’s hard work, after all, holding yourself so still and so quiet when you are so little, and so finally, the stillness breaks, and she tucks her thumb into her warm mouth, sucking. 

He looks at her for another long moment, his hand falls away. She watches it carefully, steeling her small body for something bad. “That’s a filthy and disgusting habit. How many times do I have to tell you to knock it off?” He looks at Nanny with blame, and she says something low that the girl can no longer hear, she’s watching her slippers like a bunny again, thinking again how a bunny must surely never have to wait or cry over their fathers out there in the purple mountains. 

“Always with the goddamn sniveling, girl. Go to bed.” 

His voice is angry now. She sucks harder. She can no longer be still. He does not say goodbye.

-

You don’t see Joel for three whole days following your afternoon together.

It’s terrible.

On the lingering rays of the setting sun, a storm rolls in off the Tetons, and with it, trouble and interruptions. As the two of you help peel each other off the living room rug, damp and trembling and laughing like children, you stumble up the stairs together, the rain starting out soft and humid outside. A curtain of warm water falls from the skies as you step into the large, marbled shower stall in your bathroom, the rainfall spout pouring over your closely bent heads. 

You feel fragile and vulnerable in his hands, a turtle dove on a precarious ledge; like a girl again, watching him ramble about your father’s ranch, strong and far away and wholly untouchable, all while he washes soap from your hair. 

But now, the urgency of adulthood, of being a woman in his hands, not only a dove, rushes in, too. He touches you everywhere, fingers dragging through the soaked locks of your hair, braille mapped over the planes of your shoulders, down your sternum to palm the swell of your belly. So now, you’re woman and girl and dove, something fragile grown into its own strength, anchored here, yet still with the muscle memory of flight ready to take you away. If only because that’s what you’d always been used to before. The back of your eyes pinch with emotion, overwhelmed by the smolder of your heart, and you can’t believe it’s him, Joel, here, lifting your breast into his mouth to suckle at the peak, licking at the seam of your mouth and demanding entrance and the flavor of your tongue. 

His cock hangs heavy between his thick thighs, half hard, and if you weren’t fighting the silly knot of tears in your throat, you’d poke fun at the myth of middle aged men and unbelievable stamina. 

His wet lips slide across your burning cheek, your own moan trailing after him, chasing another kiss with the turn of your neck, all desperation, and his fingers catch over your bottom teeth, hooked Rainbow, pulling you open, pressing down on your tongue until you gag.  

“Gotta see if I’ll fit here too, baby,” he says against your ear, pressing you back to sit on the icy tiled bench. The steam of the water off his skin, the frigid hard beath your bottom and against your swollen cunt, you shiver all over until it hurts in your spine. His hand threads through the back of your hair, cupping and pulling, stretching you out so you’re wide open with his fingers still too thick and too deep in your mouth. You gag again, harder, thinking of before, when he forced his fingers far enough to make you vomit, eyes smarting at the memory of his rough helping. “Think it’ll do.” He’s teasing you with that half-cocked smirk like a boy’s. 

You’re sharing youth here, experience too. So much of one another being poured into the moment and so quickly that if you hadn’t known him for as long as you have, if you hadn’t been making your way to him with the hope of this for so long, it’d be entirely petrifying. 

He starts to stroke his length into full hardness, pulling your head forward, mouth open to take him onto your tongue. He’s heavy like he was in your cunt, but somehow even bigger, your jaw immediately prepares to ache with the stretch. Swiping it side to side on the flat and then sliding in, guiding you by your hair, showing you how he wants you to suck him. Close, he murmurs soft, good baby girl, when you purse your lips around his girth, holding at the back of your throat, instructing you to breathe long and slow through your nose, getting you used to him. 

He pulls back slowly, until you’ve only got the head to suckle on, your tongue sliding over it, the salty taste of his skin as his thumb brushes slowly along the edge of your jaw and then presses hard against the soft and giving underside of your chin, forcing you to open again, throat spasming convulsively. With his grip in your hair he tugs your head back again, and the two of you watch each other, his hazel bright eyes so intense it’s almost unbelievable that they hadn’t always looked at you like this. That you’d started all of this only a few nights ago with nothing but a half mad kiss you’d wished on for nearly half a life. 

You stick your tongue out flat and wide and begging, and he slides back in, holding you still as he pushes deep until his balls are pressed against your chin, rewarding himself with that first full bodied choking jerk from you, little tongue pressing against the base, throat cinching like a fist around the head.

He holds you there, letting you choke around him, and it’s still all so slow, so measured despite your racing heart and tears and spasming throat, wide wet eyes looking up at him—frightening, possessive want staring back down at you. Pulling back and pushing in again and again until you can’t take it anymore, jaw hinged too wide, little tits trembling with the puff of your breath until every other one is a gag and all you are is a wet, open throat. 

When he finally pulls back, and you’re still missing a belly full of come, you suck in a shaky breath, gagging frog sound in your throat, spit dripping off your chin that he smears down your throat, over your chest and nipples, pinching hard and stinging. You fall against his hip, swollen lips mouthing down to the fat head of his cock, still hungry for your treat, his fist slides down the spit slicked length, following you; a string of drool and pre-come keeping the two of you connected when you yank against the commanding grip in your hair, nuzzling like a puppy, whine at the back of your throat as he pushes it hot and heavy against your sticky cheek, smacks you with it a little. 

“Good girl. My good baby girl,” he laughs tenderly, and he’s so endeared by you, you can feel it in his eyes and hear it in his smile, that something hot and agonizing pulses through your heart.

When you step out of your shower cocoon together, the rain is a violent gust now, shaking the house on its foundation, windows rattling in their frames. He wraps you in a large fluffy white towel, twisting a second one in your hair, flushed sensitive skin trembling under his touch. His kiss is slow and lazy, all tongue and care as you fall together against the silk duvet, pulling you into himself as his heavy weight settles over you, drawing your thigh over his hip, nothing but cotton and damp dew separating the two of you. You need to make him come again, his fingers sneaking between your thighs to play in his leaking spend—when someone bangs urgently on the door downstairs. 

On his drive in from Jackson, Jesse had come across a large chunk of the northernmost fence that had been taken out by the strong winds and lashing rain. Cattle were already spilling out onto the highway when he’d passed, meandering into the adjoining land owned by the park. 

Ellie and Dina had been called back in from town, and they’d all had to ride up and over the mountain to herd the escaped cattle and make repairs to the fence—and had left you all alone and without him and all the rest of them, too.

It had been a long and quiet three days, just you and Dina, which had made you very worried in a very concerning way, this sudden and immediate melancholy that had fallen over you and the whole house without him. The reality that the ranch is wrong, the house is wrong, you are wrong in it, without Joel Miller here to roam and tend the land. That you may have traveled far and wide, tasted all the flavors and touched all the colors of the rainbow, done all the things your imagination might’ve conjured, but outside of this place there existed not even a fraction of what these people had built here together—a family born at the center of a green valley. 

And so there’s a part of you now, like a coward, trying to twist away from the reality that you’re still just that girl, in some ways so young, so unsure, sitting outside your father’s office with the desperate need to be paid attention to, to be remembered. 

Still that desperate child turned woman, asking yourself why you’d felt you needed Joel here that morning you’d arrived to meet your last dead parent. Asking yourself why you’d sent yourself into an anger fueled bender when you’d arrived to find him missing. 

He isn’t your kin. Never your confidant. In the past, there was not even that closeness of previously shared intimacy or comfort between the two of you. He’d been, for all intents and purposes, a stranger to you as a child in all the ways that counted save for those you’d conjured up in your imagination. 

But perhaps that’s the thing. In your own imaginary way, Joel is familiar, as part of the ranch as the rock of the mountain, the house in which your mother had birthed you, or even your father, who’d loved this place more than he’d ever loved anything except his wife, he who’d also died here; all of them a history of monuments that make up the miasma of what this place really is. The annals of their lives, so closely knit with the land itself that there can be no separating one from the other, and Joel is a part of it all.

Maybe it’s that, in some ways, you feel he has more of a right to be here than you do. That you need him here to remind you that you belong, too. 

That you’d needed the reassurance of his approval here when you’d come to claim the place as your own once and for all. 

And you need him now, now that he’d so made you a part of himself in much the same way, in nothing but a single afternoon. 

But most obvious of all, during their days away protecting and caring for your birthright, what becomes clear to you is that after all these years, they had all very much become your family, too: Ellie, Dina, Jesse, Frank and Bill and Tommy. 

Joel. 

It is almost a terrible moment of enlightenment, that realization of how much you truly have to lose now. 

On the third day of his absence, the sky blooms a clear and startling blue, and in the early afternoon, you hear the commotion of the team making their valiant return. The slamming of truck doors and trailer gates, shouted orders and horses sputtering at the indignation of being kept from home and at work for so many days. 

There’s a single bated-breath-moment of shy hesitancy, a will-he-won’t-he sort of doubt (want to see me want to do it again want me) and then you’re chasing down the stairs and after more of that lightning in a bottle feeling, out the front door in search of him. 

Chaos bubbles in the yard, hands lifting and hauling supplies and tools from the beds of trucks and the backs of trailers, horses being led to and fro, Dina and Ellie having a shameless snog in the shadow of her open truck door. Your eyes flit from person to person, searching the mess of homesick excitement for his height and breadth. 

It’s only been two and a half days, really, after so many years dreaming of him, but anyways—you missed him. Really, truly missed him.

From the corner of your eye you finally catch sight of him stepping out of the dark shade of the barn, towering above everyone around him. He’s got that sweat stained brown hat pulled low over his brow, edges curled with overuse. His hair is long enough it curls slightly over the back of his collar, and his eyes are hidden from you in the hat’s protective shade, but by the swirl of your belly and the shiver across your skin, you think he finds you at the same time as you do him. Something magnetic. You don’t think you can even feel your foot still connected to your body when you take a step down off the front steps, stumbling over the gravel of the drive that digs uncomfortably into the soles of your feet through the house slippers you’d forgotten to change out of —when suddenly, you recognize the person standing next to him, smiling up at him as she glows bright and lovely. 

The veterinarian, Tess. 

You’re thankful for the absentminded hand trailing behind you, still anchoring you to the stability of the step’s railing, when you register the swollen round of her heavily pregnant belly, a careful hand cupped protectively around the underside, as she rests her other palm against Joel’s arm. 

Suddenly the gravel digging into your slippers becomes too painful to ignore, almost overwhelming, you take a frightened step back. 

He would never. But—

At one time, they were together, and her hand on his arm has now moved to his chest, a show of comfort and intimacy between them, and she’s laughing, her long hair woven back into a neat braid, swinging with the movement of her mirth. She looks really beautiful, and you’re again nothing more than the little girl in her slippers waiting for a man that will not come to you. 

He would never. Right?

Ellie calls your name—you take another retreating step up the stairs, indecision and insecurity sloshing in your belly—bull sprinting towards you, her lithe, strong body knocking your ribs painfully into the railing, her hands yanking on your hair, babbling excitedly and Dina’s voice from behind, telling her she’s worse than the wrangled cattle. Over Ellie’s shoulder and past Dina’s kind gaze, Joel bends low towards Tess, arm around her shoulders as he steers her towards the three of you congregated on the steps. You feel as you did on that bench outside his office for all those years, waiting for a man to find time to dole out your verdict: kindness or cruelty, a goodbye or worse. 

He’s saying something to her still, speaking close into her ear and guiding her buoyant form carefully through the busy yard full of cowboys and animals and danger, and you can see his eyes now as they flit to you, looking so cold and guarded. 

There’s no Nanny here to shield you from the worst of it now. 

When they finally reach you, Tess embraces both Dina and Ellie with all the warmth of people who’ve worked and laughed and grown together for years. You stand as still and as quiet as you can possibly make yourself. You have all the practice in the world waiting for your turn to be acknowledged, and this is a terrible and small feeling which no grown woman should have to subject herself to. And yet, still, you can’t seem to escape the child. 

He’s watching you, you can feel him, hungry or angry maybe—something else. But you can’t tell now—can’t focus on anything but your stillness and waiting your turn until Ellie finally turns to reintroduce Tess to the adult version of you. 

“The new Kelly,” Tess says with easy warmth and an even easier smile, offering you her palm for a strong handshake. Everything about her is so natural, earthen or real. Nothing at all put upon. This is a woman who, whatever the truth of it may actually be, gives every appearance of having always known herself, never had doubts, never had to claw in the grime and gutter for her truth or whatever scraps of self best fit her at the time. 

“Tess. It’s nice to see you again,” you say as cool and magnanimous as you can muster yourself to be. Ignoring the lurch of nausea being referred to as the Kelly brings on. 

“I was sorry to hear about your father. He gave me work for a long time, and I was always grateful for it.” Something you’d never understood about your father, how he collected gratitude easy as pennies. It was perhaps his greatest talent—getting all of them to eat out of the palm of his hand. 

“Thank you. I appreciate it, and I hope we’ll continue that work going forward. I wouldn’t like anything integral to change for the ranch now. Anything else, that is.” Your voice comes out robotic, businesslike, and she pauses, her head cocking to the side, that easy smile still plastered on her smooth, beautiful face. In your peripheral, you see Ellie move closer to Joel, whispering something in his ear, the click click of Dina chewing on her fingernails. 

“Actually,” Tess says, “If you have a minute, I’d like for us to talk.”

Your toes flex in your slippers, the three of them hold their breath, Tess oblivious to their doubt of you, and the imaginary ticking time bomb sound chips away at your mind, demeaning you further. What do they expect? For you to throw a fit? The lover (—ex lover?) of the man you’ve had sex with once, come here to test you with some potentially incriminating evidence smuggled beneath her t-shirt. And here they are, suddenly orbiting you as if you’ve ever been like him —that explosive anger, that rage, that ability to humiliate and cause fear and insult. 

You’ve never had a temper like that. It’s insulting they’d act otherwise. 

“Give us a second.” You turn to Dina, it isn’t a question. 

One moment to the next, you’re still in your slippers, but you’re not that waiting child any longer. You remember yourself, and you’re the head of the ranch and all that comes with it now. This is yours. And you aren’t your father. And they’ll pretend at respect, whether they feel it or not because it’s your due after the pound of flesh you’d offered up to this place in your childhood. 

How does one stay ambitious and brave and wild and still become a grown woman? 

How does a girl stand on her own two feet and become an adult when she’s never felt any of those things to begin with?

How does one grapple with the terror of their childhood and succeed at a normal and full life?

The girls go and you ponder your existential dread in the face of a woman who seems to have it all figured out. 

Joel clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “You know, I can—”

“We just gotta talk some shop, Texas. We’ll be okay—just a minute,” Tess tells him. Assertive, but with a wink, and she never loses that grin which, if she wasn’t so damn likable, would be annoying as hell. 

You struggle to swallow your cringe. It’s easy to picture the two of them together, how they’d look, how they’d be. Good looking and capable, strong, confident personalities. 

You finally meet his eyes, they offer you nothing, of course, and with a dip of your chin, you give him his leave. He only goes a few paces away from the bottom step of the deck, unwilling to stray too far from the two of you. 

“Oz was a difficult man. You’re not really anything like him, are you?”

Oz. It’s funny to hear the terror of your father referred to so casually. 

“The opposite has never been insinuated. But I can be pretty difficult when I want to be, too,” you say, still watching Joel watch you. 

If you were anything like your father, you’d take her assessment as an insult. 

Instead, you meet her appraising gaze as steady as you can.

“Ah—” she hums,“Sure, yeah,” then laughs. “Can see it in the way you carry yourself. If anything, he was… a force.” 

“He was that.”

You don’t feel now that you can give her too much. Like if you open your mouth, give her more words than necessary, she’ll know everything there is to know about you and what has gone on here. She’s got that sort of look about her, those sort of eyes. Already measured you against your father and found you lacking. 

