#do the 6 months before the pit count as living | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ohnogemini · 1 month ago

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Do No Harm

Hello - its Gem again ✧⭑๋ I wrote this fic about 6 months ago when I was in a weird place and just now got around to edit it and make it presentable. I hope you enjoy ♡⊹

✶ Word Count: 19k (sorry)

★ Genre: !afab reader x Bang Chan

✹ Rating: Explicit 18+ Minors Do Not Enter

❀ Comments: Tropes used: friends to lovers. Mentions of anxiety, depression. Hurt/Comfort. Mentions of Ex husband (not skz). Self deprecation. Slow to smut but it gets there. Unprotected consensual sex ; some cursing ; very light d/s dynamics. Please let me know if I left out any big TW/CW.

‎‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹

Nothing could have prepared you for the deep wave of nausea that hits you. The week had moved fast, too fast for your mind to process what occurred. Nothing is particularly shocking about the events; you knew it was coming. Bolting awake without an alarm on Saturday morning, firm, bright light fighting its way through your dark blue curtains, you find yourself lightly gasping and clawing at the damp sheet that’s covering your half naked frame.

Alone. Truly alone, again.

Yanking the sheet off, you rush into your bathroom and flip on the icy water from the sink faucet. The soft churning of the water and its cool contents hitting the porcelain pulling your focus from the pit in your stomach. You pull your hair into a quick bun at the back of your head with the hair tie sitting to your right, still on the counter from a few nights earlier, and stick your wrists in succession under the water, shocking your system into rebooting. You signed the divorce papers late Tuesday evening. Work was busy enough that you hadn’t had a chance to sit and think about it during the day. Two emergency surgeries this week: a large German Shepherd with a broken femur and a young cat struggling to birth on her own. Both were successful, and you’re ashamed to admit that if they were not, you’re unsure how you would have been able to deal with it. By night you were so exhausted from your early mornings that a glass of wine and a plate stacked with an assortment of veggies, cheese and deli meat was all you could muster before falling asleep in bed or on your large, too comfortable couch. TV turned loud enough to drown out your thoughts but quiet enough to lull you to sleep.

The freezing water brings your attention forward and you inhale deeply. A soft shake cascading down your spine as the breath leaves your lungs. Glancing up at yourself now would be a mistake. Instead, you’re softly pushing the tap off, placing your hands on the cool countertop and shutting your eyes to reel your breathing back in.

As if on cue, you hear your phone with its unsettling, cheery ring going off in your bedroom. Not the time, you think to yourself. The phone continues its lively tune until whoever is caught on the other end goes to voicemail. If it’s important, they’ll leave a message. However, the phone barely stops its melody before it starts again.

Aggravation seeps into limbs. How dare someone interrupt my panic? My pain? This moment is for you alone. No one else needs to see or hear how pathetic you feel right now. But what if they can help? It wouldn’t hurt for them to try. But it would hurt. It would hurt you for them to try and fail. Knowing it was foolish for the attempt. It would hurt them to give their all in sweet sincerity just for you to still be a pile of lost puzzle pieces at their feet by the end. You push off the sink and trail your way around the bed to your nightstand, wiping the water from your wrists and hands on your sleep shirt as you reach for your still ringing phone. The contact is there, lit plainly. As is the clock above it that reads 11:38 AM. A rush of guilt, or denial pinches your nose and brows together. You rub your eyes, press the green button, and give yourself a few seconds before lifting the device up to your ear. “Hey,” you try to conceal the shakiness, but anyone with ears can hear it. “Hey Bug, sorry I called you twice, but this is time sensitive. Are you busy right now?” his voice is strained also but nowhere near the same edge as yours. “No. I was just cleaning the bathroom.” A harmless lie. It will make sense of the tiredness in your voice.

“I thought you only cleaned on Sundays?” He’s not pushing, just a genuine question. Of course he remembers that. You roll your eyes slightly. “I spilled some coffee on the floor yesterday morning and didn’t have time to properly clean it. Sue me for not wanting sticky feet.” You’re unsure why you continue the lie. You could have easily just brushed past it and moved on. Deceit never did feel good on you, but in this moment, your endorphins have come down from your rude awakening and the embarrassment is pushing you to cover it up. “Anyways Chris, what’s up?” Just divert it. You can hear a soft laugh from his end. He seems nervous, and you’re not sure why he is but you’re also nervous. You hope your emotions aren’t seeping through the phone. “Well, I know this is really last minute and I know you take your weekends of rest very seriously, but I was invited to my sister’s opening today, and of course I want to support her, but I’m in one of those… ya’know, moods. I was hoping you could come with me so I can show face and also have you as my trusty support to help get me out of conversations I can’t exactly stomach right now.” His words are rushed and straightforward. Laced with ragged breaths and a few uncomfortable fake laughs. You know this feeling all too well. A yielding plea of someone to hold your hand through something so small and mundane to most but overwhelming and suffocating to others.

You pull the phone far away from your face again to take a long-tremored breath. You didn’t mention to him on purpose that Alex and you signed the divorce papers this week. You know he’d worry about you and at the moment you can’t fathom having his soft eyes and voice trained on you. You’re certain he would have done his best not to make a big deal out of it at your wishes, but his character is not lost on you. “What time is it?” you bring the phone back and ask him. “Right now? Uh, it’s almost noon?” he sounds confused. “No Chris, the event. What time is the event? I haven’t showered today, and I need to know what style to dress in.” You sound exasperated but it’s not at him. “OH! So, you’ll come, yeah? It’s at 1pm. It’s casual and I’ve already gotten ready if you want me to come over and help you pick something out? I figured I’d pick you up anyway. Seeing as you’re doing me a favor and all…” “No no, that’s alright. Just picking me up is fine. Is noon too early for a glass of wine? Don’t answer that. I’ll, uh, just get ready right now and I’ll see you in 40?” You lightened your tone and hope he picks up that you’re fine. He is anywhere far from a burden, and you trust he knows that. “Okay perfect, see you soon. And Y/N? Thank you again. I really do appreciate it…” His voice is soft and deep. Softer than at the beginning of the convo, and the sweetness in it creeps down your chest, willing your heart to unfreeze. Even just for a moment. You nod, brush off his niceties, quickly say your goodbyes and hang up, tossing the phone on your bed. Forty minutes is not nearly enough time to tighten all the red string that’s holding together your expressions or emotions, but you’ll just have to make do. He would do the same for you in a heartbeat. What you do have time for is a glass of wine, a bit of cheese and bread, and a shower.

You pull out a freshly ironed pair of black high waisted trousers, a black belt with a gold buckle, a crisp white crop shirt and a black princess vest style top with ties in the front, paired with black boots. The outfit sits splayed out on your bed, and you sigh, rubbing your face with one hand. The fit is as dark and depressed as you. It's not worth rethinking. What is worth it is the glass of wine you pour and bring into the shower with you. Placing it in your designated ‘wine only’ spot on the top rack of your shampoo holder. You hopped into the shower before the water was a decent temperature, so you back yourself against the tile, letting the water rush in front of you with your head leaned back and eyes closed. Can’t let him see your pain today. It’s a fair assumption to think he might already know. Heard from an acquaintance about the week’s events. People never know how to keep their mouths shut especially when talking about things they have nothing to do with. Or worse, everything to do with. The alarm you set earlier on your phone to give you a timing warning goes off. You scramble a still dry hand out the side of your shower curtain and swipe the off button. Shit, 20 minutes. Truly no time to overthink now. The expensive wine in your cup doesn’t deserve this but you down the rest in one gulp and rush through washing yourself, hoping your hair has the decency to dry nicely on your head without having time to style it properly. By the time you’re dressed, you know he’ll be arriving any minute. Shoot him a quick text saying the door is open and start your make up. He can wait, but the bags under your eyes and the paleness of your skin needs to be dealt with. You hear the front door creak open, “Heyyyyy, I’m here!”

“Just a minute, I’ll be right out!” you yell back. One final swipe of a light mauve lipstick to your lips and a glance at yourself in the long mirror on your bathroom door. One could say you look nice, fresh and ready for the day. However, if they took the time to look in your eyes, like really look into your eyes, they would notice otherwise. As you step out into the living room, he is sat in one of your large emerald armchairs scrolling idlily on his phone, one arm leaned against his knee with his head resting in his palm. His eyes bolt up at once upon you entering, and he stands just as fast. “I’ll go change,” you quip out before turning to head back to your room, but before you can fully turn around one of his strong hands gently catches your arm and pulls you back to look at him. “What? Nooo, it’s fine, it doesn’t matter. You look nice, and I don’t think anyone will care or notice.” He has a big, dimpled smile on his face. You blink a few times to stomach the immediate ease it brings you. You wiggle your arm free and step back to look him up and down, gesturing wildly at him and yourself. “Chris, we are basically matching head to toe.”

He's wearing fitted black slacks with a belt, a fresh white tee with a black button up shirt open and black boots. Topped with one of his favorite hats. It couldn’t be any more identical, but his buckle is silver to match the chain bracelet that sits delicately on his wrist. “I promise you its fine. Our plan is to stay incognito as much as possible. Besides, we’re going to be late.” And before you have time to protest again, he pulls your purse off the hook and opens the door, nodding for you to exit. “You look great. It would be a shame to let that outfit go to waste.” His smile dons his teeth this time, and you can’t help but give him a small smile back while slightly rolling your eyes. “Fine, okay. I hope they have good snacks there.” You grab your purse from him and walk through the door, trusting him to turn the locks on the inside before he shuts it.

⊹ ⋆ ₊❀∿.✧ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮✧∿.❀₊ ⋆ ⊹

The opening went smoothly. A couple rushed glances from him telling you he was at his limit with a certain interaction that you solved deftly with a “Sorry to interrupt, Chris can you show me where the restrooms are?” or “Oh I left my phone in your car, would you mind grabbing it for me? I’m expecting an important phone call.” Giving him reprieve from unwanted questions. He spent a quiet moment with his sister towards the end which left you at a deserted snack table munching on decadent squares of brownies, and crackers perfectly arranged with soft cheese and prosciutto, garnished with a sort of pickled onion. A quiet moment for yourself. You spent your time here closely following his movements and body language. Picking up on the little things people usually wouldn’t notice. His fingers fidgeting with his bracelet. A short shuffle of his shoes, bouncing on one foot to the next. Things you’ve picked up on the years you’ve known him. Little alerts to your mind that he’s in a silent war with himself. 7 years is a long enough time to align yourself with someone’s idiosyncrasies. It especially wasn’t hard for you knowing he shared your same anxieties. You’ve always put each other at ease. In college, pulling the other away from isolating study sessions to take a walk and breathe fresh air. Silently keeping tabs on schedules to leave a favorite sweets or drink on a desk before a daunting exam. It was never implied that it was expected. It was easy. Inevitably when you parted, both off to specialized schools to further your individual career paths it was more than difficult to say goodbye. You weren’t especially far from each other, less than a two hours drive. But eventually the short, happy, safe moments you often shared before were long gone. The hole they left was deeper than you had imagined. You kept in touch during those years apart. Meeting once or twice a month and calling often to check in or distract each other. When you met Alex, however, the meetings slowed to a halt, your attention drawn elsewhere. He was happy for you, understanding your absence and missed calls. You thought you were happy, too.

Your attention is ripped from your thoughts at a soft touch to your lower back, jumping from the contact and almost dropping the last bite of brownie from your hand you turn to see his shocked expression hands up to his sides. “Oh, fucking hell, Chris, you scared me.” Placing your free hand on your chest, you will your heart back into its normal rhythm. His shocked expression turns into an almost gleeful laugh. “I’m so sorry; I thought you heard me call your name.” “I guess I must have been entranced by the flavors of this brownie. Have you tried one yet?” He looks to the quarter piece in your hand and to the table, where the plate that once held the brownies is left barren. “Oh, uh, whoops.” You smile sheepishly and offer the last bite up to his lips. He takes it carefully from your fingers with his teeth, but you don’t miss how his bottom lip drags along one of your fingers for a moment. He closes his eyes as he chews, then they open and crinkle at the corners. “Mm, delicious. Now how about we get the hell out of here and eat something more substantial.” You can tell his eyes are tired and worn down from the social interactions, but the way he looks at you with admiration never changes. “I thought you’d never ask.”

⊹ ⋆ ₊❀∿.✧ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮✧∿.❀₊ ⋆ ⊹

The car ride was comfortably quiet. Both of you relaxing into the gentle hum of the car and nonexistent expectations to be “on” anymore. Shutting your brains off for a moment, taking contented breaths. You agreed that eating at a restaurant would be more than either you could handle now, instead opting to pick up some pizza and go back to your place to unwind before the day’s end. By the time you arrive at your humble apartment, it’s nearly 5pm. You shuffle around in your purse for your keys and swing the door open gesturing for him to enter before you. “Pizza first.” Your lips make a smile out of a thin line. He laughs and dips his head as he walks through the threshold. Closing the door behind you, you hang your purse and kick off your shoes. Turning to see he’s still standing in the entryway, shoes off waiting for your next move. “Go ahead and dig in. I’m gunna go change real quick, this belt is driving me to madness.” You slip past him and make your way to your bedroom. “Do you want to eat at the table or...” “I didn’t skip the restaurant just to sit at an equally uncomfortable chair at home.” You say with a smirk over your shoulder as you enter your bedroom. As soon as your feet hit the cold tile of the bathroom, you’re reminded of your morning long forgotten since you kept your mind busy focusing on Chris’s needs today. Thinking of how you were planning on spending the day quite literally rotting on the couch by yourself - if anyone knew how to keep you from yourself, it would be him.

You fuss with your buckle and pull the belt from your pants in one swoop, coiling it up and setting it on the bathroom counter. Whether or not he knows about the finalization of the divorce papers, you’re not sure. If he does, he’s fantastic at hiding it. Could he have pulled you to this event on purpose? To keep your mind busy when he knows you need it the most. It’s not unlike him to predict what you need before you know it yourself. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you stand still, frozen for a moment, evaluating your indistinct expression. The way you’re sure your shoulders don’t stand as tall as they used to. How your favorite pair of pants digs ever so slightly tighter on your hips. Your eyes glaze over at the silent judgment in your head, and you spot your trusty shower wine glass sitting empty in its space. That certainly needs tending too. Never mind your doom and gloom right now. You quickly undress and throw on a comfortable, plain t-shirt, some black biking shorts and grab your empty glass heading back into the living room. “Ah, there you are.” He beams up at you from his favorite spot on your couch tucked into the left corner, legs up and crisscrossed under his body. The table has two plates, each with 3 slices of pizza barely fitting except one plate, your plate, has a dollop of ranch squeezed onto one side. In front of your plate is a wine glass filled halfway and in front of his sits an unopened beer. “Beat me to it,” you smirk at him and jiggle the empty glass in your hand. He pats the empty cushion next to him – “Least I could do.”

You slide past him and flop down in your seat, setting down your empty cup, grabbing the full glass of wine and taking a long sip. “You did good today. How’s your sister? I only got a quick moment to say hi to her.” He pops the top of his beer off and clinks your glass before taking a swig and sighs, staring up at the blank wall above your TV. Fiddling with the paper label on the bottle. “She’s great. Like usual. I’m really proud of her. Being able to open a second store was never in her plans but she excels at everything.” He sighs again and takes another sip, places his beer on the table and leans back on the couch. That’s all he really wants to say, and you can tell. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk about her or that he’s not actually proud, because he is. You’re aware of the pressure he puts on himself. By no means is he doing bad in his career. His life. But you're not the type to assume everything is fine just because things seem to be in order on the surface. You silently place a hand on his knee that’s closest to you and give him a patient smile. His eyes fall to your hand, and he reaches out to grab your fingertips, giving them a quick squeeze. “Eat your pizza before it gets any colder.” His turn for diversion.

You both tuck into the pizza while mindlessly scrolling through a streaming app to find something to watch. Landing on an old classic comedy you’ve both seen a hundred times and could probably recite the lines. The bottle of wine found a spot on your coffee table, nearly empty by now. And you had no intention to stop there.

It was unlike Chris to drink more than a beer or two. Tonight, after the three beers that were left in your fridge from the last time you had a few people over, he popped a second bottle of wine and poured himself a glass along with topping yours off. To others there would be some concern. To you, nothing but a friend needing a little extra help in the quiet your mind department. However it wasn’t working as well for you this evening. Feet propped up on an ottoman next to the coffee table, your body insisted on sinking heavier and heavier into the cushions. Seeking to be enveloped. Pulled down between cracks where the dust bunnies and, likely, a forgotten hair pin lived.

You can tell he’s feeling better. Laughing almost a little too loudly at jokes he’s heard before. Lips permanently parted in a delicate contentedness. Hands locked behind his head, leaning back, legs stretched out and spread before him. Relaxed. Comfortable. Seeing him this way makes you feel guilty. As if he should be somewhere else, with someone happier.

Someone who could really help him feel better. Who could hug him tightly without letting their own shadow creep over him. The wine was making your head fuzzy, but where it would usually quiet your emotions, they seem to swirl in your lower belly sticking to anything with purchase. You weren’t upset about the divorce in a common sense. Yes, you had loved Alex, but the stability and togetherness were something you craved the most. It’s not hard to tell yourself now why you latched onto him and the idea so quickly. You were simply afraid of being alone after you and Chris had stopped being so close. Something you’ve never admitted out loud but are aware that your ex-husband surmised after just a few short years of being married.

Sitting here now, next to him, smelling his familiar cologne, hearing his laughter and feeling that easy tranquility that comes with your relationship. It should be enough. So why do you feel this way?

Your eyes sting and your throat tightens as you stare down at your empty glass. Willing the tears back in with an iron grasp on the glass stem in your hand. “Hey hey hey, what’s going on here?” he coos at your side, and before you can turn your head to face away from him, you’re pulled across the cushion to rest your head on his lap. He removes the empty glass from your hand and places it on the table, then lays one hand on your shoulder while the other gently strokes your hair. Something he knows well will help ease you. You sink down into him and squeeze your eyes shut, covering them with the hand that’s not lodged beneath your body. “I figured I’d wait ‘til you brought it up,” he says delicately above you. “Your sister texted me Thursday. Said she was worried about you but wouldn’t tell me why. As I expect you told her not to,” he rakes through the bangs obscuring the view of the hand covering your face and traces a finger over your pointer that’s resting over your eyebrow. “We don’t have to talk about it, but I wish you would have told me.” He sighs lightly.

Your hand frees from your face and balls in front of you placed on his knee - “What is there to tell, Chris? We all knew it was going to happen. I mean, we’ve been living apart for almost 6 months now. All we did was sign the papers and finalize the results of our shitty decisions.” The tears have made their way out, and they seep onto his nice slacks. A physical example of you spreading your disease.

“I didn’t want you to worry about me.” Your fist unclenches and falls palm up on the couch in front of you.

He hums in understanding. “You’re aware that I always worry about you, right?”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” You flip your body around onto your back to look up at him.

“How long have you been doing that? Worrying about me? Your career is taking off, no matter how much you want to downplay that, along with Felix joining your company. You’ve moved back closer to your family, which I know pained you to be so far away, and I heard from Changbin last month that Lisa asked to give it another shot. Why do you insist on always keeping tabs on me?”

You shoot up from your place in his lap and turn your body to face him. The tears that were streaming have crawled their way back up as your mind races with confusion and misplaced anger. “You have so much to look forward to, Chris. We’re not stupid college kids anymore. It just doesn’t make sense to me how you continue to give a shit about this sorry sack of shit sitting in front of you.” You sigh and close your eyes rubbing at them with your fingertips. FUCK. You know he doesn’t deserve this, and you’re not even sure why you felt the need to say any of that. In its essence, your friend is just doing what friends do. Being there for each other. For some reason, though, his care always felt different than anyone else’s.

You know why it felt that way for you. But even after so many years, you never let the thought fully develop.

“Are you done?” His hand pulls yours away from your face, and he’s switched his position on the couch to face you. He tilts his head forward and locks eyes with you, his expression a look of ‘now was that really necessary?’ with a small smirk on his lips. “Do you feel like you need a reason for me to care? Did you have a good reason to drop whatever plans you had today to come help me out at my sister’s event?” His eyebrows knit together. You know these are rhetorical questions. You let a breath escape you and lull your head to the side, staring at the empty space between you two on the couch. My reason was ‘it’s you.’ I’d do anything for you. You keep this thought locked tight and away from his ears. “No matter how much I feel like I’m trying to help you I feel like it will never be enough. Or the good kind. The kind that actually helps. I think I’m stunted.” You bring your arm up on the back of the couch and bend it, laying your face in the crook of your elbow. An arm comes out, and his soft hand connects with your back as he rubs small circles between your shoulder blades. It’s been a while since you had prolonged contact with him, and it feels good. You’ve spent a decent amount of time together over the last year but typically just brunches turned into lunches, or him dropping off food to your house for dinner making sure both of you eat well. You still your body and whisper a selfish silent prayer in your head that he doesn’t stop.

“I've never seen any problems with how you care. If I were to look back at the receipts, I'd say 99.9% of all your attempts were successful.” It’s apparent he’s saying this through a smile. You don’t lift your head but mumble into your limb, “And the other .1%?” “Remember that time in our third year at university I was upset my roommate had to move out, and you bought that insane painting from the vintage shop of that lady with a really long neck to put up on his side of the room and keep me company? I still have nightmares about her, I swear." His hand stops its movement on your back while he’s recollecting the painting. Your head pops back up to make eye contact, a mock look of shock on your face. “I thought she was pretty and elegant!” “Her eyes staring off into the distance... or was she looking at you? What was she looking at? Why was her neck so… long...?" he ponders, letting his eyes glaze over while glancing over your shoulder to solidify his point.

The tightness in your chest breaks way to a full belly laugh. Catching him off guard and prompting him to join in the fit. Both of your incessant giggling bouncing off the walls together. “You’re ridiculous you know that?” You say as your hysterics subside, gently slapping his knee. Your bodies had both shifted closer to each other on the cushions during your laughter, and your anxieties have settled again. Safe. Easy. Staring down and fiddling with the hem of your shirt mindlessly, you hum out your comfort. “Bug?” He whispers his silly nickname out for your attention. Still with a half-smile on your face, eyes downcast, picking at a string that should not be meddled with, you respond, “Yeah?” You wait a few moments for a question or statement, but the air stays silent. “Wha-…” Your words are cut off by a clashing of lips. His hand on your cheek guiding you up to face him, his plush lips firm but slightly off mark from aligning directly with yours. Your eyes widen and a hand flies up to catch his wrist. A small but not unwelcome spark flits up your lower back as you start to register what’s occurring. Then the realization fully develops.

Your stomach flips in a somersault. First down to the bottom where it feels alive and floating, prickling the tops of your thighs; then up to your throat where it sticks and tries to strangle you from the inside out. A panic settles there. You pull his hand away from your face and throw yourself up onto your feet as if something just burned you. Confusion and guilt paints his face as his hands both come up to run through his soft, dark brunette hair. One of your hands finds your lips as you turn and pad around to the front of the coffee table. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…” He turns his body to sit straightforward in his spot, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped and not ready to make eye contact. You stare at the top of his head. Brain running as fast as the wine and confusion will allow. That couldn’t have been real. That was in your head, right? His posture says otherwise.

“Please Bug, can we just…will you let me say something?” His eyes come up to meet yours finally. Pleading and looking like he could have just been slapped across the face. Or stabbed in the back by somebody he loves. His eyes cut right through your fog, and you snap back into place. Moving shakily, you grab both your empty wine glasses off the table and make your way to the kitchen, nearly speed walking. Opening the dishwasher and placing them both in, then closing it. He doesn’t follow, and you take a few deep breaths in the open space of your kitchen. A few questions strike you particularly hard in this moment of clarity.

Where did that come from?

Did you miss something?

Does this mean something more than a stupid drunk mistake? You’re certain he didn’t drink that much. Sure, a little more than usual, but 4 drinks are not nearly enough for him to be that far removed from himself. Was that pity? And most importantly,

Why did you stop it?

Every point your mind tries to make, every conclusion to your questions only fuels a deep self-deprecation as you toss around the information in your head. No matter the answer your mind revolts. Unaccepting of any critical thinking.

Sleep. You both just need sleep. This is the only rational thing you can accept. You decide quickly and round the corner back into the living room, stopping just short of the hallway to the rest of your home. “You can stay in the guest bedroom. The blanket that’s usually on the bed is folded and in the closet on the shelf. Just uhm…never mind. I’m… I’m sorry.” Your eyes prickle as you see him still in the same spot, only now his head is in his hands. “Please don’t leave me yet,” he asks earnestly. Low, as if coming from a wounded dog. You couldn’t stay right now. None of the words that would come out of your mouth would make any sense. In fact, you’re scared of what you might say. Selfish. You’re being selfish. Whatever led him to do what he did; his reaction to your abrupt shock, he deserves something from you. “Chris, it’s fine, I just…think we need some sleep,” you lie to him again today. You know neither of you will be getting any sleep, just a few steps from each other’s beds in your little apartment. He sighs into his hands and lifts his head from them, looking forward at the TV screen, long since forgotten, its screensaver bright and cheery, bouncing soft blues and pinks off his features.

You twist the front of your shirt in your hands and bite the inside of your cheek. He looks defeated, and you’re worried that you’re the reason. Five minutes ago, he was doing everything he could to make you smile and be nice to yourself. To help you. As you said to yourself earlier, you knew you would do nothing but hurt whoever tried. There is no other choice now; you just need to turn and walk away. “Goodnight.” You say under your breath and make the move towards your bedroom, taking a quick look out of the corner of your eyes at the barren guest room. Filled only with a bed, one nightstand and a standing lamp in the corner. It feels cruel to send him into the cold like that tonight. You hadn’t had any time to plan or decorate it all that much. No physical hobbies you brought from your old house with your ex to don the walls or fill shelves. Just as empty as you felt day after day. Your room had more warmth at least. More than you deserved tonight. The lamp next to your bed is clicked on already, casting a soft orange glow over your bed. The clothes you wore earlier were thrown hastily toward your hamper in the corner of your room and your white cropped t-shirt sits crumpled on the ground in front of it.

You grab it and toss it properly into the bin then pull your comforter back slipping under its fine and delicate fabric. You pull it up to your chin, curling in on yourself on your side and sinking as far as you can manage into the mattress.

Sleep. You tell yourself again. It’s what you both need.

⊹ ⋆ ₊❀∿.✧ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮✧∿.❀₊ ⋆ ⊹

The minutes to hours clicked by like thick mud descending a slope. By the time the clock next to your bed reads 3:04 AM, you knew you weren’t getting any sleep. Your body at this point buzzing with anxiety, eyes forcing themselves open despite your protests. Trying to force yourself not to think was impossible. You practice the tricks you’ve learned from years of meditation. Lying on your back focusing all your might and energy to release the tension one limb at a time. Starting at your jaw where the anger was, down to your shoulders where sadness hung, through the hot veins in your arms and out your fingertips where the anxiety lies. Nothing would stop the never-ending cycle of guilt. You tried to drown everything out by zeroing in on the sound of the ceiling fan above your head. Instead, your ears searched for any sound of him moving around. You’d hoped that he was able to sleep, unlike you. Wished for him peaceful oblivion from the uncomfortable position you both were in. You hear the hall bathroom door click shut and see the light from under the door illuminating the hardwood flooring of the hallway.

Seems his night is no different from yours. What could he have possibly told you that would have made sense of his actions earlier?

Is it impossible for you to think he might…love you? Even after all these years of seeing what a natural disaster you are? You let the thought cascade down your body like a warm sunset over a mountain. You’ve had this thought throughout your life many times in many different ways. Too bizarre to be true. Chris, in all his wholesome, thoughtful actions. Putting the needs of others above himself. Letting himself get pushed and pulled by people like you into dim light. Giving, giving, giving.

And you, a taker. Taking people’s soft looks and touches. Drawing out their pity. Unintentionally, truly. You just seem to bring out the nurturing parts of people when they look at your frail state. Despite doing your best not to. Trying to strive, to do well. Make people proud and not show how desperate you are to keep your head above water.

Could this be one of those moments? Did he just want to make you feel better and not continue to watch you suffer in silence? What would be the goal if this was what he was trying to accomplish. One night of heat and passion to keep your mind busy? He’s just not the type. Thinking this of him makes your stomach turn and guilt pang in your chest. The toilet flushes and you hear the sink turn on. The familiar rush of icy water from the tap. The light dims in the hallway and the door clicks open, followed by his padding footsteps to the guest room. There could be a reality in which you took his words at face value. Whatever he did want to tell you. Honoring the trust built between you. Why instead do you insist that you’re underserving of it? His trust. His love. Determined to continue lying to yourself, pretending you didn’t wish it was Chris who held you when you were stressed after work. Who wiped your tears when a loved one passed. It’s possible you could do the same for him.

Your mind focuses back on the sounds of the house. There’s some rustling coming from the guest room. He might have drifted back to sleep.

You have two choices. Spend the rest of your night ignoring all these thoughts and feelings, essentially leaving him on a proverbial ‘read’ until tomorrow morning where you would surely share an awkward goodbye. Or… just talk to him.

There’s a 50/50 chance he is still awake in his room. What’s the harm in trying?

Your adrenaline picks up as you make the decision. Sitting up and ripping your comforter off your body, swinging your legs over the side standing up quickly. If you don’t move your feet now, you’re scared you won’t make it to the guest room. Just go. Getting to the hallway was a feat in itself, and you slow your steps as you reach the corner of the door. It’s sitting halfway open, and the room is softly lit. The lamp in the corner of the room turned down to its lowest setting. Your nerves catch up to you as you plan on either peaking around the corner or calling in to see if he answers. If you call for him and he’s sleeping, then you’ll wake him from well-deserved slumber. If you peek around and he’s awake, he might see you, and you’ll have no choice but to confront the situation. If you peek and he’s asleep, then you may have a chance to save you from yourself, just grab a glass of water and take yourself back to bed. “Just come in already.” You hear him say.

His voice startles you from your thoughts, and a gasp escapes you. He must have heard your erratic footsteps coming to a halt right before the door. Maybe he’s been listening for you too. Shame covers your brow as you poke your head around the corner to see him sitting up in bed, leaning back against a pillow and the headboard. His shirt is off, and the dim light from the lamp curls around his muscles, forming rich curves and indents immediately muddling your thoughts.

You swallow harshly. “Uh, I’m sorry, I just couldn’t sleep, and I heard you get up a little bit ago. I was just going to grab myself some water, do you want some?” An excuse but not technically a lie. God, I'm pathetic.

“Sure.” He nods, his smile is weak and appeasing. Clearly letting you take the lead in this dance.

You take the opportunity gladly, making your way down the hallway and into the kitchen. Using it again as a spot to gather your thoughts. You grab two tall glasses from your cupboards and fill your cups from the fridge filter. Just let him talk. Listen to him, not yourself.

Stilling your shaking hands, you trail back into the hallway and don’t let yourself stop at the door frame this time. However, you don’t dare come around to his side of the bed, seeing him up close right now in his ‘state’ would fizzle out whatever common sense you had left. You don’t make eye contact, but you can feel his eyes follow you around the bed to the opposite side and sit uncomfortably on the edge shoving your hand out to pass him the water. Taking a long sip from your own and visibly trying to settle your nerves. Being nervous around him is not something you’re used to anymore. In college when you first started hanging out, sure, meeting thanks to your mutual friend Felix, you realized early that he might possibly be one of the most beautiful and kind people you had ever encountered. But you had also decided early on you did not deserve him. Despite how quickly he gravitated towards you. And you to him.

He doesn’t seem nervous right now though, and that confuses you more than anything. He takes the cup from you and takes a small sip, sitting it on the nightstand next to him only briefly taking his eyes off you to make sure it lands on the coaster. You can sense he’s waiting for you to start the conversation, ever the patient man. “I’m… I’m sorry about earlier” is all you can manage right now. Regardless of his resolve to clearly let you take the lead here, you’re lost for words and whatever you manage to think, it’s next to impossible to try and voice them. “Why do you keep saying sorry?” His voice is a little hoarse. The question catches you off guard, and you finally look up from the cup in your hands to meet his eyes. “Because… I don’t know. I just am.” Easier to be vague. His hair is curled and ruffled on his head, making him look soft and almost resemblant to the boyish charm he held back in the day. He doesn’t speak again. His face shows he’s not happy with your answer. “I’m sorry for who I am as a person. I’m sorry I always tend to make situations worse in my personal life. I’m sorry I always make the people in my life suffer from my actions.” The words come out quick and despairing. He sighs and hangs his head, shaking it.