Even if she didn’t mean it badly, the comparison stings.

“I’d like things to continue on as they’ve been so far, also,” she continues. “Anything you need around here, you call our team. We’ll be here. I’d like to say nothing will change,” and at this she looks down at her bulging belly, sweeping a loving hand over it, “But…” she clicks her tongue ruefully, smile changing to something softer, sincere in a more intimate way. “Things are about to get a little different for me here now pretty soon.” She looks back to you, “My husband’ll be taking over things, just for a few months. He trained at Davis, and I’ll send over his CV so you can take a look at it yourself. Talk to the boys and Joel, they know him well now. If you’d like, my assistant can get with Dina—the three of us can meet and talk over the next few months and what the ranch’ll need from us for the rest of the year up into calving season. I’d rather we have a solid plan before everything gets too crazy for us.”

There’s something like vertigo swooping between your ears, ship at sea sort of unmoored. You are so silly. It’s humiliating. So insecure in ways you have no business being. Husband, of course.

“Does that sound okay to you?” She presses.

“Sure— I mean… yes. Yes, that sounds great. I look forward to it. Just give Dina a call.”

“I hope the ranch won’t forget about me while I’m out of commission. The Kelly has always been a special place to me.” There’s so much genuine sincerity in her voice. You wonder if Joel is part of that sentiment. 

“We’ll be waiting for you, Tess. Don’t worry about that.” 

She flushes slightly, looking down at the hand on her stomach again. “Thank you. I appreciate that. This is difficult for me, as happy as I am about it all. Giving myself over to something that’s so out of my control.”

You nod in understanding. “I didn’t know you’d gotten married. Congratulations to you and your husband.” You flush deep and embarrassed in return, at your initial assumption, but she makes nothing of whatever fucked up expression you know you’ve got your face screwed into. You don’t want her to know how you feel about Joel, to suspect—this woman who’d had him in her own unique and mysterious way for such a long time. Who shares history and a friendship with him now, admiration and respect and laughter. 

“Yeah, well…” She chuckles ruefully at this, turning now to glance surreptitiously at the still brooding Joel pacing between Frank and Tommy as they talk at him.  “It happened quick. I wanted things I wasn’t going to find other places. Had to go out and get them for myself—you know?”

“Sure,” you blink once, “Of course.” But her words fill you with more of that nauseating vertigo. Afraid again, that you’re still that child waiting for something that will never come. That you too, are now looking for something in the same wrong place.

-

He watches your profile closely through your exchange with Tess. Since Ellie had approached you, really—always rough housing when she shouldn’t be, knocking you in the ribs. The way you grip the deck’s bannister, your knuckles white with strain and the flush in your throat and cheeks, the lift of your brow. You smile often, but not easily. He can tell they cost you something or that you have to remind yourself to respond the way you’re expected to. 

He’d seen it on your face, what you’d assumed about Tess. 

The sun is strong against the back of his neck, and there’s a line of sweat pouring down his spine, and he wants to go to you, make sure you’re okay and apologize for the three days and the doubt and not being here when he knows you need him. 

When it seems Tess is finally saying her goodbye’s, he’s unable to extricate himself from Tommy and Frank’s bitching about the work yet to be done for the rest of the afternoon without having to tell them outright to fuck off. Tess makes her slow way down the steps of the house, her swollen gait bobbing unsteadily from side to side, and he watches as you head around the opposite end of the house, gunning for the back door and avoiding him, he knows. He knows. 

“How’s it goin’, Texas?” Tess chirps brightly, He reaches beneath her elbow to lead her back to her truck, Frank there already, pulling the door open for her. 

“It’s goin’ well, Tess. You look good, honey. You feel good?”

“Great. Never better.”

“That’s good. I’m glad.” And he means it. He’d never been able to give her what she wanted, as hard as he’d tried, and he’d been damn happy for her when she’d found it anyways. “Remind me when she’s joinin’ us?” 

“Ah, end of August.” She’s happier now than she ever looked when she’d been fooling around with him, and it makes Joel glad to know it’d all ended up as it was meant to. He looks back up at the big house, second to last window on the far left end where he knows your room is. 

“Real soon now.”

“Not soon enough. Her daddy’s just as restless as she is for it to be time.”

“I’ll bet. I’m glad,” he says again, helping her up into the truck as she huffs and puffs. Frank says his goodbyes and Joel shuts her door for her, leaning against the open window. “Happy?” He asks his friend. 

The smile on her face tells him all he needs to know. “I am.”

“That’s good.” A look passes between them, that of two people who know too much about each other, but perhaps, not the most important things they should’ve known after it was all said and done. And yet there’s nothing bittersweet about what lives between them. It’s all as it should be.

“What about you? You happy?”

He has to force himself not to look at that window again. 

“Yeah, I’m happy.” She reaches for his cheek, clucking at him like she might not believe him. But how to tell her that this time it really is true, without giving away his too precious secret? 

“Good. You deserve it, Joel.” 

The curious part is, he thinks he might really believe her.

As Tess’s truck pulls slowly down the long drive, he looks back at that window, thinking of the other afternoon in the sun drenched family room. The wet stretched lycra tight across your sun burnished skin, all reds and pinks and a grotesque splatter of girl shaped desire that had him clawing at the brink of madness. Afraid he’d hurt you, lose his mind so entirely he’d forget how delicate you can be made in his hands—that scared look in your eyes, that step back when you’d seen Tess—but then he remembers the tilt of your hips taking him inside your body and the strength in your thighs grounding him, the steady look in your gaze telling him that you’re okay and reminding him of all your fire inside—that you have always been stronger and more resilient than he could ever even think to be. 

A woman full of strength.

You are a thing to be loved. 

He follows you, slipping through the unlocked back door, hunting through the cool, quiet shadows of the sun speared halls of your home. 

When he finds your sounds of movement at the back of the house, in your father’s study, he waits silent and still by the door, heart beating a thunder drum in his chest as he listens to your steps approach and pulling you blindly into himself when you cross the threshold. Banding his arms around your back, knees bent to get at your level and seal his mouth over yours. 

Three days is too long a time, and Joel is a starving man. 

You give one appalled squeak before your head is falling back on your neck, opening so sweetly for him, letting him lap at your tongue and sip at your flavor. 

“You were thinkin’ strange thoughts out there,” he says against your mouth, and you huff against him, opening to protest, but he kisses you again. Kisses you stupid, knees straightening to pull you up with him, leaving your feet dangling between his spread cowboy boots, the soft thump of a slipper sliding off your foot. 

“Don’t lie, little liar.” He licks at your jaw, reaches down to squeeze the full of your sweet ass. “Did you miss me?” A kiss to your pulse point now and you moan so pretty for him, all soft and breathy, like you want him to fuck you right here, take you into your father’s study and have you slick and full of come as quick as he can get you. 

“Yes,” you moan, tilting your head further back to give him more territory to kiss. 

He pulls back to look at your eyes, cheeks flushed and mouth swollen. He drags his hand gently over the spot of your Ellie-battered-ribs. There is nothing about you that Joel wouldn’t notice. Gorgeous fucking thing, he wants to ruin you. He’s going to ruin you for every other man ever. Squeezing your cheeks together, forcing your mouth into a pout, say it, he orders—feral, desperate, missing you, too. 

“I missed you, Joel.”

Joel. He groans at the sound of it, kisses you again—more, harder, so you know that he really means it.

Hours later, when the sun has set, he finally makes his way into the quiet of his cabin, wondering if it’s logistically more polite to bring his toothbrush over with him so that he can have fresh breath in the morning or simply pray on the effectiveness of toothpaste and a finger, worrying whether you’ll be asleep already, if you’ve had dinner or if he should plan for that, too. He’s pulled from his fretting by the sight of your coat—the worn brown suede one you love that hits just below your knees, light enough for the cool summer evenings—hung over the hook by his door. He knows it’s lined on the inside with cheetah printed silk, so like you, and that the label says Dolce & Gabbana. He’d peeked at it the other morning, draped over the breakfast bar in the big house, tested the weight of it. Made in Italy, it says on the label. A fancy thing. Details he has no business searching for or obsessing over, but that he searches for and obsesses over nonetheless. 

He blinks at the well worn coat, unable—only for a second—to understand what it is it’s doing here in his house. 

But in the kitchen, there’s a cupboard left slightly ajar, his books on the coffee table misaligned and out of the order in which he’d left them, his mail rifled through, a lone envelope spilled onto the rug beneath. His second set of boots kicked over to make space for a much smaller pair. He’s sure if he were to open his fridge, he’d find the contents of it picked over, as well. 

It would seem that a little intruder has come to make herself at home in his space. And when he peeks through the open door of his bedroom, the proof of it is in the shape of a small lump curled in on itself at the head of his bed. 

He clears his throat and two too large eyes peek out over the edge of his dark comforter, challenging, daring him to question your presence here.

There’s also something softly vulnerable there, which he takes careful note of. 

Crossing his arms over his still sweaty chest, he leans against the door appreciating the sight of you snuggled up in his bed. Something like giddiness eats away at his heart, and he chews on his cheek to keep a shit-eating grin from spreading across his face. The two of you stare each other down, waiting to see who breaks first. 

It’s him. 

Of course.

At the soft sound you let out, some croon that beckons him forward, he pushes away from the doorframe, crossing the room to loom over you as you wiggle deeper into his bed. Your scent fucks with his head. Makes him feel just this close to unhinged. His sheets will smell like you for days now. Sweet, sultry. God-like. He’s about to become a pious man. 

Bending over you, he holds himself anchored with one hand gripped around the wooden slat of his headboard and slowly pulls the edge of the blanket covering you, down. Revealing for himself the sweet little morsel of a gift that’s come to plant itself in his bed so nicely. You’ve wrapped yourself in something lacy and pale for him, some sort of spaghetti-strapped confection seemingly made out of sugar—his gut goes hot and heavy. 

And from below, you take him in, gaze roving over his face and arms while he holds himself up and on display. Your hand comes up to ghost soft as petal fingertips over the bulge of his bicep, and he growls some hungry sound that he scares himself with. 

You turn him into something he’s never been before. 

A flush creeps down your throat to flood your chest, and he wants to follow it to your breasts. See if he can make you go as red and hot all over as he’s learned your sweet little nipples can go. 

“Hi.”

He shakes his head down at such temptation. No man is this strong. “I gotta wash up before I touch you, darlin’. I’m filthy.”

You shake your head back at him, whining softly in your throat, writhing in his sheets, knee hitching higher to push the covers down and reveal more of yourself to him—matching panties and soft, bare thighs, Jesus—fucking siren girl all for him. His mouth waters. Your fingertips ghost down his chest, catching lightly at the hem of his t-shirt, tugging gently, making his stomach swoop. 

“No. Come,” you order. It’s all a seduction.

But he’s been hauling and riding and sweating all day. He needs to scrub the two inch layer of filth from his skin before he can touch something this perfect. Clutching at the headboard he lets himself lean further over you, stretching the tense muscles of his back, sucking at your mouth once, long and hard, dragging his tongue wet and lewd across your cheek before he’s groaning, heaving himself up and pulling his shirt up over the back of his head to jump in the shower, strict about not turning back to look at you lest he lose himself to your call. 

In the steamed mirror once he’s done, he takes in the color of his eyes and doesn’t recognize the way they stare back at him. Like a boy discovering a woman for the first time in his life, he’s never felt like this before. It’s frightening, intoxicating.

When he steps back out into the bedroom, dragging a towel through his wet hair, over his chest and sensitive groin, you’ve flopped over, covers kicked down to the foot of the bed so he can see the sheer lace of your panties disappear between your cheeks. Scrolling on your phone with your feet kicked up in the air, swinging in a slow motion that hypnotizes. He’s going to wrap both fists around your ankles and hold you forcibly open, watch you get wetter and wetter and more swollen until neither one of you can take the waiting any longer. He’s going to drag it out until it’s mean. He’s going to make it count. 

His cock is so hard that a delicious heat has begun to pool in his abdomen, seeping down into his pelvis. He’s heavy between his legs. 

Dropping the towel to the floor, he catches a swinging ankle, tugging roughly to flip you over and yank you down towards himself. Bracing one knee to the edge of the bed, he leans over, reaching for your phone and tosses it over his shoulder carelessly. The frown you give him is mighty, and he laughs at you. He feels—he can’t say exactly. A little unhinged, perhaps. Out of control. Like he needs to exert some sort of force here. Expel that jittering energy he’s been filled with the past three days which distracted him from his ride and his work, from wrangling cattle  and leading his men. That feeling that made him desperate to run back here into your arms. 

You give him a peevish, suspicious look, tapping one perfectly manicured finger against the tip of your chin, and ask, “Are you JoelMiller81?” 

“Don’t know what that means,” he gruffs, running his hands over the silk and lace of the little scrap you’ve got on, feeling the hard peaks of your nipples against his palms. His callouses catch and snag, and he has the passing thought that he might be too rough, too nasty, to handle something so fine, but then settles on the reality that he doesn’t really give a fuck if he is. 

You want him.

You want him. And that’s all that matters, really, you getting what you want. The thought of being the one that gives it to you fills him with a feral sort of satisfaction.

“Liar. Liar liar pants on fire.”

“Don’t know what that means neither.” He bends to bite your pretty little tit through the lace. Hard. 

“Ow!” You try to shove him away. “Why’d you like my picture a bunch of times, huh?”

“Didn’t.” 

He pushes your knees up around his waist, taking your wrist and pinning it to the mattress by your hip, trapping it with his knee. His heavily hanging cock brushes wetly against the soft inside of your thigh, sending a shiver down his spine, unable to help the soft moan he lets out. He’s so fucking turned on for you. So hard. The head, red and swollen and throbbing a leak of precum with every beat of his heart. 

“Yes, you did. One of my ass. Like a hundred times.” 

He pulls back to glare at you, and you laugh in his face, lovely and bright as a firefly. 

“Got no idea what you’re talkin’ ‘bout. But if I did, I’d say you got no business showin’ what’s mine to the whole internet.” Thirty-seven thousand fuckin’ people, he grumbles under his breath, fuckin’ ridiculous. 

You gasp, affronted, “Yours?” Glaring back just as hotly. 

You push yourself up on your elbows, catching him by the mouth with your palm to shove his big head away. He nips at the soft flesh, grunting an affirmative. 

“Excuse me!” You drag the vowels out all sassy, all provoking. It makes him leak. Makes him want to pick a hundred fights just to enjoy the making up afterwards. 

“You heard me.” He kneels back between your legs and pulls your little panties down your long legs. 

“I do what I want.”

“Sure, baby.” 

He listens to the click of your teeth, a whine in the back of your throat. Upset ‘cause he’s not taking your bait. “Are you gonna be mean?” You pout. 

Joel pauses, as if to consider. “Yeah,” he says eventually with mock regret and a sigh.

You heave a big, long breath. “Oh, alright,” and let yourself flop back onto the mattress, arms stretching back up over your head. 

He can’t help his chuckle. You really do charm his socks off. 

“How was the rest of your day?” You ask as he settles between your thighs. 

“Bad.”

First, he presses a soft kiss to the fleshy uppermost part of your mons, dipping his tongue out just a tiny bit to taste the salty sweet skin there, but not far out enough to taste you where you really want him. 

“Oh?” —A little moan— “Why’s that?”

“Because.”

“Because what?” Your tone dips into a whine. 

He leans up on his elbows to get a good look at your face. “Because I can’t seem to stop thinking about this,” he hisses, “And it’s damn difficult to tend horses and wrangle cowboys when you’ve got half an erection. That’s why. Any more questions?”

“No. That’s it. You can continue.” Voice all fucking prim and proper. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you sass back, digging your heel into his shoulder. 