"I’d like to think I’ve never given you the impression that you've made me feel this way towards you.” He puts his hands on the bed to shuffle his body straighter which slightly reveals the top of his black Calvin Klien boxers peeking up over the blanket that rests on his legs. You avert your eyes and stare back down at your water. Maybe a cup of chamomile would have been better. “I can’t help right now if I don’t know what you’re thinking.” He tilts his head to try and bring your focus back up to him. “I don’t know what to think right now, Chris.” It’s true. Your head is full to the brim with thoughts but none of them feel worth sharing. “Just give me anything. The first thought that pops up in your head.” It’s apparent he may not know where to start either. “Why?”

A simple word. It shoots out of you quicker than you imagined it would. You know it’s not an easy question to answer. But it’s the word that prefaces all the questions you’ve made yourself suffer through the entire sleepless night.

His hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. He seems at a loss for words just as you. He ponders for a moment before shifting nervously. “Did you not want me too?” “That’s not an answer to my question.” He sighs and his arms come up and behind his head to grab the headboard, leaning his head back and directing his eyes up at the ceiling. You’re not making this easy on him, but you could say the same. You suppose you could make the question clearer, add context. “Why did you want to?” You’re both grown adults. But this conversation seems more difficult than trying to explain to a parent why their favorite vase sits in pieces on the floor. “It felt like it was time.” His arms come back down, and his eyes meet yours, filled to the brim with sincerity. You shake your head. Irritation trying to make its way forward. You pull both legs up on the bed sitting on your knees completely facing him. Hands still gripped tight around the glass of water in your hands.

“It was time for what, Chris? That doesn’t make it any clearer.” The frustration is plain in your voice and directing it at him feels wrong, yet the voice of reason in your head is not paying any attention. He repositions himself to face you dead on, just as you were earlier. “Our entire conversation on the couch was centered around you, in some sort of wild disbelief, that I care deeply for you. Has it not been apparent over the past, I don’t know, seven, almost eight years that caring for you is not a burden to me? That seeing you sad or stressed or angry pains me to my core? And I know I can’t just take that away from you; I can’t tell it to stop or will it away. But could you at least give me the chance to try and protect you from it? From letting you beat yourself up behind closed doors. Or at the very least let me hold your hand when it all gets too much, just as you would for me?” His words rush past you in a haze. You can’t seem to move, but your hands begin to shake again and your chin quivers. It’s typical of him to know exactly what you need to hear. Nonetheless that unyielding, rattling voice in the crawl space of your mind does what it does best and tries to beat down any accepting thoughts.

He moves closer to you, grabs the cup from your hand and reaches back to set it next to his on the nightstand. His strong hands maneuver your body to sit more comfortably on the open side of the bed, and you let him. Guiding you to rest the side of your body, head against the free pillow to his left and the headboard. Pulling the blanket that was once wrapped around his body up over both your legs and gently clasps your hands in his. He takes a few moments to let you adjust to your new position. Tears welling in the corner of your eyes not yet making their escape. He sits cross-legged in front of you. And you finally let your eyes focus on his striking features. The look on his face the very epitome of being free from pretense or judgement. You clear your throat as his thumbs rub small circles over the tops of your hands. “Is there a world in which I could make you believe me?” He asks. His monologue had shell shocked you. You know he cares for you just as you do him. Hearing it said so plainly and to a deeper extent was not at all what you were expecting. Still, caring deeply for someone and being physical are not mutually exclusive. It still doesn’t explain why…

“It’s not that I don’t believe you Chris. I just don’t understand why. And I care about you too. It’s not a secret that I’d drop just about anything to help you if you’d need it, but I know my reasonings. And still what you said doesn’t explain at all why you would– about the…” Your words trail off. Your lips unsure of the confidence of saying it out loud. “The kiss?” His lips press together, and his eyebrows slightly raise, like he knew it would be hard for you to say. Your face heats and your cheeks turn a light shade of rose. Your mind finally registering that your hands are lightly placed in his. His hands grip a little tighter as if on instinct he knew you might pull away. He’s not wrong. The flush that’s running down your neck into your chest is screaming at you to abort physical contact no matter how good it feels. “Look, Bug; I know things have been a lot lately. In hindsight, the timing for that move might not have been perfect. But I don’t know how much longer I can wait for you to come to your senses.” There’s a smirk on his lips that begs you to fall in line and understand what he’s trying to say. However, you’re too stubborn for that. “What are you trying to say, Chris?” Your eyes are like saucers. Big and round. He chuckles in feigned exasperation, his eyes pinched shut accentuated with a big, dimpled smile. He shakes it off and looks up at you through his eye lashes. Sudden sincerity clearly in his expression.

“The year following your marriage to Alex was probably one of the hardest years of my life. It felt like I was mourning. And in a sense, I was. I had lost the last viable chance I thought I had in this life to make you finally see me. You were gone. Out of reach forever.” “I didn’t go anywhere. We’ve still been in each other’s lives...” “I know. I know. I knew we’d still be friends just as we always were. I could call you when I needed to hear your voice. Or meet for lunch when not seeing you every day became such a miserable thought in my mind. I don’t think you realize how many times just a simple voicemail from you, snarky and annoyed that I didn’t answer your call, saved me. Made me smile and laugh when I was unsure if I could dig myself out of a hole that I made for myself.”

“Laughing at my annoyed voicemails. Interesting.” You narrow your eyes in pretend irritation, trying to hide a sly smile from your lips. He leans back and huffs out a breath with a smile on his face, shaking your hands together back and forth. “My point is!” He lets go of your hands and cards his hands through his hair, ruffling the front a bit to sit how he’d like it to on his forehead. You let your eyes dance around his flexed muscles more freely this time. His hands fall back into his lap, and he takes a deep breath, fidgeting with his bracelet on his wrist. This time, you reach one hand out and pull his hand away from its busy work and cup his hand between both of yours. You stare down at them folded together. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone in my life that is more deserving of my attention and care…” He says softly and exhales slowly,

“Or love.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you close your eyes. A familiar sting behind them. You feel his free hand brush past your cheek with his knuckles and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear landing to cup your chin. “Y/N, look at me, please.” You’re afraid to open your eyes because surely the tears will fall. But you let him raise your head, suck in a slow breath and slowly open them. His eyes are trained on yours, earnest and full of adoration. The foundational nature of a kindness one is born into the world with. A simple tear falls from your right eye, and he swipes it with his thumb. “Will you let me show you? Will you let me help fight the thoughts that tell you you’re not?” “Chris, I…” And before you can finish your sentence you’re pulled into his lap. Rounded up into his toned bare chest and cocooned inside his arms. With your seat between his open legs and yours laid across one of his thighs, you curl your arms into your chest with one hand splayed hesitantly on the side of his lower neck and your head tucked beneath his chin. The fantasy of it all sounds like a dream. You let yourself feel it. A world in which his devotion focuses on you. Where you don’t have to imagine yourself without him. One where when you inevitably fall in a pit you’ve created for yourself, and he is there to catch you. He says he wants to show you how you deserve that kind of protection.

But does he deserve what little you have to give? It's plain to see what his intentions are. Even with his arms wrapped tightly around you, the feeling of being frail and frozen inside is still deep within you. Of course, he could make you feel safe and perhaps even truly loved. But at what cost to him?

“What if I can’t be enough for you? If I can’t give you what you deserve?” It comes out of you so small. So weak. Like a tiny branch, not yet ready to hold up the season’s first fresh ripe apple. “Whaddya mean? Was that not you today? My knight in shining black boots, rescuing me from fumbling over my words in countless conversations today at the opening? I think you forget just how strong you can be.” One of his hands that’s resting on your side lightly raps on your ribs eliciting a small yelp and squirm from you.

You pull your head up to look him into the eyes, “If you tickle me right now, I swear to god I will get up and leave this room, Christopher.”

He laughs and tucks your head back under his chin then rocks you both back and forth a few times before settling with one arm still wrapped tightly around you and his other hand on the back of your head.

“You only brought me there to busy me.” You’re back to talking quietly. Body heat is radiating off him. One of your arms is pressed tightly between your side and his defined abs. Your always cold skin, pulling the warmth from his body to put life into yours. “I think it can be described as a win-win.” He pushes his fingers through your hair to massage your scalp in slow circles. “You know it’s been hard for me lately. Hannah’s success has nothing to do with me but, my five-year plan isn't exactly going as well as I'd hoped it would.” Sighing deeply, he strokes your hair. Combing his fingers through and setting the wavy strands back into place after tussling them from his services.You use a finger to lightly trace a small infinity symbol on the skin of his arm that’s directly in your line of sight - “Finish college, move back home, start your business then watch it grow. It seems like it’s going just about as good as I recall you telling me about.”

His deep breath in and out shifts your body,

“To fall in love again,” he says in a whisper.

Your finger stops moving.

“That was part of it too, but I guess I found it hard to tell you. It’s not the easiest to tell the person you’re in love with that you hope you’ll eventually get over them and find someone else.” His hand that was on your head comes down to lock around his wrist caging you in against him again. The last time you spoke about your ‘five-year plans’ was a little over a year into your marriage to Alex. Chris had just bought his first office space, and you remember him calling you absolutely beaming through the phone about it. You laughed together and gave congratulations. The conversation didn’t seem somber to you then. “I really need you to know something, Chris.” You wrap your small fingers around his arm as far as they can reach, and squeeze lightly.

He picks his chin off from the top of your head and pulls back to try and look you in the eyes, but you stop him and pull him back against you. Unable to let his soft eyes waver your resolve to not cry in this moment.

“I really loved you.” You pause to steady yourself before continuing.

“I was sure that after we parted ways and went to different schools, I’d never find someone who could make me feel so safe. Someone who could help me not feel so isolated. I was scared, Chris. Talking to you on the phone, seeing you when we could spare the time, truly grounded me. But the loneliness, the inaccessibility, the inability to reach out to you whenever I felt like I couldn’t even stand on my own two feet… it wore me down…” A breath stutters out from you, and your throat begins to tighten. You can feel your stupid lip start to quiver despite clenching your teeth as hard as you can for a moment. He loosens his arms ever so slightly when he feels you readjust your weight. “I could have told you.” You continue. “It wouldn’t have been fair to you. You can’t convince me that if I did tell you that you wouldn’t have dropped everything to come to me. You would have put a hold on your dreams to protect me from whatever nightmare I caused for myself. And that’s dumb, Chris. That’s really really dumb and selfish of me.” “Y/N, I could’ve-”

“No, you know it’s true. So instead, I did the only thing I thought would help relieve you from the burden and tried to find someone else. And…and all it ended up doing is hurt you even more. No matter how I try, I just continue to salt your wound or push you away.” The resolve you had finally crumbles, and you can feel the hot rush of tears begin their descent down your cheek. You can sense his panic start to set in as his arms unclasp themselves and hastily find their way to your head, fussing with the hair that’s draped around your face, pushing it away over your shoulders. Both hands find your cheeks, and he holds your head in his hands and forces you to look at him. Your hands scramble up to cover your face, but he’s quick to move them out of the way with his arms. Letting them fall limp in your lap you acquiesce to his desire to meet eye to eye.

“Do you still love me?” His eyebrows are knitted together, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious before. His brown eyes are so deep, the question filling the pool to the brim. Your hands reach up again and grab his wrists. Eyes blinking rapidly to force your tears to stop blurring your vision. “Chris, we-“ “Do you love me, Y/N?” His thumbs brush a few stray tears from the apple of each of your cheeks and he studies your face again. His gaze moving from one eye to the other. You pinch your eyes shut for a moment, scrunching your face tight. Then you let it go lax, let a deep breath out through your nose, and open your eyes to lock with his. “I always will.” All at once, the tension and worry in his face gives way as his eyes soften and his lips part. His hands move slowly, pushing any stray hairs that were fighting in your favor to cover your face back behind your ears. They proceed downwards until his fingers are delicately at the back of your neck and his thumbs rub softly on your jawline. A gentle smile paints his soft lips. “You really made me fight for that, didn’t you?” He says through his smile and a light chuckle.

You huff out an annoyed laugh and begin to roll your eyes, as soon as they shut, you feel his heated lips press to your forehead. They stay there as he breaths out. He repeats the kiss a few more times as your hands let go of his wrists and make their way around his waist. Wrapping your arms tight around him, letting the affection spill from his lips.

⊹ ⋆ ₊❀∿.✧ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮✧∿.❀₊ ⋆ ⊹

Warmth spreads across the back of your legs before you can see the reason behind it. It stirs you in a nice way. Your hand comes up and runs through your hair, brushing stray pieces away from your face. Lungs fill deeply, slowly and steadily as you muster the courage to peek your eyes open. The dark blue curtains covering your window are halfway open. Letting a spill of late morning light fall through and onto the lower half of your body. Rolling onto your back you stretch all your limbs out at once in a starfish, wiggling your fingers and toes. You must have slept almost 10 hours. Eyes finally closing around midnight last night and waking naturally this morning when your body was ready. It’s in no rush despite the eagerness you have for the day.

You grab your phone and check your notifications. A few emails, a couple of social media posts from some of your favorite artists and 5 text messages. The digital clock says 10:03 AM but that doesn’t bother you. Your thumb pulls down the bar and sees the sender names of the texts waiting for you. One reads your sister’s name and the other says Chris.

You start with your sister’s. Three messages came in between 1 AM to a few minutes after 3 AM.

Why weren’t you going to tell me this show was going to make me cry. DANG IT Y/N I CAN’T BE SOBBING LIKE THIS AT 3AM.

Oh, thank God. The ending was fine. You are forgiven.

You giggle at your phone and type out a response:

If I would have told you, you wouldn’t have watched it. But you liked it didn’t you!

You hit the back button and click on Chris. Both messages came in around 8:30 AM.

The first message is an image. You click on the photo to make it bigger and smile. It’s a selfie of him sitting on the back porch of his parents’ house, his dog Berry sitting in his lap. You can tell he’s giving her good scratches because her eyes are closed and she’s leaning her little head into his hand. His smile is wide and bright. The dimple on the right side of his face prominent and tender.

You click the bottom left button on the screen and save the image to your phone then you click out and scroll to see the message underneath. Berry says Goooood morning! I do too of course. Can’t wait for later, hehehe ^_^ You scroll back up and look at the picture again for a few moments. Your smile deepens and you bite your lower lip clicking into the reply spot. Good morning to Berry and her loyal ear scratcher <3 Me too, see you at 4! You hit send and roll onto your side placing your phone back on the nightstand. You have quite a few hours to get ready and not too much cleaning to do. A nervousness swirls through your stomach but not in a bad way. You lay for a while, thinking and blinking at the rays of light shimmering through the window. It's been a month since you’ve seen Chris. By your own decision. That fateful night, before you fell asleep in his arms, you told him you needed some time to rearrange your thoughts. He of course accepted this, patience is his middle name. He told you he had already waited years and would wait more if he had to.

You didn’t need years to answer the question. The thought alone is simple enough. “Will you let me?” Can you, will you be able to let him love you? Spending years telling yourself and believing that you’re not deserving of it can’t be rewired overnight. Or even over a few weeks. But the beginning of the process must start with you. Will you love yourself enough to accept his love?

What is the condition one must be in to relinquish control over your emotions and let someone else bring your feelings out of you? What you knew for certain was that you were not yet in that state. Hard boiled and stagnant. Walls placed brick by brick around you with exceptionally frail edges.

Pushing the sheet off, you place your feet on the cold hardwood and stand slowly, stretching your arms up above your head, twisting your back to the left and right to smooth out any soft aches. You recall one of the emails in your phone telling you a package had arrived early this morning, find your way out to the living room, and twist the locks to open the front door.

A tall, thin cardboard box sits up against the wall to the side of your door. Excitedly, you slip your sandals on and step out to retrieve it. It’s not heavy in the slightest, you knew it wouldn’t be, but it still surprises you when you lift it so easily. You make your way back inside and push the door closed with your foot, heading straight to the guest bedroom. Placing the box on the bed you open the drawer of the desk in the corner of the room to grab a pair of scissors and start opening it up. Carefully you cut the bubble wrap and pull the painting out. The watercolors grab your vision at once. Every shade of green imaginable. Dark and rich at the forefront, light and feathery towards the top. A landscape of the treetops, of a deep vast forest with a soft mist of fog dipping in between the layers of Redwoods. A vision of home. You had already measured and prepared for its arrival, so you step up onto the bed and fix the painting onto the hooks. Easing back down onto your knees you back up until you reach the bottom of the bed and look up at your new art. It fits perfectly above the headboard and between the tall bookshelves at each side of the bed.

What is self-reflection? was a thought you had many times these few last weeks. What does it look like to move forward? To see yourself make progress and evolve past your former predispositions. It was clear to you that you didn’t have a clue.

The first week after that night you spent every hour at work and at home racking your brain to figure out your plan. Picking apart each negative thought you’ve had about yourself to see if you could find its source and snuff it out. It went nowhere. You spent hours reading articles and motivational books on self-care. All it did was make you feel silly. Out of touch with guides and steps to take.

You weren’t sure if you could call this a deep depression. You had been there before, and it didn’t quite look like this. You spoke with your family and friends often. You loved your job and took pride in your work. Cleaning your home and making dinner weren’t your favorite things to do, but they never truly were in the first place.

It was more of a wrong turn your brain had taken a long time ago. And continued to make for a long time. Set on a track headed for a cliff you knew was coming but never reached. The anxiety building and building but never falling off the edge.Halfway into the second week, you laid flat on your back on the bed in the guest bedroom. Frustrated with yourself and your inability to see the path before you. See the steps you were sure you needed to take. Fresh tears quietly and slowly making their way down your face and onto the baren bed below you. Your phone buzzed next to your head interrupting your thoughts.

A text message from Chris. A habit of his always seeming to know, even when you’re not around each other or haven’t spoken to each other, that you were silently suffering. Wiping the tears away, you pulled your phone in front of you and opened the message.

I saw this pretty thing today and thought of you. I hope you have space on your walls for a new friend.

Attached was an image of his hand holding a small square frame with a dry-preserved Atlas Moth pinned beneath the glass. The beauty and the irony were not lost on you. It was then that you knew you didn’t have to worry so much about what it looked like to move forward.

If you could let yourself enjoy the feelings he gave to you, it would be enough for now.

The work you wanted to do on yourself would move along with him there beside you. There was no strategy to this. To love. For oneself or for another. The two things weren’t mutually exclusive. You had to take a step back and look at yourself as he would look at you. As anyone would. At the end of the day, you were just as deserving of love as anyone else was. You could say this to a friend or a family member but had a hard time saying it to yourself.

Instead, you turned your focus to the guest bedroom you were laying in. Walls untouched. Void of color and warmth. You were never one to call yourself a minimalist. The room itself became a metaphor for your unwillingness to let Chris shine brightly the way he wants to for you.

Now sitting here in the bed scanning the room around you, it felt inviting.

You placed each object in the room with care. Bookshelves filled with some of your favorite authors and even a few rows of comic books and old video game cartridges. Shelves on the walls stacked with antique knickknacks that made you laugh and brought you joy. And now your new piece of art that reminds you of home.

Shifting off the bed, you grab the remnants of the cardboard box and wrap and take it to the kitchen. Ripping the cardboard into smaller pieces and placing all the trash neatly into your recycle bin. Chris had suggested a small Italian restaurant for dinner tonight, but you declined. Saying you two would have plenty of time to go out together, and you’d rather spend this Saturday alone with him.

The rest of your day went by in a flash. With the only things left to do being a quick clean of the kitchen and mopping the floors, followed by a hot shower and pre-cutting the ingredients for dinner.

Chris requested something to take the chill from his bones caused by the crisp late winter air. You could never call yourself a chef, but one dish your mother taught you and taught you well was Caldo Verde. A comforting Portuguese sausage, kale and potato soup. Homey and rich, the perfect soup to ground you both and warm your bellies.

Despite not wanting to leave the house, it didn’t mean you couldn’t dress up a little. You gazed at yourself in the long mirror in your bathroom checking your outfit over again. A beige oversized cable knit sweater, plain black mini skirt with a slit up the side of your right thigh paired with matching beige cable knit leg warmers and fluffy closed back slippers. Cute, but not too much.

Picking up your phone from the counter your stomach swirled once you read the time. 15 minutes to four. You couldn’t help bouncing on your toes a little bit before catching yourself and planting your hands on the counter to reel yourself back in. All you had left to do was be patient for a few more minutes.

‎‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹

Standing in your kitchen you swirled a tall, elegant wine decanter around in front of you. Appreciating the smell and the sound the wine made in its glass container when you hear a few quick knocks on your front door. You close your eyes and press your lips together while sucking in a breath, nerves coursing through your veins. It’s just Chris, stop being so nervous. Get it together girl.

Quickly you place the decanter back on the kitchen countertop and step your way to the front door. You left it unlocked assuming he would just walk in as he usually has done before so you turn the handle and pause a second, readjusting your skirt one last time before opening it.

And there he was, standing in the doorway, dimples on full display, one hand behind his back and the other holding a small square green pot with succulents in it.

“Anacampseros Telephiastrum Variegata.” He says in best fancy voice.

You bring an arm across your stomach and put your elbow on your hand, resting your cheek on your closed fist. Looking at him with a smile and furrowed brows.

“Otherwise known as ‘Sunrise’. I know you think flowers are cheesy, but I wanted to bring you something. I’ve been practicing saying the Latin name correctly all day.” He chuckles and winks at you.

You reach out to take the plant from him and grab his now free hand to pull him inside.

“It’s beautiful, Chris. I’ve been meaning to add more color to my selection by the window.” You close the door and hear him set something down behind you and right before you turn around, you feel his arms come around your waist and embrace you from the back. One arm wrapped around your stomach, hand resting on your hip, and the other resting across one of your arms, hand resting on your bicep.

“Mmmm, you smell so nice. A new perfume?” He says into your neck, taking a deep breath in.

Your cheeks immediately flush, and you giggle awkwardly at the sudden contact.

“No, not new. I just never have a reason to wear it.”

“Well, it suits you perfectly.” He rubs his face back and forth on your neck a few times, nose brushing the skin just below your ear then lets go, backing up a pace and picking up whatever was on the floor.

You turn around and see him holding a white gift bag. It’s now that you can appreciate how he looks. He’s wearing a silk black long sleeve shirt with quite a few buttons undone at the top, revealing a wide V of his prominent pectoral muscles, sleeves rolled a few times up and slightly tucked in at the front. Black, freshly pressed slacks that fit him perfectly and of course, shining black, dress shoes. A simple silver chain sits around his neck along with his favorite silver chain bracelet around his wrist.

Fuck, he looked good.

You take a deep breath and blink a few times.

“Chris, you didn’t have to bring me anything. I feel so silly I didn’t get anything for you!”

“Oh shush. You’re making dinner for me, aren’t you? That’s enough in itself. Promise. Plus, this is just your new friend.” He hands the bag out to you, and you grab the handles with your free hand and try to peek into the top.

“I love him. Can’t wait to put him up with all the others. I don’t think I have a moth yet.” You say as you pace your way into the living room and set the bag and plant down on the coffee table. Chris swivels around on his heels and watches you. Arms in front of him, one hand clasped on top of the other and his head tilted to the side.

“You look beautiful.” He says just above a whisper.

The blush that you were willing away fights its way back to the surface of your cheek bones. You shuffle on your feet and look down, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, too embarrassed to raise your head and make eye contact.

“I love the shirt.” The delicate laugh you let out is absolutely telling of your nerves, and you are positive he can sense it.

He laughs under his breath and takes the short few steps towards you.

“It’s really soft, wanna feel it?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

You scoff and turn your head to the side as he reaches out pulling you into another hug. Arms encircling you. This time with the side of your face pressed right up against his shoulder. Your arms lay slack for a minute before hesitantly coming up around his waist and locking behind his back.

You take a deep breath and feel that swift sense of relief and comfort wash over your body. All the spikey nerves in your arms and legs fizzling out to make way for a flowing sensation of calm. He hums above your head and runs a hand up and down your back.

“So, is dinner coming out alright, or do I need to prepare to order some food in?” He asks in a teasing voice.

You pull back and swat one of his arms.

“It’s perfectly fine, thank you very much. Speaking of which, go sit your ass down at the table before I accidentally on purpose burn your pieces of bread.” You point a finger at him, and he raises his arms up, his eyes wide and closed-mouthed smirk on his lips.

Dinner was in fact fine. The soup was still the perfect temperature when you served it despite making it a little earlier than you should have. Chris devoured his bowl and asked for seconds, which you happily obliged. Conversation was easy and light, him asking you about your work week and you asking about how his parents are doing and of course Berry.

He showed you several more pictures of her on his phone before demanding he be the one to clean the table and do the dishes. You sat on a barstool on the onlook of your kitchen, slowly sipping from your wine glass and watching him bounce and dance around the kitchen, acting way too happy for someone who’s cleaning.

When he was done, you made him go sit on the couch as you prepped snacks for the rest of the night. And along with the snacks, you made sure yesterday to stop by the bakery near your work and pick up two slices of his favorite chocolate cake.

You glanced at him a few times through the opening in the kitchen and saw he sat on the edge of the couch, leg bouncing, elbows on his knees, worrying his lip and wringing his hands. It made you feel a little better that you weren’t the only one nervous about the night, but you still couldn’t wrap your head around what he could possibly be thinking that would make him on edge like that.

Padding into the living room you placed a platter of assorted fancy cheeses and meats with some pickled vegetables and crackers. He smiled up at you so affectionately as you smirked and quirked an eyebrow then turned back around to grab cake and wine.

Finally bringing the rest out on another tray you sat it down and picked up the two plates of cake, handing one to him and sitting down next to him holding out two forks between you. He took one and smiled again at you although it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You kept eye contact a little longer before gesturing at the cake in front of him.

“You still like chocolate cake, right?” You asked while forking a small piece off the tip of your slice and taking the bite into your mouth.

He huffed out a laugh and followed suit. Taking a rather small bite for his standards and dancing the flavors around on his tongue before swallowing and looking back up at you.

“It’s okay if you’re full. We can save it for later, you know.” You place your fork down on your plate and sit it on your lap.

You watch as he slowly turns something over in his mind and sits his fork and plate back down on the tray, then reaches over to yours and takes it out of your hands, placing it next to his. His slow movements and hesitancy send a shiver of worry up your spine, and you can’t stop yourself from the comical gulp you make.

He turns his body towards you and reaches out to take your hands in his. His hands are so warm against your icy fingers, and you stare down at them for a second before looking up into his eyes. And there they are. Soft and round. You can’t make out what they portray. Somehow hiding their intel from you.

The lights in the room seem to fuzz around you. You feel scared. Like he has a secret he’s been holding onto, and you’re the only one in the world who doesn’t know. Your heartbeat picks up as he pinches his eyes shut for a moment and runs his tongue along his bottom lip.

“Chris, what’s wrong? Did I do something?” You tilt your head and question. A familiar sting behind your eyes and in your throat.

“Oh god, no. No no no.” He shakes his head and lets out another nervous laugh.

“Then why do I feel like you’re about to tell me the worst news of my life?” You gulp again and pull your bottom lip into your mouth.

“Man, I’m really not good at this am I?” He chuckles again and turns your hands over in his so his are on top of yours like he’s grounding himself.

“Y/N, I was so worried these past few weeks. I mean, the amount of pacing I did in my room, I could have run a marathon instead.” He laughs again and runs a hand through his hair before bringing it back down to yours and grips a bit tighter.

“I was worried you were going to shut me out. You responded to my texts, which gave me hope that wasn’t the case, but I still wasn’t sure if it was you being, well… just your regular self.”

Your stomach knots. Another chip you had unknowingly taken out of his heart.

“I told you I’d wait for you, and of course I will. I don’t think I’d ever not wait for you. But I… I realized within that time what I didn’t notice before… the pressure I was putting on you. Asking you to take this leap of faith that I could be everything you needed. That you could feel safe with me, and I’d protect you. I can’t just…decide that for you. No matter how much I want to be that for you, it’s not my place to tell you I am what you need…”

“Chris.” You cut him off gently. His eyes had been staring down at your hands clasped together. You could see the worry lines on his forehead from this angle. And the tears of doubt and worry in your eyes that were trying to force their way to the surface cooled their heat.

You see him scrunch up his nose then pull his face back up to look at you.

“I want to show you something.” Standing, you pull him up with you. You turn and keep one of his hands in yours as you walk down the hallway before stopping at the closed guest bedroom door. Turning, you face him with your hand on the doorknob. He looks at the door and then back to you confused.

Opening the door, you click on the light and drag him in along with you. You stop right at the foot of the bed, still holding his hand and sigh contentedly.

You watch him as his eyes scan the room. The shelfs and books. The soft lavender duvet on the bed with a few decorative pillows. And eventually land on the painting on the wall. A light grin appears on him, but his eyes and brows still etch themselves confused.

“It looks really nice. But I still don’t understand why...”

“I’m sorry I made you wait for me again. I really am. I don’t want to continue making you feel that. But, this time it was necessary. I don’t have any concern of your, for a lack of a better word, devotion. It’s never been you who I worry about. It’s myself. You’ve never put any pressure on me, in any sense of the word, since I’ve known you, Chris. You make me feel safe. You always have.”

You turn and sit on the edge of the bed and bring him with you.

“My concern wasn’t that you couldn’t provide those things for me. I was afraid that I wouldn’t let you. I mean, for fuck’s sake you know how stubborn I can be.” You look at him with your lips pressed in a thin line and big eyes.

He laughs, eyes closed and rubs the back of his neck.

“You said it, not me.” He says playfully.

“What I’m trying to say is: I learned something important during these last few weeks… I need to stop worrying and just live. I need to let myself enjoy the things I love and accept the things I cannot change. Especially about myself. The only way I can stop myself from pushing you away is to remind myself that I am worth it. And I know, I know, you’ll tell me a thousand times over I am, but how can I take your words and believe them if I don’t think them myself?”

You pause and glance over your shoulder at the painting on the wall. Serene, empty, yet full. The quietness of a deep forest. Just living. His eyes don’t follow you to the painting but stay trained on your profile.

“I can’t promise you in the slightest that I have accepted this overnight or that I’m immediately a changed woman, because that’s just not how change works, I think. But… I can promise you that I will try for you. Forever. Until I get it right.”

You sigh deeply and bring your face and eyes back to meet his. His eyes are creased, accompanying a smile one could worship. And you intend to do so.

His free hand comes up and cups the side of your face, brushing his thumb across your cheek.

“I love you.” He says softly.

“I will always love you.” You say, brimming with sincerity as you wrap your free hand around his wrist that’s holding your face.

His eyes dance back and forth between yours, his smile delicate, as if asking for permission. Without hesitation you lean into him, placing your lips against his. This time you feel just how plump and perfect they are. His nose pressed softly against your cheek. He presses a bit harder and pulls away to reconnect at a better angle.

You let his hand go and reach out to place your hand on his bare chest right in the middle of the V from his shirt. His free hand comes up to mirror his other hand on your cheek and pulls you closer to him. You feel as though the lights in the room really have gone dark this time. Encasing you and him in a pocket of time.

The heat between you two rises in an instant. He uses his grip on your face to his advantage, tilting your head side to side to press his lips onto yours repeatedly until you can feel yourself go dizzy in the head. Instinctively both your hands grasp at the front of his shirt, pulling him even still closer to you and run your tongue along his bottom lip. You can feel the shutter of his body as it takes control over him, and he pushes you back onto the bed. You gasp quietly as your lips open for access.

His tongue enters your mouth slowly, tentatively as he rolls it around to find yours. The taste of him sweet like the bite of chocolate cake he savored earlier. Your stomach rolls up into your chest, a million soft wings of butterflies, moths, birds, dancing inside you. His right-hand slips down from your face, down your side to the hem of your big sweater and creeps up below it, brushing along the skin of your hip, sending goosebumps up your skin.

You gasp again away from the kiss at the sensation. He pulls his hand away and opens his eyes to look at you.

“I’m… I’m so sorry we don’t have to do this right now; I just got so carried away and I, god you feel so good against my lips.” He says rushed, out of breath. His elbow and forearm lay flat next to the side of your head, and he rests his other hand on the bed next to the hip he was once touching.

You take a second to catch your breath and smile, the most genuine smile you’ve ever had. Bringing your arms up, you wrap them around his neck and pull him down flush against you.

“I don’t think there is anything I’ve ever wanted more in this world, Chris. Now please, I love this shirt but take it off before I rip it off.”

His eyes go wide, but he quickly recovers and smirks, adjusting his body to get the right angle and pulls your body up the bed so your legs are no longer dangling off the side. Then he gets on the bed and slots his knees between your thighs. Still upright on his knees, and smirk still adorning his face, he slowly unbuttons the last few buttons left on his shirt.

You can’t help the giggle that comes out of you as your hands come up to cover your bright, heated cheeks as you watch him peel the silky tight shirt off his shoulders, behind his back and down his arms till he swings it above his head, balls it in his hands and sends it flying across the room to the floor. You cover your face as you laugh again at his ridiculousness.