“Fucking brat.” Now, he kisses you full on, tongue dipping shallowly between your slit for a better taste. He takes a drop of your dew into his mouth and rubs it against his palate, savoring the taste.

“Yes. And?” It’s all a moaning, fluttery sigh now. 

His hands splay wide, sliding up the underside of your thighs to push you open by the back of the knees, listening to the sticky pop of your lips spreading. 

“Oh my God,” you moan. “So embarrassing.” Covering your hot face with your arms. 

“Fucking hot,” he groans, going in again, licking into your soft, wet cunt. He comes to the crest of your sex, your clit hot and slippery, suckling at it in quick pulses. Keeping the force of it light enough to not overwhelm you too quickly. He turns his head to deepen his angle, his tongue pulsing against your opening, lapping and lapping, coaxing the little hole to soften for him. Prepping it to take him. He spends a long time there, ignoring your clit, licking around the soft folds, everywhere but where you really need him.

His stomach is hot, his cock full, and he lets himself settle more heavily against the bed, pressing his aching length roughly into the edge of the mattress to relieve the pressure, rutting there slowly. You let out a twisting sob when he finally goes back to focus on your clit, circling his tongue lightly, round and round, and then opening his mouth wide to drag his bottom teeth ever so gently over the swollen nub, watching your reaction intently the entire time. Your face scrunches, a sheen of sweat blooming, all the fine muscles spasming frantically, and all at once, he can feel your cunt pulsing, readying for orgasm against his tongue, as you try to twist away, back of your knee sliding over his face. 

He holds you down more firmly, pressing a large palm low to your belly, his fingers on your clit, and spears his tongue into your sex, giving you something to bear down on. This is agony, watching you come for him. He needs to fuck you.  

God. “Thought about this all fuckin’ day, baby.” He slurps loudly, lewdly. “Your sweet little pussy, it’s fucking perfect. Made for me.”

You sob into the bunched sheets, hiding your face while you grind against his face. 

Pressing kisses along the slick curve of your soaked sex once you’ve finished, you hiccup above his head, carding your fingers through his hair compulsively, scratching at his scalp, tugging him upwards. 

“You’re too good at that,” you sniffle. “It’s annoying.”

He grunts, kissing his way over your belly, scraping his teeth along easily torn skin, tasting your smeared come there. He settles at your breasts, and takes his sweet time giving them both his teeth and attention until they’re swollen and painful. Rubbing the grey scruff of his beard against the small mounds, abrading your sensitive skin. Flushed little nipples like dark, overripe raspberries for him to suck on even harder, chafed and raw from his rough handling. He pinches and tugs at them, letting his weight go heavy and melting over your frame, suffocated into the bed, his cock wedged between your swollen sex, letting you feel his solid heft there. Every so often it slides against you with his movements, when his mouth moves from breast to breast, but you’re so dripping wet that there’s hardly any friction, and it makes you cry. Which in turn, makes him pleased, and even harder. 

Curiously, you don’t beg him to fuck you while he tortures your poor tits. He thinks that you know that eventually, he’ll give you exactly what you need. That he has a certainty of the steps the two of you need to take here tonight, that he knows entirely what it is he needs to do to get you there, and how that stops you from rushing him. This thing, it’s a little something like trust. 

That unsettled feeling from before, the jittering energy, eventually it melts away. And Joel is left feeling so steady, so sure of what the two of you are doing here, how he has to handle you. It just feels so right. 

When he eventually lets your breasts rest, he kisses your mouth, slow and intimate and patient. Wet lips sliding against wet lips, sucking on the top one that’s just a little fuller than the bottom, licking the tears from your face, mouthing at your cheekbones, nipping at your chin.

“Why you cryin’, baby?”

“Don’t know,” you mumble. “I’m emotional. M’sorry.”

“Nothin’ to apologize for.” He brackets your skull between his palms, gently tracing the sensitive shells of your small ears with his thumbs and then smoothing over the soft skin of your under-jaw to tilt your chin up to get a good look at you. “You gorgeous thing, you don’t have anything to apologize to me for. Never. You cry if you need to.” 

You nod, turning your face into his palm to nuzzle there.

“You feel good, though? I’m makin’ you feel good?”

“Yes, Joel. Yes, I feel so good.” Your voice is soft, wispy. He imagines he can see the words leaving your parted lips like smoke, and your eyelids sit low and heavy, like you’re drunk on him. 

When he finally pulls back, you look at him with such deep and moving trust, kneeling between your thighs. He feels a little shaken by it. There’s a slight vacancy in your gaze, a haziness, like you’ve gone deep inside your mind with what he’s done to you, but it’s a comfortable, secure sort of thing. You trust him enough to let him make all the decisions here in this bed while you lay limp and boneless beneath him. 

“You’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful,” he says, low. 

His hands smooth over your breasts, your sticky belly, gripping your hips to tug you closer. 

“Not as beautiful as you,” you say to him, and you’re like a heartbreak. The way you look, the way you speak to him. If it were possible, Joel thinks he’d be able to physically feel the motion of his heart splitting in two for you right now. 

He stops moving, hands resting on your spread knees, your body open and vulnerable to him. 

“It’s true,” you say again at the look on his face. His heart throbs in his chest like agony. 

“Stop.” His face goes hot with embarrassment.

“You are.” Your fingers smooth up your thighs, coming to rest on top of his own hands. “You're so beautiful to me. You always have been.”

His gaze falls, unable, for a moment, to bear the look of honest love in your eyes. It’s so much. He doesn’t know if he could ever deserve a thing like this. A man could work for a hundred years and never live up to a woman like you. Between your bodies, your sexes are flushed against each other. Your cunt, wet and puffy with his erection resting against it. It’s the most erotic sight Joel’s ever seen. 

And you’re telling him these things, being so honest, so vulnerable, while he sits between your thighs with this violent lust he wants to use against your body, and it makes him feel guilty and starved and maybe even a little bit in love with you, too. Maybe he’s losing his mind. How could you ever look at him and not see the broken thing? How will he ever be able to keep you when he wants to do so much to you? How will he ever convince you to let him? What could a thing like him ever give to the girl who already has everything?

“I’m old,” he says and feels it. 

“I like you like that.” 

“You’re crazy.”

“You like me like that, too.”

Your fingers flex over his own, and when he feels brave enough to look at you again, you’re still laughing, still looking at him with all that trust. Still choosing him. 

“I’m gonna fuck you now.”

You only nod, eyes fluttering shut, soft smile across your mouth. A tear slides back over your temple into your hairline, and he can almost see it turn to steam against your burning face. There’s a weighted hunger in Joel’s belly. Something that’s curious to see how far he can take the both of you. He wants that trust to strain, and then he wants to know both you and himself well enough to pull back before it snaps. 

When he turns you over this time, his movements are gentle, careful. He presses you down on your belly, keeping your elbows braced beneath you and kisses down your back, across the wings of your shoulders. He’s even more careful when he pulls your tank top away, his fingers brushing the softness of your raw breasts. 

Settling on widened knees, he pushes your thighs open, tugs your hips up, up, so that your spine is a curve, pressing your head down to rest your cheek against the sheets.

“Ready?” He asks low. 

You hum, that smile still spread across your mouth, and he can’t help but lean forward to kiss at it. When you arch deeper, chasing his lips to deepen the kiss, he can feel your slick cunt hot on his stomach, smearing there. His cock hangs long and heavy between your spread thighs, brushing your knee. 

“Easy. Easy,” he murmurs. “Don’t get too excited. Let me—” 

Petting the crown of your head, he leans backward, slowly dragging his palm from your head down your spine to grip your ass, spreading you apart. Taking himself in hand, he slicks his head against the little leaking hole, continuing his slow caress against the base of your spine, intermittently pressing his thumb against your tailbone to keep you present and aware. 

With an even greater care than he had the first time he fucked you three days ago, he works his cock into you. It’s slow, the wide head of his shaft easing inside little by little, deeper and deeper, with nothing but assurances from him, you can take it, you’re so pretty like this, while you gasp and fuss. At a certain point, his wait for you to adjust to the too large fit makes you forget yourself and you try to shove back onto him, trying to impale yourself forcefully, and he’s forced to spank you hard and stinging. 

He clicks his tongue at you, “Nuh-uh, no whining.”

Tucking his hand under your belly, soft and giving, he pulls you up a little, knees sliding wider, making room until he’s fully seated inside of you. He goes still then, holding himself deep and pulsing, feeling the walls of your cunt shiver and contract around him. 

He wonders how long it’d take for you to come around him, stuffed full of his unmoving cock like this. Reckons it’d be pretty quick by the way your desperate pussy’s already trying to milk the spend right out of him. 

“You feel me in your belly right here?” He coos gently, caressing your stomach. 

The sound you respond with then is more of a loud yowl when he presses down firmly to feel his cock tucked deep in there. 

Eventually, the wait gets to be too much for him, too. Getting you there in short shoves and grinds, he fucks you through it when you come for the first time, chasing the milking grip of your cunt with those same controlled shoves. But it’s so good, so wet and hot that his tightly leashed control slips. He spanks you again for that, several times, actually. Until your ass is pink and burning. 

His breathing’s gone rough, hot and bullish, and he can feel himself pouring sweat, his skin burning, too. 

“Gonna give it to you harder now.”

And you’re so good, his pretty little mess, that you do say, “Please, m’ready for it,” so confidently, if a little slurred. 

You’re deep down in there, he’s gotten you there, and he feels a sick burst of pride and pleasure to see how well you’re doing for him, how well you give over this perfect cunt for fucking. 

Through gritted teeth, he orders, “Say thank you, daddy.”

And again, because you’re perfect, “Thank you, daddy,” you obey.

He doesn’t even really know where it comes from, has never been a place he’s gone to before. But it’s perversely right in this moment with you. 

His hips gain momentum, nudging against your cervix again, again. He needs to move, to go hard and rough, but this is only the second time you’ve taken him, you’re not ready yet. He knows you won’t be able to take this much of him for long, can tell by the tensing of your stomach beneath his palm, the way you grip two of his fingers where he grips your hip, and the breathless whining gasp on every thrust inside. Your little cunt is just too tight to accommodate so much cock, your body simply doesn’t have room for it. 

Bracketing his hand around his impaling cock, his thumb and index finger make a warning point between your ass and his hip to keep himself from bottoming out. But anyways, he’s just on the edge of too rough, can see that warning line where your little body won’t be able to take much more, the slightly pained hiccupping sounds you’re making, but God, God…the way you’re milking at the cock buried deep inside, tightening around him while he watches himself part you, your walls clinging, the sticky shine of your come and the filmy white trail you leave behind every time he pulls out. His balls slap wetly against your clit he knows must be so swollen by now. The sounds the two of you make together. His big cock fucking in and out of your wet cunt, so soaked and open for him.

It’s all so fucking intoxicating.

He keeps shoving and shoving against that spot, and it’s so deep, your inner thighs are shaking from the strain of how widely he’s got you spread. And he doesn’t give you an inch or a second, just presses harder and harder until he feels a hot wash of wet heat gushing from your cunt, dripping down his thighs and wetting the sheets beneath. 

“Oh—fuck yes. Fuck yes. My good, pretty girl, that’s so good, yeah. I’m gonna come inside of you.”

When he does, it’s long and dizzying, throbbing through his whole body so that even his scalp pulses and his vision goes a little dark at the edges in a head rush. Your cunt around him is nothing more than a fluttering muscle. 

He shoves into you and pulls you back onto his cock by the wrists one last time, grinding deep. And when he pulls out, there’s a little white gurgle of semen that bubbles out as your cunt gapes. 

Your arched form sags, knees sliding, unable to hold your weight any longer. But he pinches the inside of your thigh, still wanting more. 

“Lemme see. Show me—” He can’t tell anymore, if he sounds like he’s ordering or begging or who has control of who here. He thinks he might really be that liar you said he is if he pretends it’s him. 

Presenting your cunt, clit a shiny red cherry, sensitive and dripping his come, you ask, “Did I do good?”

He can’t help the whining groan that pulls from him, slumping over your wrung out form.

“You’re only ever good, sweetheart. I told you before. Didn’t I? You were perfect.”

He kisses the tip of your snotty nose. 

Your eyes are closed and you nod, humming happy and soft. Blindly, you press forward, looking for his kiss which he gives gladly, gripping the back of your neck, pressing his fingers into the trembling muscles there. 

“I want you to look at me and think I’m good, too,” he admits, then. Your eyes open, that gorgeous and unique color he’s never seen in anyone else, and he realizes he feels like a boy again, full of the strength and potential of freshly minted youth. Like you’re giving him new life. “And then I want to actually be good for you.”

“You are. You are good for me.”

Something like doubt flashes through Joel then. Memories of things you don’t know and he’s afraid to share. Terrible and painful memories Oswald Kelly saved him from once long ago and collected interest on until the day he died. Joel wonders if he might owe that debt to you now. Is a life debt a hereditary sort of thing?

“You couldn’t ever be bad, Joel.”

He laughs at the irony of that, disgusted by it, but pulls you closer, burying his face in your sweaty neck, dragging your scent into his lungs, certain he can feel the magic of it swirl through his body. 

You come out of that deep space in your mind he’d lead you into, slowly. Petting at his skin and twisting his chest hair around your fingers, poking at his belly button and ears. You ask him ridiculous questions he has no answers for, letting the strange rolodex of your mind shuffle and settle until your voice sounds steady and your own once more.

“How long were you with Tess?” You ask then, and not out-of-nowhere because he’d known, he’d been waiting for it. 

“Knew it.”

“You don’t know shit.” You dig your little claws into his chest, yanking meanly on the hair around his nipples. 

“That hurts, you little shit. Knew you were jealous,” he says smugly, squeezing a handful of your bottom. 

Ugh. “I am not jealous. What do I have to be jealous of?”

“Absolutely nothin’, sweetheart.” His tone sobers, trying to inflect the weight of that into his words. Trying to make you see that after this, there couldn’t possibly be any other woman for him but you. You roll your eyes, trying to turn your blushing face away from him, that softly vulnerable look in your eyes again. “You fuckin’ me just to get all my secrets out of me, or what?” 

“Yes.” You try to turn your face away further, your chin wobbles just a smidge and Joel’s heart twists in his chest.

“Baby. What’m I gonna do with you? Huh?” He says softly, threading his fingers through your tangled hair, trying to get you to look at him again. You’ve got the softest hair he’s ever felt, like the finery you wrap yourself in, but heavy and thick. Perfectly spun crown. 

Your eyes go all bashful, and you tuck your face up under his chin, hiding. “Dunno. Can’t play bridge, don’t play tennis well. Barely useful at all, I think.”

“I’m sure we can find somethin’,” he teases. 

Your head shoots up, clocking him in the chin carelessly, “Well, let’s see…” you hum, tapping your chin in a three fingered rhythm. He rubs the crown of your head, soothing the bump away, and you duck your head again, trying to bury your face in his stomach, glossy hair sliding over his chest. You’re trying to deflect, trying to be silly, but he can still see that wet, insecure glaze in your eyes. He won’t ignore it. 

“Look at me. You have nothing to worry about. Believe me when I tell you this.” He tugs on your chin, being as honest as he can. “Me and Tess…we were—no, no darn it, don’t pull away, look at me.” He holds you tight and steady. 

“I shouldn’t’ve asked,” you mumble between your squished cheeks, gaze slanted away from him. “I don’t want to know.”

“No matter what else there was between us, she wanted to be loved in a way I could never give her. Okay? You think I want you to know that about me? Fuck no. But if you need to know anything about how it was between us, that’s the most important thing. I…I couldn’t give her all she needed and maybe it was because I wasn’t able to or maybe it was simply ‘cause I didn’t want to. But we were friends and then we were physical, but all that’s done now. Alright? That’s it. Has been for a long while and neither one of us has ever looked back. And you have nothing to fret over.”