The bed thumps as his hands come down on either side of your head. You pull your hands down and peek over them. He slowly comes closer, down on his elbows, pressing his body against yours. Hips now connected to yours, slotted between your thighs. Pulling your arms out completely from between your bodies you wrap them back around his neck. Brushing at the hair on the nape of his neck with your fingertips.

The intensity in the air comes back quickly at your new position. He shifts his elbows down a little so he can brush the hair from your forehead and eyes.

“You’re so beautiful. The universe really did its thing when it made you.” He says simply as he kisses the top of your forehead, your nose, your beauty mark, and then connects your lips again.

This time it’s your body that takes control. Your arms wrapping tighter around his neck bringing his full body weight on top of you. Feeling as if he could take your last breath now from your lips and you’d die happy.

His tongue asks for entrance immediately, and you let him. Your knees come up and your feet plant on the bed, shifting your mini skirt up your legs, hips involuntarily pushing up against him to feel him beneath his tight slacks. A soft groan in his throat tells you he liked that, so you do it again. He moves his hips along with yours for a better angle, and this time you can feel his hardness pressed to your heat.

His right hand comes down to resume the work he started earlier and quickly slips beneath your sweater. Running up your side all the way up, forcing your sweater to bunch and ghosting over your breast, all the way up through the hole in the top of the sweater, hand softly grabbing your neck and pushing your face to the side.

He kisses down your jaw, until he reaches the soft skin of your neck. Your breath hitches in your throat as he trails kisses down your pulse point until he stops and nibbles delicately right above your collarbone.

Your arms unlock from his neck and smooth over his strong shoulders. Feeling every muscle as he continues to suck and bite on your neck. A moan escapes you at a particularly hard bite, and he hisses through his teeth while tightening his fingers around your throat. A high-pitched whine from you pulls his attention back as he lets go and leans off you.

You gasp at the sudden lack of pressure only to look up and see a fire in his eyes staring down at you. Chest heaving, his eyes are lidded, and tongue comes out to brush his bottom lip. The silhouette of his body alone could send you into a coma.

“Take your sweater off for me.” His voice is deep. Your breath still catching up to you and your mind floaty, it takes you a second to realize what he said.

His tone was not lost on you though. Something you’ll have to tuck away for later and unpack with him.

Pulling your upper body off the bed to sit upright, you quickly acquiesce to his request and yank your sweater up over your head and throw it to the floor while maintaining eye contact as best as you can. However, your hands have a mind of their own.

Your palms come up and lay flat against his lower abdomen, running up the rivulets of his abs followed by your lips, pressing soft kisses one by one around his belly button as your hands continue up and over his chest and down his sides. Your eyes flit closed as you feel his hands run through your hair then find their way against your scalp and tighten against the roots pulling your face slightly away from him.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing you from this angle.” He says as he brushes his free knuckles against the side of your face and jaw, your eyes opening slowly to see his gentle eyes scanning your face. A rush of heat dances in your belly, and you are overcome with the sudden urge to please him. To make him feel good, the way he makes you feel good by just existing in your life.

Your hands find the button of his slacks quickly, unbuttoning them and pulling the zipper down. His hand tightens in your hair faintly, and you can’t help the moan that escapes your throat.

“Pants,” is all you can muster. Your hands grab the waistband and try to pull but the snugness of the fit fights against you. Before you can summon the courage to clarify yourself, his hand tightens aggressively as he maneuvers your head to face back up at him.

“Come again?” His face is stoic, except for a brow that’s raised. His composure is so different than he’s ever been with you before. His attitude was always kind, lamb-like towards you. Soft words spoken to a soft shell of a person. But the tone in his words, the severity of this change in him, like he knows your body is craving someone to be rough with you.

“These pants need to come off.” You tug at the waistband again, but his face remains focused on you. Expression changeless. His eyes bore into you while your mind finally reaches for what he wants from you.

“Take your pants off… please?” You don’t miss the desperation in your voice. It’s not a new tone for you but the words felt fresh coming from your lips.

“Anything for you baby.” As he releases your hair and pushes your body back slowly until you’re resting on your elbows.

He backs off the edge of the bed, and you watch as he steps out of his tight black slacks. The dips in his pelvic area creating the perfect tunnel for your eyes to follow down to his boxers. You can tell his eyes are watching yours, but you continue to stare down, mesmerized by every curve his body makes.

He waits for you to meet his eyes before he makes the next move to pull down his boxers. Your lips part as you see in your peripheral, his cock springing free. You continue to stare at each other for a moment, your heart racing, until his eyes slowly trail down to your legs sitting open in front of him.

A rush of nerves flows down your body at your vulnerable position, and instinctively you move to close your legs, but he quickly reaches out and catches your knees before they can shut.

“No being shy now. I need to see you.” He says as his hands smooth down your upper thighs to the hem of your skirt. He touches the fabric softly before pushing it further up to expose you more. His hands come up the outside of your thighs before hooking under your knees and pushing them up against your stomach.

There you are, laid out for him in just your lacy black bra and matching panties with your skirt pushed up and his hands on your body. Your arms feel weak, and your elbows almost give out when you have a moment to really study his face looking down at you. He almost looks pained. His jaw is set tight, and his brows are bunched together. Your stomach swirls, and you feel the patch of wetness on your panties grow.

“Fuck. I can’t believe I’ve had to wait this long to see you like this.” He says as he brings his knees back onto the bed to get closer to you. Between the small gap of your knees your eyes can finally see his cock. Your breath hitches in your throat as you take in its length and size, filled out completely from just looking down at your body.

“Chris, please, I wanna taste you. Let me taste you.” You say, breathless.

He laughs and pokes his tongue into his cheek before pushing your legs closer to your chest forcing you off your elbows and onto your back.

“No matter how much I loved hearing that from your lips, you’re gonna have to stop saying stuff like that, babygirl, or you’re going to drive me insane. I could come right now from the sight of you alone.” His fingers on your thighs dig into you a little deeper.

Your hands grip the fabric of the bed and whatever little patience or control you thought you might have had slips away.

“Then kiss me. Shut me up.” You say with frustration.

A small, mischievous smile twists his lips,

“I plan on it.” He says as his body dips to flatten on the bed. Before you can register what is happening, his plush lips press softly on the thin cotton covering you. A moan escapes you as you feel the heat flood your body.

“This isn’t going to keep me quiet.” You say under your breath.

His lips come off you, and his hands find their way down your thighs till they both rest next to your center. You feel one of his fingers gently trace their way from the top, down to the bottom of the wetness on the cotton and back up again. The sensation sending a soft shudder down your spine.

“I don’t want it to.” He says as he hooks his finger into the fabric and pulls it aside, exposing you to the cold air. A deep breath is sucked into your chest as you feel the first contact of his tongue pressed flat against you. The warmth invades your senses. He keeps it there a moment before starting to lick at you slowly, then increasing in speed and intensity, finding every inch of skin with his tongue.

This feeling alone has you panting quickly, your fingers digging into the soft bedspread below you. His free hand palms at the flesh on your thigh, massaging it deeply with his thumb until it reaches the edge of you, spreading you out for better access. You yelp as his tongue enters you, and the muscle dances around creating a buzz beneath your stomach.

“Mmmm, you taste fucking fantastic.” He says before attaching his plump lips to your clit, sucking gently.

“Chris.. ohmygod...” Is all you can get out before you feel one of his fingers find your entrance and tease you with it. The combined feeling has you pinching your eyes shut and a whine leaving your throat. Before you can manage to wrap your head around the pleasure coursing through your body you feel two of his fingers thrust themselves inside of you, each finger alternating in a curling motion.

Your head is spinning as you become a mess of heavy breathing and loud moans falling from your lips. His name coming in between harsh inhales. Your legs tremble as his sucking increases in intensity, coiling a knot inside of you so tight that when it snaps, you’re afraid recovering from it will be impossible.

“I, Chris, I’m..” You mumble incoherently as your legs give out and fall from their hiked-up position to rest over his shoulders effectively closing him in between your thighs.

“Come for me, baby, come on my fingers. Let me hear you.” He says before reattaching his lips on you and furthering his power and concentration on your pleasure.

His tongue swirls around your clit, sending you fast over the edge. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you hold it in while the muscles in your body let go and dance under his touch. The feeling courses through you so strongly, when the peak finally subsides your legs instinctively close against his head suffocating him in your center. You hear him moan deeply and his fingers leave you so both of his hands can come around to your hips, gripping you and pushing your body harder against his face.

His mouth on overdrive, he licks, sucks and kisses you into oversensitivity. Your head buzzes at the feeling as your hands find his on your hips, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and bucking your hips further into him.

“Chris, please, oh fuck,” you muster between your whines.

His grip tightens on you, and you hear another moan from him, this time louder and deeper sending vibrations through your skin and deep into the bottom of your stomach. You’re positive you’ve never come twice in such quick succession, but your body reacts on its own, sending you straight off the edge from his attention.

Your body shakes, and your hands let go of him to find their way into your hair. You squeeze at the roots and ground yourself into the sweeping sensation all over your body. His hands release your hips and smooth over your stomach and waist feeling your muscles tighten and contract beneath them.

He slows his exertion, seemingly satisfied with your exhaustion and pulls his head away slightly guiding you to drop your tight hold with your thighs. They part and fall to the sides leaving his face unobstructed from your view, if only you could find the strength to lift your head.

Before you can fully catch your breath, you feel him untangle himself from your lower half, grab your panties and skirt, pulling them down and off your legs, and crawl up the bed and over your body until you’re face to face. His eyes are lidded and heavy and the bottom half of his face glistens as his tongue comes out to lick his lips.

“I hope you liked that as much as I did.” He says with a slightly cocky smile on his lips.

“For fuck’s sake, Chris.” You huff out jokingly as his body flattens against yours between your legs. His cock hard and warm, pressed flat against your wetness. Your tiredness aside, the sensation sparks through your body, making your breath shudder.

He laughs and connects your lips together. You didn’t even realize just how much you missed the feeling of his soft lips pressed against yours, however busy they were just a few seconds ago. Your stomach stirs again feeling his body weight against yours.

“You’re so tight, baby. We might have to go a little bit slow even after me doing my best to help you relax.” He says between kisses. Your arms wrap around his neck and legs come up to hook themselves around his waist, moving your hips until the tip of his cock is closer to your entrance.

“I can handle it. I know I can.” You say against his lips.

His eyes close and his brows furrow as you slightly move your hips again in a circular motion. Dragging him along your wetness hoping to edge his patience into taking action. You stick your tongue out and lick his lower lip. His eyes snap back open and in one quick motion you are flipped around until you are laying over him.

“Come on baby, sit yourself down on me. Take your time. I wanna see your face as you work yourself open on me.” He reaches down and cups your ass to get a handful and squeezes.

Your brain feels foggy, and it can’t believe it’s hearing Chris say these things to you. Using his arms as leverage you push yourself up into a seated position on your knees with him nestled perfectly beneath you. Your hands come up to your bra and go to unhook it, but his hands stop you.

“Leave it on.” His voice is deep again in a way that vibrates your chest. His hands push yours aside and caresses both of your breasts over the lacy fabric, using his thumbs to rub back and forth over your nipples. The fabric is thin, and the contact is enough to make them harden beneath it. You watch his face as he continues his work, feeling your nipples through the fabric, pinching them a few times making you moan and then pulling the fabric down to expose them.

He ghosts his fingertips over them sending a shiver down your spine. One of his hands comes up to your mouth, softly pressing his fingertips onto your lips until you part them and take them in, gently sucking and licking them. His own lips part as you wet his fingers, and his hips rut up once against you as if working on their own accord.

A soft “fuck” leaves his lips as he takes his fingers away and rubs them against one of your nipples. Circling it and pinching it, creating sweet shocks of pleasure. You close your eyes and enjoy the feeling until you feel a sharp smack on your ass. You can’t help the excited yelp that leaves you as your eyes snap back open.

“Let me feel you, babygirl,” he says, eyes lidded, looking like he’s right on the edge of his self-control. As if he wants to snap and take over but is fighting himself to let you take the lead.

A new swirl in your stomach forms and you plant your hands on his chest. You move your hips up and down on him slightly, feeling his length beneath you before lifting yourself off him. One of his hands comes down to grip your waist, and the other to the base of his cock to hold it up for you to do with as you please.

You waste little time centering and slowly sinking an inch or two down. The hand holding himself quickly pulls away before attaching itself to the other side of your waist. His eyebrows bunch as he fixes his gaze down to where you two meet. You stay there for a few beats, relishing in the stretch and heat of him. It floods all your senses, sending warmth from below your belly all the way up to the tips of your ears.

Not even a moment passes before your body sends desperate shivers down your legs to give in and sink down. You can sense he’s being extremely patient with your pace, his fingers twitching slightly on your skin, begging you to move. You swirl your hips in a circle as you lower yourself fully onto him, unable to resist the urge to let your jaw go slack and your head fall back.

You feel immediately insane. Every inch of your body is screaming to keep yourself filled by him forever. Your hands grip his pecs as you start to bounce on him. You see his expression change rapidly from one of frustration and restraint to pure, uncontained lust. His hands seek your hips and squeeze harshly on the flesh prompting you to pick up your pace. It’s not long before you’re panting and moaning softly above him. Almost unable to keep your eyes open at the pleasure coursing through your body.

Desperate to feel him even deeper than you could possibly imagine you pick your hands off him and sit up arching your back and rolling your hips forward. His hands are quick to react to your new position as they start to roam over your stomach, up your sides and back down to squeeze at your thighs working hard over him.

Your hands come back behind you and land on his upper thighs to help keep you upright as you continue to bounce on him. However, you know it won’t last long, the power you want cannot be maintained by the strength that you have.

Moving your face back down to face him you’re stunned by how beautiful he looks beneath you. His skin is glistening above his collarbones and gently across the apples of his cheeks. His mouth is open and his eyes that were once dancing across your body come up to meet yours.

“Chris, I…” You start before moaning loudly as his hands grab your ass and squeeze.

“Kiss me, please,” leaves your lips as you feel your legs shake.

He groans softly and quickly fixes himself into an upright position and latches his lips onto yours, wrapping his arms around your body. His new position creates a new angle, and you clench around him pressing your body up against his and wrapping your arms around his neck. As soon as he feels you, his body reacts pistoning up into you as best as he can at a bed shaking pace.

His kisses renew your strength as your body starts to move with his, pushing him further into you and hitting the perfect spot over and over again.

"How does it feel, baby?" His lips detach for yours and find themselves at your neck sucking harshly at the skin.

“So.. good” is all you can mumble between breaths.

“Tell me again.” He says firmly, biting down on the space just above your collarbone then quickly licking over the sensitive skin.

"You feel so good, Chris. I need you. Please." Your words are accentuated by you clenching around him. His hips stutter, and he quickly flips both of you over until you are lying on your back again under him. His hands smooth up your body as he sinks all the way down into you and stops at the hilt.

"You’re so perfect. You feel so perfect. I need you to come for me again, you're going to do that for me, right?" He fixes the position of his body until your legs are pushed up against your chest again, and his body is laying on top of yours. He puts one hand between you to massage your clit with his thumb as the other comes up to caress your face, his elbow perched on the bed beside your head.

His passion is pouring out through his hips as soon as he starts to move again. You need more though; you need his perfect lips against yours again to seal all the emotion and pleasure. You reach an arm out and wrap it around his neck pulling his face into yours and without missing a beat he licks into your mouth and pulls on your bottom lip with his teeth sending you fast off the edge of your next high.

Your body shakes and pushes itself up against him, willing him to let go with you, to feel him inside of you.

“Give me what I want, Chris. Please baby.” you whisper in his ear.

Your words spur him on as both of his hands find their way to your face and he kisses you through his release. Sloppy and heated kisses mixed with his stuttering hips colliding with you slowly over and over again until he is satisfied with his depth and pleasure.

He pulls away from your face slowly, leaving soft pecks on your lips until he can look you in the eyes. A tired smile is gentle across your face. Both of your heavy breathing mix in the air together. He takes his time moving his body off yours and onto the bed next to you, pulling you onto your side with one of your arms and legs draped across his front.

His hand runs up and down your arm as you both settle your breathing and bask in the heated air. There’s a serene sort of stillness that has settled around you that only comes from clearing your soul out.

You hear him hum in contentment above you. His hand on your back rubs up and down your spine. Your breath is soft again, blowing gently across his chest as you lift your head up and place a kiss where your cheek was then crane your neck to look up at his face. His eyes are closed and the glow on his face is ethereal.

“We still have cake.” You whisper to him with a soft smile on your lips.

His eyes jump open, “Oh fuck, that sounds so good right now.” He’s never sounded so serious about a piece of cake before.

You start to laugh as his body kicks into action, jumping off the bed and swooping you up into his arms bridal style carrying you back into the living room.

“Chris, our clothes!” You bark out through your laughter as your arms wrap around his neck.

He winks and kisses the tip of your nose, “Nahhh, we don’t need 'em yet.”

Thank you to @thehandmaidenofcreativity for helping me edit this mess! Love you bb <3

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #skz x female reader #bang chan fic #bang chan fanfic #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #skz smut #bang chan x you #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x female reader #kpop fanfic

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celeste-clearwater-06 · 13 days ago

Text

The Kitchen Window (pt. 6 - the epilogue)

Bayverse! Raphael x Fem! Reader

desc- (Raph has to make his intentions clear to you and to whatever it is that you two are)

warnings - none

word count - 2.5k

READ PREVIOUS PARTS BEFORE THIS

“I look stupid, Mike.”

“Nah, bro you look great!” Raph’s younger brother is looking his outfit up and down, trying to perfect any wrinkles or stray threads, “She’s gonna love it, trust me.”

Raph scuffs his new air force’s on the cement, while the other turtle straightens the collar of the graphic tee up around his neck. Maybe he could lend his fashionable little brother a bit of slack. Mikey knew a lot more about this stuff.

It’s early August. Summer’s fleeting, to warm days and cooler nights, which are perfect for this exact occasion.

Raph has been a mess of fluttering nerves all week trying to set this date up, with the help of his brothers and April. Every little detail, meticulously planned.

At first he was gonna do it on his own, in secret. Come to your door, trip over his words and fumble the bag, because lord knows he’s not good with expressing his feelings.

Thank god for April and his siblings, though it hurt his ego a little to come to them and admit he didn’t know how to set up a lousy dinner. Of course they were happy to help. Mikey and April especially.

So now, the five of them were on the roof of your apartment complex and pulling together all of their different tastes and ideas to create this adorable little date for him and his girl.

Raphael didn’t know what the two of you were. After that bizarre (albeit fantastic) first kiss, his visits to you were so much more frequent. Even if it was quick, he’d make a pit stop to your window for a peck on the cheek that kept his spirits up for a long night's patrol. More often than not, you two would be chatting away in the late night hours. And then of course make out a little, with him hanging on the sill like a fool.

It was so great, and it filled Raph with something he didn’t know he needed. Every second he wasn’t with you, he counted down till the next time he'd meet your gorgeous face again, greeting him with a kind, welcoming smile that made his knees wobble. But that was it.

There wasn’t really a label. Not that he liked those anyway.

He just needed some clarity. Some sort of outwardly spoken agreement that you guys weren’t just really good friends who kissed and held hands and tried to hold in your laughter in the dark, trying not to disturb the peace of your neighbors.

“Oh this looks great.”

Raph watches the way April appreciates her work of a cute little vase of flowers on the center of a table, hands settled on her hips. Well, it’s less of a table than it is a large wooden crate with a nice-ish tablecloth, but it serves just the same. It’s not too extravagant, not too drab. Just right. It suits the mix of your different lives. Little, dollar store candles light the area with a warm haze, next to the tin containers filled with the meal you’d taught him to make months ago. He’s hoping it tastes as good as it did when you make it. Raph hasn’t told you how often he whips it up at the lair when he’s missing you.

“How’s lookout, Leo?”

The blue-banded turtle looks over his shoulder, where he’s crouched on the ledge right next to the fire escape ladder.

“All clear.”

Thankfully, everything seems to be coming together just as Raph wanted it to. It settles some of the butterflies that rage in his stomach. The time for one of his brother’s to go and fetch you from your apartment is growing closer and closer while Donnie is scooting the plastic folding chairs next to the crate.

He’s so not ready for this. A little voice is nagging in the back of his head to just back out now.

Raph knows you’ll at least like it. Just how you like everything else he does for you. He has no clue why this is so damn difficult.

“Alright, Raph.”

April clasps her hands together and looks up to him for approval.

“What do we think?”

He thinks it looks great. Raphael loves the gentle little glow everything gives against the dim light pollution that stretches out over the city. Will you?

“You’re a lifesaver, O’Niel.”

“Don’t forget it.”

He snorts.

“I guess it’s showtime then!”

Mikey attacks his older brother with a hug from behind.

“Aw come on Mike!” Raph’s trying to swat him off his shell, but not before his two other siblings, and April crowd him with an embrace, that eases the nerves running rampant. He rolls his eyes, but can’t hold back the grateful grin that breaks through his annoyance. Their words are encouraging and warm, fueling the confidence he’s so desperately been trying to grasp for all this time.

“You’re gonna be fine.”

“Trust us, she is gonna love it.”

Leo’s hand ruffles over Raph’s red bandanna.

“Go get em’, tiger.”

Ouf, what a cornball.

“Alright, alright!” They all break away from the group hug with excited smiles. This is home to Raphael. All his favorite people- well, most - in his corner of the ring and hyping his happy-ass up to romance a cute girl.

“Leo?”

“I’ll go get her for you.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Your apartment is warm. Over the weeks, the walls are filled with picture frames and cute decor that April and the boys have been bringing you. Polaroids of you and the boys are littered on your bedside table and posted on the fridge with little paw print magnets. Most of them are with or of Raph. Him sleeping with an open mouth, or being dog-piled on by Mike and Donnie. Your favorite is the one where you’re sitting on his shoulders, laughing, while he’s grinning into the camera flash. April took it, down in the lair, where he was parading you around after everyone had a few-too-many drinks. The once empty living space is now full of life and love and sooo, so many cat toys.

You’re on the livingroom floor now, playing with sweet Vannie to distract you from the lack of texts from your best friend. It’s been worrying you all day, that Raph hasn’t responded to any of your messages, even the funny memes, like the others you send him daily.

You’d given up on the last message, a little over an hour ago, though it doesn’t keep you from repeatedly glancing at your phone while your cat darts after the laser pointer across the carpet and onto the sofa. The little bell on her collar tinks quickly with each movement. She sees someone through your window before you. Two taps against the glass make your head whip around excitedly.

It’s not who you’re expecting, but Leo’s visit is still a nice surprise.

“Hey Lee!” You hide the disappointment with a happy smile that he returns.

“How’s it going?”

“Good! Good,” he doesn’t miss the way you’re trying to peek over his shoulder, “Have you heard from Raph at all? I couldn’t get a hold of him today.”

“Actually yeah.”

This perks your attention right back up, locking with his eyes that carry a mischievous glow.

“Oh! How’s he doing? He didn’t get hurt on patrol, did he?”

Leo chuckles.

“Nah. He’s been busy.”

Busy? Weird. Even if Raphael were kicking sorry ass, he’d text you back in a heartbeat. Something fishy was going on.

“Oh. Huh.”

“You wanna see him?”

That, you couldn’t say no to.

“Is he here?”

Leo knows, with the way you two talk about each other, that it’s love. He knows more than both of you. It's so funny how his younger brother and you will spend hours at a time just sitting in silence or talking about life, and then when you’re apart, all that one of you can think or say has something to do with the other.

“He’s up top,” his head gestures back up the fire escape. You’re already climbing out the window, while he and Vannie stare. Lee takes a hold of your arm when your foot reaches that first step. You look back at him with a puzzled stare.

“You gotta close your eyes.”

“What?”

It’s a surprise. That makes you nervous.

“Just trust me. I’ll take you up there, you just can’t look.”

Uh oh. You’re hesitant to follow his instructions, but his hand is already blinding your vision, and he’s scooping you of your feet. You shout in surprise.

“Leo, what’s going on?”

The only reply you recieve is his heavy footfall on the metal stairs. He has to take his hand away, but you keep your eyes clenched shut, partially to obey his order, but the other is so you don’t have to see how far up you might be from the ground below.

“This is freaking me out Lee,”

“I’m not gonna drop you.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Oh, he knows. He’s just great at keeping secrets.

The final, thudding footstep lands on concrete, and he sets you on the ground, steadying you onto your feet. Your breath is nervous, heart racing, senses heightened. You can hear the buzz of the city off in the distance. A cool breeze brush through your hair. The concrete scraping on your wooly socks.

“Alright, take a look.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Your eyes blink open. Then again. Your brain isn’t processing whatever is in front of you, until he speaks.

“Hey, Sunshine.”

Raph’s hands are shoved into the front pockets of jeans you’ve never seen him in. They’re new. So are his shoes, and the black, long sleeve tee that’s perfectly tailored to fit, and let his shell still breathe from the back. The casual clothes are incredibly flattering on him. You can still see the faint lines of his toned muscles under the cotton, catching in soft light. He’s so handsome, it hurts. And cute. GOD was he cute.

Shifting his weight, subtly from one foot to the other and smiling, anxious and bashful, while you stare at him in bafflement. Behind him is an adorable, candle lit dinner and your favorite flowers in a glass vase, all tuned with the ambient sounds of New York.

“Oh, Raph.”

His name comes out in a sigh, incredulous, full of shock and wonder. You take a few steps forward to better take in the effort he’s thrown into all of this. You’re nearly speechless, breathless, and trying to swallow the lump in your throat. He set up a date. A date! For you!

“You like it?”

His eyes are hesitant, but full of a childlike hope when they meet yours.

“Raph, this is… you did this?”

“Well, I had help. I ain’t this creative.” Raph chuckles nervously, nodding to where Leo was standing, now gone without a trace, “But… yeah.”

“For… me?”

You’re still so surprised at the sweetness of it all.

“Well, I’d hate to be up here eatin chicken and rice by myself all night, so yeah.”

He’s easing up, gentle grin mirroring yours.

“Raph this is so great!”

Like a kid, you all but skip over to look closer at the make-shift table and chicken and rice in their bowls, stream rolling off in the tepid air, while your fingers over the tablecloth. He’s laughing at your stupidly huge smile.

“I was hoping you might think so.”

You look up at him, face glowing in the candlelight.

“I know I haven’t been texting you back. Been a nervous wreck all day.”

His expression contorted into a soft gout of admiration, a soft smile, and even softer, green eyes. Your heart leaps. You know what that look is. You’ve seen it so many times in Raph’s face and now you’re putting it all together while he stands just feet from you. He’s so perfect.

You stride back over to him and let him take your hands in his. He’s nervous again, taking a deep breath.

“Look,” he begins, “I just… I figured if we’re a thing and all…Well, I wanna do this the right way. I hope it’s alright with you. I know it’s nothin’ fancy but…”

He groans, slapping hand over his face. You giggle at how he trips over his sentence.

“I had a whole, stupid speech for this shit. Now I just look like a fuckin’ idiot.”

Those fumbling, nervous words speak novels to you. He doesn’t have to say much for you to just get exactly what Raph is trying to say.

“I think… that sounds great,” your voice is soft, “And I also think I’m in love with you and I have had no idea what to do with myself, since the first day we met.“ you exhale the words like they’ve been trying to claw their way from your throat.

This catches him completely off guard. Raph’s eyes are as wide as they were the first night you kissed him. His nostrils flare. Before you think you’ve fucked yourself up royally, he pulls you up towards him in a soul-snatching kiss that depletes the air from your lungs, feet nearly leaving the ground. You’re desperately grabbing at the collar of his shirt to deepen it, but he pulls away, and lifts you completely from the ground in a tight embrace, leaving you both gasping for your breaths.

“Jesus, you have no idea how long I’ve been waitin’ to hear you say that,” Raph sighs next to your ear. “I love ya. A lot.”

His arms tighten further around you and you smell a nice cologne in the crook of his neck, where your head is buried.

He sets you back to your feet and lifts your chin with his finger for a much more gentle, passionate kiss, that you accept happily. His hand rests gently on your hip.

“You’re the best thing that coulda ever happened to a weirdo like me,” Raph’s forehead is pressed down against yours, with closed eyes.

“You’re better,” you counter. He gives your hip a squeeze, “Let’s be something. Even if it’s hard.”

He chuckles.

“Nothin’ I can’t handle, Sunshine.”

You’re both right where you belong, centimeters away from each other, smiling like idiots, and finally off that steep cliff that’s been taunting you for months. Raph is your home, and you’re his, far out of that little kitchen window.

A Polaroid click behind you just makes you shake your head with a flustered grin.

“Mikey, are you shittin me right now?”

You can hear his little brother shuffle back into whatever shadow he came from, laughing along with the rest of the party that's hidden away.

“Fuckin idiot.”

fin <3

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Oh no, wait...

What's this?

A gift for my dear readers?

Take a listen 🤭😝

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

I GOT YOUUU

I'VE BEEN SLAVING AWAY AT THIS SINCE THE BEGINNING OF THE FIRST CHAPTER, JUST TO GET TO THIS POINT MUAHAHAHA

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED READING (AND LISTENING!!) AS MUCH AS I DID CREATING THIS FUN LITTLE STORY!!!

The Kitchen Window was SUCH A FUN PROJECT, and I'm so glad I've been receiving all of your guys' support, interaction, and kind words 😭😭 as a token of gratitude, I decided to make that little audio clip that has been the death of me to create 🫠

Thank you all again SO FUCKIN MUCH

This concludes the 6 part story, The Kitchen Window 🩷💓💕

Please, LIKE, REBLOG, AND ASK TO BE A PART OF MY TAG LIST SO YOU DONT MISS OUT ON MORE WRITINGS LIKE THIS ONE

Till next time!

LOVE YA BABESSSS 💕💓🩷🌸🧼🫧

taglist - [ @ladyofparchments @well-its-not-human-anymore @raphaelsrightarm @chiliiscereal @milkytheholy1 @moxfirefly @raphsgrl @leosgirl82 @thelaundrybitch @rheawritesforfun @imthegreenfairy86 @aurora-the-kunoichi @angelhazeisaweirdo @raisin-shell @fyreball66 @redsrooftopprincess @milykins @ahhhhhhhhhfuck @quitecontrary-to-mary @the-cauldron-witch @brins-rogers @yelocaltrashcan @pheradream-15 @asillysimp @miranexx @cinnamonskiss @le0n-ardo @silveritydreams @goldenflowerdragon @loveshrubs @glitterystarfishfestival @supersleepyslowpoke @floflodoesart @crimsonrubie ]

#xreader #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #bayverse raphael x reader #tmnt bayverse x reader #bayverse tmnt #bayverse raph x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt raphael #tmnt #the kitchen window #part 6 #secret ending #raphael x reader #tmnt bayverse #i love y'all

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goldsainz · 9 months ago

Text

❝ SO LONG, MONACO ❞

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . charles leclerc x reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. warnings . . . use of y/n (once, i think), cursing, a whole load of angst, charles is an asshole, rushed ending, barely proofread.

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . you love monaco, but it has run its course just like your relationship has.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . i am obsessed with ttpd, i don’t care what anyone has to say, it was a masterpiece and i will not take criticism about it. this is based on so long, london i really recommend listening to this while reading, or just listening to it in general if you need a good cry. i have been writing this for months now, so i hope you guys like it and please dont mind the ending it was the best i could do 😔💙

[ word count: 3,4k ]

You walked through the streets of Monaco, mystified by how bright the city looked even in the night. The street lights were enchanting to witness, and the chatter of people made you appreciate the small country even more. So private, yet so lively, like a hidden spot you had loved so much you just had to make it your home.

The walk to Charles’ apartment is more calming than expected, you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’ve been pulling at a thread that is almost undone. No matter how hard you tried, there was no use in pulling him tighter when he had already pulled out of the relationship.

You were, in all honesty, tired.

You swore your back almost hurt from all the efforts you made to keep him with you. It’s like you both had settled for conformity, for the monotony of not bothering to do anything. You were together for the sole sake of how harder it would be to separate, but not because of the love you had for the other, simply because of the aftermath of breaking up after 6 years of relationship. Moving out, telling your friends and family, the whole world scrutinizing what went down when really nothing had gone down. There was nothing that could go down, to begin with.

Your relationship had become more of a commodity, one that was draining you while your boyfriend continued his life like nothing was going on. Maybe that was your problem, you simply cared too much.

And so you stopped trying to make him laugh. Stopped making those small efforts that had amounted to hundreds of gestures that went unnoticed by him. Maybe you were selfish for that, for wanting his undivided attention to things that weren’t that great. After all, he had his own things to wallow over, things that were simply greater than you.

You tried to blame Ferrari. Ferrari that always was the topic of conversation. “Can you believe they made pit so late?” Yes, I can. “Do you think I’m putting to much faith in the team?” Yes, you are. You don’t tell Charles all the things you should, you share his sadness and give him a shoulder to cry on, just to receive that small amount of affection.

His sadness gives you the taste of what once was and now isn’t. You can’t find in yourself to blame him for becoming dependent on Ferrari, because haven’t you become the same way for him?

It isn’t long before your walk is over, and you have to face the moment you want to dread, but instead there is relief that surges in your heart. A feeling you resent but equally embrace.

You step into the elevator, pressing the button for his apartment that you wonder when you decided to let everything go on for as long as it did. That is something you incriminate Charles for. Did he really think you’d be willing to stand in the rain for him forever? Eternally condemned to wallow his sadness, were you supposed to be sad for as long as he was? And for a while you did, you shared his sadness but you didn’t have much more in you to give him. There was only so much pity you could feel, so much empathy you were willing to subject yourself to.

The elevator rings, a sign that you should get off and take whatever is yours and get away from Monaco.

You put the key in the keyhole, and enter what once was your home and now looks almost like a staged apartment, ready to be shown off and sold to the highest bidder. It feels eerie, what once was so familiar is now a distant memory you’re ready to get over.

Most of the boxes are all closed and ready to be sent away, with a few things left in shelves and drawers. You remember calling your family and asking if you could stay with them a few days, you felt ashamed at how you left everything behind just to come back to it so unexpectedly.

“Chérie, you don’t have to leave. I can stay with Joris until you find your own place.” no more ma chérie, just chérie. It seemed you’d both unconsciously already made the graves for your relationship.

“This is your place, Charles. I’m not going to kick you out of it.” you smoothly respond, trying to focus on taking whatever is left on the shelf by the TV.

Your hand brushes against an old photo of the two of you. His hands around your waist, you looking up at him with a huge smile on your face, with Monaco as the landscape behind you.

“This was our place, I don’t even—” he stops himself, like it pains him to say whatever is on his mind, resigned he sighs and changes his answer, “I might have to sell this, it’s too big for just me anyway.”

The implication of his words would have sent you down a spiral a few months ago, now you don’t even reminisce on the what-if.

“Either way, I’ve already arranged a place to stay. I really don’t want to inconvenience you, this is your home not mine.” you say, and you watch as his jaw clenches and his eyes dim, but it is too late now to go back. You’re both too far gone.

“Okay, then.” he sighs, and although you’ve made peace with the end of your relationship you want him to fight for you. It is his nonchalant way of going about life that makes you mad, and what sealed the fate of whatever remains of your relationship were left.

You’ve fought so hard and for so long, you want to make him feel what you felt. Retribution comes to you in his resignation, and yet it is simply not enough for your greedy, broken heart.

It pisses you off how so much of your youth he got to witness, how he got all the special moments of your life and now you cannot even recognise the girl you once were. All those dreams, all that naïveté, has long since died and is now buried in Monaco.

“It’s late and I’m really tired, so tomorrow morning I’ll have them pick up and ship off my things.”

“Where are you staying?” he tries to be casual, tries to hide the desperation in his voice, but fails to do so because you know him too well. He fears you know him better than anyone ever has.

“A hotel nearby,” you easily answer,

Don’t let me go.

A beat passes, he opens his mouth and closes it shortly after, like he’s not sure what to say or how to act.

Please, don’t let me go.

“Do you need me to take you there?”

“No, I’m okay, it’s a short walk from here.”

And so you put away the few things you were holding, brushing past him like he’s a stranger in the street. You’ve seemingly packed up your whole life in a few boxes, and you feel oddly calm about it. Hopeful about the future, all resentment you could have has turned into motivation.

You seal the last open box, and it’s like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. There are no scores to settle, no need for revenge, this chapter of your life has been sealed and you are ready to continue with whatever the story of your life has prepared for you.

“Text me when you get to the hotel, yes?” you pause at his words, and a part of you wants to curse him out for being the way he is, because despite everything he is a kind man. You just wish he could've been as kind to the old you as he is to the current you. And you wonder why you're given all this kindness, when you have both your feet out the door and every single remainder of your love has been tucked away. It is not fair, but nothing really is when it comes to love.

“Sure,” you say as you nod, a small smile gracing your face, though you're sure it looks close to a grimace.

You walk out of the apartment, leaving your copy of the keys on the table next to the door. As it closes, you let out a sigh and go out the same you came in, calm and collected. With the broken, bloody pieces of your heart in his hands and you with the same blue heart of his you know so well.

You don’t text Charles when you make it to the hotel.

You twist and turn in your bedsheets, not being able to sleep once again. You can't remember the last time you had a good night's sleep. And so you do what you've been doing for months, you go over every step and stone of your relationship.

Although sleep doesn’t consume you, the memories do. Those unforgiving, wretched memories about the downfall of your relationship. As you lie awake, the weight of your thoughts presses down on you, each recollection sharper and more painful than the last.

You reminisce on the brighter days, filled with laughter and pure love, where every touch was like electricity on your skin and every word a promise of a future together. You recall all those moments you fought to make him laugh, to bring back the warmth that had once been effortless. But those bright memories are quickly overshadowed by the darker ones— the fights that grew more frequent, the silences that stretched longer, the love that slowly turned to resentment.

Every detail is vivid in your mind— he look in his eyes as he drifted away, the chill that settled in your bones each night he didn't fall asleep beside you. You replay the conversations, the accusations, the desperate attempts to salvage whatever was left. But despite your efforts, the spirit of the relationship was long gone, leaving behind a shell of what once was.

As the memories flood back, you feel the anger and sadness welling up inside you. You gave so much of yourself, your youth, your energy, only to be left with the empty shell of a broken dream. You think about how he swore that he loved you, yet the proof was never there.

You recall that last fight, by then the stitches of your relationship had come undone, the fabric of your shared experience torn beyond repair. There was nothing left to cling onto, nothing more than your delusion and the memories you held close to your heart.

“Mon amour, why did you stay awake? You know how long I take at the factory.” he whispers, almost cooing at you but also filled with exhaustion. Like you being awake is another burden you're placing on him, now that he has to deal with your awakened mind.

“Couldn’t fall asleep, I guess.” you answer, playing with the ends of your hair, not daring to look at him.

You watch as he places his stuff on the ground, taking off his shirt and entering the bathroom to wash his face and prepare for sleep. It is quite a shame you have no intentions of sleeping, or to let the misery you're living through go on.

“I’ll join you in just a moment,” he calls out from the bathroom, his voice muffled from the ajar door between you.

“Okay,” is all you come up with, all you can muster to respond.

The silence in the apartment grew heavy. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to echo through the room, each second stretching out into eternity.

As you listened to the sound of water running, you traced patterns on the bedsheets with trembling hands. You couldn’t shake the feeling of suffocation, of being trapped in a life that wasn’t quite yours. The dreams you once nurtured seemed distant, obscured by the everyday struggles and compromises.

When Charles emerged from the bathroom, the lines of fatigue etched deeper into his face. His eyes met yours briefly before he turned away, pulling a worn t-shirt and slipping under the covers beside her. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, yet you could see the coldness that he seemed to reserve especially for you. He made no effort to kiss you, to hold you, those miniscule actions were like finding gold nowadays.

It was now or never, you had decided. You had gained courage all day to finally speak your mind, the least he could do is listen and try to fight for you. For the remains of your love that hadn’t yet dusted away.

“You know,” you begin tentatively, your voice almost shaky with emotion, “it feels like we’re drifting apart. I miss us, Charles.”

He turned to you sharply, eyes flashing with something like shock and annoyance. “I’m tired, Y/N. Can’t we talk about this tomorrow?”

“But we never talk about it!” you exclaimed, frustration boiling over. “Every day, it’s the same thing. You come home late, exhausted, and we pretend everything’s okay. But it's not okay! It hasn’t been for a long time, and I need more than this.”

He sighs heavily, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Sure you are,” you retort back, voice tinged with bitterness. You knew he would dismiss your feelings, but it still stung.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m always second, Charles.” you retort, “I stay awake each night wondering if you still care, if there is even some part of you that misses me like I miss you.”

“You always find something to complain about, don’t you?” he turns to you with his eyes narrowed, “You know how much I’m dealing with Ferrari, I thought you’d have some empathy for me, at least.”

“I’m not complaining, Charles. I’m trying to talk to you!” your frustration has now reached its peak, “I miss us. I miss the days when we actually talked, when you actually listened.”

“I’m exhausted,” he says, ignoring your words once more. “Do you think this lifestyle pays for itself? Because, news flash, it doesn’t. You signed up for this, don’t put this on me now.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” you ask, resigned to your situation and the emotions that have overtaken you, “You're never here, Charles. I feel like I’m living with a stranger instead of the man I fell in love with.”

“Well, maybe if you didn't make everything so difficult,” he snapped, his patience wearing thin. He doesn't dare to look at you, he can't bear to see the expression on your face.

You feel tears stinging in your eyes, a mix of anger and hurt washing over you. “I’m not making things difficult. I’m asking for us to work on our relationship, to make time for each other.”

“I don’t have time,” Charles shot back, his voice cold and distant. “This is the life we have now. Deal with it.”

“Is this really what you want?” you demand, your voice rising. “A relationship where we just coexist, where we’re barely holding on?”

He turns away from you again, his silence cuts deeper than any words ever could. You feel the despair, the realizations sinking in that your relationship might be beyond repair.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper, voice cracking with emotion.

“Then what do you expect me to do?” he retorted, his frustration matching yours.

“I expect you to fight for us, Charles!” you exclaimed, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I expect you to care enough to try.”

He doesn’t respond, the silence a stark reminder of how far you had both drifted apart. You wiped your tears away, feeling the weight of your crumbling relationship pressing down on your chest.

“If you can’t even talk to me, then maybe we’re already done.” you say quietly, the finality of your words hanging in the air.

He doesn’t protest, doesn’t reach out to you. You turned away from him, curling up on your side of the bed, feeling the emptiness of your once vibrant love surrounding you. As you stared into the darkness, you wondered if you had reached the end, if this was all the closure you would get.

As you laid there, enveloped in the silence that now seemed thicker than ever, you realised that something inside you had shifted irreversibly. The pain of his indifference cut deep, but so did the clarity that you couldn’t continue living forever like this, forever under the blue of his days.

The weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air, you couldn’t bear it any longer. With a shaky breath, you gathered your resolve and spoke softly into the darkness, voice trembling with both sadness and determination.

“I think… I need some time,” you began, your words tentative yet resolute. “Time to figure out what I want and what’s best for me.”

He turned to you then, his eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and resignation. “What are you saying?”

You struggled to find the right words. “I’m saying… I’m saying that I’m done, Charles. I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when it’s not. I deserve more than this.”

His expression hardened, a flicker of frustrations crossing his face. “So that’s it? You’re just giving up?”

“I’m not giving up,” you shot back, “I’ve been fighting for us for so long, but you… you're not even here, I can’t keep begging for your attention, for your love.”

Charles doesn't respond immediately, his silence echoing loudly in the room. You felt a wave of sorrow wash over you as you realized that your love had turned into a battlefield of neglect and misunderstanding.

“I thought we could fix this,” he finally murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe we could have,” your heart breaks with every word you utter. “But it’s too late now, I’m exhausted, Charles. I’m exhausted from trying to pretend like you care and for trying to fix something beyond repair.”

He sits up at your words, finally looking at you, the weight of your failed relationship heavy in his eyes. “I’m sorry, mon ange. I never meant for it to end like this.”

“Neither did I,” you replied softly, “But I can’t keep living like this. I deserve happiness. We both do.” he reached out to touch your hand, but you gently pulled away, the gesture feeling hollow now.

You sat there in silence, you knew that walking away would be the hardest thing you had ever done, but you also knew it was the only way forward.

Without another word, you stood up from the bed. Looking at him, the man you loved with all your heart but who had drifted away from you.

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” you tell Charles, and he doesn’t fight you, just wordlessly nods and longingly looks at you as you step away and into your living room.

You stood at the window of the hotel room, staring out at the city that had been your home for so long. The cobblestone streets, the azure waters, and the gentle hum of luxury. This place, once your sanctuary, now felt like a prison of memories that had soured with time. A reminder of a love that couldn't withstand the weight of reality.

Outside, the familiar sights and sounds of Monaco stirred memories that tugged at your heart— lazy afternoons by the beach, candlelit dinners overlooking the harbour, stolen kisses beneath the starlit sky.

But today, as the plane ticket lay on the table beside your suitcase, you knew it was time to leave Monaco behind. Despite the love you once felt for this place, you couldn’t ignore the ache in your chest, the realisation that your time here had run its course.

As you walked out of the hotel and down the winding cobblestone streets towards the waiting car you had called, you allowed a tear to trickle down your cheek because despite everything you really fucking loved Monaco. For so, so long.

But you’ll find somewhere new.

525 notes · View notes

evanchantingpeters · 5 months ago

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How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 7 - Final)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Summary ─ A couple of months after Jake’s (Evan’s friend) tragic accident left him fighting for his life in intensive care, Evan is spiralling, lost in despair, a shadow of his former self. Just as a sliver of good news about his condition offers a ray of hope, Y/N steps in, determined to bring some light into Evan’s shattered world. She starts with a seductive dance and builds to a night of passion. But Evan has a surprise—one that will change everything in a way Y/N never saw coming.

Warnings ─ Obscene language, lap dance, oral (both receiving), overstimulation, mild daddy kink, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cowgirl, missionary, extra smutty—like you like it.

Word count ─ 5.1K (I had a lot to say 🤫)

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

Previously on: How I met Evan Peters (Part 6)

“W-what’s up, Jeremy?” he stutters, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s Jake,” Jeremy blurts out, his expression twisting into one of anguish. “He’s fallen off the roof.” Jeremy’s words hit like a punch to the gut, the colour draining from Evan’s face. The room goes deathly quiet, the weight of his words sinking in. The room spins as everything comes to a screeching halt.

Two months after Jake’s accident

Thursday, 16:42 pm

You settle into the cosy corner of his New York apartment, the city’s hustle muffled by the soft hum of the radiator. A rustic wooden desk hosting your work setup and a quirky lamp, which has seen better days but adds to the character, stands against the wall. A plush bean bag chair invites you to sink in while a baroque rug sprawls beneath your feet, and a bookshelf stuffed with books and random knick-knacks lurks by your side. Sunlight streams through light, breezy curtains, making it a perfect workspace for your remote routine. With Evan busy with press and meetings for the next few weeks, this place feels almost like a retreat—if only you could shake off the looming frustration of the Excel table before you.

You’d think by now you’d have mastered the art of not losing your shit at work, being the corporate girlie you are, while dealing with this stupid spreadsheet, but nope. Here you are, puffing like the Big Bad Wolf trying to blow down formulas that refuse to behave.

As you’re fighting and suffering through, your hand drifts toward your phone. You know how it goes. Brain’s fried, and next thing you know, you’re aimlessly scrolling through the endless pit of Instagram reels without even realising it. Well, this time it’s Evan’s name glowing like a beacon of your favourite “distraction,” and your stomach flutters, your heart racing.

Oh, hello, messages!

You open the chat, expecting a quick “I’ll be back in 10’, baby. Can’t wait to kiss you” text or maybe a meme about cats judging people (you know, standard fare). Instead, what do you find? A picture. But not just any picture. Oh no, this man, YOUR man, is standing there in a white tee, his pose giving swagger “yo” next to Todd McFarlane, a comic book legend. The whole shebang.

And here comes the string of messages:

“Babyyyy, look - Todd McFarlane in da house for the press conference!!”

“he’s signed the Amazing Spider-Man hardcopy!!”

“ill bring it home and we frame it ;)”

“we’re going live.. tune in xx”

“changed into the blazer and stripy tee you picked for me. Love you so ♥️”

Let’s pause here. Not at Todd McFarlane – who, mind you, is hands-down a god in his domain, but no. Your eyes, traitors that they are, keep sliding back to that picture of Evan.

Because damn.

Todd’s cool and all, but Evan in that white tee and messy curls? Where do you even begin? The man looks like he rolled out of bed straight into a photoshoot and decided to smoulder for no apparent reason. You know the one—that half-cocked sly smile that screams, “Yeah, I know what I’m doing to do, and you’re welcome.”

You catch yourself zooming in and drooling over him like a total goofball. The scrunched-up grimace. The luscious Tarzan hair. The way his eyes carry a hint of sadness and fatigue but with residues of that familiar spark he always has. It’s weird how something as simple as a picture can make your heart do that silly backflip thing over and over again after more than a year with him.

Snap out of it, girl. Spreadsheet’s waiting. But no, instead of getting back to formulas, your brain takes a little detour down Memory Lane. Suddenly, you’re remembering the last time Evan was kneeling in front of you. Not in some adorable, “let me tie your shoes, princess” way, but more of an arousing “let me worship you, queen,” Roman Empire situation.

Oh, yeah. That night.

You’d seized your throne aka that big armchair in the middle of the dimly-lit living room. And there he was, on his knees, completely surrendered to you. His tongue was lapping on your wet folds like you were the sweetest cake frosting he’d ever tasted. His slender fingers were plumping in and out of you in all the right spots as he slurped up your syrups and juices, sucking on your clit like it’s cherry on dessert.

His tongue would thrash and french kiss your puffy sobbing walls up near the throbbing bulb of your sensitive clit. You tugged on his hair, his brown curls wrapped around your fingers like reins as he pulled you apart, inch by inch. Your jaw tightened as his tongue and fingers mercilessly rutted into you, giving you crazed whiplash as you squirt, all while licking you clean with eager choked moans.

Your body tremors and orgasmic vibrations were seismic… just like they are now as your cunt pulsates and aches for him, even though you’re sitting at the dining table, fully clothed and miles away from him.

Funny how memories can sneak up on you like that, isn’t it?

But here’s the kicker. As much as you’d love for a repeat performance, that’s not where you guys are at these days. Not since Jake fell off the roof at the party he hosted at his place. You get it–one of Evan’s best friends is in a hospital bed, clinging to life while in a coma, and Evan’s drowning in his own sea of emotions and sorrow. The man is dragging so much weight on his shoulders right now.

And you respect that. You really do. Your sex life has justifiably taken a backseat, but you’re not here to push or force him. What you have and share with him isn’t mere lust; you love him, and you acknowledge that he’s having it rough at the moment. You’ve been trying to be his rock, the one who keeps him grounded while he navigates the heavy blizzard of the tragedy.

But you can’t help it.

Sometimes, your mind slips back to those sizzling moments where your bodies speak in a language only you two comprehend. Because, let’s be real—he might be wearing the blazer you chose for him in the morning, but under all that fabric, you’re the one who gets to undress the real Evan. And if that’s not worth waiting for, you don’t know what is.

You sigh, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, but you’ve left the spreadsheets and work far behind with all those cheeky little fantasies that gnaw on your brain. Still knee-deep in wet daydreams of Evan and his—well, *coughing* talents, when the universe decides to slap you in the face with reality.

That “we’re going live, tune in xx” text blinks back at you from the chat, practically yelling to stop fantasising and actually be the supportive girlfriend you claim to be.

Gasp.

Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. Gasp again.

The press conference! You need to watch it. Like, now.

You scramble up from the table so fast, you’d think the chair is lava, and launch into a desperate hunt for the TV remote. The remote is like a cryptid—always hiding in the most inconvenient places at the worst times. Last week? In the fridge. Don’t ask. Today? Who knows. You’re flipping couch cushions like you’re on an archaeological dig.

“WHERE IS IT?!” you yelp, your high-pitched voice bouncing off the walls like you’re a banshee in panic mode. Female rage core.

Nowhere. Absolutely nowhere. It’s like the remote’s decided to pack its bags and set off to Narnia with no return ticket.

Curse you, technology masterminds.

Plan B.

You rush back to your laptop, slide your fingers along the trackpad to wake it up, and—oh no, what’s this? Your whole screen’s been hijacked by the most evil of phrases:

Software Update: 30% Complete.

Are. You. For. Real.

You stare at the loading bar like you can will it to go faster. Or pretend you’re not watching, so it speeds up. Smart but nah, that’s placebo—no such luck. This thing is moving slower than a Monday morning during rush hours, and if you wait for it, you’ll be watching Evan’s interview in the past tense or through his narration once he’s back home.

You let out a huff that could probably power a small wind turbine and whip out your phone, praying to every deity that your Wi-Fi doesn’t fail you amidst crisis.

“Come on, come on,” you mutter through gritted teeth, frantically tapping apps like your fingers are on caffeine overload. And just when you think someone is playing another cruel trick on you—boom, there it is. The live stream.

The screen lights up, and there comes baby Evan on stage, looking all sleek and profesh in his blazer (you knew the combo with the stripes underneath would work wonders *proud stylist smiling*). He’s sitting on a stool along with his co-stars, all of them gathered in this massive amphitheatre for their upcoming movie press tour.

He’s got the mic in his hand, finishing up a sentence with that smooth, husky tone. You know, that voice that sounds like a lullaby wrapped in velvet. But there’s also the twist of dorky humour and the cute brow furrows he taps into when he’s either totally in his element or way too awkward.

The interviewer gives him a nod, then sighs. Your stomach drops.

The next question is about Jake, as he’s guy well known for scripting some of the most beloved TV shows. If there were a Hall of Fame for TV writers, his star would be as big as a small planet. He’s adored by fandoms for his wit and creativity, and now you’re all grappling with the fallout from his misfortune.

You can see the shift in Evan’s face from media charm to something… darker, melancholic. He’s trying so hard to stay composed, but you know him. That tiny flicker of anguish behind his eyes filters through the cracks.

Evan takes a sharp breath and clears his throat. “Yeah, Jake was moved from LA and remains in ICU here in New York,” he admits, voice steady but edged with quiet vulnerability. “But there’s… a... there’s a glimmer of hope. He moved his hand today.”

For a second, the world stops spinning. Did he just say—? He moved?!

Your heart does a somersault, and you can’t help it—you cheer and clap right along with the audience, even though you’re alone in the living room in your mismatched socks, overstretched yoga shorts, and messy bun. Who cares, honestly? Jake moved his hand.

Evan lets the crowd’s enthusiasm bubble up for a second before he delicately taming it. “It’s good news,” he continues, his voice like a fuzzy blanket, soothing yet cautious. “But let’s not start planning the parade just yet—there’s a long road ahead for him. We’ll have to see how his health evolves from here. I just wanted to share this little nugget of hope. His family’s already spreading the word, and they gave me the green light to pass it on to all of you.”

There’s a tightness in his voice, and you can tell he’s got a fortress built around his emotions, probably fighting not to let it crumble in front of all those people and cameras. Your baby’s always been strong like steel this way, the type who carries everyone’s baggage on his shoulders without ever letting on how heavy it is.

You sit there, phone in hand, staring at his face on the screen. There’s so much going on behind those eyes, and you know he probably feels like crap underneath that calm exterior.

You wish you could reach through the screen and just be there with him in a “I’ve got you, you’re not alone” kind of way. You’ve been weathering this storm together, and it’s been tough as hell. It’s taken everything in him just to stay afloat, but he’s doing it. He’s really doing it...

There’s something about post-work Thursdays that sends you into this frantic, impulsive must-clean-everything-in-sight mode. Not that Evan cares if there’s a pile of laundry in the corner or if the dishes are threatening to stage a rebellion in the sink, but still. He doesn’t expect you to tackle it all just because you’re working fully from home; he can do it himself, but you want the place to look neat and tidy. You know, like “I have my life together and didn’t just spend the last two hours binge-watching cooking videos on YouTube” level of very demure, very mindful adulthood.

So here you are, in full-on cleaning tornado mode—scrubbing the counter with the kind of intensity that could probably burn calories—when your ears perk at the rustling sound.

That magical jingle of keys. The ignition. The click of the door unlocking.

Baby Evan’s home.

You drop the sponge like it’s on fire and just bolt. You don’t even think. It’s pure instinct, like you’re a puppy who heard the treat jar open. Your pulse leaps, your feet fly, and before you know it, you’re flinging the front door open just as he steps in. And there he is.

Your man. Your whole heart.

He’s got his arms full—takeout bags in one hand, his backpack slung over his shoulder, looking more mouth-watering than anything that could possibly be in those containers. His hair’s a little ruffled, his shirt rumpled from the day, but to you, he might as well be walking straight out of a rom-com.

“EVIEEEE!” you squeal, pouncing at him with the enthusiasm of a kid on a sugar high.

“Whoa!” he chuckles heartily, catching you mid-air. He spins you around even though you can sense the stiffness in his body as he battles not to drop the dinner. He’s out of breath, but he holds you tight, like he’s afraid to let go. His backpack slides down his arm, and for a second, you’re just tangled together—glued around him, his hands grasping on you firmly.

“Couldn’t wait to see me, huh?” he teases, his voice hoarse from the long day. But you can see it in his eyes—he’s just as hyped to be back in your little cocoon as you are.

“You have no idea,” you breathe, and before you can utter anything else, his lips are on yours, kissing you like he’s been starved for weeks. You’re pretty sure you hear the bags crinkle between you two, but whatever… they can wait.

It’s not just a kiss. Oh no, this is the you-just-got-kissed-senseless kind that says, “I’m never letting you out of my reach again.” It’s deep and sloppy, and you feel it all the way down your toes. Little lewd moans escape your bodies as your tongues greet each other, swirling around in a lustful dance. He tastes like toffee, baby powder, warmth, comfort, and home.

You melt into each other, completely forgetting about the bags or the fact that you’ve still got soap on your hands. You twirl faster together as his hands mischievously squeeze your ass, making you giggle into his mouth.

“I was counting the hours to get to you, Y/N, and time was a total bitch today,” he grumbles, and it’s a husky purr near the nape of your neck. Your plump lips curl into an “awh, my poor baby” pout, cupping his cheeks in your palms as you swarm his face with little pecks.

When he finally sets you down, you’re both grinning like idiots. Your heart’s doing cartwheels, and your stomach feels like you’ve swallowed a whole bunch of butterflies. You missed him. Not just having him around, but all the little things tied in—his laugh, his hands on you, the way he stares at you like you’re a precious gem.

Closing the door behind you, you pace together towards the kitchen, and get the itch to drop the question, “Did Jake really move?” Your voice is hopeful, but there’s a little tinge of fear there too. You know how much this means to Evan, so you need to tread about cautiously.

He pauses, chucking his backpack aside before turning to you. His eyes soften, and he nods, stepping closer. His hands find your waist again, his face buried in the crook of your neck. “Yeah. He really did.”

Before you can even process the relief, Evan’s lips are on yours again, soft whimpers rolling off him. This time, the kiss is slower, more tender like silky ribbons on your mouth. His lips trail from your mouth down to your neck, his breath tingly against your heated skin. “Gosh, how much I needed you today,” he whispers between kisses, his voice dense with emotion as he presses his mouth lower, toward the neckline of your sports bra. His fingers gently graze your sides and rest on your hip bones before massaging your ass, and your breath hitches.

You thread your fingers through his hair, feeling the tension melt out of him as his body leans into yours. “Me too,” you huff out, because honestly, you feel like you’ve been holding your breath all day, just waiting for him to come home.

But then you pull away slightly, the thought of Jake scratching the back of your mind. “Can we go see him now?��

Evan sighs, resting his forehead against yours for a moment, his breath warm and steady. “Not tonight,” he exhales, taking a couple of steps back. “It’s just family. They wanna keep it low with the visits.”

You shake your head in acknowledgment, nervously biting your fingernail. You get it—you really do—but there’s still that little sting of disappointment tugging at your chest. “How ‘bout tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, glancing over at you again as he tears the bags apart and unpacks the food. “We’ll try tomorrow afternoon. His family’s still adjusting, but I’ll talk to them.”

The relief that washes over you is like a pleasant, summer breeze, calming your frayed nerves. Tomorrow. You let out a breathy, “Okay, great,” your shoulders finally loosening. As you approach him to help dispose of the bags, Evan’s hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist in one quick, playful motion, pulling you flush against him.

You barely have time to gasp before his lips crash against yours, his tongue barging in your mouth without warning, assaulting yours in tantalising ways that are better left unsaid. You loop your arms around the back of his head and drag him closer, your tits cushioning his shredded chest.

“Don’t leave, please,” he hushes, his lips caressing yours. His voice is huskier now, a bit rougher around the edges, and you can feel the warmth from his body merging with yours. His free hand slips down to the supple flesh of your waist again, fingers curling just under the hem of your top to tuck underneath.

You smirk against his mouth, tilting your head slightly. “You know, we do live together, sir” you tease, playfully pinching the tip of his nose.

“That’s a reminder in case you forgot,” he quips, nuzzling into the slope of your neck. His broad shoulders are curved over you from behind like a shield, throwing every organ in your body on high alert, your heart drumming violently.

He pulls back, and before you can react, he gives your ass a quick, cheeky smack that makes you jump. Your mouth drops open in surprise, but he just grins smugly, like he’s fully aware of what he’s done, and he’s proud of it.

“Hey!” you whimper, swatting at him, but there’s no denying your pulse thumps fiercely.

“What?” he squeaks sheepishly, throwing his hands up in exasperation, but the glint in his eye gives him away. “You look too good to keep my hands off. Plus, guess who was stuck in my head the whole day. Hint—it’s not the burgers,” he fires back, waggling his eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes comically, but your heartbeat is up now. There’s something about the way he’s staring down at you—like he’s hungry, and it’s not just for the takeout. You notice it when he leans in again, this time with a heat that wasn’t there a moment ago. His lips trace a line of open mouthed kisses from your jaw to your collarbone. Your fingers twist around his shirt, gripping it, as his hands roam a little lower, tugging you closer until you can feel every ounce of him pressed against you.

“Speaking of burgers, if food’s your love language, then you’re speaking mine fluently,” you chuckle, but the second you catch the look Evan gives you—whoa, buddy. Food’s officially second on his menu. His eyes are a pair of flamed balls, fixed onto you like you’re the main course, dessert, and everything in between—like you’re the most appetising thing in the room.

And, let’s just say, he’s a lot more “warmed up” than usual. His kisses grow deeper, rougher, and the way he’s touching you are the real giveaway… The man’s practically simmering.

And oh, honey, you’re more than pleased to help him get away tonight. So, in your most casual, not-at-all-planned-in-your-head-already way, you decide tonight’s the night to put up a show… Literally.

You let your hands glide down his chest, feeling every erratic beat of his heart beneath his shirt. “You’ve been through a lot lately,” you murmur softly, your fingers dipping lower until you’re just hovering over his belt buckle, toying with the metal. “How about I pamper you tonight?”

You let your tongue slide over his upper lip, and damn if he doesn’t shudder. His eyes flash with thrill and curiosity—mixed with something darker, more primal. “Oh?” His voice comes out in this sexy rasp like he’s intrigued but still playing along, letting you lead for now.

You bite back a smug grin. Oh, you have no idea what you’re in for.

With a playful wink, you step back, making sure to drag your hand across his chest one last time. “Sit tight, big boy,” you purr, backing away with just the right amount of sway in your hips. “This show’s just getting started.”

You saunter down the hallway, feeling his gaze burning a path down your back. You can feel your heart pounding as you head into the bedroom, closing the door behind you. The second it clicks shut, you lean against it for a second to catch your breath. The adrenaline makes your hands quiver a little as you rummage through the drawer.

There it is: that little black number you’ve been saving for a night just like this.

A lacy, black lingerie piece, sheer in all the right places, hugging curves like it was made for you. You shimmy it on, adjusting the straps, making sure everything’s sitting just so.

A quick glance in the mirror as you set your hair free from the bun—tousled, sexy-but-effortless vibe, check. The lace hints at more than it conceals, and your lips curl into a slow smile. Oh, yeah, he’s done for. You toss on a silky robe, leaving it untied, the lace peeking through just enough to give him a preview. A little fragrance spritz and a light touch of your lipstick, and you’re sorted.

When you open the door and walk back into the living room, you find him perched on the couch, his eyes snapping to you like magnets, intense and feral, as you come into view. His posture is stiff, knuckles blanched as they grip the cushions like he’s holding on for dear life. His pupils, wide and black with want, devouring the sight of you as if you are something forbidden, yet irresistible.

His gaze lingers, darkening when it catches on the soft peek of skin where your robe parts. He swallows hard, audibly, and when you let the silky fabric slip from your shoulders and pool at your feet, his jaw clenches—hard (hint: and not just his jaw).

The low light of the room encases you as it casts a sensual glow over the room, deepening the shadows and sharpening the tension between you two like a blade.

“F-fuck,” he wheezes, like the breath’s been knocked clean and shallow out of him. He tries to maintain some semblance of self-control, but the sharp despair in his voice betrays him. He sinks deeper into the couch, spreading his legs slightly, shooting you this look that’s pure, unfiltered desire as he drinks you in.

You want to torture him, enjoying how his gaze rakes over every inch of you, so you slowly strut over to him. Each step is deliberate, your hips swinging in a slow, intoxicating rhythm that’s nothing short of tempting. His composure slips just a little more—a twitch in his jaw, a harsh swallow, the way his chest rises and falls, faster with every second. His eyes flick down to the curves, then back up to your scandalous tits before snapping back to your face.