Your body goes tense and shivering for a moment, he can feel your muscles struggling to keep still before you're pushing away, wrenching your face from his grip. You sit back on your knees and he forces himself to lay still, giving you a moment of space. All the while, he watches you process what he’s said. You need reassurance, you need patience, this is fine with Joel. He’s got an abundance of both to give you. 

“What?” He says, “What’re you thinking?”

Your eyes flit around his face and then jump to the wall behind him, going unfocused. 

“So then that's how it’ll be with us, too.”

“No,” he says, without understanding entirely, but whatever it is you’re thinking, he can tell it’s wrong just by the look on your face. “What do you mean?”

He sits up slowly, his sticky, wet cock settling soft and heavy in the crease of his thigh. Your eyes flit to the sight of it briefly, face warming and then looking away again just as quickly. 

“It’ll be like that with us too. You won’t be able to give me what I want because you won’t want to, and then I’ll have to leave. I won’t be able to stay here and want you and only get half of you. I’ve wanted you for too long, I’ve waited for too long. I don’t care how it sounds, I don’t care what you or anyone else thinks.”

Joel takes hold of your face, tugging you in to kneel between his spread thighs, he wipes his thumbs against the wet skin of your cheeks. 

“No, baby. I don’t think it’ll be like anything else, this here thing between you and I. I think this between us…I think it’s going to be its own special sort of thing,” he says slow and smooth, like he’s talking to one of the spooked mares, trying to calm her need to flee, her racing heart. “I know you know it, too.”

“How? How can you know?”

“Just do—there’s no explaining it. S’just a feeling, is all.” You frown at him, huffing out a frustrated breath, still trying to pull away and he clicks his tongue at you, a spike of annoyance zipping through him. “Knock that off, be good. You trust me here, don’t you?” He asks, referring to his bed. “Then trust me a little bit out there too,” and he tips his chin at the door. 

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m asking you to. Because I’d rather die than ever hurt you.”

“Don't say that.”

“Then don’t you go around saying you’re leavin’ anywhere.”

“Would you miss me if I did?”

“Naw.”

“Fucking asshole. Let me g—” You try and yank yourself away again and he wrestles you to the bed, slotting himself between your thighs to pin you with his weight. 

“Want your belly stuffed full’a me again, little baby? Huh? That’s what all this fightin’ is, isn’t it?” He begins to rut his quickly hardening cock against you, one hand circling your throat, the other taking your wrists in hand to pin immobilized above your head. “Wouldn't miss ya ‘cause I wouldn’t give you the chance to go anywhere. I’d follow you, drag you back here and keep you just like this.” He pulls his hips back, prodding at your hole with his tip, wedging it there just so and then pushing inside. You hiss at the tender stretch, and he can’t help but chuff a low laugh. “That sting? Did I use that poor little pussy too rough?”

You tip your chin back, lashes fluttering and he smooths his hand up and down the sleek column of your stretched throat, feeling the thin muscles beneath fine skin, the fluttering pulse against the heart of his palm. 

“Tell me you’re mine,” you demand. 

“I’m yours.” It’s very much the truth. 

You shiver beneath him, cunt shivering, too. Moaning softly, saying his name in such a lovely way. He’s sure you’ve never been handled with such certainty in all your life. That it’s only a matter of a little getting used to, of him showing you he’s here for you to depend on in whatever way you need. 

It seems a little unbelievable that a few days ago he could’ve never even imagined this, having you like this—he works himself deeper, watches the way your face moves and changes in fascination—and that now he’s here, getting to do this with you. Feeling, sure, a little unprepared, but also, so certain that this is the right thing.

Bracing his knee against the mattress he flips the two of you suddenly, in a dizzying rush of muscles and limbs and movement. Your bodies sliding perfectly together, never losing that precious, intimate contact. Settling you across his lap he pulls you forward and close by the hips, grinding his cock as deep as he can inside of you with your clit trapped against the pressure of his pelvis. 

Ah— ah— ah— too much.

Giving you a moment to rest, he lets you slump against his chest and then pulls you taut again. One hand at your hip to pull your pelvis forward, the other at your shoulder to press you backwards. Palm dragging over your skin, squeezing each breast, feeling the pulse in your throat again. He spreads his hand over your stomach, drippy little girl splayed wide over his thighs, feeling the tense stretch of you, the way he fucks deep, maps the shape of himself beneath the fragile membrane of skin, forcing himself into a place there’s barely any room in. 

Joel grits his teeth, breath whistling, and starts to thrust up into you. Taking hold of one knee, he sets your foot flat on the mattress, opening your slick, flushed cunt wide for his viewing, taking no care this time for the way your little fingers press against his hip trying to keep him from going too deep. But you wanted him to be yours, didn’t you? Mine, you’d said. 

“I’m yours, baby. Gotta take all’a me now,” he hisses through his still clenched teeth. “There you go. That’a girl. Take your fucking.” Gripping your hair, he angles your head down, “Look how wide your little cunt stretches for me, nearly splitting it in half. Guess that means you’re mine, too, huh?”

Trying to push yourself away with the foot braced against the bed you try to slide back, away from where he’s fucking you, wailing. “Why—why. Don’t take it away from me, it’s mine,” he grunts. “Remember?” Head lolling back on your neck, slurring, s’too much, daddy, but then rolling your hips forward anyway, meeting him on the upthrust. 

Lifting you off of himself slightly so he can control the pace and strength of his thrusts, he leaves you helpless. Your cunt’s so wet and stretched the glide is smooth and unhindered. He fucks up into you, tip against the mouth of your womb until you’re coming with a cry, him, following you immediately after that first maddening clench of overwrought muscles. He watches the thick white of his spend seep out, dripping onto his stomach until he finishes spilling inside of you. And then letting you melt against his chest, finally tapped out. He cradles you against his heart, enjoying the feeling of your soft breaths against his throat as you fall immediately into sleep. 

He hadn’t needed to set an alarm in years. Waking with the dawn well before he needed to be out of the house, in the barn and ready to work, tending horses. Nature keeping him punctual. It’s the same this morning, even though everything else in the world seems to have changed. He’s awake in a second, eyes blinking open to find your soft, warm weight cuddled against his side. The sight of your small head tucked against his armpit is so tender, that for a moment, his eyes sting, overwhelmed with a feeling he hadn’t experienced in decades. 

The mountains watch the morning open above them, the dawn barely blueing the air, and he lays in bed for an unusually long time, enjoying the way it feels to wake up with you in his arms. He won’t fuck this up. He’ll keep you here anyway he can. 

When it’s been long enough he knows he’ll be late, that the boys’ll be up and out by now, wondering where he is, he starts to stir, trying to be careful not to wake you and failing anyway. 

“Noooo,” you whine, disturbed. He tries to shush you back to sleep, cooing gentle and soothing. “Don’t leave,” you mumble, a lock of hair caught in your mouth that he smooths back behind your ear. 

“Go back to sleep, darlin’,” he presses into your hair, soft kiss to the crown of your head. When you look up at him, the happy, sleep creased eyes, all deep and baleful, there are butterflies thrumming in his belly. And he feels a little bit ridiculous with how wrapped around your little finger you’ve already got him. 

Nuh-uh. “No, no,” you whine again. 

He can feel your little toes stretching in a splay against his shins, then clenching tightly, trying to grip and tug on his leg hair. “You can’t go yet. No.”

“The boys’ll be waitin’ already, baby. We got shit to do. And I gotta keep an eye on the new kid, make sure he’s learnin’ the ropes as he should. Don’t trust Tommy not to turn him into as big of’a dumbass as he is.” 

You snicker into his throat, your warm, sleepy scent enveloping him. This just won’t do. This is too good a way to wake up every morning. He’ll never be able to get anything done ever again. 

“No. You have to do what I say. I’m the boss. ‘Nd I say I need you here with me. You’re so warm,” you mumble against his pec, arm snaking over his shoulder to hug him more tightly to yourself.

His heart beats so hard in his chest he’s sure you can feel it knocking against your own. The soft brush of your mouth against his nipple makes him shiver and harden even more than his morning wood’s already got him. 

Little fucking witch is what you are. Casting spells over weak and malleable creatures that can’t defend themselves. 

He groans helplessly. “What’dya want, huh?” Running his palm down your back he palms your rump, squeezing the soft, supple flesh. 

You only hum and pout, laughing a little, soft ridiculous noises in the back of your throat that shouldn’t make him as wild and out of control as they do. Mouth practically salivating as you grind and pant against him, opening your knee over his hip so he can feel where you’re still wet from him last night. As the two of you push and pull against each other, soft groans and thready whines, he thinks that you’re a spoiled little brat that won’t be satisfied with anything less than exactly what she wants. Thinks that he’ll need to show you some discipline eventually. Give you the gentle but firm hand your father never took the time to. Thinks that it’ll be one of the most enjoyable things he’s ever had the pleasure of getting to do, teaching you some manners. 

“Does the princess need her fucking before she can start her day?” He rolls you over, taking himself in hand to press against your soft, damp hole. 

“Mhmm. Yes, please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please, daddy. I need it.” You pout so pretty. 

“You're fuckin’ spoiled. You know that?” He really does try to sound put out as he gives into what you want. The boys can wait, the ranch can wait. The whole world can wait. You are the boss, after all. 

“Don’t care,” you sigh, when he finally pushes inside. 

To be honest, Joel doesn’t think he cares all that much either. 

-

That evening, he comes home to find you in his restroom, perched on the counter with your toes pressed up against the porcelain rounded edge of the sink, painting them a deep purple color you’d stolen from Dina.

He walks with that cowboy swagger, hips swinging in a slow roll, like when he rides a horse. Everything about him is natural, confident, well practiced because he’s been the same sort of man all his life so he’s had decades to grow into himself and settle. It might be one of your favorite things about him, how himself Joel is.

In a way, you can recognize it’s the same thing you’d seen in Tess. That organic earthenness which told you they were fully themselves and comfortable in it. You can’t help the comparison, or the little pulse of savage insecure jealousy it inspires in you. 

“Hi’ya, cowboy.”

“Princess.” 

On his way to the shower, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, cranking the water up to sweltering so that soon, the room in filled with hot steam, fogging the glass and curling the hair around your face, supplying an excuse for the heat in your face when he starts to take his clothes off. 

His body is so wonderful. 

You watch him through lowered lashes as he lathers soap between his thick palms once he’s stepped behind the glass door, tipping his head back to wet his hair, soaping his chest, under his arms, between his legs, the cock that’s still thick and long, even soft as it is, makes you burn all over. He catches your eyes as he takes himself in hand, his gaze dark and teasing, knowing, running his fist up and down the length, stretching it. You flush even hotter looking back down at your purple toes. 

This morning when he’d gotten out of bed after ceding to your demands, the sight of that cock as he’d lifted his arms high above his head, muscles stretching, his sweaty armpit hair, joints popping a hollow, tired sound, it’d hung long and sated between his legs, glistening with your come. And it’d left you shocked enough at the sight of it, wondering how something that big could fit between your legs, but also wet and hungry for more of the same thing all day long. 

It’d been all you’d been able to think about as you’d lazed around his house. Picking through more of his things like you’d done last night, trying on his clothes and smelling his shampoo, reading the titles of all his DVDs, rearranging the magnets on his fridge just to put him out of sorts, just to leave your mark. You’d felt like a girl again, rifling through his things to glean whatever piece of him you might be able to steal for yourself. 

And going through his little house—the woodworking projects, the old, faded picture of him and Sarah and Tommy, reading glasses on his nightstand, and a book on deep space that reminds you how much of a fucking nerd Ellie really is— you’d seen that there were little details of all the people he cares about in his home. Even you. Picking up the text on art history tucked beneath the one on space, your eyes had smarted. Even you were here.

When he shuts the water off, you look up at him again, and it’s obvious but not sudden because it’s been building for years and years: you love him. You love everything about him. You’d loved him as a girl, looking up at a man who was steady and dependable, even when he’d never looked at you. You love him now as a woman, while he looks back at you and finally sees you for who you are. 

It feels like such an ordinary moment for how life altering the thought is—to realize that this is a real deal sort of thing, what you feel for him. 

But you think that maybe that’s what you’d always been looking for, something lovely in its ordinariness, something to depend on. 

“You have a nice day?” He asks as he runs the towel over his wet hair. 

“Mhmm,” you hum. “Productive.”

“Oh, yeah? What’d you get up to all day, shut in my house?”

“Snooped through all your shit.”

“Find anything good?”

“No, you’re boring.”

“I did warn you about that.”

“Did you?”

“Sure did.”

Dropping the towel into the hamper, he pulls on a fresh pair of jeans from the closet, no underwear. This guy…

And comes over to you, skin all hot and damp, that big barrel chest, taking you by the jaw to press his mouth, all forceful and demanding, against yours. His possessiveness makes your toes curl. 

“Too bad you’re stuck with me now,” he says. 

Against his kiss, you say, “Will you do ‘em for me?” Holding up the little nail polish brush, if only to stop yourself from spilling all of your romance-addled-brained secrets. You watch him as he sits on the toilet lid and holds each of your toes in his big fingers, slowly and carefully finishing the purple paint job. Humming and hawing while trying to get it just right. 

When he’s done, his smile is so proudly pleased, admiring his work. “Damn, I’m good.”

“You wearin’ my underwear?” He says, taking in the sight of his blue plaid boxers sitting low on your hips when you finally hop off the counter, stretching up on your tiptoes to ease your cramped knees. 

“Doesn’t seem like you get much use out of them. Thought I’d break them in,” you tell him, looking down at his crotch. 

“Little shit,” he laughs, cocking his head to the side to give you a good once over.

“How do I look?” 

“Let’s see…gimme a twirl, gorgeous.”

You spin around, so silly you’re almost drunk with it, and his laugh is smooth and throaty and dark. When he gets up, the look in his eyes is so deliciously threatening, “Yeah, you look fuckin’ good.”

You spin away from his grasping hands, moving across the restroom while he circles you, reaching for the toothbrush you’ve moved in next to his and pointing it at him like a weapon. 

“Get away from me with that look. I’m sore and don’t have anything for you right now.”

You turn to face the sink, reaching for the toothpaste and running your brush under the water as he comes up behind you. 

“Poor little cunt got stretched out last night, didn’t she?” He rumbles into your neck, pressing a tiny kiss to the hinge of your jaw. You shiver against him, sticking your toothbrush in your mouth to keep from moaning at the feel of all that hot skin and hard muscle crowding up behind you. 

You think he’d be scared to know how much you want him. You think you’re a little scared yourself, knowing how much want can fit inside just one girl. 

His touch smoothes up your outer thighs, circling your waist and squeezing, slipping his fingers under the lacy edge of the bandeau bra you’ve got on. He softly grazes the undersides of your breasts with his calloused fingertips, and the sound he makes, like a softly chuffing horse, is so intensely erotic, like he can’t even help his reactions to you, that your pussy, which really is so sore and tender, clenches with a soft sting. 

He kisses your shoulder, turning you by the hips to face him. “Let me,” he says, voice deep and raspy. “Lemme do it.” 

He takes your toothbrush from you, trapping you between his thighs against the counter, and takes hold of your jaw, forcing you to open. 

You flush, embarrassed at your sudsy mouth full of toothpaste, growling, trying to get away from him. 

“Yeah, c’mere. I wanna do it,” he demands. 

He brushes your teeth as slowly and precisely as he’d painted your now drying toenails. Pressing your jaw as wide open as it can go and gently scrubbing each and every tooth in your mouth. It is, undoubtedly, one of the most strangely intimate and erotic things you’ve ever done with a man.

 He touches you with such certainty it’s almost disorienting for how foreign it is. 