The heat from his body radiates into yours as you come to a stop, your thighs rubbing against his knees, and his hands instinctively move to grab your waist. But you’re not giving in that easily. “Uh-uh,” you purr, wagging a teasing finger at him, your lips forming a sly smile.

His fingers freeze, but his eyes burn with frustration as you stretch, purposely slow, letting your ass hover just above his lap. The unmistakable press of his hardness through his jeans sends a jolt of arousal through you, and you can’t help but smirk. “I’m in charge tonight, remember?”

Evan lets out a furious groan, his head falling back defeated against the cushions, hands flexing in silent restraint. The power you hold over him tonight? Oh, it’s delicious, addictive. You throw him one last, seductive glance before turning around, giving him the full view of your barely-there lingerie—delicate straps criss-crossing down your back and framing your ass like a gift he’s dying to unwrap.

You hear as a muttered curse slips past his lips, low and guttural. He’s so close to breaking, and you haven’t even actually started yet. You scroll through your phone’s playlist, cueing up the perfect song for the occasion. The room is soon filled with the slow, sultry beats of Beyoncé’s ‘Dance For You,’ wrapping around both of you like a spell. You start slow, letting the music guide your hips, rolling in hypnotic circles.

You saunter towards a nearby chair, aka your prop, bending over it as your body flows like liquid heat to the beat. His eyes religiously follow every motion, waiting, his breathing growing heavier like he’s holding on a thread with every flick of your hips, every arch of your spine.

You roam your fingers up my body, teasingly stopping at your hips before dragging them higher, skimming over your breasts. With agonising slowness, you untie your bra, holding his attention and eye contact hostage. The second the lace slips off your body, you toss it in his direction with a devilish grin. He catches it with a hungry grunt, burying his face in the fabric like a man possessed, his smirk turning malicious as he inhales deeply.

“God, you’re killing me,” he groans, eyes exploding with thirst for you. The sight of him, chest heaving, lips slightly parted—oh, it’s so sadistically satisfying.

You’re gonna make him beg for it.

Leaning forward, just enough for your bare breasts to graze his chest, you bring your lips up to his ear, hot breath fanning the side of his face, “Good,” voice dripping with a promise for more. You pull back just a fraction, your lips curving into a wicked smile. “I’m just getting started.”

You circle behind him, and he twists his head, tracking your every move, but you’re not finished (no pun intended).

“Please, Y/N. Come sit on my lap, or my face…just—” His voice breaks, raw and pleading, his body squirming as he shifts, desperate for release. The power thrumming through your veins is out of this world, and you bite your bottom lip knowing you’ve got him right on the edge.

You start with the lightest touch, dragging your fingers over the hard lines of his shoulders, tracing down the sculpted muscles of his chest, feeling the shudder that runs through him as you slide lower. Your fingers brush over the taut muscles of his thighs.

His stiff length twitches beneath your touch, his growl of desire low and animalistic. His hands stretch again, desperate to reach for you, but you chuckle softly, knowing he’s at your mercy tonight. His usual command is gone, flipped on its head, and that hunger in his eyes tells you he’s loving every second of it.

The music pulses through the room as you circle back around to him. You bend low, your curves on full display, just close enough for him to grab a handful of your ass with an eager groan that rumbles through his chest. He finally pulls you into him, lips attacking your skin, trailing down your spine with feverish kisses as he peels your thong off. His breath brushes against your slit and clit as he descends, his lips so dangerously close it sends your body humming with desire.

He can smell your fertility; the pheromones emitting from your body intensify his animal instinct to breed. His breathing is erratic now, his body practically vibrating with need to take you, but you still “hold the leash.”

He breaths come out in heavy bursts as he watches you straddle him, knees planted on either side of his hips. You grind down slowly, feeling the friction as you move in slow, sensual circles. His hands latch onto your thighs, his grip harsh and desperate, leaving marks that make your skin tingle. But still, you don’t let him seize control. Not yet.

Leaning in, you pepper steamy kisses along his neck, feeling his rapid pulse beneath your lips, your teeth tracing the sharp edge of his jawline. You tenderly bite at his earlobe, and he growls lowly, his hands spasming with despair to grab you, but even then, you won’t allow him to touch you the way he wants.

“The more you resist, the harder I’ll fuck you,” he warns with a hiss, his voice dark. It’s a threat and a vow all rolled into one that sends a heat pooling between your thighs.

“Perfect,” you retort in a hushed whisper against the shell of his ear, lips barely brushing the corner of his mouth—teasing but not quite giving in. “That’s the idea, baby.”

You’re serving cunt, and he knows it well.

With a slow, calculated slide, you lower yourself down his body, your hands stripping him of his blazer as you go. You let your hands trace over his thighs and the hardened, erected mound in between. Kneeling between his legs, you lock eyes with him, watching the way his breath stutters, anticipation swirling in the air. Slowly, you unbuckle his belt, your fingers stroking his length just enough to drive him nuts as he lets out a shaky gasp.

You pop the button on his jeans and pull down the zipper with your teeth. The second you free him from the tight confines of denim, his aching cock springs out, pulsing with raw desire for you, the fabric of his boxers barely able to contain him.

You glance up at him again with a smug smile before leaning down, your lips brushing along his head. His hips buck instinctively, a ragged groan tearing from his throat. But you take your time, taunting him with light flicks of your tongue.

Finally, you wrap your lips around him, licking his sensitive red tip with the end of your tongue. You swirl it around and lap up the shiny little pearls of precum that keep seeping out in his pent-up arousal. “F-fuuuck, Y/N. You’re gonna make me blow in a sec,” he grunts out with a hitched voice as you take his whole size in your mouth.

Your eyes flash up at him, filled with mischief as you take him deeper, your lips stretching to fit his full size. “Isn’t that the point?” you murmur, your voice on a seductive octave. “I want you to cum hard... fucking hard all over me.”

Your fingers trace the thick vein along the underside of his shaft before squeezing his hardness and pumping with a fast and firm tempo. Your hand works in sync with your mouth as you suck the upper half of his delicious cock, pulling him in and out, each movement making him gasp and buckle uncontrollably.

His head falls back, eyes screwed shut, muscles tensing. Some inaudible drabble slips off him as he thrusts into your mouth. Pools of saliva are pouring out of the edges of your lips, your eyebrows knitted together as you keep gagging at his cock hitting the back of your throat. You push further, your lips tight around him as you meet his gaze once more, your eyes wild with intensity. His fingers weave into your hair, but he doesn’t force you—he doesn’t have to. You’re in the saddle tonight, guiding him closer to his magical release.

Your hand reaches for his, fingers intertwining as your head bobs up and down on him, earning little moans of delight from his chest. He’s a hot mess; trembling under the weight of the pleasure you’re generously giving him as you slide your mouth down his dick, your cheeks hollowed in a blend of sensual sucks and frantic pumps.

The sound of you gagging, the wet slurp of your lips, and the way you glance up at him so innocently, brow furrowed with effort, has him reeling. “Ahh, yeah, keep going,” he breathes out, biting his bottom lip.

He gets a good yet gentle grasp of your hair, thrusting into your mouth in shallow, desperate strokes, but you maintain control, building him up slowly, methodically. He adores your lips, especially the way they loop around his dick and release these mewling sounds against it.

But now, his whole body is shuddering, his cock jerking inside, and you can feel the tell-tale sign he’s about to bust his load in your mouth. The blood rushes to his dick, draining any sane thought and cell in his brain, leaving him driven only by his primal instinct and craving for climax.

You slide onto his throbbing cock once more, gobbling on it like the insatiable whore you are. He presses your head down and keeps you there for a few seconds. As you detach from his member to draw a breath, his body immediately locks up, his abs contracting, and then—he’s there.

His head snaps back as he erupts shivering whimpers of your name, painting your face with copious amounts of his thick, white, and deliciously salty cum, his release spilling over your lips.

You open your mouth, tongue stretched out, catching the last drops as you pump him, milking every ounce of his release. His cum drips down your chin, and you let your fingers swipe off the remnants from your face, licking them off slowly, savouring the taste. Nothing goes to waste as you look up at him, lips wet, cheeks flushed with the aftermath of his orgasm.

“You’re one hungry bitch, aren’t you?” he rasps, his voice strained, still shaky from the intensity of his high. He laughs weakly, dragging his thumb across your cheek with a tender caress, though his hard-on still convulses, not quite ready to soften. He winces as he tries to adjust himself, zipping up his jeans with difficulty, but the look of satisfaction on his face is unmistakable.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, licking your lips as you flash him a sly, knowing smirk. His chest rises and falls heavily, his face reddish, eyes droopy, still lost in the haze of afterglow.

Without wavering your eyes from him, you crawl up and climb to his lap, feeling your pussy drip with every inch of his skin that presses against you. He ogles your naked torso like a dog drooling over the bone. You position yourself just right, his semi-clothed swollen tip nudging against your slippery entrance.

“I am hungry for you, baby,” you purr with a pout as your fingertips draw lazy circles over the ridges of his abs. His eyes darken, filled with a renewed lust as he watches you, licking his lips like a predator eyeing its prey.

Letting out a dark, throaty chuckle, he wastes no time—he hammers his lips against yours, shoving his tongue deep into your mouth and kissing you with reckless abandon. His hands greedily paw at your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, tugging them just hard enough to make you moan against his lips.

The arousal between you is electric as your body grinds against his, the friction sending sparks flying through you both; it’s like static rubbing off against each other, and you are about to feel yourself short circuit any minute.

His hands hook around your ass cheeks before delivering a sharp, stinging slap that makes you yelp in pleasure, the sound echoing through the room. You press your lips harder against his with a mewl, tongues tangling.

“Evan,” you hush out between sloppy kisses, barely coherent amidst loud teeth smacking and clashing together. All thanks to his fingers dipping between your legs, teasing your clit with maddening eights as he grins victoriously, knowing he’s got you right where he wants you.

“My slut’s ready for me?” he hums, giving your ass another smack, the sound of flesh against flesh making you quiver with delight. Your hips swerve on his raging boner, the body-against-body friction igniting an ever-powerful spark within you both. To say you’re a ‘mere’ tease for him is an understatement.

“You’re doing so good, my baby girl,” he gruffs, and his rough, veiny hands glide possessively toward your rocking waist as you begin to rub yourself against his thigh, slowly... teasingly. Every roll of your hips has him biting his lip, his eyes glued to the way your body moves against him.

“You’re in night care, baby boy, remember?” you hush, your voice laced with dominance as you lift your hips, fingers deftly undoing his trousers again. Your hand wraps around his cock, positioning him at your slick slit. Slowly, achingly slow, you sink down onto him, inch by inch. The stretch forces a moaning gasp out of you as your body adjusts to accommodate his size. Fiery electricity surges through you both, and he hisses watching as your pulsating pussy desperately tries to swallow his cock.

His hands tighten on your hips as you take him deeper, your nails digging into his biceps when he bottoms out, filling you completely. The fullness makes you shudder, your breath leaving you in a jagged burst as his tip presses snugly against your cervix. The deep groan that escapes his throat vibrates through your body, making you clench around him involuntarily, his hips stilling cautiously.

You start to move, rolling your hips in slow, languid circles, setting a rhythm that’s equal parts torture and bliss for both. His hands grip you harder, leaving faint red imprints on your flushed flesh, but he doesn’t push or pull—he’s letting you have the upper hand in riding him, his eyes dark and hungry as he admires you, mouth parted. The way he’s looking at you though? Like you’re a goddess descending from the heavens just for him. Oh, that does something to you.

“Look at you, baby. So fucking gorgeous, taking me like that,” he murmurs, pride and desire dripping from every word. A crooked smile is etched on his face hearing the sloshing whines squawk out of your poor needy folds as they cling to his cock. Every thrust, every grind, every little whimper from your lips makes his large member throb inside you, stretching you deliciously as you plop up and down on him.

You lean down, sealing your lips in a hungry, desperate kiss, your tongues twirling in a messy dance. It’s all teeth and moans again as he hits that sweet spot deep inside. It’s the type of kiss that makes time stop, like nothing else exists except for the raw, primitive connection between you two.

His hands trail up your bare back, fingers tangling in your hair, keeping you close as you grind down harder. Your bodies move in sync, perfectly attuned to each other, and you can feel his cock twitching inside you with every movement. His eyes dart down to your bouncing breasts and toned stomach, but you quickly grab his jaw, tilting his head up to meet your gaze. “Nu-uh,” you whisper against his lips, your voice tinged with authority. “Eyes on mine, boy.”

He lets off a hearty chuckle, even going so far as to wriggle your ass back against him. “You feel so damn amazing, baby,” he huffs, voice rough with desire, talking over your whiny babbles. He cranes his neck to kiss the edge of your jaw before tenderly nipping at the skin.

Panting heavily, you exhale, “I could do this all night.” Your hips move faster, sliding up and down his thick length, the friction sending bolts of euphoria through you. His breathing grows ragged, and you can feel the tension rising, winding tighter and tighter. You’re so soft—sweet gummy flesh compressing around him with such ease, wringing him tight like a vice. He chokes when your pussy flutters—the way you clamp down on his dick makes his body go slack and his eyes roll back.

He lets out a low groan, barely holding himself together as your walls squeeze around him. “Thaaat’s it, hngh. This pussy knows it’s place,” he grouses, and your eyes widen, realising the shift in dynamic—he’s reclaimed control, already winning ground, sis. Before you know it, his plumpish tip drills further between each corner of your dripping cunt. Your small sobs amplify as he starts to move beneath you, his hips thrusting up harder, making your entire body quake with each deep pound.

“I love fucking you so much,” he grunts, nearly whining, his head tilting back as his cock jerks inside you.

Before you can fully catch your breath, Evan’s grip tightens on your hips. With one fluid motion, he lifts you off him, his arms hook beneath your thighs. You gasp, caught off guard, your body hanging in his grasp as he stands up, practically growling with primal need.

“You’re mine now,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, sending a bolt of excitement straight down your spine.

Without hesitation, he spins you around, carrying you across the room, your legs instinctively bundling around his waist. You’re in such a sweet, sexual brain fog that it takes you a second to get what’s going on. With one swift movement, he sweeps his arm across the dining table, sending glasses, cutlery, and whatever else is there crashing to the floor in a chaotic symphony of clatters.

“Evan!” You giggle dazedly, hands clasping on his shoulders as he sets you down on the table, the cold wood against your back making you shiver—but not nearly as much as the fire blazing in his eyes.

He leans over you and shushes you with a kiss, his lips brushing against yours as he pushes your legs apart. “I’m not done with you yet.”

You don’t have time to argue—not that you want to. He grabs your hips, yanking you to the very edge of the table, his body wedged firmly between your legs. There’s no remorse in his eyes—just pure, animalistic desire. One hand snakes under your ass, the other glides down your left thigh, lifting it effortlessly over his broad shoulder. The way he leans down and looks at you now, almost in slow motion... gosh. It’s like you’re the only thing he’s ever needed… like nothing else matters but taking you right here, right now, and it sets your entire body on fire.

He wants to smash, and he’ll get it.

The scent of your cunt is intoxicating, stirring every primal instinct inside Evan that he knows he must keep in check. He draws his hips back slowly, only his tip nestling inside you, then jams just once inside you. Your whole body jumps at the impact, your pleading eyes boring deep into his, a breathy hum punched out of you. He pulls back and slams forward again, growling through his teeth. Your pillowy walls are cuddling him, his heavy balls aching to be drained, eager to breed the fertile womb his tip is wedged against.

His hands roam up your thighs, grasping you like he can’t get enough. With each slow, deliberate stroke, he sinks deeper into you, your body arching off the table in response. The sensation of him rutting in and out of your sobbing sex is overwhelming—every movement has your breath hitching, your fingers clutching the edge of the table, desperate for some kind of anchor.

Your orgasm is building again, fast and intense. As the pressure inside you give way to climax, tears cascade down your burning cheeks, your features contorted in ecstasy.

“E-Evan, I can’t take it! T-too much!”

He smirks, shaking his head. “Say please, baby,” he grits out, his voice low and commanding. His hips thrust into yours harder, making you lose all sense of logic. Your mind is blank, mouth hanging open, unable to form words as the pleasure consumes you.

“P-please,” a pained mewl tumbles out of you, and that single word tips him off the edge. His hips stutter, and with a series of deep thrusts along with a carnal chant of “ah, ah, ah, ah” pouring from his lips, he gushes inside you—creamy gooey ropes of cum dribble into you, not missing at all.

He’s panting heavily, hips jerking involuntarily as he empties himself, filling you to the brim with thick, sticky cum.

His groans of satisfaction blend with your breathy moans as you cling to him, feeling his weight stick against your skin like it’s adhesive. You bite into the soft skin of his neck, muffling your whimpers as he continues to thrust lazily, drawing out every last bit of his orgasm.

“Come for me,” he demands, his voice low and raspy, each word filled with the same raw desire that’s coursing through your veins. “I wanna feel you.”

That’s it—the words, the intensity, the feeling of him completely owning your body, claiming you in a way that makes your head spin—have you on a chokehold. You suck in lungfuls of air as the incoming pangs of orgasmic waves smash over you with impossible force. You can’t hold back the loud moans spilling from your lips, your body arching up and writhing beneath him as you come hard, your walls spasming around his cock.

He presses his forehead to yours, his hand gently stroking your cheek, his breath hot against your lips. Your body convulses uncontrollably in his arms as he rides out your climax with you, his cock still throbbing inside your over-sensitive core.

As you come down, your breaths laboured and uneven, he buries his head to your chest, his mouth warm against your skin as his kisses travel down to your boobs, his tongue flicking over your sensitive nipples. Each subtle touch sends aftershocks of pleasure through you, your body still buzzing from the intensity of it all.

You huff, a breathless laugh escaping your lips. “You’re a menace, you know that?” you whisper, still trying to catch your breath. But he’s not done yet. You giggle softly as he moves lower, planting tingly smoochies to your skin, his breath like a warm breeze against your thighs.

“You smell like honey… I wanna taste you,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into the soft curve of your inner thigh. His fingers part your sloping folds, spreading you open for him as he watches the glistening cum leak from your swollen pussy. His primitive need to eat you up tests his sense of control.

His tongue plunges between your labia, stretching them up with a slow and deliberate lick. Your thighs quiver around his head in the aftershocks of your climax, straining moans and semi-shrieks falling from your lips as his tongue dives deeper between your folds. The wet sound of him slurping up the mix of your juices and his cum is obscene, but it only drives you wilder, especially as he mumbles the moto, “Y/N... Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Your fingers lace in his drenched thick, curly brown locks, holding him in place. The untamed animal inside him is finally sated, fed well at the meal between your thighs. His teeth sink ever-so-lightly into the plump pout of your lips, and you can’t stop the desperate little wails flipping from your throat.

Your eager pussy can’t help but drool. Streams of your slick cascade down between the crevices of your thighs and coat the entirety of his fingers. With a rosy flat tongue, he pads and licks you clean, taking every few seconds to pull his fingers in—only to push them right back out. As he re-enters, he pokes against your g-spot again, and again, and again…

That’s all it takes for the sharp twisting coil to snap within you for the second time, and your thighs turbulently shake within his feeble grasp. “Fuck, fuck,” you choke out, your breath coming in hollow bursts as you feel his hushed praises and loving words ghost against your clit. You can’t stay still for the life of you—it’s as if every muscle in your body rips apart once you come into his mouth, your jaw slackened and your eyes widened.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” you ramble, and Evan’s still flicking his tongue against your sobbing slit.

You’re making a mess out of him, and he’s still eating it up—the dedication. His chin got such a pretty glimmer of shine all thanks to your slick running down. With an echoing pop, he slides his fingers off your pussy, stretching his digits further apart just to see how your sap glues against them. The shaking from your multiple orgasmic release keeps on, the ringing in your ears never subsiding.

“Mmph, Y/N. So beautiful,” he cries out, his voice cracking with emotion as he presses a kiss to your swollen, sensitive lips. Your sweet slickness smears against his stubble even more, but he couldn’t care less. All that matters is you, lying there beneath him, glowing with the outcome of your pleasure.

Evan’s gaze lingers on you for a long moment, his chest still heaving as he melts in the sight of you—flushed, trembling, thoroughly wrecked from the intensity of what just happened. His hand gently strokes your thigh, trailing up and down in soothing circles as the both of you come down from the high together.

Propping your weight on your elbows, you stare down on him, a lazy grin playing at the corners of your lips. You pull him up for a sloppy, rough kiss. Your fingers pinch on his well-defined jaw as he rests on top of her. You can feel his stiff length press against her stomach, and it feels great.

You reach up to brush his damp hair from his forehead. “You really know how to leave a girl breathless,” you mumble teasingly, though your voice is barely above a whisper, still catching.

A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest, and he leans into your touch, nuzzling his cheek against your palm. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispers, and you giggle softly, the sound light and airy.

You lay there for a while, the after-sex haze still buzzing through your veins. Evan’s sprawled out on the sofa, shirtless. His hair is all tousled, looking like some kind of model from a cologne ad—except sexier, and definitely more accessible. You watch him, feeling a dopey grin spread across your face. This man… God, this man.

You pull yourself up, snuggling into that familiar blue blanket from the edge of the couch—the one you always steal when it’s movie night, or when you’re feeling cosy after a particularly intense workout (aka “fuck time”).

“You look like a smurf burrito,” Evan quips, his hand lazily draped across his abs as he watches you pace around the room.

You snort, cuddling deeper into the blanket. “Better than looking like a sweaty, shirtless disaster.” You throw him a wink and a brow waggle, but honestly, the view is prime real estate right now. That man should charge admission.

He smirks smugly, running a hand through his messy curls. “Sweaty, shirtless disaster, huh? I was under the impression you were enjoying said disaster inside you just a few minutes ago.”

“Touché,” you giggle as you flop down the sofa, letting your head fall back against the armrest. “But the jury’s still out on whether I enjoyed it or tolerated it.”

“Oh, is that so?” His eyebrow quirks, and that playful gleam you love so much flickers back in his eyes. He leans forward, crawling towards you on the sofa with that predator-like grace, his hands landing on either side of your bundled-up self.

“Maybe.” You bite your lip, trying to keep a straight face, but your heart's already doing flips at the way he’s looking at you. Damn, those eyes.

“Hmm. Well, maybe I should just—” Evan dips down, his lips grazing your ribcage, making you gasp. You wriggle away playfully, pulling the blanket up higher as if it’s some kind of armour.

“Okay, okay! I loved it. Five stars on Yelp, glowing review and a side of fries.” You’re laughing now, barely able to keep up the act.

Evan chuckles triumphantly, that warm, rumbling sound that makes your pulse leap in your throat. “Five stars? Well, that must make me the Michelin Man of love.”

“Please,” you laugh, “the only thing you’re qualifying for is most likely to be found with a pizza slice in hand.”

His grin widens, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. “Well, speaking of pizza, how about we start planning our wedding menu? I’m thinking pepperoni and extra cheese for the wedding cake. You know, something to make the guests feel like they’re in a pizzeria.”

You roll your eyes, giggling at his ridiculousness. “So, pizza-themed wedding, huh? What are we going to serve? Breadsticks as the bouquet?”

“Absolutely! And the best part? I’ll have a pepperoni ring!” He starts mimicking a ring toss, and you can’t help but crack up.

“Oh wow, my future husband is a real romantic,” you say, shaking your head in mock disbelief.

But then Evan leans in closer, his expression turning serious, and you feel the air shift. “But really, I want to make sure I don’t just slice into this whole ‘life together’ thing. I want to do it right. So, how about we order that wedding cake now because…” He reaches into his pocket, and your heart skips a beat as he pulls out a small velvet box.

You narrow your eyes in suspicion as you sit up. “What are you doing? Is this some kind of prank”

“Well, not exactly a prank. Unless you think proposing is some kind of joke.”

Your heart stops.

“What?” The word barely squeaks out, and you’re pretty sure your brain just exploded. Did he—did he just say proposing?

Evan’s mouth pulls into this soft smile, and before you know it, he’s dropping to one knee on the sofa. “I mean, I’ve got the ring and all that the protocol requires,” he mutters and your eyes bulge, mouth agape. “...and I don’t want to waste another minute from making you my wife!”

Your heart stops.

You leap up from the sofa, shaky hands flying to your mouth, shock flooding your system. The blanket almost slips off, eyes wide and heart pounding like you’re on the world’s most chaotic and steepest rollercoaster. Did he—did he also just say wife? “Are you serious?”

“Y/N,” he starts, his voice a little shaky but full of that Evan confidence that always makes you feel like the only person in the room, “I’ve been through a lot lately. We both have. But the one constant through it all—through the tough days and the good ones, the sleepless nights and the mornings I wake up next to you—is that I want every single day to be with you.”

Your eyes are already welling up, and you try to blink back the tears because oh my God, he’s really doing this.

“From the moment I saw you in that club, I never looked away. We started off with a bang, quite literally, but I’ve felt like I’ve known you my whole life and won the love lottery. You’re my jackpot. The reason I smile—even when I feel like I’ve hit every bump on the road. You make even the ordinary feel extraordinary, and I want to make this last forever.”

Your eyes are already welling up, and you try to blink back the tears because oh my God, he’s really doing this. Your pulse hammers so loud you swear he can hear it. And then it hits you. Yes.

“So here I am, making it official, ready to take a gamble on the biggest bet of my life. Will you marry me and make me the luckiest man on the planet?” He opens the little box, revealing the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen—a subtle and stunning band with a sparkling diamond that seems to catch the soft light of the room just right.

You can’t even form words. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish, and your heart throbs so hard, you’re sure it’ll burst out of your chest.

“You drive me crazy in the best way possible. You’re my best friend, my partner in crime, my favourite person to order burgers with. I want to spend the rest of my life making you laugh, making you mad, and maybe every now and then... sweeping plates off the table to get to you faster.” He smirks, his eyes twinkling.

“Evan!” you gasp, half-laughing through your tears, remembering the chaos from a few minutes ago.

He chuckles heartily, but there’s something so tender in his expression now. “So, will you do me the honour of marrying me?” He opens the little box, revealing the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen—a simple yet stunning band with a sparkling diamond that seems to catch the soft light of the room just right.

You can’t even form words. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish, and your heart is pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it. And then it hits you. Yes.

“Yes!” you shout, your voice breaking with joy as you toss the blanket aside and fling yourself into his arms, knocking him backward onto the sofa. He laughs as you straddle his waist, hugging him tight, tears of joy streaming down your face.

“I love you,” you whisper breathlessly, kissing him hard, your heart swelling with so much love it feels like it might burst.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, smiling up at you as you kiss him again, both of you tangled in this beautiful, overwhelming moment.

He slips the ring onto your finger, and you hold your hand up, marvelling at how perfectly it fits—how perfectly it all fits.

And as you both lie there, wrapped up in each other and the ridiculousness of the moment, Evan chuckles. “So, Smurf burrito, looks like you’re stuck with me for life.”

You laugh, smothering his face with smoochies of aggressive cuteness magnitude. “Lucky me. Now... about those burgers? I’m still hungry.”

Evan grins, pulling you closer. “First, how about I show you just how well I can speak your love language?”

“Burgers first, then more disaster sex,” you tease, giggling as he tries to tickle you.

“Deal,” he whispers, stealing another kiss, because honestly, in this moment, you’re the best thing on the menu.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling, @babymazz

Announcement

This might not be a forever goodbye, and who knows, a spinoff of this series might pop up someday, but this is going to be the final part, y’all. I’ll admit, I sometimes feel like I’m navigating through a tiny room with towering walls in this digital space; like my creative expression is being restricted and policed, and I cannot fully communicate or channel my “writing persona,” if you will, in here. Still, every bit of your love and support has made it worth it. I’ve poured so much into this world, and Evan, well… he’s been an incredible muse through it all. So, thanks a bunch, truly. xx

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chronurgy · 7 months ago

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Gortash Week Day 6 - Dealer's choice/AU (childhood)

She doesn’t know for sure that the boy living in her house is her son. She birthed him, sure, remembers that as well as anything. But if she hadn’t been there for it, she wouldn’t’ve picked this boy out as hers. He’s not like them. Not like her, not like his father. Not like anyone around the place, really.

When he was a baby, he was always screaming. Shrieking and fussing about some thing or another. And he was ravenous. Always grabbing her breast when he was smaller, never content to leave her be. Once he was old enough to eat solids, he would cram any piece of food he could get his greedy little hands onto into his hungry maw without so much as a by your leave. Like a bottomless pit, he was. And never grateful for any of it, either, the little snot. He stole, too, once he was big enough to reach the counters. How many times had she whacked his wandering hands with a spoon while cooking? Too many to count. And sometimes she’d catch him wolfing down some piece of food out in the alley behind the house she knew he couldn’t have stolen from her kitchen. She’d punish him for it, of course, give him a few good licks and lock him in the house, but he always got back out again eventually.

He was eerie, the boy that was supposed to be her son. Something lurked behind those dark eyes that spooked her. He just watched, watched them all unceasingly. At least when he wasn’t absorbed in one of those books of his. She’d certainly never taught him to read something like that, pages upon pages of dense little text and words near longer than her forearm. She’d taught him proper useful stuff, easy sums and enough reading to get by. He’d taken to it like a fish to water. And he just loved to flaunt it. Doing sums in his head, divisions even, without even counting on his fingers. He’d wait just long enough, long enough for it to be clear that she was struggling, counting on her fingers, before he'd announce the answer in that lackadaisical tone of his. He had no respect, that boy. He’d wormed his way into doing the store’s books and as soon as he had squirmed his way in, he’d started making demands, like he had the right. “Get a different leather supplier, Father” this, and “We haven’t got the money for that this month” that. Insolent boy! What right had he to tell his parents – they who fed him and clothed him and kept a roof over his head – what they ought to do? What would a child even know about money? And no matter how often they told him to shut it, the boy insisted on clinging to the purse strings tight as a miser’s fist.

And he lied, she knew he did. She couldn’t prove it, but she knew. A mother always knows. She’d found some complicated little toy stuffed under his bed, something she knew she certainly hadn’t bought him. She didn’t see the point in such fiddly mechanical bits of junk for children. When she’d confronted him about it, told him he couldn’t be stealing things like that, the boy’d had the very nerve to insist that he’d made it himself. Sometimes a bit of punishment would get him squealing, get him to admitting the nasty things he’d done. But just to spite her, the wretch had refused to admit his lies. He’d curled his stringy body around the thing as though to protect it and not spoken a word, barely even let out a whimper. Even when she’d got her hands on the thing, even then he’d refused to give up the lie. She’d had no choice but to smash it. She couldn’t have something like that in the house where the guard might find it and know it was stolen. Then he’d begged. Then he’d screamed. But even then, he had refused to tell her the truth. He’d had the nerve to fake tears for the dammed piece of junk, as though he’d cared about the damn thing. And when she’d told him to stop with the crocodile tears, he’d had the audacity to pretend to be afraid of her, cowering there with his hands over his head like he’d thought she would beat him. She’d seen the gleam in his eye though. She knew it was all some petty child’s manipulation. The lies never stopped with that whelp.

Her husband has debts, she knows this. She doesn’t trust the boy, not at all, and she checks and double checks every bit of work he does on the books. She knows they’re deep, deep in the hole and only getting deeper with every month that passes. She also knows that there isn’t a way out, not for people like them. And then a woman arrives. She arrives at their shop one day, a day when Enver is out of her hair and off on the streets doing things only the gods know about. She’s short, with long, beautiful dark hair, hair like she’d had before her husband and that boy had turned her grey before her time. “I bring the solution to all your problems,” the woman had said without prompting.

And oh, she had. She really, really had.

#gortashweek #enver gortash #bg3 #sally flymm #no editing we die like men #please forgive any serious errors I really did type this up all in one go and then post it immediately

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ageofbajabule · 1 year ago

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Beautiful Boy | Josh Kiszka

Josh Kiszka x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, 18+ Allusions to Sex, Groping (Let me know if I miss any)

Word Count: 1.1k

Author’s Note: Honestly nothing crazy. This is just a little blurb I threw together after hearing that JOSH WAS WEARING EYELINER FOR THE HAMBURG SHOW! If he wears eyeliner for the next US leg, catch me dying in the pit for Pitt and Grand Rapids…

The next leg of the mighty Starcatcher World Tour has begun. Another month of endless traveling, soundchecks, interviews and shows. You loved the lifestyle you had adjusted too after agreeing to be Josh’s girlfriend 3 years ago. You knew what you were signing up for, and you never looked back. As long as you were beside him that’s all that mattered.

Josh showed you what it was like to love and be loved. He was the embodiment of love within itself. When you first met him you had only been newly single for a few months after a bad breakup. But when the two of you met one night at a small venue show, you hit it off immediately. Hangouts turned into dates, dates turned into nights tangled in each other's sheets. Then not too long after Josh was asking you to move in with him.