When he’s finished brushing, he holds the glass kept by the sink to your mouth, making you rinse and repeat twice before he’s satisfied. And when he’s done with that, he forces your jaw open again, appreciating his job well done. You can feel his erection hard and throbbing against your belly when he sticks his fingers deep into your mouth, feeling the smooth insides of your cheeks with his thumbs. Pressing his pointer and index fingers flat against your tongue, so far back he makes you gag. His other palm holds your head immobile so you can’t escape, can’t do anything but take his training. Your heart beats between your legs. A slow, stinging throb that tries to convince you you’re not really as sore as you’d thought you were, that you can definitely take him again right here and now. 

As he presses down on your tongue again with more pressure, your throat spasms, gagging violently, your abdomen clenching, then lurching. He pulls back, relieves the pressure for a moment, but still doesn’t pull out of your mouth. 

“No, no. Hold your breath. Good. Now breathe through your nose,” he orders. “Slow and deep. Good, yeah. Yeah, just like that.” He presses down on your tongue again, making you gag again, pulls back, gives you a second, and then does it again and again. Training your throat and your reflexes to do what he wants. 

When he finally decides you’ve had enough, you’re left panting and shaking. Your cunt leaking into the seat of his boxers. You cling to him weakly, and he pets your hair, soothing you with soft sounds in his throat. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he murmurs between kisses to your hair. 

Clawing at him, you press up on your toes, desperate for his kiss, licking at his mouth and then reaching for his hard cock, trying to tug his jeans open. 

Ah, ah. “Thought you said you were sore.”

“No, no. I—I lied.” 

You reach for his mouth again, pressing up on your toes, pulling his face towards yours as he laughs at your struggle, getting only a brief taste of his mouth, the tickle of his mustache against your lips, before he’s pulling out of your reach again. 

“Did you? Let’s see. Little fuckin’ liar.” 

He spins you around by the hips, fast and dizzy, bending you over the sink at the hips so your face is pressed right up against the mirror. Your hot breaths form little clouds of condensation against the glass, and you can’t help the ragged, humiliating moan you let out when he pulls his own boxers down over your ass, letting the cool air soothe the sting against your hot pussy as he crouches down behind you. 

He tuts and coos, clicking his tongue as he spreads your cheeks wide enough it worsens the already deep sting. Saying things like look how soaked she is, so fuckin’ red and pretty. “Naw, baby. Don’t think we can,” he tells you, peering around your hip to look at your face. 

“Oh, Joel, please. I swear—it’s…” He kisses you right over the tender ring of your hole, losing your train of thought as you moan at the feel of his mouth there. Then moves to smatter kisses over your thighs and ass, down your legs to the sensitive backs of your knees. 

While he’s distracted, you try to snake your hand between the counter’s edge and your hips, attempting to press your fingers against your needy clit. 

He smacks you, hard, right against your poor and tender sex. A mean hiss follows. 

“That’s mine. No touching.”

You do wail at that, trying to stomp your feet and kick back at him when he does nothing more than continue to kiss down the back of your legs and the cheeks of your bottom. What a horrible, nasty old man you’ve caught for yourself. 

“Not gonna hurt you worse when you’re already hurtin’. Sorry, baby, but that’s not how this works.”

He pulls his boxers back up your legs, giving your hip a condescending little pat and pulling you back by the hair to kiss your mouth while you pout and spit curses at him. 

“‘Sides we got somewhere to be. Don’t got time to fuck you proper right now.”

“You’re absolutely horrible,” you tell him, trying to stomp on his bare foot and missing. “Where are we going?”

“Thinkin’ we should go up to see Miss Leigh. How ‘bout it?”

The drive down the 89 towards Leigh Lake is dark and peaceful. Windows down, he goes way too fast, playing Bob Dylan off an old cassette player he’s got rigged into the 12-volt plug because he refuses to modernize his music collection. Every so often, you’re rewarded with the lovely sound of his voice humming along to Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door. 

It’s a real strange thing, feeling like you’re getting everything you’ve ever wanted, like you’re finally in the right place at the right time. You feel so happy. 

You switch spots once you enter the park, taking the driver's side so that he can get out at the roadblocks to lift the bar gates for you to sneak the truck through, making your slow way up the mountain through the service roads until you make it to the lake. Your last name won’t stop you from getting arrested if you’re caught trespassing on federal property, and the idea of it is sort of thrilling. 

The two of you hike the short way left from where you park the truck, and the dark wilderness would be terrifying if not for the solid wall of muscled man you have showing you the way through. You love that he’s so dependable, so capable. That you can do something wild like this and remain carefree because you know he’s here to watch over you. 

The last name won’t stop you from getting eaten by a bear either, but you’ve got Joel for that. 

In the bright moonlight, the surface of the lake is like a silver quarter, shining so brightly it blinds. There isn’t a single cloud in the sky—all stars. The water’s glass face ripples intermittently, the movement of fish beneath the surface gives it life in the dark. And the butterfly flutter of the aspen trees sounds in the night time’s wind, while the mountains loom pitch black and menacing, rising up towards the sky.

“I love it here so much,” you tell him. “Maria used to bring me all the time when I was a girl. She was so young when she taught me, took care of me—all those years raising me. You never realize, when you’re a kid, how young the adults around you actually are. It was nice to hear she’d gotten with Tommy.”

“Saint of a woman. Puttin’ up with that idiot.”

You laugh softly, wrapping your arms around yourself at the chill coming off the water. “Don’t be mean to him.”

“Were you bad? When you were real little… misbehavin’ sort?”

“God, no. He would’ve killed me.”

The joke lands stilted and ugly. No one laughs. 

“No, I wouldn’t think you would’ve been. Not in your nature, I don’t suppose.”

“At least not then. But I promise, I can be real bad now.” You turn to give him a hot look over your shoulder, and his lopsided smirk is so, so sexy. Hands in his pockets and chin tipped back so you can see his face just right in the moonlight. 

“I remember you used to come up here with him sometimes, too.”

You scoff a bitter noise, turning back towards the water. “How could you possibly remember that? You weren’t here yet. And it hardly ever happened. Certainly not once I got older.”

“He told me.”

You have nothing to say to that. Nothing nice, at least. There’s something that bothers you about knowing your father shared things like that with Joel. Things that you’d always seen as sacredly intimate, infinitely painful. 

“Oh.”

“Oh?” He mimes back. 

“Let’s not talk about that. You’ll ruin it.”

“Ruin what?”

“This. I don’t know… Everything.”

You pace away from him, chewing on your fingernails. You catch the lifting edge of the gel manicure on your thumbnail, biting down and ripping off a huge chunk of it. It hurts. Your fingernail smarts from the vicious peel. Pointer finger next, catch and rip, spitting out the little flakes of polish into your other palm. It’s a filthy and disgusting habit. 

“I didn’t bring you here to fight, but we can if you’d like to,” he says provokingly. 

Rolling your eyes— “I don’t want to fight.”

“Alright… if you don’t wanna talk about it we don’t gotta. Think we should anyway, though.” 

You’ve drifted towards the water’s shore, and you hear his heavily booted footsteps come up slowly behind you. 

“I want us to be honest with each other.” He doesn’t reach for you and it makes your anger even hotter, that you can sense the intimation of his warmth but not actually enjoy it. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he whispers. 

“Nothing. I don’t know…” Finally, his palms come to your hips, the touch is so comforting, too comforting. He tucks his thumbs beneath the hem of your t-shirt, rubbing slow circles against your skin, resting his forehead against the top of your head. 

“Thought we decided you were trusting me.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. You want to hear that I’m angry? I’m angry. There.” You take a deep breath, closing your eyes to really savor the feel of his hands on your skin, the taste of the clean, sweet air. You can smell the leaf rot and the chill of the water and that achingly specific mineral scent that comes off the mountain rock. A scent you could recall anytime, anywhere in the world when you were far away and especially missing home. “I’m sorry, too,” you tell him. “I should also say that.”

“For what?”

“That I’m angry at you, too. Or that I was.”

“Were you?”

You try to keep the broken crack out of your voice but it comes anyway. “He cared about you. And I was so jealous.”

He sighs, “I think you’ve got the wrong sort of idea about how we were or what he thought of me. At the end of the day, I was still just someone who worked for him.”

“I know there was more. I know he did something for you that no one’s ever talked about. I know there’s more here that you’re not saying, Joel. And it’s not fair that there are things you know about my own father that I don’t get to know, too. It’s not fair that you were with him in his last days and I wasn’t. It’s not fair that you got all that time with him and now I’m the one that’s left to miss him when I didn’t even really know him. When he didn’t even like me.”

“Darlin’...” You step away from him, away from his comfort. The water of the lake laps at your boots. 

“You know it’s true. How can I miss him when I didn’t even know him? When you, who knew him so much better than I did, won’t. You said that, remember? That you won’t miss him.”

“I did, yes.”

“Why not? I don’t understand.”

“‘Cause I didn’t give a fuck about him.” He laughs. “I don’t know what else to tell you. Oswald Kelly thought the earth began and ended with him, and ten years is too long a time to be the right hand of a man like that. Is that what you want to hear? Does that make you feel better?”

“I don’t— I feel like I need to understand what it was that was between you two. Why he left you the money. Can you…Do you even know how fucking despicable I felt, being angry that he’d left you something? Because it wasn’t about the money. I want you to have that. I want you to have everything. If you let me, I’ll share every single thing I have with you, but I can’t understand what it is, or what—what there was… I can’t understand why. If you say he didn’t see you as a son, then why?”

He runs a palm flat over his mouth, hand on his hip, thinking, then the backs of his fingers against the edge of his jaw. 

“We were similar, in certain ways. We understood each other.”

“You are nothing like my father, Joel. Don’t ever say that again. He was cruel—he was terrible. A terrible father. He ran me off from this place. And it’s horrible, feeling like you can’t ever go home.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Better than you’d believe.”

He goes to sit against a log low on the ground, and you wander towards him as if led by a tether. 

“It’s complicated, ain’t it?” He says. “Business of bein’ a good man. No one’s all the same of a single thing forever. There are parts of us that aren’t so good, others that are better. There were pieces of your daddy that I think tried to make up for the rotten parts. He helped a man he knew jack shit about, backed by nothing but the grace of my brother’s good word. Gave me a place, saw something in me worth a damn. He saved my life. But… the way he was with you? That overshadowed any sort of good he might’ve ever tried to do. You get me? No one is perfect, and that’s fine. But I reckon it’s important where a man chooses to place that finite goodness afforded to him. That’s what you gotta remember.”

“It should’ve been me,” you tell him. “He should’ve given that little goodness he had, to me.”

“It should’ve been you,” he agrees.

“But you’re wrong. You’re nothing like him, Joel. You’re so full of goodness.” You go to him then, kneeling between his parted knees, and he takes your face in his palms, smoothing back your hair so lovingly. “I know it. I recognized it from the first moment I laid eyes on you. Trust me. You can tell, when you’ve seen a lot of bad, who’s good and who’s not.”

He shakes his head at you, still stroking your hair, your face, and the look in his eyes is unfathomable, heartbroken. 

“There’s something I never told you about Sarah. About how she died.”

You jolt at that. “What?”

“I was too young when I had her, only twenty-two. And it was hard for Tommy and I, harder than anything. He helped me, you see, Tommy’s always been there. God, we were basically kids, trying to take care of this tiny, defenseless thing, just the two of us. And what do you know at twenty-two about how to live? Basically nothin’. It was so fucking hard, but she was like a miracle anyway. Gummy smiles and milk breath and she didn’t like formula, had a hell of a time feeding her ‘cause she wanted a mother and I had none to give her. She struggled to put on weight, was constantly at the doctor which meant constant bills. It was the single most terrifying, most stressful thing I’ve ever lived through,” he says. 

“For a few years it was fine, or not so fine, but we managed. She was small, though, skinny and sickly. And things got progressively worse, harder. There was so much I wanted to give her, the whole world, and I just couldn’t. And I wanted Tommy to have a life too, I didn’t want to have to depend on him forever. My brother got involved with some real rough sorts—Sarah was three…maybe four at the time—they called themselves The Fireflies. At first it was muscle work on the weekends and such. Watch a door, drive ‘em here or there, fuck up some guy who owed money for God knows what, but it sure as shit wasn’t my business, right? I kept my head down, tried to look the other way. They were sellin’ shit. On the streets in Austin, college kids in bars with too much of daddy’s money.” You flush deep and ashamed. “Pills, oxys, that sorta crap. The muscle work turned into stuff I never, ever should’ve gotten involved in. It started small: a favor, an errand, drop this off, pick this up. And then I woke up one day, and I was so deep in filth I couldn’t see the way out.” He looks at you then, and his eyes are so wide and dry, so clear, you can see all of him right there in that moment. “But Sarah was fed, she was at a good school, new clothes and a dance class. I wanted to give her even more than just that. It felt easy, even when it was terrifying. Or it felt worth it. And I did it for longer than I should’ve. That’s the thing about doing what you shouldn’t. It’s hard to quit once you’ve started, it’s hard to get yourself out.”

“Tommy'd weaseled his way out a couple years before, smarter than I had the foresight to be. It’d gotten seedier the more time passed, and he’d spooked. He wasn’t good at dealing with the violence the way I was, couldn’t stomach it as easy as I did. They’d been fine with letting him go ‘cause they still had me doing their dirty work, hurting people when they needed me to, trained dog.”

When he leans down to press a small kiss against your mouth, your heart beats in adrenalized panic. 

“I knew it’d end badly eventually. So I said to myself, destroy the dog and be the man, but it’s hard putting the animal down.” He breathes one long chuff of rough air before he continues. “They came to our home one night, she was supposed to be asleep, safe in her room. The guy pulled a gun and I panicked, seeing a weapon in her house like that. She was supposed to be in bed, safe in her room. She was supposed to be safe.” His voice breaks, and you can see the silver line of old grief at his waterline. “If I’d died, it wouldn’t’ve mattered. Tommy would’ve taken her, been a better father than I ever could’ve been. She would’ve survived without me, but I was never going to survive without her.”

He takes your hand in his, pressing your fingers to his scarred-over temple. A violent, horrible little thing you’d always been suspicious of.

“Joel. Oh, Joel.”

“I was never going to survive without her. They were going to get me for involuntary manslaughter, possession and trafficking. Lock me up and throw away the key. But Tommy had come here when he’d gotten out of Austin. He told your father about me and Kelly came down to see me. I’ll never know why he chose to do that—we never discussed it after—what he might’ve seen in my brother’s face, in my own, that convinced him to save me. I’ll never forget that feeling, sittin’ in that orange jumpsuit in front of that man that didn’t even seem real. A little bit like a thing out of a nightmare. Coldest eyes I’d ever seen in a man, like there was a shadow around the edges, something not right. Reckon that was your mother in there, haunting him. And I think he must’ve seen the same shadow in my own eyes ‘cause he made some calls right then and there. I was out the next morning and on Kelly property that evening. Your father, he gave me my life back. He brought me here and he saved me. This place saved me.”

You’re crying uncontrollably, tears spilling down your face in a hot, sick rush. 

“So you think he was good to you. You’re saying it was your fault—Sarah. That’s what you think. And he saved you from it.” 

“I’m saying that there’s bad and good in all of us and that life is complicated and strange and people even worse. Look at what I did to my own child. I’m sayin’ sometimes you’re grateful to the monster, I’m saying sometimes you’re sad he’s dead. It’s okay, baby.”

“But you would never hurt me. I know that as well as I know my own name. And he hurt me.”

“Never intentionally, I wouldn’t, no. But—”

“I met this woman,” you cut him off. “Uh… last year? Two years ago, maybe. I can’t remember anymore. In Sedona. It was a—well… they called it a spa,” you laugh humorlessly. “Wellness thing, that sort of bullshit, but really if you’re there, you know it’s just rehab. I was drinking too much, snorting all sorts of junk I shouldn’t have been. She recognized me.” 

You’re looking for some sort of recognition in his face, too.

“She said—from the photograph on my father’s desk. She knew all about me, she showed me pictures of the two of them. She’d been with him for twelve years, and I never even knew she existed. She knew all about me. She knew my mother, her name. She even mentioned you. You knew her.”

“I did.”

“You know who I’m talking about?”

“I do.”

“Twelve years, Joel. His partner or his—his—”

“Wouldn’t really call that mess a partnership,” he says with a small, ironic scoff.

“Don’t be annoying. Don’t joke.”

“I know, honey. I’m sorry,” he says with a sigh. “I know what you’re try’na say, I get it.”

“I didn’t even know him. He was a complete stranger to me. And this woman…she was nice to me. She told me she’d always wanted to meet me and that he’d never let her, and then he just sent her away. Cut her off from one day to the next once he’d decided he was sick of her, a pile of cash and Dina’s well wishes. You know she tried to kill herself? She was in that place for a mental break.”

Joel’s face looks shaken. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“That’s what he did to the women in his life. He had a vision that stretched halfway across the world. And nothing ever stopped him. Especially not something as insignificant as a daughter or a woman that loved him. My mom died on him and he punished us for it for the rest of his miserable fucking life, and I hate him. I hate him, and I’m glad he’s dead.”

You really do sob then, after those spit words. A broken wail like an animal lost in the wilderness and left to die. Or like a child, forgotten and abandoned by her father. Joel holds you very tenderly while you finally let that old grief settle inside you.

“You can’t ever say you’re like him again. You can’t. It hurts me to even think about.”

“It’s alright. It’s okay, baby girl. Let it out. I’m sorry,” he soothes. “I think… I think that your father mistreated you because there was something fundamentally broken in him, and I think he thought he saw that same broken thing in me, and that maybe that comforted him somehow. That what he gave me wasn’t goodness, much as you might want to see it as such.”

“But he saved you. He never, ever saved me. He hurt me so much. He threw me to the dogs. He cared about you, Joel.”

“You’re not understanding me, sweetheart. I’m saying that I did bad before, that I was broken, and Kelly saw that. But you never stay the same way forever. I was able to let it go, to move on. We always change eventually. Growin’ or regressin’ or whatever direction it might be you choose to move in, but we always inevitably make another move. He saved my life, and I was grateful to him, and yet, when I watched him die, I felt nothing but relief for you. I’m sayin’ that I know you feel defined by this, by him, but eventually you’ll move past this moment of struggle, eventually you'll let him go and then it’ll be different, that next place you step into will be different.”

You surge up on your knees to hug him fiercely and you sob and sob onto his wide shoulder, giving him all of your grief because you know he’s strong enough to bear the weight of it.

“Maybe every man is destined to fail his daughter at some point. But you won’t be defined by his failure of you forever. I know that you’ll let it go eventually. You’re so strong, so resilient, my girl.”

“I don’t want to step into any other place. I want to stay here with you and the ranch forever,” you cry. 

“We’ll always be here, darlin’,” he says with a kiss to your temple, a soothing hand on your back. “I was a roamin’ dog, and I found my place to roost, here. Wyoming and the ranch will always be your home. I will always be here for you. You’ve never gotta worry about that changin’. What I’m saying is this, love is complicated and if you miss him or you’re glad he’s dead, it’s okay. It’s okay to be wrong and to change or to be right and go bad for a little bit. Tell me, what’s the point of livin’ and feelin’ so loveless? There ain’t none. Nothing is the same forever except for this, here, your home and the care you’ll always find here. You understand me?”

“I think so.”

“I can’t promise you that this’ll be a normal sort of life, you and I together, but I promise it’ll be a good one. I’m going to try my damndest, anyway.”

“My mother was buried under a holly bush the day I was born, this has never been a normal life.”

He presses another kiss against your mouth. “I don’t want you to carry this sadness around with you forever. If you let it, this land will heal you. It’ll fix whatever’s broken in your heart. It did mine. I need you to be happy here.” He presses a tiny kiss to your jaw, tucking his face into your shoulder. “Can’t you try to give me that?”

The water laps gently at the shore at your backs, and the presence of the mountains is so strong they feel almost sentient—watching the two of you bear your hearts at their feet. You’d felt, for so long, like you’d loved him. And even if it’d been only the idea of him, it’d served as such a comfort for you when you’d been young and lost and growing into yourself. And in some curious yet kismet touched way, it felt right, fated, that the two of you had been so changed by the man that was your father. 

You ask him the same question as before, hungry for the sound of it: “If I left, would you miss me?”

“I’d follow you. There’d be no missin’.”

“But you love this place.” Your heart throbs with the idea of that word, the potential.

“But I need you now.”

“Maybe I’ll run away, come back when you least expect it just to keep you on your toes.”

“You’d be a wild horse if you could, wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe.” You muse his hair, tugging his face to yours, kissing him slow and deep and full of love.

“You’re a good girl. You be wild if you need to, I’ll be here for you when you’re ready. There’s always gonna be someone in the world that loves you, you know. Even when it feels like there isn’t, or you’re all by your lonesome. There’ll always be someone out there who thinks of you with love in their heart no matter how far you go. You just gotta remember that.”

“It’s hard.”

“Most good things are, sweetheart.”

The two of you hold each other for a long time, listening to the mountains grow, the water and the aspens.

“You know, I knew this was going to happen when I came back.”

“Oh, did you now?”

“Yes.”

“And how’s that?”

“I’d been seeing eleven-eleven every single day for weeks. So I knew something big was happening soon.”

“Darlin’, I don’t got a clue what the hell that means.”

“It’s a sign. It means something good is on its way, Joel. Something really, really worth it.”

-

The Tipsy Bison is loud and hot, and Ellie watches the girl she loves dance and laugh with her best friend, in the middle of the packed crowd. She prefers it here to The Mushroom, too many stupid Jackson tourists over there. The sight of them blinks in and out between the sweaty bodies, hands grasping each other close and then spinning out to twirl wildly in opposite directions. Their heads thrown back in loud laughter. 

“She really is something,” Joel comes up beside her to lean against the high top.

“Yeah,” Ellie says, “She really is.” Though she doesn’t think they’re talking about the same girl. 

“Ff-hat’re we talk’n ‘bout?” Jesse says, mouthful of pizza bulging his cheeks while he tries to chug his can of Natural Light at the same time. “What’re we lookin’ at?”

“Hey, chucklefuck.”

He swallows his too large bite, wincing, beer dribbling out the corner of his mouth. “I do have a name you know.”

“Sure, buddy,” she pats his head, slaps his cheek a little. “Whatever you say.”

Beside them, Joel is silent. A little hypnotized. The look on his face is so intense he looks like he’s about to pounce. Probably ready to get violent if anyone gets too close for his liking. 

Jesse looks between his face and the two girls dancing in the crowd. “Miss Kelly’s lookin’ mighty fine tonight, Joel. You old fuckin’ dog—good job, man.”

He tries to slap him chummy on the shoulder, but the glare Joel throws his way looks like it could quite literally kill. “Don’t look at her, dumbass. Who the fuck do you think you’re talkin’ to?” 

He pushes away from the table, sauntering towards the dance floor. Ellie sees the moment when your eyes catch sight of him, the way they brighten. Fucking heart-eyed love-sick look, ugh. And they say her and Dina are gross about it. Ellie still hasn’t recovered from what she’d seen in the barn the other day. Electroshock therapy or fucking church is what she’ll need to forget that shit. 

“He’s so mean to me,” Jesse whines, peeved, kicked-puppy look following Joel’s retreating form. 

“Oh, Jesse, Jesse, Jesse.”

“What? What now? Haven’t even done anything wrong today.” He’s so sulky, it makes Ellie laugh. 

“You have so much to learn,” she says absentmindedly, watching Joel meet you on the dance floor.

“That’s still so fuckin’ crazy to me,” Jesse says when Joel bends to kiss you. It’s passionate, too intimate, and Ellie has to look away. 

“It doesn’t have to make sense to anyone else besides them.”

“I guess so.”

“Curiosity is a constant happiness. Go out and find something worthwhile, Jesse.” 

On the dance floor, Dina has separated from the horde, and she weaves in and out of the pack of crowded bodies making her way over to their table. Her cheeks are flushed, her curls wild and frizzy from dancing. Ellie feels her heart beat in her throat, this is what love is. She knows that now, is able to recognize it easy as day. 

This is what Wyoming, what this land had given her. A family, a home. Dina. 

“Don’t know what that means. Doesn’t even make any fuckin’ sense,” he mutters. “You’re so fucking weird sometimes.”

Ellie reaches over, yanking on his ear, hard, before walking away to meet her girl. 

“Nothing is cooler than being yourself, weatherboy. Remember that.”

Dina meets her at the edge of the dance floor, falling into her. Her arms are strong and lithe, her kiss tastes like cherries. She whispers that she loves her in her ear—I love you, Ellie, she says.  Over her shoulder, Joel looks like he’s happier than she’s ever seen him in all the years she’s known him, and she thinks that this is it, the real deal, what all those lonely people that’d grown up on the ranch together had been looking for all their lives. 

No lonely dogs left. 

-

Having Joel Miller fall in love with you turns out to be the easiest thing in the world. 

You watch as it happens day by day. Easy to read on his face, obvious as the man is—despite what he might think about himself. You watch the story of it play out on his face as the days turn to weeks turn to months. In the things he does, the ways he takes care of you, tending to the land and your legacy and your heart. The way he makes you the beating soul of the ranch in a way you’d always dreamt of being, but had never really thought possible. He makes the place a real home for you.

One evening, waiting for him to come to bed, he brings you a bowl of split figs. Dark purple skin, brilliant red center. Beautifully shaped. There are three of them he’s cut perfectly in half to make a circle of six pieces precisely arranged in the center of the bowl. Each one is perfectly formed, perfectly chosen and set for you.

He puts it in your outstretched hands and goes to his side of the bed, tucking his glasses tight against the bridge of his nose, lamp on with the shade turned towards his open book because he says his eyes are going bad. He’s reading Flannery O’Connor’s book of short stories again, and you know he’s missing home, hungering for a reminder of life in the South and memories of his daughter. You know he only picks this one up when he’s missing it all something desperate. 

You know so many things about him now, the way he knows them about you, too.

And looking down at the bowl of perfectly split figs, that’s when you know for sure, this isn’t your wishful heart, not a fable—only something normal, lovely in how ordinary it is. This is love. 

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[moonstruckdraws]

The Changes Through Time

And my project is finish! My gift to the CAS series and @somerandomdudelmao! (This is technically supposed to be for the 1 year anniversary of CAS, but I don't have the time to post it on the 12th and I don't understand the queue system lol)

I deeply love this series as I have made fanart for it before several times and honestly it really improved my art. Cass is also an amazing creator and I look forward to anything they post in the future.

(A bit of a spiel about the illustrations from this point on)

I was honestly going to go for more of a tarot card style with boarders and everything, but as I was composing the 1st illustration, I ditched the idea and just when for simple text. The third image (like how tarot cards read the past, present/current, & future) was going to be the present, but honestly I was confused enough trying to decide which illustration was the past & future with the first two. Plus the "current" state of the story doesn't have much significance yet (and references of them aren't made because it's generally their other outfits) so I went with their spirits!

1st illustration: Representing the start of it all with the current state of all the characters. Of course we didn't know the condition of Raph in the beginning, but since he remained static until Casey found him I believe it's safe to assume that he was in that state the whole time. This illustration is unfortunately my least favorite because it's not rendered the same as the others, due to it being the first fully rendered image I've done in a while. But oh well, I still like it for the most part.

2nd illustration: Representing all of the turtles resurrections with a group hug. Not much else to note about the meaning other than the fact that I almost gave Leo an arm that he does not have. This one was also the greatest to render as I had the most fun with the bright colors. This one is definitely my favorite.

3rd illustration: Representing the turtles spirits when they were dead. Though the last one was the best to render, this one was the best to compose as a whole. Mikey and Donnie were the easiest to do since their broken states were shown in the comic, but with Raph and Leo I had to be a bit creative. With Raph I wanted to show the lack of his senses due to being in a robot for a long time and everything being subconscious. It's not as strongly detailed as the others, but he did have the most stable conditions compared to the rest of his brothers. With Leo I wanted to display his lack of self physically. Since he was fading away, at first, I wanted his spirit to be more faded and weaker compared to the rest.

Nothing else to be said that wasn't said before, but I am very glad that I started reading CAS. I've never felt more invested and moved by a fanmade comic before, so this experience is actually life changing for me. And seeing others fanart for it only inspired me! I am truly amazed by Cass and this series. Happy early 1 year anniversary

[colorlessjay]

Part 4 of "Back to the Future" AU

Is Dean doing this consciously? Yes

Does he know that it's confusing Cas? Yes

Is he being a hypocrite to his past self? Most definitely

Does he fucking care? Absolutely NOT

Castiel is suspicious of future Dean's behavior. It... flusters him in a way he doesn't fully understand yet. And more than anything, he thinks future Dean knows what Castiel is up to and is trying to get the truth out of the angel through a weird, human affectionate type of subtle interrogation.

But Castiel will not be swayed to the truth so easily! No matter how much Dean's attention makes his vessel tingle in funny pleasant ways!

Part1 || Part2 || Part3 || Part4 || Part5 || Part6 || Part7 || Part8 || Part9 || Part10 || Part11 || Part 12 || Part13 || Part14 || Part15

---

if you like my work, consider checking out my Kofi!

[totalswag]

Please a Drew and reader. They are in the dating faze getting to know each other. However Drew is having some trouble getting to know her. Reader has been in a quite toxic relationship before with a guy that could be mean, did not like when she was being physically loving (holding hands, kissing, hugging) brushing her off literally and could sometimes make her feel like she was being a burden whenever she was talking, which in turn has made her not open up to much, in fear, that she will come off as annoying. When they are having a date at home, Drew pulls her close to hold her and kiss her forehead, but she pulls away after awhile. He then brings up what has been bothering him, afraid, sad and a bit nervous that she does not like him as much as he likes her.

you can trust me — DREW STARKEY

authors note hi baby! thank you for the request and sorry it came so late when you initially requested. life has been crazy since my semester has begun.

REQUEST— open

summary holding back when it comes to physical touch and being your complete self in a new relationship with someone new.

warning(s) mentions of past toxic relationships, insecurities, questioning self-worth.

Drew and you have been seeing each other for almost a month. You haven't felt so happy in a long time to be with someone that values, supports, and loves you for who you are.

Meeting him was unexpected but came into your life when you needed him the most. Drew is very gentle with you and patient in ways you couldn't describe.

Drew has noticed that you are reluctant to touch him and quickly pull away or get nervous before taking his hand. This is something he has noticed about you as you have spent more time with him. He wants to know why you're like this but wants you to be comfortable.

Both are getting to know one other. You haven't gathered the guts to discuss your previous relationship with your ex, who treated you like dirt and never wanted you to touch him. Whether it be holding hands, kissing, embracing, or any other physical contact.

Physical touch is a part of your love language. So being pushed away from someone you care about while attempting to express your feelings for them makes you feel burdened.

Your ex ruined you in a lot of ways.

Once you met Drew, immediately knowing you can be yourself with him without him retaliating. But, you haven't showed him that side of you yet because of your past.

Drew invited you to his apartment for dinner tonight and prepared your favorite pasta dish. He understands you've had a difficult week at work, so he thought inviting you over for dinner would cheer you up.

"Thank you for dinner, Drew; it was delicious," you say, smiling sweetly as you finish your pasta.

"I really appreciate that, Y/N," he says with a smile. "I'm always open to making you dinner."

He’s so sweet

Drew and you cleaned the kitchen before heading to the living room to watch a movie to end the night. He thought it would be good to bring out the food and drinks while you waited on the couch.