Josh had been thrilled when you agreed to move in, and said he was lonely in the mountains. And to say it wasn’t a dream to live in the mountains with the person you love most. You constantly thought your life was a dream and you constantly would pinch yourself for your own reassurance.

But when Josh had asked you to quit your day job and come on tour with him, you were absolutely hesitant. You had never left home, let alone left the country! But he was adamant that you came along as he would miss you too much, and how there was so much to see out in the world. And he wasn’t wrong.

In the span of 6 months you had seen more of the world than you had in the span of your own lifetime.

When you were on tour you had started to help out with the guys to get ready for their shows. Adjusting their outfits, fixing up Josh’s and Danny’s rhinestones. Even helping Jake adjust the sleeves to his suit jacket. Dreams In Gold was chaotic and thrilling. But when the guys were ready to announce Starcatcher, Josh had started to get more creative with his rhinestones and makeup for the shows.

When Starcatcher had finally been given to the world, the very first show Josh had you there applying his makeup and rhinestones. He was so nervous to be up on stage, as he always did get nervous before shows. But because a new era had begun and he was unsure if the fans would react well to it.

Jake had started to experience more with eyeliner for his stage presence. Whereas Josh, Danny and Sam wore eyeshadow and rhinestones for their presence.

Josh had been contemplating wearing eyeliner, but wasn’t sure he would look right with it. But Josh looked good no matter what, you were positive that if he came out covered in grease and dirt he’d still be the most attractive man you ever laid your eyes on.

“Do you think the eyeliner will look okay…” He paced around the dressing room.

“Josh, baby… You look absolutely stunning with the eyeshadow and rhinestones. Why would you think the eyeliner won’t look good?” You pulled out the waterline eyeliner out of the makeup bag.

“Will it be too much?” He kept pacing around. You stood up from where you were sitting, walking over to Josh you stopped him in his tracks kissing his lips softly.

He relaxed in your touch, kissing you back softly. Pulling away slowly, you cupped his face in your hands staring into his eyes.

“You worry too much… and besides if I remember correctly. Didn’t you say ‘Fuck fear’?” You giggled softly, pulling him over to sit back in the chair across form the one you sat in not too long ago.

“I did, didn’t I…”

You nodded, grabbing the eyeliner pencil and removing the cap. You grabbed his face gently, careful to not ruin the work you had finished a couple minutes ago.

“Now, just relax Joshy. It will take two minutes and then you can look in the mirror and see for yourself how good you look.” You kissed the tip of his nose, earning a grin and rosy tinted cheeks from him.

You held his face gently, using the eyeliner pencil to apply the black makeup to his waterline gently. He handled it like a pro, but he had let you experience a ton of makeup looks on him. He was such a good model for you.

After the two minutes of applying it to both eyes, you pulled away smiling contently at the final look. You grabbed the mirror and handed it to him.

“All done…”

He grabbed the mirror turning it to face him, he looked in amazement. The pop that the eyeliner did for his beautiful brown honey eyes and the way the liner complimented the silver eyeshadow. He was in shock.

“Wow… mama. You are god sent.” He chuckled softly, checking himself out in the mirror before setting it down. He pulled you into his lap.

“You are my beautiful boy…” You giggled softly cupping his face into your hands kissing him softly. He hummed against your lips, pulling your hips down and grinding into you.

You gasped slightly as you could feel him hardening beneath you.

“Joshua, we don’t have enough time…” You giggled softly as he peppered kisses along your neck.

“Mama… we have plenty of time.” He started to grab your ass, rubbing it softly before giving it a swift crack that made you yelp, but soothing it afterwards.

“No we don’t! The last time we got tangled up in the dressing room you were late to the stage for the curtain drop!” You smacked his shoulder softly.

“Yeah… Daniel will never let me live that down.” He chuckled softly.

“However… if you’re a good boy tonight. Perhaps afterwards you get rewarded.” You said in a sultry tone against the shell of his ear, licking and nibbling softly. Eliciting a moan from his lips to fall.

“You are going to be the death of me woman…” He chuckled softly.

You giggled standing up from his lap, as he started to readjust his new jumpsuit. A velvet silver jumpsuit that adorned his body well. And the jacket sitting on the hanger he pulled off that had been very similar to Jake’s.

“You look absolutely beautiful…” You blushed, helping him adjust his suit.

“Well with your help of course.” He kissed your cheek softly, before grabbing your ass again.

He started to whisper in your ear, “Just don’t forget who is in charge here though…” He said in a low register tone voice, which sent heat to your core. You were sure your panties were ruined by the arousal that pooled there.

“Good luck baby…” You tapped his ass softly, as you ushered him out to get mic'd up.

“I will see you back in the hotel room tonight, mama…” He smirked softly before getting mic’d up and hitting the stage.

Taglist -

@lyndszee @fkfearandliveyourlegend @starcatcherry @hi-hi-hello11 @gvfmuse @meetingthestardust @myleftsock @thunderstomp-and-tequila @sinsofstardust @vanillabear27 @dharma-divine33 @holybananafuck @thecoldwind @ieatedsammy @gretasfallingsky @char289 @blacksoul-27

#greta van fleet #gvf #josh kiszka #josh gvf #josh kiszka fluff #josh gvf fluff #joshua kiszka fic #joshua kiszka #gvf smut #greta van smut #gvf fluff #josh kiszka greta van fleet #greta van fleet fluff #josh greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van fluff #josh kiszka smut #josh gvf smut

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eurydicesflower · 1 year ago

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speak now (lty)

Pairing: Taeyong (NCT) x Reader Tags: Royalty AU, Arranged Marriage Warnings: None Word Count: 10.4 k Summary: Nothing had seemed to prepare you for this moment when you realize you were standing in the middle of a wedding. It is not something you had planned inside your mind, but here you are. A/N: This was posted a month earlier on AO3, and I keep on forgetting I should post this here as well 😭 Also, this was supposed to be part of my entries for ficwip 5 k challenge but I got carried away. Anyways don't forget, FACT CHECK on OCT. 6!!!!!! Also posted on: Archive of Our Own

Nothing had seemed to prepare you for this moment since this is not something that you had planned inside your mind. Days before the wedding day, this only slipped inside your mind, but you never wanted to make this real but today, you are in the middle of the aisle, dressed in your pretend baker clothes— why you were dressed like that was not the main point— because right now, the wedding guests are peering, and waiting for you to speak whilst the blushing bride and the handsome groom stand there expectantly, a surprised look painted in their faces especially from the bride.

“What are you waiting for? Speak now— are you against this wedding?” The preacher asked you, snapping you back from reality.

So, what really had happened before this? How did you find your way all the way to a wedding uninvited? Because honestly you are not that type of person who would just barge in a white veil occasion without logical reason.

So, for starters: the ballroom is not as memorable as you thought it was.

The time where you two were dancing all alone was the day you have said you were deeply enamored towards the prince; he has his pretty smile and his brown velvet eyes boring in your own eyes, and the soft chuckle from your lips as he almost tripped on his feet which was merely intentional. The prince was well-versed with dancing, he only wanted to see you smile that night. He matched your joyful smile you had that night with an enamored grin. That night felt so wonderful, the butterflies inside your stomach could burst out with giddiness and flutter around the ballroom, soaring, but the difference was that instead, locusts might be the one bursting out because as of the moment, instead of you dancing with him, he was out in the ballroom dancing with the woman he was about to be married with.

Oh, how you missed that feeling instead of the green-eyed monster eating all of your insides.

Do you think he had said the same words he had whispered in your ear? Does she also get those warm and fuzzy feelings inside her chest as he says all those words?

Maybe your mother was right. Men are the same. They always know how to make a woman swoon, no matter who and where they are. Because how in the heavens he was dancing with the woman when you caught his eyes focused solely on you. Not to indulge with your delusions, but you genuinely feel so bad for the lady. Yet of course, you love this attention that he was giving you in spite of it all.

Stolen glances, and longing stares in the ballroom should not be as hard as this. You had done this before and yet, the feeling of loving someone who wasn't destined to be yours crushing your soul as deep as the pits of the underworld. You should have known of this yet you still yearn to this day that you should love someone without the scornful looks from the public's eye. How could you even live and give in with secrecy?

The number one gossip you had remembered from one of the servants was that: The princes are not allowed to marry anyone below their status, and if they do, they are a disgrace to this kingdom, the One-to-Seventh of the Southern Mountain province. The conservative values that were instilled centuries ago were still preserved until the present times. Since then, no one has dared to defy those traditions except there were a lot of royal families in the province who had not taken part of the traditions. Take for example the Prince of Evening Cross Outlands, Prince Chen. The public had only known of his private affairs after one of the stewards had announced his wedding. Of course, the people were angry, a lot of the women who were head-over-heels were angry at him. And yet, the marriage went on.

Thinking of that, the old servant lady who had relayed you the gossip might be shocked if he knew the prince of your kingdom is a rebel to their traditional values. He wasn't caught yet because he moves so quietly like a feline in the shadows. All of your hidden meetings were always calculated. Not one soul in the palace should know about it or else... Who knows what fate you could have?

Besides, while you two aren't caught, yet , you two have the pettiest of excuses, and people would believe it all.

“Your highness, you wanted to see me?”

The prince’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw you in the room. Composing himself, he firmly nodded at you.

“I am in dire need of assistance for this book I was reading, and I need your help, Miss Librarian.”

A mischievous look in his eyes were only seen by your own while his loyal servant was too oblivious to know what he meant.

“Of course, follow me, your highness.” You stifled the giggle you had.

A soft chuckle left out of your lips as soon as you left the vicinity with the prince. There were soft kisses turned to heated moans as soon as you were led to his own chambers. Although you loved loving him in secret not until you slowly fell into his grace, there is that one morning when you woke up, you prop your arm to see him, peacefully sleeping beside you. How you wish one day you won’t be living like this behind the walls. How you wish you would never feel an afterthought, and will be permanently engraved in his heart and be shouted proudly around the kingdom. As selfish as it seems, you already knew that it might not happen unless the divines above would grant your wish.

“Do you really love me?” You then whispered as you traced his cheeks with your fingertip. You sighed deeply before you dressed up, and left his chambers quietly. You start to think what if the prince actually loves you but you wonder if that love you thought was real and not just a pastime during the night. You wonder if he would be like the prince of the neighboring kingdom, would Taeyong do the same for you?

“May I have this dance, milady?” Someone asked before you, snapping out of your trance. You almost jumped from your seat when you were surprised to see the General of the Green Knights was right here in front of you, dashing with his suit, and his styled hair.

“Oh, Sir John… you really don’t have to, I am fine in my seat, watching the party on the sidelines.”

The knight furrowed his brows as he looked you up and down.

“You were dressed so elegantly suited for the ballroom, milady, but you quite have the long face. What had troubled you to sulk in the corner? Was it because of a troubling, young prince—?”

You almost stood from your seat and swatted your hand fan on his arm, however, as scandalous and playful as it were, you decided to hold that thought. John was right. After all, John was one of your friends who you consider would not share your secrets to anyone. You even wanted to ask if John could read your mind, and know what is going inside your head, but you brushed that thought.

“Stop teasing, John. And do not address me like I am a noblewoman.” There was this cat-like smile on his lips as he watched you.

“I can stop addressing you ‘milady’ if you accept my request to dance with you, milady .” He keeps on teasing you until you eventually give in and extend your hand with a playful roll of your eyes.

“Milord.” You curtsied with a roll of your eyes.

“Milady.” He kissed the back of your palm before taking your hand. You ignore the fluttering feeling inside your chest which in your defense, John had done a lot of times but everytime he did it, it was an effective heart shaker.

As John walked you in the middle of the dance floor, you could feel all the eyes staring through you. Murmurs from different ladies were heard behind your back. In spite of it all, you ignored them except for one prying eye— the young prince. You can ignore all the gossip that surrounds you as you dance with the dashing knight, however, what trickled up your spine was that the prince was preying on you like a hawk.

“You seemed distracted, milady.”

“I am fine, John.”

“Fine? You mean you are seeing how Prince Taeyong was looking at you right now?” He smirked.

“Let's just dance, okay?” You then led him into a waltz in the middle of the ballroom.

The orchestra played in a waltz where it opens where it starts sweet, and as mellow as the ocean waves, until your bodies sway like the currents. All the people were mesmerized at the way the two of you were dominating the dance floor. The ladies had their jaws on the floor as they watched you. You are not the quite the dancer you were, but you had a great mentor, Seulgi, and thanks to her, you can show how you gracefully dance with a beautiful man. You both successfully caught the attention of everyone including the person you wanted to impress the most. Applause was heard as soon as you two finished dancing. You and John took a bow, and smiled at each other

“Milady, that was an eye-catching performance, or may I say you are a show-stunner.” You were stunned as soon as you lifted up your head and saw the one who complimented you.

“Your highness, it is a pleasure!” You curtsied quickly at him, hiding your flushed face from the prince.

'Get it together!' You screamed internally.

“I must say she was a good dancer as well as you, sir John. You did well.” The woman beside Prince Taeyong was Lady Gwendolyn, his soon-to-be wife.

The music started once again, and yet another round for dancing in the ballroom commenced.

You and John excused yourselves away from the royal couple. When you were about to step on the grand staircase, you forgot to bring your hand fan with you so you told John he should go first before you. As you look around for your hand fan from where you last seated, it wasn't there. You were about to give up and head back to your quarters when you spotted a familiar figure in the corridors, holding the same fan you were holding earlier.

“Your highness, what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be out with Lady Gwendolyn?”

“Lady Wendy says she was tired from all the dancing so I was out here, waiting for the owner of this hand fan to come back.”

“Oh, why thank you, your highness, I can now go back to my quarters, then.” You ignore his given nickname for the noblewoman.

You were about to take it from his hand and yet he didn't give it to you, raising the hand fan above his head. He did it as if he was playing a game with you. You sighed defeatedly as you looked at him.

“Your highness, I can't do this right now, we might get caught.” You said in a hushed tone.

“Oh, but when you were out with John, it was like you were tearing each other's clothes out in public. And, oh, the way you were looking into his eyes? What was that?” He sighed exasperatedly as his eyes darted out away from yours while his ears were turning red. And that's when it hits you.

“You're jealous? You're jealous of John?” You wouldn't believe what was happening right now, and good thing, there were no people around you who could witness this. You were holding your laugh out the way he is embarrassed and pouting right in front of you, you were so lucky to witness it and call him yours at first before he marries somebody else.

He was about to open his mouth for a witty retort, but he closed his mouth and sighed defeatedly.

“Forget it, meet me back in my chambers, and we'll talk about this, Miss Librarian .” He gave your hand fan to you before he would be teased to death in the middle of the palace's open corridors.

…

Taeyong stays silent as he gazes up at the ceiling as you rest your head on his chest. You didn’t engage with your usual frolicking with the prince tonight, instead, you only wanted to feel his warmth even if it meant to be the last time you will be wrapped around his arms.

“You will be marrying Lady Gwendolyn of House Song next month… I don't think we should continue this anymore, Yong...” Muttering his nickname was not meant for this sad feeling lingering on your chest. You can’t even look him straight in the eye because you already knew that this day would come. Although you wanted what they called the 'happy ever-after' like the old tales of princes and princesses, you remembered that all of those were only myths and not meant for someone like a commoner like you. You don’t want to tarnish the prince’s reputation after all.

“But don’t worry you can still visit me in the royal library, and we can still be friends even after this you know—”

“I don’t want this to stop…” This time, Taeyong drops down his gaze to meet your eyes, and caresses your cheek so that you can look at him.

“I know I sound foolish right now, and I know my ancestors would be rising from their graves right now if I attempted this one thing: loving someone like you. But I will promise you that I will never, ever, love anyone, even Lady Gwendolyn, but you. I know my engagement with Lady Gwendolyn has been already set in stone even when we were children and yet…” He took your hand in his own and kissed it before laying it down on his chest, having you feel the beat of his own heart. “I do admit that I am as uncertain with you for what's to come, but I am willing to commit, to the point of no return, bearing you my soul and my life, that I am bound to love you till the end.”

“Taeyong…” You were teary-eyed when he uttered those words to you. “I hope you are being true to your words, because I do not just simply give in with sweet words, Yong...” You tease him as you trace your hands on his chest.

“I know you, but you were here with me right now and I thank you for that, my love.” Taeyong chuckles softly as he resumes leaving small kisses on your wrist.

“Yong…”

“Yes?”

“I love you…”

He smiles and kisses your temple. “I love you, too…”

Silence befalls between the two of you. You watch his breathing carefully, and trace your hand on his chest.

“If you don't mind me asking, does Lady Gwendolyn already have suspicions about us?”

Taeyong falls silent for a moment. He sighs deeply and shakes his head with a smile.

“I don't think Lady Wendy would find out about our relationship but if she did, I won't let her harm you… I promise you that.” He kisses your temple softly, and you match his smile with a breath of relief.

Oh, you just wished you could just stay in his arms more than you wished for because the next day, you came unprepared.

There was a small banquet in the palace hosted by none other than Lady Gwendolyn. You were staying silent from the farthest seat from the noblewoman, but of course,

“Oh, our lovely guest, the Miss Librarian, what do you think about my dress?”

You don’t know how or why, but you don’t seem to like the aura Lady Gwendolyn gives off. Yes, she seems nice with the way you had conversed with her the past few weeks since the engagement was announced, but the more the wedding comes closer, Lady Gwendolyn is slowly giving off some wicked vibes. Maybe it’s just your problem, so you just brush it off.

“Your dress looks good on you, Lady Gwendolyn and it does suit you well.”

“Of course, the royal tailor was the one who was assigned to cater to my tastes! And soon enough, when I get to be wed with the prince, I will lavish myself with everything the royal palace has to offer!”

“Speaking of Prince Taeyong, my what a pretty couple you are!” One of the lady-in-waitings, Giselle, compliments.

The lady of the hour giggles behind her hand.

“I know right, however there is one problem… There is this that bothers me when I am with the prince…”

“Tell us, Lady Gwendolyn!”

“Don’t be afraid to tell us!”

“What was it?”

“Don’t tell this to anyone but… I heard that the prince unfortunately had his heart on someone else that's why he remains distant to me.”

A wonderful heated gossip caused exaggerated gasps from the mouths of the ladies except from you. Lady Gwendolyn’s eyes deeply seep through you. Deep inside the back of your mind, you know she was talking about you but maybe it was just you.

“Miss Librarian, are there any problems with that? Why didn’t you seem surprised about this?”

Were you that obvious? What face did you make in front of the women?

“I don’t get what you mean, Lady Gwendolyn, I’m pretty sure I am as surprised as Lady Aeri and Ning here.”

“Oh, anyway. As I was saying, Prince Taeyong had his heart on someone else. And I am quite nervous, girls. It seems he likes this cunning snake! What should I do?” The woman whined exaggeratedly as she wiped her eyes.

“Don’t invite that, snake!”

“Prince Taeyong shouldn’t fall in love with a snake!”

“What about you, Ms. Librarian? Don’t you have anything to say?”

“I just say don’t invite whoever that is, Lady Gwendolyn.”

"Thank you for your input because I will do what you'll say, ladies."

You don’t want to jump to any conclusions when Lady Gwendolyn grins at you. You don’t want to paint her as a villain inside your mind. Maybe it was just you, but you definitely do not like the way she grins at you.

…

Later that afternoon, you went back to your work in the library like nothing happened. You were listing the things that you needed to stock for the library. Sometimes you head town with Donghyuck but since John insisted on assisting you, Donghyuck will be staying here so that he can attend his library duties.

“Miss Librarian?”

Oh… Lady Gwendolyn. Why was she here? You wondered as you eye the noblewoman walking around all by herself. Her lady-in-waiting wasn’t around following her for some reason, and the banquet had ended hours ago! Why would she want to meet you here once more? What was she up to?

“Good afternoon, Lady Gwendolyn. What are you doing here? Do you need any books to borrow? I can get it personally for you.” Donghyuck greeted her with a smile yet the noblewoman eyed him from head-to-toe and brushed him off so that she could get to your table.

“I don’t need your help. Can you leave me alone with her?” She told Donghyuck when she had her back turned from him. Poor Donghyuck scurried away from the library, leaving you and Lady Gwendolyn in one room.

“Do you need to borrow some books, Lady Gwendolyn?” You asked, still as polite as possible.

“That is not what I am after, miss librarian.” She said with a hint of distaste. “You should be thanking me because I am too nice not to out you as the town whore during my banquet earlier.”

“Excuse me? How dare you—?!”

“I already know what you did so no need to defend yourself.” She raised her hand in the air, interrupting you in mid-sentence. “I already know about your secret affair with the prince and I knew about what happened last night. How long have you been entangling with my soon-to-be husband? You should be ashamed of yourself and stop pretending you're pure like everyone believes you to be!”

You wanted to defend yourself. You wanted to yell at her and tell the truth that it was long before she and the Prince had been together. She may be engaged with him, but the Prince loves you, but you can't seem to move your lips nor open your mouth to speak against the ruthless noblewoman.

“The prince was already engaged to me, don’t you see?” She showed her ring to you. “Yet you acted like a brothel whore. I really don’t know why Prince Taeyong still wants you even after all this time when he and I were already engaged since we were both children. So, stay away from him, do you understand?”

You don’t know what you should do during that moment. Cry? No, you can’t, she’ll just taunt you even more. Scream at her? You will be causing a commotion and you know Lady Gwendolyn’s power. So, instead, you just chose to stay silent and nod your head.

She rolled her eyes at you and scoffed.

“You can act pretending you understand what I meant, but I am giving you a forewarning, librarian. The prince will know how to love me eventually but you? You will stay miserable till you age in the end knowing the prince DID love you, but, what did he do to his little whore? He didn’t choose you in the end.” She snickered at you with a smile before she left your station.

“Oh, before I leave, you can do everything that you want before this wedding, but you will never be the one smiling in the end. Hope you enjoy watching the wedding, because you won’t— Since you said it yourself that a cunning snake shouldn’t be invited.” She tossed the crumpled invitation to your table and bid a 'sincere' goodbye to you as if she didn’t humiliate your whole being.

You tried to salvage what was left of the crumpled invitation on your desk. Your name was crossed out multiple times yet, you saw even with a small glimpse of how your name was written delicately with the intricate design mixed with flowers. You held back the tears that were attempting to stream down your cheeks when you saw Donghyuck come back once Lady Gwendolyn exited the library.

“That Gwendolyn sure is something . I don’t know what her problem was but I really sense Prince Taeyong would have a hard time living with her! She is not a good fit for a queen!” He wasn’t paying attention to you when you were wiping away the stray tears in your eyes.

“Did she say anything absurd to you, ma’am?”

You raised your head as soon as you were done wiping your tears.

“To me? Oh, she was being nice to me actually.” You smiled, distracting yourself by organizing the papers that do not need any fixing.

“I just hope Prince Taeyong could change his mind and not marry that woman because I know that there will be chaos once she steps in the palace, and lives here. Don’t you think, ma’am?”

“Well, let’s see what the prince can do.” You smiled despite the fact that you knew that there is only a small chance of that happening if one engagement is already set in stone but in the back of your mind, you wished he would choose the right decision and not choose the former.

“You’re not invited?”

John asked you as the two of you took a stroll down the town streets. You decided to take a break by doing errands away from the library. Besides you need to stock up on some materials in the royal library and you are the one who knows the materials you need. Although usually it was Donghyuck who did these errands, since you wanted to take a break, and John just happened to be staying at the palace indefinitely, you are now away from the palace and from your thoughts.

“Like why of all the people in the palace, the royal head librarian wasn’t invited at all? Does it make sense? The royal librarian who happened to be one of the closest friends to the prince wasn’t invited! Did something happen? Did Taeyong exclude you?”

“Oh, God, no, it wasn’t his fault. I guess the guests were already full, so I don’t think whoever is the wedding planner might have seen a reason why they would invite me.”

“But your assistant, Donghyuck, will be present. But you aren't? Think about it! Maybe someone just misplaced your invitation or maybe someone messed it up. Don’t tell me… Was it Lady Gwendolyn, wasn’t it?” John frowned.

There go your tears forming in your eyes when you remembered what happened earlier that morning. You tried fighting it back so that John would not see your eyes glistened with tears.

“I don’t think so— Oof!” You raised your head all too quickly and apologized at the person you bumped into. “I am very sorry, it’s my fault I wasn’t looking where I am going—”

“No worries, ma’am.” The man said as if he was in a hurry.

“Is there anything I can do for you? I am very sorry—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” You didn’t even see a small glimpse of his face when he bid goodbye.

Beside you, John was holding his laughter before the man left. You looked him in the eye and there, he just burst out laughing.

“What was that for?” You huffed.

“Nothing, nothing. As you were saying? Weren't you going to treat me with that favorite bread of yours?”

“I'll treat you next time since you teased me today.” You stuck out your tongue and walked five steps ahead of him. You both acted like children but you were glad that you forgot that you had a heavy heart after what happened even for a moment. Maybe you should really give up and move away from the palace so that no royal nor noble blood could mess with your life ever again.

…

Feels like heaven welcomed you with the buttery smell of fresh bread wafting into the air even if you were still outside the bakery. You lead John inside your favorite bakery, and good thing, not a lot of people are lining up so you easily pick up the bread you wanted.

“Welcome to Peach Bread and Pastries!” A handsome man welcomed the two of you, it seemed he was a new hire or something because you didn't seem to recognize him except for the older lady and her daughter, Joy, who already knew your order since you are their loyal patron. You wonder if Joy was there but it seems she may be out of town.

“Jaehyun!” John says all of a sudden.

You turn your head to who he calls out, and it turns out John knows one of the bakers.

“John.” He nods his head.

“By the way, this is my cousin, Jaehyun.” Johnny then introduces him to you. You try to think where you have met him. He is familiar! And when it hits you, you point your hand at John, and say, “Is that why you're laughing earlier because I just happened to bump into your cousin? Why didn't you say so?”

You playfully glare at the taller man but John only cheekily grins at you as he chooses the bread he wants.

“Well, at least you are acquainted with Jaehyun now.”

You huff with a pout and turn your back against him to choose your favorite bread among the display. You can’t seem to find it easily, so Jaehyun helps you find the bread you want. You faintly say ‘thank you,’ and lead you back to the counter.

“Thank you for your patronage, madame. I hope you can come back soon so I can serve you again.” The man smiles, dimples showing both sides of his cheeks, as he hands your orders.

When you exit the bakery, you try not to swat your hands on John’s arm when he decides to tease you around his cousin.

///

When you thought you could avoid Prince Taeyong, it was one of the hardest things you did in your life because you get to see him everyday inside the library because that was one of his most frequent places to go to and obviously that’s where you work. Even if you wanted not to see him, he was just there. Donghyuck could see the frustrated look on your face, even if you deny that you weren’t agitated, he just continued to tease you when he knew the prince had arrived.

“The prince is here, ma’am.”

“I know. You don’t have to remind me, Donghyuck.” You resort on not raising your head because for sure, the prince was not paying attention to his book.

“I thought you two were friends? What happened?”

‘So many complicated things happen,’ you muttered defeatedly under your breath. You know Donghyuck already knows half of it, like you and Prince Taeyong but beyond that, you don’t want him to know the secret affair between you and the prince. It’s not like you don’t trust Donghyuck, what you just don’t like is his attitude because he was the type of person who will tease someone hard. And you know how mischievous he was especially towards his friend, Mark Lee, in the Green Knights who happened to be courting the lady-in-waiting, Yerim, so you rather shut yourself up.

“Donghyuck, can you point me out where I can look at more of these types of fish?”

“Oh, the head librarian knows a lot better than me, your highness! I think she can lead you there, right?” He looks at you with a cunning smile on his lips.

You glare sternly at Donghyuck, and the younger man shrugs with a nudge of his head towards the prince. You curse at the back of your mind before you head towards the prince. You fight the urge to stare at the young prince— make eye-contact, and the next thing you know, you are enchanted by him once again.

“Your highness, follow me here.”

The prince followed you obediently behind you. When you two had gotten away from the eyes of your assistant, Taeyong walks past you, and grabs your wrist.

“What are you doing—?”

“Just trust me.”

And you did trust him— like you always do. Taeyong leads you to a closet somewhere inside the library. You swear you haven’t seen this place even after working for like five years. He shows you a key, and you roll your eyes at him when he tries to open the door— which he was having a hard time opening.

“Did you conspire with Donghyuck or did you do this on purpose to have a private time with me?” You cross your arms on your chest, waiting for him to break in the two of you in the locked closet.

“What? I just wanted to see you, is there anything wrong with that?” He smiles cheekily. You almost bite a quick retort when he surprises you by dragging you inside the closet. Once inside, he presses his lips on yours but you resisted his kiss, pushing him away from you. His warmth never fails to soothe your aching heart, and you do want it so bad, yet times have changed and you do not want to get you both in trouble.

“Please do me a favor and get us out of here, Yong... You don’t have to do this.” You tried to get serious, but he holds your hand, and presses it to his chest.

“Just one last time, my love…” He kisses your forehead. “Please…”

“But you know we shouldn’t see each other anymore, Taeyong. Lady Gwendolyn already knew about us—”

“Did she hurt you?” He immediately lays his hand on both sides of your face.

“Just please, Yong, let’s just stop this…” You shake your head. You don’t want to tell him what happened a week ago when Lady Gwendolyn threatened you and you know Taeyong. He would actually break his engagement in one snap, and you do not want to be the cause of all of it— even though a part of you wants it.

“But do you think that won’t stop me from wanting you? Do you really want me to stop?”

You would be lying to yourself if you didn’t want him as much as he does. If the circumstances were different, of course you would say yes to him. After all, you wanted to end up with him without worrying about the consequences of your actions. You do want to push him away from you again, but again, he was irresistible. He knows you too well. He knows how you couldn’t resist him despite pushing him away. That one last time is a lie, you know it. You know each other like the palm of each hand, and it both warms you all up all over again despite all of the sins you two commit in broad daylight.

“Let’s just stop this—”

You lie to yourself once again but the moment he captures your lips, you want nothing more than anything but his warmth against you. You wanted to push him away, but your desire pulls you in and you still return his kiss with the same fervor and heat. You are both hungry for desire, your hands intertwined with his own as it caresses your back.

“And even if you say no, I promise you that I will break this engagement, just trust me please… ” He pulls away from your lips, eyes gazing with your own. His eyes are mesmerizing as he stares at your own, one look from his, and you are once again trapped by him.

“I love you…” He whispers those words that should have served as a declaration of affection towards you, but it left an opposite mark on you instead.

You try hard not to feel the pang, aching inside your heart, seeing him about to be parted away with you. And to you, it was one of the most bittersweet feelings you had in your life— he was your lifeline so are you to him. You wished everything was fine. You just wished everything was never like this. You just wished everything was simple for both of you, but in the end, it was never that easy.

“I know…” You say softly before Taeyong kisses your temple once more.

The moment he opens the door, you know that was the beginning of uncertainties, and probably the end, between the two of you, and you wouldn’t be able to do anything beyond that except to mourn for your loss— that breaks your heart into a thousand pieces and it’s hard to pick them all up all by yourself.

///

The days became weeks, when you realize that you hadn't even seen Taeyong for so long now. Though the talks of the wedding inside the palace were so frequent, you know how busy he was.

Besides, the work in the library is not that heavy for the past few days. The prince hadn’t even visited the library, like you instructed him to. You wanted Taeyong so bad like you were before but in return, what you received was the price of loving someone too hard, and soon you will be left with nothing but grief and sorrow in the bellows of your heart and soul. You try not to further saddened yourself by lingering inside the palace, so you travel out of town.

The thought of him lingers in your mind especially the promise he made— you kind of hope it was true, yet, you are slowly losing hope for the two of you to be together like before. Either way, you stopped thinking about him, and just enjoy your vacation by the seaside. You bask in the salt air, brushing your skin, serenity wraps you in warmth and peace. You wanted this to set off your mind away

“What are you doing here all by yourself?”

You were surprised to hear a familiar voice. When you turned your back, Jaehyun from Peach Bakery was standing right in front of you, there was nothing different like he was back at the bakery except he was wearing casual clothes, and nothing fancy like you used to see everyday in the palace.

“Jaehyun? What are you doing here?”

“My mother lives here around the plaza.” The man smiles at you, and the prominent dimples show up on both sides of his lips. He then stands beside you, and watches the sky on the horizon.

"This is peaceful, isn't it?"

You nod to him. "Yeah, and I am glad I am away from the drama in the palace. It was soooo exhausting."

"Yeah, I heard that the prince is marrying the daughter of the nobles from House Song, wasn't it?"

"Don’t get me started with Lady Gwendolyn…" You sigh defeatedly, and the man beside you laughs along.

“Do you want to take a stroll around here? I think that would be a long story, and it’s much better if we did it around nature.”