"What movie do you wanna watch?" With the TV remote in his left hand while looking at the movie selections.

"Uhh pitch perfect" you reply.

Drew nods in agreement, clicking the movie.

Drew tries to wrap his right arm around your shoulder and kiss you on the forehead halfway through the film, but you pull away hesitantly.

"Everything alright, Y/N?" he frowns with emotion and confusion, "did I do something wrong?"

Your heart fell as the question hovered there. You had been sensing this for days, even weeks, so you knew it was coming. But now that it was here, you were at a loss for words, unable to respond or justify it without driving him away.

When you eventually raised your head to meet his, you could feel the sorrow in his eyes, which tightened your chest. Your voice was barely heard as you murmured, "No, you didn't do anything wrong."

Everything in you was crumbling all together.

"Then why?" With a hand sweeping through his hair, he trailed off, unsure of how to carry on. "Why are you putting distance between us? Are you —? When he began again, you could hear his hesitation and fragility in his voice. "Do you not like me as much as I like you?"

Please don't say that

His words punched you in the gut— hitting you so deep. This wasn't fair to him what so ever. You like him as much as he likes you. Feelings are mutual.

"It's not that," you answered hastily, your voice shaking as you tried to fight back the tears that were about to fall. Yes, Drew, I do like you. Many times.

"So why," He asked. Seeking answers, he gazed at you, his eyes darting over yours. "What makes me think that you're scared to let me in?"

Fiddling with your fingers, trying to gather the words to say. You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. Drew knows about your last relationship but not the whole gist.

“I’ve been hurt before,” you began, your voice trembling. “My last relationship… it wasn’t good. He made me feel like I was too much, like I was annoying whenever I tried to talk or show affection. He’d brush me off, make me feel like I was a burden. And I guess… I guess I’m afraid of that happening again.”

Drew's expression softens with hurt, anger, and confusion. He continues to let you speak while holding your hands in reassurance—thumb gently circling over your knuckles. You can't help but let a few tears as you speak.

"I'm so sorry you went through that."

"It's not your fault. I've gotten so used to holding everything in, I didnt want you to think of me differently and walk away from me" you confess with your chest.

Drew's other hand reached up to softly cup your cheek and use his thumb to wipe away the tears while his grip on your hand tightened. He said, "You're not going to drive me away," and you might believe him because of the quiet passion in his voice. 

"Y/N, I like you just the way you are. I was immediately drawn to your lovely demeanor and am still doing so now. Nothing you are doing is wrong. His eyes never leaving yours, "We can take this at any pace you want and I'll still be here."

You feel a sense of relief fall off your shoulders. The fear you've been holding back slowly drifts away.

"I want you to show how much you like me whether that be words or physical touch. I would never pull you away."

You didn't push away as he moved in to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. For the first time in a long time, you felt as though maybe—just maybe—you could begin to lower your barriers as you allowed yourself to lean into him and experience the warmth and security of his embrace.

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[nineteenninety-six]

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ Chocolate Bars and Injuries [3]

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader

AN: This is a fluff filler chapter but I do love this lil family so sue me. I want to post these more frequently but I can't write as fast as I used to lol. I need some angst ideas for these two and Robby ideas if any of you have any <3

TW: Parental death, usual medical inaccuracies. drunk driving. mentions of death by drunk driving. mentions of Jack's amputation.

Synopsis: Your's and Jack's relationship progress and you meet a few people at The Pitt properly.

TAG LIST: @darksparklesficrecs @flyinglama @lonelyloomis @antisocialfiore @impossibleblizzardstudentposts

PART ONE PART TWO

Jack’s presence in your life has brought immense happiness. The past few months were consumed by mourning your parents and learning to parent Caspian, leaving little time for self-reflection. However, Jack has transformed everything.

Now, you’re a few months into your relationship, and it’s a new experience for both of you. Things were going slow, Jack's schedule being the biggest reason but also he had never dated someone with a young child and you were trying to navigate it together. Jack cringes whenever you introduce yourselves as girlfriend or boyfriend, feeling too old for the term, preferring the term ‘partner.’ But you don’t mind; you love calling him your boyfriend.

The chime of the doorbell echoed throughout the house signifying Jack's arrival and you skipped over to open it, immediately smiling at the man on the other side

"You're spoiling him y'know" You say as you spy the toy store bag amongst the many Jack holds.

"You gonna tell me to stop?" Jack asks as he steps in the house, passing you the flowers he held. Jack waits until the flowers are firmly in your grasp before he pulls you into a kiss, deepening the kiss as he tries to figure out the flavour of your lip gloss.

"What is that, strawberry?" Jack's brows were furrowed as pulls away.

"Grape!" You grin, pecking him once more before you step away.

You sniff the flowers as you walk into the kitchen as Jack follows you automatically, the routine ingrained amongst all the others he held, "No, but what's your plan for when he grows old and out of Hot Wheels?"

Jack retrieves the vase from where it rests and fills it up with water as you trimmed the stems. This was another part of the routine that the two of you had formed, built- off of weeks of dates and flower gifting.

"I don't know... does the kid like fishing?"

"Fishing?" You laugh, "When was the last time you went fishing? Besides the kid is five, what he likes changes every week."

"I went a few years ago with Robby and Frank." Jack tells you, holding the vase out for you.

Your fingers rest over his on the vase as you peer up at him, "And how did that go?"

"Two days one night camped out in one tent next to a lake in the height of summer and all we managed to catch were fish only big enough to feed a starving feral cat" Jack grimaced," You can imagine how well it went."

You laugh at his expression before you turn back to finish up with the flowers, "Well maybe it's best we stay away from fishing but you know, he has been talking about going camping recently. I was thinking about doing it in the backyard."

"Now camping I know alot about. I can take him camping. I can do the whole nine yards... smores, campfire Stargazing and campfire stories"

Jack's hands grasp your hips, giving them a squeeze before he turns you around, an almost hesitant look on his face, "Or is that too much? I don't want to overstep."

"You're not overstepping. I think Cas will really enjoy that." You stretch your arms to wrap around Jack's neck, "Obviously me and Cas are a package deal, it's the both of us or none of us but... are you really sure you want to do this? If you want to get really serious with me, you get serious with Cas and I don't want my relationship with you to be separate from my life with Cas, you all have to tie in together."

"Hey" Jack pulls you into a gentle brief kiss, "I know that. I really like Cas and spending time with him. I also really like you and dating you, I know all of this and it doesn't change a thing."

You beam at him before you pull him into a deep kiss that lasts until your phone chimes reminding you that you had to collect him from his regular weekend Karate lessons.

"Just to let you know, Cas will be showing off all his Karate moves tonight." You say as you leave the house, heading to your car, Jack following behind you.

"I am a more than willing practice dummy. I have a few moves of my own that I learnt when I was serving..." Jack quips, squeezing his body into the passenger seat, "Why can't we take my truck?"

"First of all, you're not using any combat moves on a five year old and secondly, you don't have a car seat for him" You remind him. "C'mon doctor Abbot it's child safety 101."

Jack huffs a laugh but he makes a reminder on his phone for his next free day to do research on the best car seats for children Cas' age to have in his truck.

With Cas down for his afternoon nap, immensely helped by his Karate class, you decided to watch a film with Jack and so you delegated the task of finding a film to watch to Jack whilst you did snacks and drinks. So you were in the kitchen making popcorn while he explored your living room, staring at the many family portraits hanging around and looking through the immense music and film collection accumulated by your parents.

"You've got Heat, Top Gun, The Shining… I remember watching these when I was young. Plus the music collection over there... this is amazing." Jack said in amazement as he continued to flick through the collection.

You laugh at him as you place the drinks and popcorn down on the coffee table, soda for you, beer from one of the many bags he brought with him, for him.

"Yeah my parents collected them. There's more in the loft but they've got a massive collection spanning decades. They used to go to garage sales, flea markets—you name it." You smile as you think about your parents, "Those were my parent's favourites from their childhood so I guess that tracks, you're like the same age as them."

Jack's face goes through many emotions as he looks at you with wide eyes, "I didn't mean to bring them up."

"You mean you don't like being reminded that you're the same age as my parents?" You tease, "Don't worry I don't have daddy issues— well not like that."

 "I don't want to bring up something you're uncomfortable with." Jack says.

"It's not illegal. You can ask about them." You take a seat, Jack quickly joining you, "Don't get me wrong it's a sore subject but my therapist always likes to remind me that not everything is captured on camera or film and if we don't share our memories, we forget them and I have about twenty five years more of them than Cas has."

"Yeah, therapists are great at reminding you to take your head out of your ass." Jack mutters, remembering the reality checks his therapist gives him.

Jack hesitated for a moment before speaking again, asking, “How did they pass?”

You tuck yourself into Jack's side, bracing yourself to talk about something that you've only spoken about to your therapist," Drunk driver. Ran a red light and T-boned them."

"Shit..." Jack swore as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and squeezed it, comforting you.

"Cas was in the car with them." Your words were quiet but Jack could hear the underlying grief, "My dad died at the scene, mom died in surgery. Cas was in PICU for a week. I was so close to losing my entire family that night."

There's a pause where you take a mouthful of your drink, creating a break, pacing yourself before you reveal a part of you that weighed heavily upon you everyday. 

"A part of me still expects them to walk through those doors and then everything will go back to how it was. A part of me still feels like a teenager, always looking towards their parents for guidance but I'm grown now. I'm scared about letting Cas down, about failing him. I became a guardian— a parent overnight and I feel so out of my depth." You sniffle, emotions beginning to creep up, "It's why I haven't gone through any of their stuff yet. It's why I'm still sleeping in my childhood bedroom and why I haven't had a single sip of alcohol since."

Jack wraps his arms around you as you sobbed into his chest, it was obvious this was heavily weighing on you. Sure you spoke with a therapist but you hadn't let yourself really vent and cry having put all of your energy towards Cas. You cry until you fall asleep in his arms and he nods off shortly after, movie long forgotten. He's awoken by Caspian an unknown amount of time later, the kid crawling underneath his other arm and shaking him as he calls out his name.

"What's up kid?" Jack asks, blinking off the nap brain he had.

Caspian holds up his empty water bottle, "Water please"

"Sure." Jack nods before he untangles himself from you, making sure you dont wake up before he picks Caspian up, easily settling the child on his hip.

Jack had gotten comfortable with Caspian over the last few months and Jack had never imagined himself bonding with a young child the way he had with Caspian but Jack loved the little set-up he had with you and Caspian. He had never married or had children, his past and preference towards working the night shift usually turning people off but he believed he had something special with you and by extension Caspian.

Jack sits Caspian on the kitchen island before he opens the fridge looking for the water jug when your croaky voice speaks up from the doorway.

"Just use the tap, it's filtered for drinking." You say as you approach Caspian, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Huh... bougie" Jack mutters as he fills the water bottle.

"I know right" You laugh,"I never had any of this stuff when I grew up or lived alone, so I'm indulging in the gadgets my parents splurged on."

"Have you thought about moving?" Jack asks.

"Yeah, sometimes" You answer as you putter around the kitchen making Caspian's snack plate,"It's complicated though. This house is great, it's paid off, it has plenty of space and it's in a good location with Cas' school and my job but this place is filled with the ghosts of my parents and a part of me wants a fresh start especially if I have my own children..."

"Don't read too much into that last part" You quickly say, realising what you had just said.

Jack waits until Caspian is distracted eating in the other room before he says,"... Do you want kids?"

You shrug, "Before all of this yeah but now... I'm not sure. Cas is my top priority now."

"You'll have to prioritise yourself too at some point."

You shrug once again, something that Jack has now come to realise was a way for you to not answer a question, it was a non answer before you diverted the conversation.

"What about you? Do you want kids?" You ask.

Jack keeps eye contact with you as he shrugs, watching the smile on your face as you realise he was mimicking you with sharp eyes, "I didn't think I would be a good father and according to Dana, I'm a bit of a dark and grumpy bastard that turns off most women."

"Not me though"

"Yeah not you"

"Wonder what that says about me"

"I don't" Jack crowds into your space, brushing his lips against yours, "I like you exactly as you are."

"You're such a charmer" You mumble before you tug him into a kiss.

"Alright kid, your sister told me you wanted to show off what you learnt in class today" Jack said as he kneeled down so he rested on one knee, groaning underneath his breath knowing that his body will regret it in the morning.

Caspian perked up, immediately jumping up from the couch to get into position in the middle of the living room rug.

You watched from your place in the kitchen, thankful for the open plan layout so that you can see everything as you cooked. Jack had tried to convince you to order in but you had to remind him that every date you have been on had consisted of dinner dates and you wanted to treat him to a home cooked meal, especially since this was the first time he's actually spent time at your house, having usually just stopping by to pick you up. 

"Ready?!" Caspian asks, ready to show off.

Jack nods, a small smile tugging on his lips. "Yep, c'mon!"

Caspian gives his own nod and he takes a couple of steps before he throws himself into Jack, the impact knocking him backwards onto his back, breath leaving him roughly. 

"Oof!"

"Cas!" You gasp, running over to them, trying your hardest not to laugh but oh man the scene was so funny. "That was not a karate move!"

You lean over Jack, fingers drifting over his head fearing that he may have cracked his head open, "You okay doc? You able to self-diagnose?"

Jack's eyes crinkle as he erupts into laughter, his whole body vibrating as he does so, "Help an old man up?"

Jack reaches an arm up and you swiftly grab it to help him up, missing the devious smirk on his lips as he tugs hard, pulling you on top of him with a muffled huff. There's a beat of silence before you burst into laughter as well, giggling at the absurdity of it all and not wanting to be left out, Caspian jumps on top of you, squashing you in between the both of them.

"This is ridiculous" You giggle, "I'm supposed to be cooking dinner, not doing whatever the hell this is."

"Stay, this is fun!" Caspian speaks, his words coming out mushed as he spoke into your back.

"This is very fun," You agree as you push yourself off of Jack, Caspian's weight not affecting you as you stood, "Unfortunately dinner will be burnt if I don't go back to the kitchen."

This time Jack doesn't drag you down when you grab his hand to pull him to his feet before you turn back to Caspian and tickle his belly, "And I know what monster you turn into when you don't eat so I shouldn't let it get burned should I?"

At Caspian's admitting nod, you return to the kitchen but not before you warn both of them that if they do any more 'karate' moves then neither of them are getting dessert.

It's nearing two am when you finally peel yourself away from Jack's side and the couch where you had been glued to for the past who-knows how many hours finally watching the films that Jack found earlier. Caspian was on the other end of the couch, curled up underneath a blanket after falling asleep midway through the first film and you couldn't be bothered to take him to bed so you left him there.

You let out a soft moan of pleasure as you stretched your tense muscles. Sleep was tugging at you and all you wanted was to crawl into bed.

"What do you want me to do?" Jack's words are murmured as he stands behind you, warm hands resting on your hips.

"Let me lock up and then you can take him upstairs"

Jack nods and gives your hips a squeeze watching as you leave to turn off the lights and lock the doors before you return to him.

Once Caspian is tucked in bed and snoozing away, you close his bedroom door, leaving it open just a smidge for when he wakes up in the morning and you pull Jack to the landing.

You glance up at Jack , "You know you're staying the night right?"

Jack did not know that. 

Jack wasn't going to drive home, he had seen and treated too many people who were the victims of drunk driving but he was planning on taking a taxi home.

"I was going to call a taxi…" Jack admitted.

"Not anymore you're not," You roll your eyes before pausing and looking back at him, "You don't have any problems with sleeping in my parent's bedroom  do you?"

Jack eyes her, trying not to reveal his shock, "Your what?"

You grin, winking at him, "I'm just joking, we have a guest room."

Jack's shoulders untense, "Not funny."