“Oh, it’s a pleasure, thank you, Jaehyun.”

…

The two of you set off to a slow stroll around the town. The town was located in a rural area and you just wish that if you get to live in the palace, you hope you can live in a place like this— away from the drama, and you will just tend your lovely gardens when you go home after work.

“I didn’t know you lived around here. Seems peaceful to live here, doesn't it? Must be nice to stay here and just live far away from the kingdom.” You say with a dreamy far-off look.

“I visit here from time to time, yeah, and I still love it whenever I go back home. And don’t mind me asking, John said that you are the royal librarian? Is that true?”

“Yeah, looks easy but it wasn't, especially if the prince was around.” You laugh half-heartedly.

“Especially if the prince is around? I thought he was kind around people in the palace?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I mean it in a good way, it’s just the prince could be playful and mischievous, but yeah, he was kind, don’t worry.” You chuckle lightly as memories flash around inside your mind. It is not the time

“By the way, I almost forgot, when you mentioned Lady Gwendolyn, one thing instantly made me remember what was the talk of the town before she stepped into the palace.”

“What was it?”

“I thought everyone knows it? Isn’t Lady Gwendolyn’s family responsible for what happened during the ‘Cherry Bomb incident’?”

“Cherry Bomb incident… Yeah, I remember that…”

You recall that night where you heard that one of the palace guards found out that someone stole the Cherry Statue, and they said it was only a prank, but it was already returned. Silly as it may seem, but it caused a stir the next morning in the kingdom.

“But I thought that was just a rumor the palace addressed last month, and it turns out it was Lady Gwendolyn did it?”

“You know what wealth and power can do to wipe away these rumors, besides it was just a minor incident, but I still remember the look on her face when she was caught red-handed by one of those guards. I was up that dawn when they caught her along with the Cake girls.”

“Guess, can't a woman have hobbies, huh? Looking back, it’s funny, to be honest. I can’t actually believe Lady Gwendolyn would be like that.”

Jaehyun smiles along with you.

You didn’t realize that it was already sundown. Time flies so fast, you presumed, in these parts. You excuse yourself from Jaehyun, but he stops you when you are about to leave him.

“If you want, I can treat you to dinner, my mom would be delighted to see a friend of mine.”

You cannot refuse a free dinner so you follow him along back to town, and his home is not in a faraway distance unlike in the kingdom when you will trek the hills just to go down the town proper.

Jaehyun’s mother is knitting a scarf in front of her porch when you and Jaehyun arrive. When she sees the two of you, she waves her hand, and greets you with a placid smile on her face.

“I didn’t know my son would bring his beautiful beloved to our humble home.”

“Oh, we’re not—” You wave your hand in the air, denying that you and Jaehyun are together.

“Mother, she’s my friend, I told you about the royal librarian, right? Here she is.”

“Ah, the royal librarian who loves my son’s peach bread. Of course, of course, you are their regular customer. What brings you here? Why are you two together?”

“I just happened to see your son in town. I was just taking a vacation for two days, and here I never thought that I would see a familiar handsome face.” You raise your head and smile at Jaehyun. Jaehyun avoids looking at you, but you see the redness building up in his ears.

“If I didn’t knew any better, I would think that you and my son is already together—”

“Oh, no, no, I have already promised myself to someone.”

Jaehyun and his mother look at you with your confession. His mother cannot believe this but she just smiles at you. Meanwhile his son, Jaehyun, is looking at you like you have told them the most elaborate lie, or, maybe you are just overreacting because you actually cannot decipher his face. His expression is quite unreadable, but the next few words from his mother shocks both of you.

“The prince? Prince Taeyong Lee? You know him, and you are engaged with him?! Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” His mother stares at you like you won the grand prize from the lottery.

Hearing Taeyong’s name should have brightened up your mood but the reason you were in this town was to get away from everything royal— from the prince and his fiancee and to the library— You guessed that you couldn’t run away from the flow of life.

“Ma, that’s enough. How about we eat dinner now?” Jaehyun stops his mother before she asks tons of questions about you and the prince. Good thing, his mother was easy to talk to, and she ushers you both inside their home.

“Sorry for making you uncomfortable. My mother should have known better.”

“It’s fine, it’s just… I thought I would run away from anything palace related. I am here to take a vacation.”

“So does that mean, I won’t stand a chance from the prince, then?”

You shoot him a playful look, and you roll your eyes at him. “As if I STILL had a chance with Taeyong.”

“I mean you can do something like, for example, speak that you are against their marriage during their wedding.”

“I would not stoop that low.” You counter him right away.

“I don’t know about you, but if you changed your mind, just tell me. Peach Bakery will always love to serve their loyal patrons.”

“Even if it means to crash a wedding?”

“Yeah, even if it means to crash a wedding.”

You hold your chuckle, and he does follow along, so you both end up bursting out laughing. His mother probably wonders why you two are taking so long to come inside.

…

Even if you wanted to stay for more than two days, you have to bid goodbye to Jaehyun’s mother. She wishes you a great journey along with his son, Jaehyun, when you go home. When you get back to your healing vacation, you already know that you will be facing familiar faces again, and here you see back at the palace, none other than the prince’s fiancee. You honestly wish you stayed, so, you can skip the day of the wedding which is seven days from now.

Lady Gwendolyn sees you in one of the corridors, but you only smile at her and bow on your way.

“I thought you would never be back.”

“Lady Gwendolyn, good morning.” You try so hard not to slap hard in the face, but of course, you fully restrain yourself. You know it would not only cause a commotion, but it would cost your life.

“Stop pretending nice, you know you are planning to sabotage the wedding.”

“Now you have given me an idea.” You whisper to yourself, but the noblewoman had heard you.

“What is it? What are you planning—?!”

Just when she was about to claw her hands at you, the prince shows up along with his assistant, Doyoung.

“What is happening here, Lady Wendy? Is there any problem here?” The prince stands beside her. Lady Gwendolyn, on the other hand, shuts herself up but she still eyes you annoyingly.

“Lady Gwendolyn just told me that she wishes a recommendation from the royal library but I don't think she is fond of reading books as much as you do, your highness.”

You smile at the prince, and you already want to move away from him. Because the more you see him, the more you realize that there would be no other way but be worlds apart now that he was about to marry someone who is not you.

“If you may excuse me, I need to go back on my duties. No time should be wasted.”

When you leave them, you can feel the eyes boring behind your back, watching you go away.

…

You visit your favorite bakery once in a while, and you always spotted John's cousin there along with your friend, Joy. You decide to talk with him, a small conversation starts up and then the next thing you know, you are closer to him. Joy noticed this and she teased the two of you but your heart remains loyal in the end even if it hurts you.

“Will you order your usual?” Jaehyun asked.

You nod at him and he seems to notice the frown paint in your face when you sit by the window.

When he brings your order, Jaehyun sits across from you.

“If you don't mind me asking, are you okay?”

You shrug. You don’t even know anymore since what is the point now that in the next few days the love of your life is about to be wed with someone that is not you. You haven't even seen his face for weeks now. And you know you are bound to give him up anyway now that Lady Gwendolyn had confronted you again the other day. You knew it would come to the point that the noblewoman would have known about your relationship, so instead of retaliating, maybe it’s best to just give him up.

“Well… what do you think?”

“What if I tell you should really consider what I told you last week?”

You know where he is going with this. You almost forgot that you mentioned to Jaehyun about your relationship problem, and wow, it is really satisfying to let those out.

“But that’s just too much…”

“Don’t worry, as a way of gratitude for being one of Peach Bakery's loyal patrons, and a loving friend, I'll help you with the best that I can.”

You want to refuse but Jaehyun has this charm you can't resist, and the voices inside your head do want to get back onto Lady Gwendolyn. Crashing the wedding without an invitation? You hadn't done that before, but at least if you have the choice then you'll just see the prince for the last time he was not wed yet.

“So? Do you want to go dress up as a baker and stop the wedding?”

“You know I won't do that...”

“But are you willing to see someone you love be taken away from you?”

You consider his offer for a moment. You actually wanted to see Taeyong in his wedding suit (even if it would hurt to see you that it will never be you), but at the same time, you might cause a stir among the guests, and worst of all, you will be banished from the kingdom.

“Then, I’m in,” You said firmly.

It was not what you dreamt of when you were a child, but there is nothing wrong with trying, right? Risking it for someone for the love of your life? You have never been so foolish with your whole life except you have already been foolish since you have been in love with the prince.

Jaehyun smiled at you. “This will take us a week, then.”

“Perfect for the day of the wedding.” You mumble under your breath.

And a week had never been so fast to slip away.

In those days, Joy and Jaehyun assist you with your plan. Joy even said that you can borrow her dress that you can wear in the wedding but you refused, you don't want to catch attention. Thus, when the day comes, you get in as a baker from Peach Bakery. When you arrive, you hear the organ play the wedding song, but to you, it sounds like a death march. You know Taeyong will make a joke out of it, and it makes you smile when it flashed into your mind.

You are wandering around the premises to blend in but John is the first one to recognize you with your disguise. John looks at you with widened eyes when sees you.

“You told me you’re not going to the wedding? What the hell happened— Oh, wait, you don’t have to tell me…”

“You’re looking at a baker right now.” You proudly grin as you twirl around with your baker uniform. “And I made it, can you believe it?”

John shakes his head with amusement.

“So, what’s your plan next—?”

“Oh, about time one of the servers shows up.” You hear the prince’s assistant, Doyoung, show up to John’s direction. To your relief, he doesn't even recognize you while he is flipping through his logbook.

“These pastries are needed to be delivered to the prince’s quarters. He likes his sweets by the way.” Doyoung orders you before he walks to the organ player, who plays like it was for the funeral.

You wave a small goodbye at the knight as you beeline all the way to where the prince is staying before the wedding starts. Some of the guests aren’t able to recognize you and you hope it will stay that way because you don’t want to cause any trouble— although you know in the first place, crashing the wedding is already considered to be one.

You take a deep breath before you knock at the door.

“Your highness! Your pastries were here, I will leave this on the table beside your door.” You leave his door right away before he can see you. You release a deep sigh and pray to the heavens that he will not recognize your voice.

What was even running in your mind when you do this thing all for a man you know in the end that it might not be worth it at all?

When you are on your way back to see John, you then soon spot the blushing bride by the dressing room, not with glee, but with a face full of fury, because although she was dressed in a beautiful white gown shaped like a pastry, makeup full-blown, she is yelling at a bridesmaid because she happened to wear white that was supposed to be color of the bride's gown only.

“You should change your gown right away!”

And so her bridesmaid did. You pity the younger lady because of the humiliation she had just experienced but there's nothing you can do but watch from the curtains.

What's the worst thing that could happen at all?

And, as much as you don’t want to admit that you will not do anything you will end up regretting at the end of the day, it led you to this point where you were standing in the middle of the aisle. You actually forgot how the hell you found your way here when you were just looking for John. But all this time, when you heard the piano start, you knew to yourself that you were not that type of person who would just drop by a wedding without having any invitation brought with you.

This was a foolish idea, your conscience screamed at the back of your mind, yet here you are, dressed in your pretend baker clothes, standing in the middle of the aisle with many eyes looking at you.

You ignored the leering eyes from the guests as they watched every step you make. You also ignored the bride's agitated look because let's be honest, she was not even the one you were there for. You then spotted the prince donning a silver-studded suit, ivory white hair handsomely slicked back as he stood aghast, seeing you there.

“What are you waiting for? Speak now, are you against this wedding?” The preacher asks you, snapping back to your reality and it hits you, you arrive at the time when the preacher asks if someone is against or not in the wedding. You know to yourself that being here is already a scandalous move, people would talk about how the royal librarian crashed the wedding and stated her objections, so if it would come to this, then…

“Well, I am—”

“Wait.”

Instead of fully speaking your objection to the wedding, you are surprised that you are interrupted by the prince. You looked at him with confusion, but you swore to yourself that he said, “I can handle this,” in his lips.

His eyes land on yours then to the preacher.

“I am against this wedding.”

His response caused a stir among guests. Gossips and murmur surrounds them, and of course, his fiance pleads at him asking why would he do such a thing.

“Your highness, this is absurd! She was a commoner! I am your soon-to-be loving wife!” Lady Gwendolyn holds his hand in hers.

“I have been against this wedding ever since I have known that this is absurd!” He pulls away his hand, and steps away from her.

“I have been waiting for the right time, and I think now is the time that I state my objections. And I have never been so surprised to see that the love of my life was here with us and I am glad she was here.” His gaze lands at yours, so do the guests.

“I have never wanted to spend my lifetime, soon to be the king of this kingdom, in a life not filled with pure love and passion. And I was glad that I met someone like her, she had brought serenity to a life that I never knew would be as colorful as the painted skies, and as serene as the rivers. And as the prince, I should have the right to choose someone that I know that would love me till the ends of the earth, because I, too, would do the same. And that is why I know that it was her, and not Lady Gwendolyn.” His eyes never left yours as he walked towards you. “This wedding is not for my liking, and by the graces, my father and my mother, I come to you not as a prince, but as your son, your offspring, would you grant my wish? And if not, I would rightfully leave the kingdom and abandon my birthright as a prince and live with my beloved wife as common people if you do not agree with my terms.”

The prince walks towards you and grabs hold of your hand and smiles fondly at you. His eyes twinkle as your eyes meet, face lighting up as soon as he gets to stand by you.

“Your highness, do not abandon me this way! If you step outside, this engagement ends now!” Lady Gwendolyn threatens.

When you thought the prince would go back for her, to your utter surprise, the prince took your wrist and ran away from the wedding. You can't help but be giddy and nervous at the same time. The swirling feeling flutters inside your stomach now that you are reunited with Taeyong. It still feels surreal to you that your dream came true as uncertain as it can be. You briefly look back when you hear Lady Gwendolyn scream at the top of her lungs, knees on the floor as she was abandoned by her own groom. The pity was not apparent, and you only feel the happiness brought upon you.

However, it seemed you spoke too soon as it was cut short.

“Taeyong!” The king roared in anger when he followed you and Taeyong outside of the church.

“I did not know that this would come to this. I did not know that the prince of the kingdom of Evening Cross Outlands would influence you like this, my child! And you decided to abandon your marriage to the royal librarian? What kind of nonsense is this? Do you want to be a disgrace of this kingdom? Go back there, and marry Lady Gwendolyn, and leave this woman!” He directed his attention to the young prince then you.

You shrunk to yourself. You almost want to die on the spot now that the king has his attention to you. You don't want any of this attention but here you are, the king addresses you like it was the day of your execution.

“That's because I do not love Lady Gwendolyn! And no other arrangement can make me fall in love with her.” Taeyong stands between you and the king, shielding you with his arm.

“You have not been asked to speak yet, Prince Taeyong.” The king pushes the prince aside, but he is stopped by the presence of the queen. The queen whispers something to the king, and he sighs when she is finished. His eyes still never left you, watching you with every step you take.

“How did Prince Taeyong fall in love with someone like you?” The queen speaks with a sincere heart as she stands in front of you.

You can feel the pressure punch down your guts. The silence is too loud, you can hear every heartbeat inside your chest. You take a deep breath, and stand firmly on your feet.

“I may not have been born as a noblewoman like Lady Gwendolyn, but I have given Prince Taeyong with kindness when we started as friends, and comfort when we ended up as lovers. I do wish he would live a good life even if he and I part ways, but if fate permits us, then all I can say is that: I can't offer anything yet but I promise you your highness but my love is nothing but filled with honesty and truth, and I swear to the divines that I am speaking this with my whole heart.” You are unable to process what you had said to the king. Your words flow coherently as possible and you hope she understood what you meant, and it is not just a petty excuse of a confession, but a declaration of your true feelings towards the prince.

“I do not need you to grant me something impossible, but a woman can dream, and I will be forever grateful for your grace.” You bow down to her but the queen stops you.

“Then that is what I only need to know.” She says with a smile as she clasps her hands with yours. You are genuinely confused at what she had said. You even look at Taeyong who shared the same sentiment to you.

“I beg your pardon, but I don’t understand.” You ask her but she only laughs heartily before she takes her own son’s hand and links to yours.

“It's a pleasure to see my son's beloved in person, so it's an honor to wish you both love, prosperity and abundance.” The queen then ushers you and the prince to the aisle. “If anyone is against this wedding, just let me know because I will be the first one to be the one to push them away even if it's the king.”

The king glances at your direction and sighs defeatedly.

“Now, where were we?” The queen links her arm in yours as you watch Taeyong go back standing by the altar.

You walk in the middle of the aisle along with the queen. You don’t feel any pressure at that moment, it actually shocks you as the events unfold so quickly.

Fortunately, there was no sight of Lady Gwendolyn in the premises; probably the royal guards escorted her outside. And it is a surprise that the guests are still around, and their faces were much better than when the noblewoman was present. You even saw Jaehyun, Joy and Johnny with the brightest smiles. You knew Johnny would be the first one to congratulate you, and of course, you silently thank Jaehyun and Joy for helping you even if you knew this plan was too risky.

When you almost arrive at the altar, the queen leaves you and wishes you with a faint good luck.

“I’m sorry if I didn’t have the time to pick a dress and you will marry me in this.” You emphasize by pinching the sides of the hem of your baker’s top.

“It’s fine. You look beautiful no matter what, dress or simple baker’s clothes.” He squeezes your hand, tracing little circles on top of your hand. “At least you are here with me.”

The priest clears his throat, and you can’t hold your laugh even in a serious occasion.

Who would have thought that in the end, you and Taeyong will be together? Of course, it’s definitely not you. But maybe the universe has the way of saying that everything will be alright in the end, and it is! Here you are, marrying the love of your life.

#taeyong x reader #lty #taeyong imagines #taeyong fluff #taeyong fanfic #taeyong scenarios #johnny suh imagines #jeong jaehyun #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 imagines #nct fanfics #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct x reader

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supernaturalkickparty · 6 months ago

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Happy Wincest Wednesday 🫶🏼 What are your thoughts on Sam’s pregnancy during season 5? Dean was angry at him, but would he try to be softer with him if he knew Sam’s carrying their child?

oh my godddd season 5 pregnancy is my jam! Well sam pregnant at anytime is my jam lol

I like to think that Sam kept it a secret from Dean, only because of how angry he's been with him.

Maybe he finds out during Free to Be You and Me, he takes a test and from him counting back he's a few weeks along.

He considers terminating it but it wouldn't be fair to Dean or to this baby, it's not the baby's fault his birthparent is an ex blood junkie.

He decides giving it up for adoption once its born or wants to ask Bobby if he can give the baby to Dean. That way he don't have to see Sam and he can make sure the baby don't end up like him.

He never had a chance at a normal life, maybe the baby will.

But now they're back together, the voicemail still weighs heavy in Sam's head and all he can think about is trying to make it alive long enough to lock lucifer away and to make sure the baby lives.

Sam Interrupted is when Dean finds out, the assessments before they get admitted. The nurses ask Sam how far along he is and if he's had any prenatal care. He quietly tells them that he's 6 or 7 months along.

Dean looks like he's about to have a heart attack and Sam is just wanting to shrink away and disappear.

Things are tense and while Dean wants to be there for Sam, it's hard for him to let go of everything.

Sam ends up going into labor during Hammer of the Gods and his worst nightmare could be a reality if Lucifer gets to the baby.

This is also when Dean lets go of everything he's been blaming Sam for and does whatever he needs to do to protect the three of them.

Sam still winds up saying yes to Lucifer, Sam still throws himself in the pit, and Dean is left with a miniature reminder of Sam.

#wincest #wincest wednesday #anon #anon asks #ash answers #mpreg #mpreg!sam

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powdermelonkeg · 11 months ago

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Pokémon World History Notes

This is based upon a dream I had in which I made a theory post about Pokémon World humans being descended from refugees from Earth, as well as a bunch of assorted Pokémon worldbuilding thoughts I had a month ago that I've since polished. Meant more to be internally consistent for a specific interpretation, as opposed to a blanket statement to count as canon for the whole of Pokémon as it was intended; this is MY spin on Pokémon, my own AU built off of the pieces I was given:

Pre-History: Humans first came to Pokémon World from our world, as space refugees from the now defunct Earth. This was millennia ago, and spacefaring technology is long-lost to time. Current human civilization is built on the forgotten foundations of Earth culture.

Notes: I put the pre-history at 5.5k years ago, as Gogoat was domesticated by early humans 5k years ago, according to its 'dex entry. There ARE records of humans before this, such as a mural of Cyclizar being ridden 10k years ago and the first Claydol supposedly coming from a human doll 20k years ago; however, the Pokémon World is temporally and spatially unstable, so I've decided that those two instances were from temporal anomalies. Also worth noting, I do not think that Pre-History is common knowledge to Pokémon World humans. It might even be lost entirely.

Ancient History: Ages ago, before Pokéballs, the strong ruled the weak, and you proved you were the strongest by having the strongest monster under your command. This was hard to attain because, before Pokéballs, controlling a monster required constant training and attention for decades. Back then, people lived in genuine fear of Pokémon, which was exploited by people who knew how to tame them.

Pokéball Era: In Johto, people eventually figured out how to make Pokéballs from Apricorns, though they had a poor catch rate. This swayed the balance in favor of the weaker people and destabilized the might = right mentality. Fighting for leadership became more commonplace, pitting monster against monster as a challenge of strength. As this era progressed, rules were established for these fights to lead, leading to the hard limit of 6 Pokémon to a team and the rule that fighting concludes when the opposing Pokémon is unconscious.

Rise of Gyms: People in charge became known as Gym Leaders, as fights for rulership were held in gyms to avoid collateral damage. Gym Leaders wanted to keep their power as Pokémon training became more accessible. At the same time, the villages they ruled wanted someone in charge that wasn't just brute-force powerful with a dragon by their side. In order to keep your title as Gym Leader, you had to follow a set of rules of conduct, share power with the elders of the town, and show your appreciation and willingness to preserve the town's culture by participating in cultural events.

This is what led to monotype Gyms being the norm—you want your team to reflect the town you rule, to prove to the population that you put care and thought for the town into picking your monsters. Meanwhile, in order to take the title of Gym Leader FROM a reigning leader, you had to prove your mettle in battle against other trainers, beat them to get a token proving your merit, present that token to the elders, then be voted in.

Gym Leaders eventually began to go head to head with each other for control of a region, both as a grab for power before the elders came into play, and as a point of pride—"My town is clearly the better one, I beat you and I lead it." The champion of these tournaments got to rule the region, but the Elite Four was established to keep them in check as a council similar to the elders' rule.

Everyday people wanted to fight for the Champion seat too, leading to the formation of Leagues. In order to earn the right to fight the Champion, you had to beat every Gym Leader in the region that had fought for their ranking (or their champions), present the tokens as proof of your victory to the E4, then be evaluated by the E4 before you fought the Champ. As time went on, the evaluation became a battle unto itself, to see how the prospective trainer adapted to pressure.

As time went on and the Leagues got more repute, rules were finalized. You didn't need every town's token, just the highest ranking 8. You had to fight the E4 and the Champion in succession with a single team. The loser of any fight had to pay the winner a wager decided before the battle. Referees were established. Gym Leaders began making tests for their gyms pre-battle, to weed out those they personally didn't want ascending to a leadership position.

Congratulations. You now have a sport.

Era of Electricity: With the rise of electricity, the old system slowly fell out of favor. Elders and Gym Leaders no longer ruled, instead the governance coming from councils, law enforcement, and companies, all vying for power, tying everything up in bureaucratic tape, paying for their ideas to be implemented, controlling supply lines and vetoing decisions in interest of the whole, etc, all without Pokémon battles. However, people would riot if their favorite spectator sport was thrown away, so Gyms were relegated to sport only, and allowed to continue running so long as they stayed out of leadership's way.

Note: This isn't saying that the Gym system was better, just that the new systems were such a stark departure from tradition that it caused unrest. It was too much, too new, too fast, and was destined to fail.

Rise of Teams: The fall of Gyms made a power vacuum and left many people unsatisfied with how convoluted and non-traditional current leadership was. Teams rose up under their own "strongest one rules" mentality, claiming that part of their culture that the then-modern world was so ready to discard. Teams could be based on anything from a willingness to do good, to grievances, to charisma, to criminal activity, anything went. The biggest common thread among them was a promise of anonymity, as uniforms protected the identities of everyone but the admins.

Teams, as a whole, didn't view themselves as criminals, but as revolutionaries. They kept their own internal order under the 6-Pokémon rule, and respectfully bowed out to those that managed to beat them.

Note: This is my explanation for the general attitude towards Teams. Rocket, Aqua/Magma, Skull, and Yell are all very different beasts, but they all have uniforms that allow for anonymity and are all counter to established culture in their own way. Team doesn't mean criminal, but it CAN.

Silph Co.: The Silph Co. invented the fast, cheap, reliable, mass-produced Pokéball. Anyone could catch anything, no matter the age, no matter how strong the monster. Teams flocked to this, leading to a strong conflict as the leadership attempted to cut down on it. Instances of poaching, environmental imbalance, and invasive Pokémon skyrocketed, as Pokémon were removed from their native habitats in too many numbers to be sustainable. At the Sinjoh border, Sinnoh and Johto both tried to claim the territory with hopes of researching the legendaries it was tied to in order to control the world. This exploded into multi-regional war, riots, and civil strife.

Note: This is about the Pokémon War that Surge mentioned in R/B/G/Y, where the big theory for awhile was that that's where all the dads went. I like to think of it as a big, catastrophic, near-post-apocalyptic event that affected everyone.

Note: This isn't when the Pokéball itself was invented (that was based on Westwood's research in Celadon City, Kanto 70 years before R/B/G/Y). Rather, this is when it was both mass-produced and insanely popular. I like to think the prototype was invented 70 years pre-PKMN, then took 20 years to get proper manufacturing in line, then across another 20 got massively popular. It culminated in war towards the end of this boom in popularity.

The End of the War: Everyone's retreated to their home regions, with casualties too high to count. With the drastic dip in population, support, and power, most of the old leaderships dissolved, with only the strongest companies (primarily Silph Co.) surviving the crash. IDs were issued to anyone who had Pokémon in order to hold them accountable for damage their Pokémon did. You were only legally allowed to start catching Pokémon at 10 years old, and you went to school for Pokémon training until age 14. League Leadership was dusted off, polished, and revived. Badges were used to limit who could buy the more powerful Silph Co. Pokéballs, to prove those who had them had the knowledge to tame the Pokémon they caught. Pokémon Centers were erected in all major towns, and Pokémon Professors were hired to teach young people about Pokémon, research the monsters to better understand how they work, and study the magic that fuels them.

Note: The 10y/o & 14y/o rule is to account for the old rule of getting your license at 10 years old vs the newer games pegging it at 14, as well as the nebulous presence of Pokémon schools. You can own one at 10, but you've gotta go to school until 14. Additionally, though it doesn't really fit into the history lessons, I think pre-schoolers can get junior licenses which let them take care of a Pokémon with supervision, even though it's not officially registered to them.

The above rules remain in place. Gambling on Pokémon fights is still common, and it's the most reliable way to earn money outside of a location-based job. Young trainers who want to buy things patrol well-traveled routes, scouting for other trainers to make money off of and leading to a joke that making eye contact is enough to merit a challenge from one of the pesky little guys.

Bonus: Etymology In-World

Originally Monster: Creature that can use magic, usually terrifying Monster Ball: Capsule made from an apricorn to contain a monster Pocket Monster: Creature that's been captured in a Monster Ball

Monster Ball → Pocket Ball: Use the Pocket Ball to catch yourself a Pocket Monster. Makes sense. Pocket Monster → Pocket-mon → Pokémon: Simplification. A monster becomes a Pokémon on capture

Pocket Ball → Pokéball: Pokéball to catch Pokémon Pokémon: Creature that can use magic and can be caught in a Pokéball. Does not need to already have been captured

Pokémon and Monster got conflated as the word evolved, now "monster" is like calling a dog a "canine;" technically correct, but not used in common vernacular to refer to the thing.

#pokemon #long post #hey since i was playing around with it today why not #pkmn #worldbuilding #need a tag for this stuff...#pokebee hcs #<- there we go!

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and-claudia · 2 years ago

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Against All Odds (Joel Miller x reader) Prologue pt.2

Warnings: MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR SUICIDE!!!

Word Count: 1244

General Warnings for later on: The main story will have an age gap between Joel and the reader (Reader will be 25 once we get to the main storyline), this will also be your warning that it will eventually be an x pregnant reader (if that's not your jam, I'm sorry) there is also going to be more graphic/trigger parts later on so please always to be sure to read the warnings BEFORE reading. This story will also be 18+ and TO BE ON THE TAGLIST YOU CAN NOT BE AN AGELESS BLOG (i do actually check that) also there first hand full of parts are all prologue so Joel won't actually be in it for a bit

Taglist Sign-Up

Yn sat in the gym of the Knoxville Middle School. It was September 23rd, 2005, two years since the outbreak. So it was a huge deal. They spent the day remembering those they lost. Yn didn’t like talking about the outbreak. Not after she saw an infected person up close. The thought of her Ma, and brothers becoming one of those was too much for her mind to comprehend. So she stayed silent.

“Yn, did you lose anyone that day?” The teacher asked.

It was a dumb question. She had never heard someone actually answer no. Even those who didn’t wouldn’t say so. Everyone lost something or someone that day.

Yn looked up at her blankly. Then she turned her attention to her hands.

Luckily the teacher got the hint and moved one. Yn ended up tuning out the rest of the assembly. When it was time to go home she walked out and waited for Chris just as she did every day. Zeak was in a different building since he was older. Usually, he would make it home before the two of them would. Scott and their father worked together. Yn wasn’t too sure what they did, it seemed to always be changing.

“How was the assembly?” Zeak asked the younger girl.

“Stupid.” She replied.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asked gently. He knew she didn’t like talking about it, especially to others.

Yn shook her head and continued walking. When they made it to the apartment building they had been living in for the past 6 months.

“Go on upstairs, I’m going to wait for Chris.” Zeak said.

Yn nodded and began walking up to the third floor. She walked in and went to get a glass of water but stopped when movement caught her eye. She turned to the bedroom Chris and Zeak shared and saw the door was slightly open. Now she may have only been 7 but she had seen some shit at this point and knew that if someone… or something was in there she’d need something to at least attempt to protect herself. So she went into her dad’s and Scott’s room and grabbed Scott’s pocket knife he leaves in there just in case. She grabbed it and then slowly walked back to the other door. She opened it slowly and froze at the sight before her.

Chris was hanging by a noose around his neck. He wasn’t dead yet though. He was gasping for breath as the rope cut off his airways. It took her a moment to realize what was going on. She looked at the knife in her hand and sprung into action. She tried to climb up on the bed but she wasn’t tall enough. It felt like she was going as fast as she could. But by the time she got the dresser pushed over to him, got up, and sawed through the rope with her knife, he was already gone. His body fell to the ground with a thump. She hopped down and checked for a pulse. There wasn’t one. She stood and ran out screaming at the top of her lungs for Zeak.

Her brother heard her screams of terror and came running up to see what was going on.

“Chris is dead.” She said.

“What?”

“He just died.” She couldn’t elaborate.

“Is he in the apartment?”

She nodded.

“Shit. Go get Pa or Scott. Go get them. They are at the burning pits today. On main. Go. Run.” He said firmly.

Yn nodded and ran down the last flight of stairs and then out onto the street. She didn’t stop running until she made it there. She saw Scott first.

“Yn. What are you doing here?”

“Go get Pa, something happened to Chris.” Was all she said and she breathed heavily from running.

Scott’s face fell, “Wait here.” He said before walking away to get their father.

When they did, Scott scooped her up and opted to carry her. Even at 7 years old, he had no issues carrying her. When they made it to their apartment, Zeak was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs holding a piece of paper.

“He said he’s sorry. He didn’t know what else to do.” He said, handing the letter to their father.

He took it and scanned over it before folding it and putting it into his shirt pocket.

“I’ll go get him. I’ll take care of it. Scott, take Yn over to the Johnsons and ask if she can spend the afternoon with them so we can take care of this.”

“I don’t want to.” She said.

“Sweetie, you don’t need to see this.”

“She already did. She’s the one who found him… not me.” Zeak said.

Their dad turned to look at his little girl.

“Is that true?”

She nodded, “I’m sorry. I tried to save him. He was gasping for breath. I wasn’t tall enough. I had to move the dresser but I wasn’t fast enough… I’m sorry. I tried. I really did. I know I argued with him but I didn’t want him to die. I’m sorry.” She cried.

Scott hugged her to him as she cried and rubbed her back.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. You did everything you could. You did everything just right.” He whispered.

That night, no one really spoke after Pa carried Chris out. Dinner was eaten in silence. No one knew what to say.

The months passed and Yn continued to blame herself for Chris's death. Every time she saw something that reminded her of him, she felt guilty. If only she had been taller. If only she was stronger and could have moved the dresser quicker. If only she had been faster cutting through the rope. Then maybe Chris would still be here.

Yn also became much more attached to Scott and drifted apart from her father. Scott comforted her when she had nightmares now, no matter if they were about what happened during the initial outbreak or if they were about Chris or just general little kid nightmares. He never once blamed her for Chris’s death. He knew it was his choice to end his life. He knew that even if Yn had managed to cut him down in time there still could have been something wrong with Chris and he still might not have made it. He knew that there really wasn’t anything she could have done.

Their father on the other hand, deep down he blamed her. If only she had been taller. If only she was stronger and could have moved the dresser quicker. If only she had been faster cutting through the rope. Then maybe Chris would still be here. The same thoughts she had about herself, he too had. He didn’t realize what he was doing but he felt like there was something more she could have done and Chris would still be here.

Time only made it worse. They spent the next two years in the Knoxville, Tennessee QZ that they had begun to call home. But as more and more reports of infected getting into the QZ, they knew it was only a matter of time before they called for an evacuation. And sure enough, on August 14th, they got the notice that in three days the QZ would be abandoned. All residences that were confirmed to not be infected would be moved to Baltimore.

taglist:

@sexyvixen7@joelmillerslays@elliaze@strawbaby@little-lovely-darling@swimmjacket@watercolorskyy@mserynlarsen@sebby-staan@beelanie@fan-g0rl @paige96 @pedropascalfanclub @ameliadraws @mavs101 @azerty29 @rileyferg @belliedellie @rhaenyrasgf @imcreepininyourheartbabe @nani-kenobi @lunas-sstuff @holb32 @reidsgubbler @katmae1997 @dizzywinterdaydream @mrswidowjohansson @abzidabzy @givemeth

#joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us hbo #the last of us

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smittywing · 2 years ago

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FicBit 6: Jason Todd/Tim Drake

Previous parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

In which Jason definitely does not freak out.

Jason did not have a gay freakout. Instead, he spent a few days reading up on sexuality. Treatises, studies, popular fiction. He remembered liking girls before he’d died but then he’d only been fifteen and it was hard to differentiate what specific part of “everything” was causing that minute’s uncomfortable state.

Sleeping together had been Talia’s idea; he hadn’t even thought about it, but at the time it seemed like a perfect, “Fuck you” to Bruce.

Not, he realized, like a closeness he’d wanted to share with Talia. No. A big old Fuck Bruce. He probably shouldn’t parse that one too closely either.

There was Essence, Isabel, and Artemis, and they had all counted. Again, he realized uncomfortably, he wasn’t usually the one pushing for intimacy. He could be a flirt and he’d definitely dropped enough hints to Artemis until she took pity on him - no. It wasn’t like that. He wasn’t sure what it was like, but it had been mutual. But she had left, and he had come home, and now he was here in Gotham with a crush on a guy he usually referred to as his brother.

Another can of worms but one less fraught than the others. Bruce thought of them as brothers. Dick thought of them as brothers. Jason and Tim hadn’t met until Tim was sixteen and Jason nineteen and well, that had a rocky start. They’d never lived together, they’d never really worked together until Mother and their months-long trek through the Middle East.

Roy felt more like a brother than Tim, so Jason called him.

“What’s going on?” Roy asked.

Jason hesitated, then blurted out, “I think I like Tim.”

“Tim Drake?” Roy asked.

“Yes,” Jason admitted.

“I mean. Most people do, dude. I know you’re pissed about him taking the Robin suit but you were AWOL for like - “

“No,” Jason interrupted. “I mean I think I like him. Like. Like him, like him.”

“Like want to make out with him?” Roy clarified.

“Yes. One hundred percent.”

“So…what’s stopping you?”

“Uh, mostly that he has a boyfriend. But don’t you find it kind of weird? That I’m suddenly into guys?”

“I mean, most of us experimented as kids, right? You never really got to do that so you’re doing it now. I’d kiss you but honestly how many of Dick’s exes do you want to score with?”

“Stop,” Jason ordered. “I don’t want to hear any more. And I didn’t score with any of Dick’s exes, We all crushed on Barbara. It was tradition.”

“I was talking about Kori,” Roy teased.

“Oh. Right. I never actually slept with Kori,” Jason admitted. “I just said I did so you wouldn’t hit on her.”

“And look how well that worked out.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Jasin was doing a little light Tim stalking around the marina.

Seriously, Timbourine, what was the point of arming the boat like the BatCave only to sit out on the deck canoodling with your boyfriend? Cannon Fodder was sitting between Tim’s legs, Tim’s arms around him, head tilted back on Tim’s shoulder. Jason felt a little green around the edges and this time he couldn’t blame it on the Pit.

He wasn’t going to *do* anything and he wasn’t going to *say* anything but then someone landed, featherlight, on the roof behind him and how had he failed to clock Dickie a building away.

“What are you doing?” Nightwing asked without much of a question in his voice. “What is going on with you? Are you stalking Tim?”

“No,” Jason said defensively. “I’m just. Looking out for him. Since he’s clearly not paying attention to anything.”

“Oh, you think not?” Dick said,because apparently something was happening over Jason’s shoulder. He whirled around with a little too much alacrity.

Tim was kissing Cannon Fodder goodbye at the edge of the boat and he definitely had one eye on the rooftops. Jason blamed Dick.

Dick gestured to Tim, who turned around and went below decks, and then rested a heavy hand on Jason’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s going on,” he said softly, which made everything Jason was feeling a thousand times worse. “But I’m going to guess and it’s up to you how wrong this guess is going to wind up.”

Jason sighed and turned away from the sightline of the boat. “So it turns out the guy I didn’t know I liked is in a disgustingly cute relationship and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about that.”

He didn’t look at Dick’s face. There was nothing there he wanted to see.

“Tim’s happy right now,” Dick said. “You have no idea how happy.”

Jason had some idea. He had seen the smile on Tim’s face when he mentioned Cannon Fodder and he had heard the fondness on Tim’s face when Cannon Fodder came up.

“Oh, calm your tits,” Jason said. “I’m not gonna go beat up his little boyfriend.”

“That was, somehow, not even what I was going to worry about.” Dick sounded rueful. “I know things have been rough between you two and I want them to get better. But butting in on his relationship is not going to help. Maybe.” Dick sighed. “Maybe if this runs its course and you still feel…like you feel…maybe then you could ask him out. You gotta stop stalking him, though.”

“I’m not stalking him,” Jason said even though that was very much how he would have described his actions before Dick touched down.

“Hey,” a third voice interrupted. Tim. Glorious. “Dick, I got this.”

“Nothing to get,” Dick said lightly. “Just checking in on our little bro.”

“Appreciate it, but I’m good,” Tim said and did the bro hug thing with Dick. He was in the Robin uniform this time and it was strange to see him back in it after so long.

“All right,” Dick said. “I’m here if you need anything.” He grappled away with a warning glare at Jason.

Jason absolutely did not scuff his foot on the roof he and Tim were standing on. Absolutely not.

“You want to talk about it?” Tim offered.

“Nothing to talk about,” Jason said stubbornly.

“Yeah,” Tim agreed. “That’s what I said, too. So you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Jason reached for his hood and tried to put it on one-handed. He was usually better at that.

“I kissed you. And you kissed me back. And it was really good.”

“It was all right,” Jason conceded.

Tim grinned. “I guess,” he said. “Listen. I know it’s weird. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m with Bernard and I’m happy with him. But if I wasn’t, things would be…different.”

“Different how?” Jason gave up on putting on the hood. Hiding wasn’t an option right now.

Tim shrugged. “Maybe we’d do it again,” he said. “Maybe we wouldn’t. But um. I would probably want to.”

Tim wanted to.

“It’s never felt like that before,” Jason admitted hoarsely. “Never.” He finally lifted his eyes to look Tim square in the face. Tim looked sad, a little wistful and Jason took a step toward him.

“I can’t,” Tim said, but he didn’t back away.

“Why not?”

“You know why not.”

“What if?” Jason asked through a mouth as dry as the deserts of Qrac, “I don’t ever feel like this again?”

“You will,” Tim says after a moment. “It might - I don’t know. I don’t know what else is out there for you, Jason. I don’t. But I can’t be the only possible one for you.”

Because that would make him, Jason, the only possible one for Tim in exchange, Jason realized, and there was Cannon Fodder who lit up Tim’s eyes like sunshine.

“Yeah,” Jason agreed, even though he couldn’t fathom ever wanting anyone else.

“I know it hurts,” Tim said. His smile was sad. “I’ve been there.”

The SuperClone, Jason assumed. He didn’t ask. If Tim had felt even half the longing Jason did now, and he was happy now with Cannon Fodder, well. Jason could be happy, too.

#batbrats #fic #jason todd #red hood #jason todd/tim drake #red hood/red robin #tim drake #jason todd's potty mouth #batman #jaytim #dick grayson #batfam

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jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka · 1 year ago

Text

Here we have arrived on part 6! If you’ve made it this far, my condolences. If not you can get started here on part 1.

Pairings: Sam Kiszka X Danny Wagner (yeah I know) **slash pairing

Warnings and tags: 18+ ONLY!!!, m/m sexual situations, slash of course, unrequited love, some talk about childhood love, jealousy, smoking, talk about sexuality, lots of angst, third person POV Danny and Sam, restaurant AU

Word count: 5.4k

The sound of Danny’s keys jangling as he pulled them from his belt loop and struggled to mindlessly fit them into the lock rattled through his head. Once he successfully got the tiny silver key into the pesky little hole he turned it to realize that the door was already unlocked. Sam was home.

He inhaled deeply as he pushed the door open and stepped inside. Part of him hoped Sam was already in bed, wanting to ignore this until morning, but the other larger, more urgent part was yelling at him to get his ass over to Sam’s room and explain himself before the tension got worse.

Sam must have had the same mental push, because he slipped his head out his door when he heard Danny stepping down the hallway.

“Where were you?” He asked solemnly, like he was unbothered with whether Danny had come home tonight or not. Wouldn’t have been the first time he didn’t come home anyways. Still he wanted to acknowledge that he did come home.

“I went to Jake’s apartment. He wasn’t there” he replied, eyes transfixed on Sam’s distant expression to see if he would react. Nothing.

“Hey, can we talk?”

Sam didn’t speak, only followed Danny into the living room where they had both sat and laughed with each other only a couple of days prior. It felt hard to recall it now, when his feelings were so mixed up and twisted tight through his insides that he felt like he was suffocating.

Danny couldn’t take the silent treatment. He knew Sam was exploding inside. He had to be, because he was. His entire world had come crumbling down on top of him in that shady supply room, and he’d been running around since trying to pick up all the pieces. Everything he reached out to grab though turned into sand and slipped through his fingers causing him to sink further down into a pit of desperation.

Where do I start? He asked himself as he took a seat on one end of the couch. His hands were clasped so tight his knuckles were turning white and he was squeezing and twisting them around each other in a nervous twitch.

“What do you want to know? I’ll tell you anything Sam. I just want to fix this”.

Sam stayed standing at the other end of the couch, looking down at Danny’s wrecked form slouched over. He’d never seen him so upset before, and made it hard for him to believe that he really didn’t feel something for Jake if this was how he reacted. “When did it start?”

He didn’t really want to know. Actually not knowing the details was the only thing holding him together right now, but he asked for Danny’s sake. To let him get it all out.

“A couple of months ago” Danny answered honestly and simply. “At Josh’s going away party”.

“Okay” Sam responded with a long exhale, but still, nothing.

“Okay?” This was maddening. How was Sam still so calm? It felt like every bit of emotion Sam was hiding from him boiled inside his own being, threatening to spill out.

“Yeah, okay” his voice came out with an edge this time, a crack in his shell. “Makes sense. That’s when you started staying out and acting like you were hiding something”.

“We weren’t trying to hide anything” he was feeling a little defensive now. Sam was making it out to sound like what he and Jake had been doing was wrong when it had felt anything but. “There just wasn’t much to say about it. We were just casual. Hooking up every now and then”. He hoped that would clear the air. Show that despite the recent addition of sex to their relationship Danny and Jake were just the same friends they always were.

Only that seemed to make it worse for Sam. His body started to shake a bit as he forced his arms to remain down by his sides instead of flailing them through the air with a huff and marching back off to his room to slam the door shut and end this maddening conversation.

“You were just hooking up with my brother? My brother Danny?”

“What’s the problem with that Sam?” Now Danny was second thinking about coming clean at all. At least not until he was certain that Sam definitely wouldn’t hate him after tonight. “Is it because it’s Jake…” he paused to swallow the lump in his throat, “or because he’s a guy?”

Sam was taken aback. Of course it was because it was Jake, but did Danny actually think he would care about his sexuality?

Now that he thought about it, they had never had this talk before. He always just assumed Danny was straight because he’s only ever seen him go after girls before.

“You know I don’t judge people like that man” he mumbled, kicking a piece of the rug underneath them that had always had a little ripple in it since they’d found it at an old consignment shop together.

It was when they first moved to Nashville, everything had felt so new to them, new city, new stage in life. New apartment that felt so cold and hard and empty compared to both their parents' very lived in and cozy homes.

So when they found the shop they entered with the intent to find something eclectic to warm up their new space, and ended up bartering with an old lady on the rug.

Danny hated it at first, said it was too loud and probably had years worth of other people's dirt and grime ground into the vibrant colored fibers. Sam insisted they have it though, especially after he’d sweet talked the lady down fifty bucks and the promise to stop by and see her again sometime. He and Danny had carried the rolled up rug three blocks and had to rearrange the whole living room to get it underneath the couch and table just the way Sam had envisioned when he first saw it.

Once everything was finally put into place and Danny was huffing, covered in a light sheen of sweat from having done most of the heavy lifting, Sam saw it. The rug hadn’t been laid exactly straight before setting the couch on it, so a small barely noticeable ripple was caused.

“I am not moving that couch again” Danny groaned when Sam pointed it out. He lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off the top of his lip, revealing the dark trail of hair from his navel down to where his old faded jeans sat low on his hips.

Sam knew it would bother him to no end, but he gave Danny a break and decided he’d find some other time to move things around again.

Now still wasn’t that time, but Sam’s eyes were fixated on that part of the rug as he spoke.

“So, are you into guys then?”

He didn’t watch Danny, but he could hear the way he shifted on the couch, the way his breathing quieted as he baited his breath on his response. “Some guys, yeah”.

A vague answer. Still hiding something.

“What like Ryan Reynolds? Cause everyone likes him that doesn’t mean you’re gay”.

Even with the heaviness still in the air, the weight of the conversation they were trying to have, Danny couldn’t help but laugh a little bit at the absurdity of Sam’s reply. “You do realize Ryan Reynolds is like 50 now right?”

Sam let out a small choked chuckle too, and their eyes finally met again. A little of the intensity faded away with the laughter making both of them realize that even though they’d had quite the shock, neither of them wanted to fight.

“And I never said I was gay. I’m not sure what to label myself yet, or if I even want to, but if you must know I do think Ryan Reynolds is kind of hot”.

Thinking it was safe now, Sam moved to take a seat next to his friend on the couch, and even went as far as to put a comforting hand on his knee, showing him that he was glad they were finally clearing all of this up.

Sam’s touch grounded Danny. It was time. He couldn’t even attempt to make excuses for himself anymore. Like he was just waiting for Sam to ask the right question, because he had. Sam had asked him last time they were sitting like this on the couch together if he loved anyone and Danny had been too frightened to tell the truth.

“Listen Sam,” he began, the nerves still there, and they would be until he got this out. “the reason why we were just casual was because Jake knew I liked someone else. Someone he knew meant the world to me and we agreed we would never do anything to hurt that person intentionally”.

His hand retreated from Danny’s leg, running through his hair instead to toss it back so it wouldn’t get caught as he leaned back onto the couch and stared up at the ceiling. There was a suspicion that he maybe knew the person Danny was referring to, but he still asked to hear it for himself. “Who?”

“You Sam. It’s you, it’s been you”.

There it was. Out in the open, Danny’s big secret he’d kept hidden for years. Sam was surprised, but he couldn’t say he was entirely ignorant.

There had always been a special connection between the two of them. Sam felt safe with Danny in a way he didn’t feel with anyone else, ever, but did he have any urges that extended beyond being platonic? That was a tantalizing question, one he thought the only way to find the answer to was to try and see.

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, trying to envision something, anything, that involved him and Danny being together.

His mind blanked, but then he heard Danny shift on the couch. The sound of his clothes rustling made images of what he’d accidentally seen tonight flash through his head. Him with his hands buried in Jake's hair, Jake’s hand down the front of his pants, their lips locked together… Now definitely wasn’t the right time to try and start anything. Not with everything still so fresh.

A groan escaped out from deep in his throat as his eyes snapped open and he threw his head back and forth to physically shake the thoughts away. Clearly not the reaction Danny was hoping for.

“Wow. I know it’s a lot to take in, but please don’t be mad at me”. He sounded defeated, like he had expected this to go a thousand different ways but actually being let down hurt a lot worse than he’d anticipated.

“No! I’m not mad at you Daniel. I just need a minute to think about this. I mean there’s a lot at stake here”.

Danny knew that all too well. It was the major reason why he hadn’t said anything before. Sam was so precious to him that he’d settled with having him in his life any way he could. He needed Sam in his life, even if it meant he’d be yearning forever.

“I understand”. He shifted again to stand, offering his hand to help Sam up next. “It’s getting late, why don’t we talk more about this later when we’re not so tired and flustered?”

Sam shook his head yes this time and took Danny’s hand until they made it down the hallway and separated to head into their own rooms.

“Hey?” Sam spoke up softly just before Danny could shut his bedroom door. “Thanks for telling me”.

“Goodnight Sammy” he replied in the same soft tone and they both went to crawl into their respective beds with the anxious wonder of where this would take them.

Four missed calls and about a dozen ignored texts is what Danny had in his phone after the two days since he last saw Jake.

He’d checked in with Kim at the start of his first shift back to see what section she wanted him in for the evening, and worked quickly at getting everything set up before sneaking off to the kitchen. “Is Jake here today?” He hopefully asked the first person whom he’d caught their attention.

“Julian is in charge of the kitchen while Jake’s gone. Do you need me to get him?” One of the lower kitchen staff replied.

“Oh, umm, no” he was shocked, having heard nothing about Jake being gone. “Does he have the night off or something?”

“No, it’s his vacation week. He won’t be back until a few days before Thanksgiving” the man informed him then moved on to continue finishing his prep.

Danny slipped away to the bar next, still perplexed that he had no idea Jake was taking a whole week of vacation. Did I do this? Turn Jake away from work and home?

“Hey, did you know Jake was on vacation this week?” He asked Sam as he found him behind the bar cleaning and stocking glasses and bottles.

“Really? Jake? On vacation?” The concept sounded foreign to him, even though he knew the full time employees did earn time off.

“You guys didn’t know?” Savanna asked from behind Sam, causing his body to stiffen and his eyes to widen a bit at her sudden appearance.

He had been blowing her off for two days as well, and she was starting to get more and more pissy with him. Tonight Sam couldn’t ignore her though since they both had to work together for the next six or so hours.

“No, he didn’t say anything to us” Danny replied to her after she narrowed her eyes at Sam’s continued uncharacteristic quiet and awkwardness around her.

He and Sam made eye contact and Danny raised his brows in a suggestive manner then glanced over to Savanna still standing behind him.

Once Danny confessed to Sam, he thought things would instantly change. Some things had, he felt a tremendous weight lifted off his shoulders, only he had one hurdle left in his way. Sam was still dating Savanna and Danny flat out refused to pursue any sort of romantic relationship with him until he broke things off with her.

Though Sam had agreed to test their compatibility, he was finding it extremely difficult to find a reason to give Savanna for wanting to break up with her other than the truth. If he could spare her the reality that he was quite literally leaving her for Danny then he would.

Danny had said he didn’t want to hide things, but that he was comfortable with not being super public. That might have just been something Danny had said to please Sam though, because now that he knew his real feelings he was constantly catching Danny giving him longing looks, and every little unassuming touch seemed like a silent plea for more.

“Savanna, we need some more lemons and cherries. Would you mind getting some from the walk in?” Sam asked flatly without even turning around to meet her directly.

Danny could see her though, see the way her face fell when she hesitated, wanting to say something but deciding that now was not the time or the place for them to start an argument and turned to leave.

He felt an overwhelming tide of guilt wash over him. Despite how much he disliked her from the beginning he never once hated her, only wanted to be her. Now he had his chance, only he knew all too well when trading places how she would feel once on the other side.

As soon as he felt her presence gone, Sam set his towel and glasses down and slowly made his way over to where Danny was standing. “Maybe it’s a good thing Jake is gone for the week” he began, letting his slightly damp hand run over Danny’s against the bar top. “That way we can figure things out for ourselves. Without any distractions”.

Danny shifted his weight onto one leg, sucking in a breath as he felt his heart begin to beat faster. Sam had been gradually becoming more lovey-dovey towards him. Starting with stealing just a few glances paired with shy smiles. Then the glances turned into exploratory looks. Letting his eyes linger on Danny’s broad and lean frame for longer than he ever had before so that he could actually begin to admire him.

It was getting increasingly harder to keep himself reeled in in the times he knew Sam had been checking him out, especially when he was letting himself look in return. Danny slid his thumb out from underneath Sam’s palm and slowly began to caress his soft supple skin.

He looked up to meet Sam’s gaze, but just behind him he could see the shape of Savanna returning already. “There are other distractions Sam” he whispered, pulling his hand away and turning to be the one to leave this time.

“Can we talk?” Sam asked after he had finished all of his closing duties.

Savanna had a stack of receipts that she was entering into the monitor at the end of the bar so she didn’t even look up, just replied “hmm?”. She was pissed.

“Look, I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you the past few days. Something… came up”. My best friend told me he loves me and I still don’t know what to do with that information but I’m trying to make everything right.

She scoffed, putting in the last of the numbers and tossing the stack into the trash before placing her fist on her hip. Turning towards Sam she had a scowl that could shoot emotional daggers straight through his willowy body.

“Yeah, the ‘busy, see you at work’ text you sent me yesterday when you silenced my call really got that point across”.

“I know, I’m sorry about that, but really something did come up. I just needed some time to figure out how I was going to deal with it”. He pursed his lips to shut himself up. That came out wrong. God, why was this so hard? Then it struck him, Sam had never really broken up with anyone before.

The first couple of girlfriends he had in highschool broke his heart. Back when he was just a kid that was riding through life on a rollercoaster of emotions, building confidence like the way the cart reached the top of the big hill, only to be dropped once he got dumped. Danny being the only one left at the bottom every time.

He hadn’t felt that way in a long time though, having grown up and realized roller coasters weren't that fun anymore. Without the ride, his confidence never got the chance to fall, so instead it just grew until he didn’t need Danny to pick him up anymore. He still needed Danny though. Like the way he needed air or the way flowers needed sunshine.

He thought about how anxious he’d gotten when he got accepted to the university in Nashville that Josh attended. Instead of being filled with unbridled excitement, there was an underlying sense of dread not knowing how he and Danny were going to stay close friends halfway across the country from each other.

Danny hadn’t told him that he’d applied to the same university. Partly because he still didn’t know what he wanted to major in, so he’d applied to plenty of different schools, but when he got the news that he’d gotten in as well he knew immediately that there was never really any other option.

He guessed now it all made sense, the way Danny packed up and moved south with him even though Sam honestly would have been fine. It wasn’t like he would ever be on his own, he had his older brothers looking after him whether he sometimes wanted them to or not. All Danny had here was Sam, well and now Jake.

Of course it was Jake. Something about Jake always drew people in. Management here at the restaurant loved him, his kitchen staff idolized him, Kim apparently liked him, and now Danny was…

He stopped his mind from wandering there again. Danny said he liked him. Danny wanted to be with him.

Sam couldn’t lose him, not after Danny had given him everything. He couldn’t lose him, even if it meant they’d risk everything.

“What I’m trying to say is, I’m having to make a very difficult decision. One that I’ve spent the last couple of days trying to get right in my head, and I'm sorry for keeping you in the dark. I owe you an explanation”.

“Damn right you do” despite her hardened exterior, her voice came out meek and hushed.

Although Savanna most likely could predict the end result of what this talk was supposed to be, Sam still couldn’t bring himself to just end it right there. It was a complete change in trajectory for the direction their relationship had been going in thus far, and he just needed some more time. “If you’re comfortable with it, why don’t we get some coffee tomorrow afternoon? As a real apology?”

Her scowl softened a bit as she debated whether to accept or not. Sam took the hand on her hip in his and cradled it against his chest to show her how sincere he was trying to be. “Tomorrow? Coffee?” He asked again, conjuring the best puppy eyes he could muster.

“Alright” she agreed in an exhale and lifted up onto the tip of her toes to brush a kiss against his cheek. Just in case it was the last time she was able to do so.

Sam left her to finish her closing checklist and found Danny outside waiting for him. He looked around to make sure they were the last ones to have been leaving, and silently clasped their hands together as they began the walk home.

After making it a few blocks, Danny decided to speak up before they reached the apartment. He swallowed hard, hoping he wasn’t about to sound too forward. “So, did you break up with her?”

Sam squeezed Danny’s hand. He couldn't hear the way Sam’s breathing was slow and strained, but they still came out in puffs of vapor through the chilly November air.

“Tomorrow Daniel. I’ll end it tomorrow”.

Sam caught sight of Savanna through the window of the coffee shop they had often frequented in the mornings. When she would head back home after spending the night and he needed to get to class, and he felt a pang in his heart.

He remembered the night he’d laid eyes on her. It was his first shift at the restaurant and at the time he wasn’t particularly overjoyed with Jake’s incessant nagging of him to ‘get a job’ and stop being the ‘typical college party boy’.

Sam stumbled through his first shift. Working at a high end restaurant wasn't the same as the family owned laid back set up he’d grown accustomed to at home.

Every mistake he made only put him in a worse mood. He should have been better at this, he was a natural at nearly everything, like picking up an assortment of instruments just because they looked interesting and teaching himself to play.

“Rough night?” A female’s voice questioned with a snicker.

She had three bottles turned upside down in her hands and she poured the liquids into a cocktail shaker, and was making conversation like she didn’t have to focus on what her hands were doing. “You’re the new waiter they hired for the weekends?”

“Yeah, guess that’s me” Sam replied, as he leaned further onto the bar to get a look at what she was making. “You trying to kill someone tonight with that drink?”

A flash of a smirk ran across her face. “Please, most of this is sugar” she replied as she poured the light blue mix into a glass and topped it with a piece of lemon and a cherry skewered through a plastic pick. “You want to see a real drink, watch this”.

He cocked a brow, but a smile also crept up as he followed her movements with his eyes. She retrieved a glass from the rack that hung behind her, filled it to the brim with ice and set it aside. Then she bent over and retrieved two bottles from underneath the bar, one from the fridge and one from the freezer. A mixing glass was also filled with ice and she added barely one mixing spoon full of the first bottle, then a double shot of the second before stirring the two ingredients together for a moment.

The ice was dumped out of the first glass and she strained the mixture into the chilled glass before reaching for the lemons again, this time slicing off a strip of peel and twisting it over the drink and letting it fall inside.

“A martini?” Sam questioned when he saw the finished result. He’d never had one, always thought it was kind of a girly drink, but looking at it now and the satisfied look on her face he thought maybe he’d give it a try sometime.

“Bone dry, with gin” she elaborated, her smile fading as another waitress came along and collected the drinks to be taken to their waiting recipients’ tables.

“You get through tonight’s shift, come back and I’ll make you one”.

She had the same look on her face now when Sam approached her at the cafe as she had that night after his shift, defensive, weary. A look he’d spent months of coaxing to get her to drop, and here he was about to make her build her walls right back up.

“Hey”.

“Hey” she repeated, waiting for him to take a seat, already having ordered his favorite. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

He could tell she didn’t want to be here, wanted him to spit whatever it was out and get it over with.

He grabbed his cup with both hands, letting the warmth emanating from the coffee inside calm his nerves. “Well, you know that I’m graduating in the spring right?”

“Yes” that wasn’t news to her, in fact she’d secretly already bought a new dress to wear. Now she would have to find another reason to wear it since it was long past time to be able to return it.

“I got accepted into a summer production internship in LA. So after I graduate, I’ll be moving for a while”.

“Oh”. That wasn’t what she’d expected to hear, she hadn’t heard anything about him applying to an internship, in fact no one had.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It was a stupid assignment from one of my classes. We had to apply to different jobs and programs to help us prepare for what to do after graduation or whatever. I didn’t really expect to get into any of them, but this one is actually really cool. It’s with a record label that signs a bunch of badass artists, like real artists”. He hoped she would understand. They’d had dozens of talks about what their opinions on ‘real artists’ were compared to the modern day clowns who were getting all the attention. Their views aligned for the most part, so she knew how much it meant to him to be creative and surround himself in creatively challenging environments.

She reached across the small two-person table and placed a hand on one of his wrists. “I’m proud of you”.

It was a genuine response, but not without some hint of sorrow.

“You’re going to do well Sam, don’t ever hold yourself back, because you’re one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met”.

“Thank you Savanna. You know I believe in you too, right?”

“I know you do baby”. She tried to pull on a reassuring smile, something kind to leave him with, but her lip only quivered. She let go of his wrist and grabbed her purse instead, wanting to leave now before she could say anything that might make her look weak.

“I think I’ve got something that will boost your mood” Danny stood up and went to his room for a bit.

It had been a whole day since Sam talked to Savanna at the cafe, and he’d hardly moved from his spot on the couch since he got back home.

Danny had been awfully patient with him, but he was starting to grow slightly concerned with Sam’s gloomy metaphorical storm cloud continuously hanging over him.

Danny returned after not long at all with a perfect preroll and one of Sam’s lighters.

“Oh shit, is that the good stuff you were bragging to me about?” Sam let his legs drop off the edge of the couch as he reached out for the joint. As he examined the thickly packed white paper he suddenly remembered exactly who Danny had gotten this from and his stomach flipped.

“You bet” Danny grinned and Sam pushed the intruding thought away so he could actually try to enjoy this and unwind.

They lit up the end and passed it back and forth a few times before the familiar fuzzy feeling already started to take over.

“I have to admit Daniel, you were right about a few things”. Sam chuckled, even the way his own voice felt coming out of him felt funny as he spoke without thinking it through.

“What’s that?” Danny replied, taking the last hit before putting it out and throwing himself back onto the couch.

“This is some good shit”.

It was Danny’s turn to laugh this time, also feeling the same effects. “That’s one thing. What else?”

“What?” Sam had already forgotten what it was they were talking about.

“What else am I right about?”

His heavy lids pulled open again, remembering what it was his mind was cooking up under the influence. Though he felt it, the undeniable pull of the other man sitting next to him, he still couldn’t find the right words to express exactly what it was.

So instead he had the bright idea to show him.

Without a word of warning, Sam flung one of his legs over Danny’s and gripped his shoulders to help pull his body up.

Something sounding like a squeak mixed with a choked cry came out of Danny when Sam ended up situated in his lap.

Sam had straddled Danny before, the years their friendship had seen included instances where they were physical by means of play wrestling, inappropriate teasing that maybe went a little too far considering where they were now, and the few times Danny had held him when he’d been stupidly heartbroken by someone else other than him. Never like this though. Never with the actual intent to get each other riled up.

“Sam” Danny’s tone was low, muted, like the weight of Sam on top of him was crushing his abdomen.

Sam suddenly panicked, thinking he was being too much too soon. He tried to wiggle himself away in retreat, but Danny’s hands firmly planted themselves on his hips effectively grounding him in place.

“Please don’t move” he forced out through a clenched jaw, his fingers digging into Sam’s sides.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”. Didn’t mean to what? Suddenly put themselves in the very position they had been avoiding?

“No, don’t be sorry. It’s just, I don’t want you to jump into anything you're not ready for. It’s only been a day since-”

“I’m not jumping into anything Danny”. There was still a tinge of uncertainty in Sam’s eyes, but he’d made the decision to be with Danny and now he needed to follow through with it. “You’ve been waiting long enough. I just need you to show me how you feel”.

Danny gently cupped Sam’s face in his hands, closing his eyes in an attempt to commit to memory the way his scruff tickled his palms.

He listened, to the way his heart beat fluttered in his ears, the way Sam’s breath caught just as their lips met for the first time, ever.

He felt like the world had stopped moving and time had slowed and if he could he would live in this moment forever. The moment he’d been longing for, and it was perfect.

Danny felt like he was on cloud nine. His brain exploding in an event so powerful he could feel it in the very tips of his fingers and toes.

And Sam… well Sam felt confused.

@psychedelicsprinkles @twistedmelodies @heckingfrick @alwaysonthemend

#Greta van fic #greta van angst #greta van fleet #gvf #danny wagner #jake kiszka #sam kiszka #greta van smut #sanny gvf #janny gvf

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