"You can use some of my dads clothes to sleep in, unless you have spare ones in your little go-bag."

"Tactical rucksack" Jack corrects

"Right, right of course" You giggle, "I apologise."

You take him to the guest room, waving him in, "It hasn't been used in a while but it's clean and there's a bathroom next door. I'll be back with clothes and towels for you."

Jack quickly peels off his trousers once you've left, kicking them off as he sits on the bed and takes off his prosthetic, massaging his leg with practised ease, soothing the usual ache that lingered when he wore it all day.

He hadn’t mentioned his leg or what had happened, and it wasn’t entirely deliberate to keep it a secret. However, he was clueless about how to bring it up naturally. He knew you well enough to understand that you wouldn’t pressure him for answers or perceive him differently. Nevertheless, the lingering anxiety in his mind kept his thoughts racing with ‘what ifs’.

Jack was so engrossed in his thoughts that he missed the knock on the door. He only looked up when you let out a surprised yelp. He watched as your eyes trailed down his body, momentarily pausing at his crotch. The image of him in tight boxer briefs was seared into your mind before they continued down his body to his legs. As you realised what you were looking at, you knew you had intruded on a private moment, you quickly slammed your eyes shut, arms thrust in front of you holding the towel and clothes and squeaked out an apology.

Jack grabs the items out of your hand silently and you immediately scurry out of the room, apologising once more before you shut the door behind you.

"Well that takes care of that" Jack laughs incredulously. 

You threw yourself onto your bed with a groan, feeling embarrassed about your impulsive action. You should have knocked until you heard him speak, but instead, you barged right in and then fled like a child.

As you changed into your pajamas, you realised how little you truly knew about Jack. You knew he had served in the military and had friends at the hospital, but you hadn’t actually met any of them. Jack was a complex individual, and you hadn’t even scratched the surface of his layers.

A knock at the door startles you, and you take a deep breath, knowing that it could only be one person.

Jack stood on the other side of the door, hair still damp from his shower, his curls refreshed and smelling of the shampoo whilst he stood in a simple t-shirt and joggers.

"Hey," Jack's eyes flicker over you, searching for a sign of disgust or anything.

"I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to barge in on you," You instantly apologise, "Especially not when…"

Your words trail off, not knowing the right words to say.

"Can I come in?" Jack asks and you immediately nod, shuffling him towards your bed.

"I realised I hadn't told you anything about me, not really. So where do I start?" Jack sighs as he sits up against your headboard, "I'm an old man with a long list of stories."

"You're not old," You say as you easily climb in bed beside him. You couldn't help it, it was like your body craved being next to him, "You talk about whatever you want and I'll just listen."

And so Jack did, he told you about his life story, not all of it but you had definitely peeled back a few layers of the man. You hear about his enlistment and attending medical school and then he briefly talks about the incident that resulted in losing his foot, it still being a topic that he finds hard to discuss. Then he talks about coming to Pittsburgh and meeting Robby and why he likes to work the nightshift.

"Will I ever get to meet Robby or any of your other friends?" You ask once he's finished speaking.

Jack looks down at you with a half frown, half smile, voice teasing "You've already met Robby."

You roll your eyes, "No I didn't. I saw him at Tanner's party, that doesn't count."

"Huh, really…"

"What's stopping me from visiting during the day shift hmm?"

"I'll tell security to ban you, I'll hand your mugshot out as well."

You muffle your laughter into your palm, "I'll tell Frank to let me in, they'll trust him right, since he's a doctor"

"He's still a resident, I outrank him." Jack leans down to press a kiss to your lips. "Nice try though."

"You going to go back to the guest room?" You ask, curling up to Jack's side.

Jack's words are whispered, "Do you want me to?"

"No" You whisper back.

Jack pulls away causing you to groan in disappointment but you take the opportunity to slip underneath the duvet. Your eyes never left his form as he bent off to take his prosthesis off with ease that takes years of experience.

You curl back into Jack's side once he joins you underneath the duvet, melting into his warmth. Jack switches off the bedside light and your limbs twisting around each other as you relax into the bed. You want to thank Jack for opening up but you are quickly lulled into sleep, mind going blank as Jack wrapped his body around yours.

You eventually meet Jack’s hospital colleagues, but not on his terms.

Jack stayed at yours like he usually did on his day off but this time it was slightly different since his truck had been in the shop for a week. On Friday morning after he got off of shift he went home and did his usual routine and then you picked him up after work and took him to yours. He had Saturday off, spent it with you and Caspian, slept over, and then had lunch with you and Caspian on Sunday before you dropped him off for his Sunday evening shift. However, when he left the car, his wallet fell out of his pocket and dropped onto the seat, unnoticed by either of you.

You didn’t realise until the next morning on Monday when you pulled up at work after dropping Caspian at school. Since you wouldn’t see Jack until the end of the week, you decided to drop it off on your lunch break. So, you left him a message saying you’d leave it at the front desk of the hospital’s ED.

The waiting room was loud and crowded when you entered, filling with people bleeding, limping, coughing and sneezing as they waited for to be finally called back to be treated. You tapped your foot as you waited in line, Jack's wallet clenched tightly in your hand.

You flinch when a hand grabs your arm and you look back to see a doctor that looks vaguely familiar.

"Hey, I remember you," The woman says, casting a cursory look up and down your body, "Are you okay?"

You frown as you face the woman, still unable to place where you recognised her. "Yeah I'm fine…I'm sorry I don't know…"

"I'm Dr McKay. Cassie. I was at Tanner's birthday party with my son."

"Ah." You nod, finally remembering, "Yeah sorry I'm fine, I've just got Jack's- sorry, Dr Abbot's wallet. I was just leaving it here so he can pick it up on his next shift."

Dr McKay's expression changes as her brows rise on her head and her eyes widen as she slowly nods her head, "Why don't I take you through and you can just leave it at the charge station."

"Why can't I just leave it with you?" You question but you let her guide you through the doors through to the ED.

"You could but if I let this opportunity fall through I'll never be forgiven." Dr McKay tells you as you walk towards a hub of activity, presumably the charge station.

"Hey Dana, Robby!" Dr McKay calls out catching the attention of a blonde nurse and dark haired doctor. You recognise them from Tanner's birthday as well, which of course makes sense considering Frank's job.

You introduce yourself and Robby instantly recognises you and introduces himself and Dana.

"I'd hate to interrupt your work, I just planned to leave it at reception," You say as you flash the wallet, "I told him I'd leave it there anyway…"

A smirk grew on Dana's face once she caught sight of the familiar wallet and Robby's smile stretched so wide his cheeks bunched up. They were loving this and they couldn't wait until Jack clocked in for the evening shift.

"You are so not interrupting." Robby's words were interrupted by his laughter.

Your own smile dances on your lips when you realise why they were so giddy, "Don't be too mean to him."

"This is a once in a lifetime opportunity here," McKay interjects, "Abbot almost never slips."

You pass the wallet over to Robby who slips it into his pocket so that Jack will have to go up to him personally to get it back. 

"Is a grumpy Jack the best person to work with?" You ask with a laugh.

"It's why he works the night shift," Dana chimes in, "Usually less people than the day shift during the week."

"He was plenty nice to me" You shrug.

"That's because you're a pretty woman." McKay snickers, Dana nodding along.

"Ooh-kay. I have to get back to work but it was nice meeting you all, officially." You wave at them before you turn and leave, bumping into Frank but you only have enough time to simply say 'Hello' before you're disappearing through the doors.

Frank watches you go with a raised eyebrow before he turns back to the group at the charge station, "What's that all about?"

"Did you know she's with Abbot?" Dana asks.

Frank nods, not knowing what the big deal was, "Yeah for at least a couple of months or at least that's what Abby said."

"Huh…" Robby nods, "Interesting."

Jack grumbles as he leaves the frontdesk empty handed, heading towards the charge station hoping that his wallet was there instead, he just hoped the usual suspects were busy with patients. He deliberately arrived an hour earlier in hopes of collecting his wallet without being ambushed.

The charge station was empty and Jack quickly made his way over and began to search through the desk, pushing files and tablets aside as he searched for his wallet. He was midway through pushing a computer to the side when somebody clears their throat behind him, causing him to straighten slowly and turn around.

"Looking for something?" Robby asks, holding up the wallet in question.

Dana was next to him, failing miserably to conceal her smirk, "She's pretty. When were you planning on introducing her to us?"

Jack grumbled once again, stomping over and snatching the wallet from Robby and putting it in his bag.

"I wasn't."

"Not that it matters anyway," Robby laughs, before deciding to torment Jack even further, "We got enough info anyway."

"Langdon!" Jack immediately snaps his head over to the clueless doctor who looked up from his tablet with wide eyes, "What the hell is your problem?"

Langdon frowns in confusion, "What did I do?"

"Talking about shit that doesn't concern you." Jack snaps, "Whatever your wife tells you, you keep it to yourself."

Langdon continues to look at him wide eyed and confused, "What are you talking about?"

Finally Robby cuts in, sparing his resident from anymore abuse from the night shift attending.

"Frank didn't say anything, Jack. Stop bullying the poor man."

Jack turns Robby, "Were you just fucking with me?"

Robby laughs, "Yeah pretty much but she seemed nice."

Jack's tense shoulders relax slightly, "She is nice."

"Pretty too." Dana adds.

"Uh-huh." Jack doesn't try to entertain the conversation even further. They knew enough already.

"You have to let us meet her properly, you know!" Robby called out as Jack walked out of the ED, heading to the lift so he could have some peace on the rooftop before his shift started.

Jack simply threw a middle finger up behind him as he walked through the doors.

[lostinlovingrevery]

hi vannnnnn!!

first off how was your day!! i hope it’s been going well

secondly.. any worst!logan headcanons? particularly any filthy ones? (i’m feral 🫣)

a logan for you <3

HIIII CAS

My day HAS been going well, I finished my planter build (minus painting and actually planting it but!!) and I got the fattest, cheesiest pizza for dinner mmmmm

My grandma dropped off some v late christmas gifts and mine was a super cute new bag! A pocket heart charm AND a tiny lil vintage jewelry box with a REAL authentic two dollar bill in it. Pretty sure it belonged to my late grandfather :) <3

and that gif...mmm. yeah

Worst Wolvie headcanons? Don't mind if I do! (nsfw below!)

GENERAL:

I have this thing that he'll go into construction once he's settled in the new universe. It's easy to get a job with construction companies for the most part- and he's hella strong and looks it too, with a potty mouth and likes to drink- he'll fit right in!

SO polite and respectful to Althea. He'd be screaming at Wade one second, and the next be like "you need anything ma'am?" and get her a glass of water and everything else. No he does not support her cocaine habit.

PHEW I have a lot of trouble deciding how Logan would be after the events of D&P. I think he'd be struggling a lot still. He's such a hothead throughout most of the events of the movie, and I think that wouldn't stop being the case. I feel he'd probably simmer down a bit, but he would likely appear tense and awkward to some outsiders. He's not quite used to people being polite to him anymore.

when he meets you though, i think you'll capture his attention like no one else has

FLUFF (and a lil angst):

Oof, this is tricky too.

So I feel he'd be a bit rough around the edges when it comes to a relationship with you- at least in the beginning

He's not sure what to do. He has the capability of being soft, but he spent so long hardening his shell he's not sure how to be soft exactly.

His touches are intended to be gentle, but may feel rough as he tries to learn how to be with someone

His words are the same. I feel like sometimes his affection might come across sounding a lil angry

Once he gets comfortable though he'll be a complete lovebug

Initially put off by physical touch, he won't be able to get enough of it soon. Kisses, hugs, snuggles, booty smacks.

Hes a lil rough with the romance, but he'll try! Flowers brought home, remembers the little things about you- favorite snacks, drinks, etc.

As rough around the edges as he may be, he'll always be honest to you in how he feels. You may not initially feel like the man is heads over heels- but then after a cute and quiet date night he just looks at you all deadpan like "im so in love with you"

VERY protective. like over the top. Doesn't even like to see a man glance in your direction. Gets very nervous about you going out on your own too even if he hides it- he just doesn't want to lose you too :(

I feel in a way that he might be a little more settled down than his past self/variant. Kinda like Origins. More willing to get a nice house in the country, live a quiet peaceful life. He's been through a lot and somehow got you in the end. It's all he needs.

Not sure where to put this exactly, but I said in the past that I think he's a lot meaner than Old Man Logan- who I think is mean in a "i'm tired and sore and cranky" mean, while Worst Logan is mean in a "I don't fucking care about anything anymore " mean.

It comes out, when he's in a bad mood. He acts like he doesn't care but he does, things just hurt too much now and he's gotta shut it down

when it comes to being with you though, he begins to soften a bit more. You're able to listen and support him. His moods are never taken out on you

but you might get a sassy comment here and there

he genuinely loves you, wants things to work out. Will cut back greatly on the drinking.

won't think he deserves you, at all. will say that a lot.

everytime he looks at you it's the same lovesick face that origin logan has

I think im playing up how rough around the edges he is but I honestly think with you he'll still come off as a big sweetheart.

He'll still speak softly around you- even if you aren't together yet.

You'll catch him looking at you, an expression across his face you never seen him carry before. Something that looks like yearning

He'll melt in your arms. Hes like so much bigger than you but no one would realize by the way he just sinks into your embrace

i feel once you get to a certain point of your relationship, he'll be straight up worshipping you like the god/goddess you are

domestic life

cleaning the kitchen with him, late at night. Hes finishing up the dishes while you're wiping the counter down. You come up behind him, your hands untuck his shirt from his jeans, and your wrap your arms around him underneath the shirt, pressing kisses to his back before smushing your cheek against him and waiting for him to finish his dishes

he'll really wonder then, as he looks out into the window above the sink, over the city where your small apartment resides in- how did he get here?

will become a blushy mess when you do sweet things for him, like getting him flowers, or bringing him lunch at work, lil things like that

call him pretty. see what happens. ;)

SMUT:

Back to him being mean :)

BIG on control. He lost control of his life for years, so regaining it is def gonna show up in the bedroom

orgasm denial is a big thing with him

will mock you for begging and crying over it

sex can get really rough with him. He could be a complete sweetheart in the beginning, and the something snaps and he's choking you out with his cock, bruising the back of your throat as he pounds your mouth like a sextoy

Likes to pin you. In every way. likes seeing you squirm and struggle.

Likes to tie you up too

Smacking. Your ass and tits and cunt are going to be SORE.

Fucking into you rough and hard, you can't take it, your eyes rolling back- he smacks your face to get you back into reality. Not hard- more like a lovetap. "You with me bub?"

will give you a big wet kiss after

growling and grunting

very animal like this one

likes to spit in your mouth, feels like he's claiming you in a way

BITER!

You're gonna have bite marks!

The claws come out a lot with this one. All of them do it- but he just doesn't even try to control it, very conscious of where his hands are though

BIG on being praised

you praise him and hes gonna turn into a whimpering puppy

the switch up happens SO FAST

has probably immediately cum a few times the moments you praised him for being so good

if you want to have control for the night, just give him some praise and it's all yours

you can tie him up all you want, tease him, anything and everything long as you call him a good boy, and that you love him and he'll behave nicely as long as you keep going

he'll be a whining mess, thrusting into the air bc he needs you so bad to take care of him. he only ever needs you now.

like literally this man is two sides. fucking evil as hell in bed or the most subby whimpering man you'll ever know

dont worry, he does like praising you too

even if he's being a mean motherfucker he'll still be calling you gorgeous, talking about how good you are, how you're always going to be his

i feel like he can get pretty nasty too. Like remember the scent thing I talked about before? He'll straight up dig his nose in your armpit during sex just to get high off the pheromones and sweat coming off you.

pins your head down with his foot while fucking you (i...may have a request for this in the works....)

now i need to watch deadpool and wolverine....