#hi this is at 15k notes now i just want to say I GET IT I GET IT I GET IT I GET IT ITS LEVERAGE I GET IT

[chloe-petrichors]

cradling constellations // jace x reader

when rhaenyra brings her family to court to celebrate the king's fiftieth name day, there was but one thing on your mind: getting to see jace, the boy you'd loved in secret, once more.

whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. —emily brontë

fandom; house of the dragon pairing; jacaerys velaryon x f!aunt!reader (no use of y/n) warnings; canon-typical incest, canon-au (it's viserys' birthday party baby), altered timeline (jace and reader are in their 20s) idiots in love, instant attraction/love at first (second) sight, childhood sweethearts (kinda?), soulmate vibes, love confessions, switching povs, smut (mdni !) including masturbation (m), p in v, fingering, oral (f receiving), implied loss of virginity, unprotected sex, mild marriage kink if that’s even a thing, body worship, dirty talk, praise kink, multiple orgasms, mild overstimulation, soft dom vibes, jace being a tits man. word count; 15k+ (oops) notes; me, obsessed with jace? more likely than u think. this whole fic spawned from the fact that i noticed jace's freckles on a gif and lost my gd mind. this was meant to be a quick smut fic. and then i took 11k+ words to get to the smut part. i'm sorry (i'm not). this is totally self-indulgent, soulmates, love at first sight kinda fluff-to-smut and i regret nothing. way too much time of writing this was me trawling through the asoiaf wiki pages to find details that are relevant for one whole sentence. why am i this way. valyrian is pulled straight from a translator i found online, pls let me know if you notice any errors! requests; are open !

the first time you laid eyes on jacaerys velaryon, you knew he was something special.

you had just been children, then, uncertain of each other due to the discontent between your families. but he had been kind to you, dark eyes warm, and it had been an easy thing to be kind in return. your brothers make it difficult, of course, as they seem to do with everything they get involved in. aegon had been the worst at first, spouting off the same vitriol your mother had always whispered into your ears, but aemond had not been far behind him.

after the events of laena’s funeral and the loss of aemond’s eye, the hostilities only grow and grow. helaena keeps herself apart from most of it by virtue of her typically distant manner, but your brothers insist on drawing you into the same arguments again and again. it's tedious, laborious, but they are your family.

jace and luke are too, of course, not that anyone else seems to want to admit it. for all that they are velaryon’s by name (and strong in heart, mayhaps, yes), they are your nephews. your brothers only seem interested in remembering this when it serves them, however — which is usually when they’re lording it over the dark-haired boys.

in truth, the velaryon’s are hardly innocent either. it seems like the two sets of boys bring out the absolute worse in each other without fail, and it’s usually left to you to try and be the voice of reason.

away from your brothers’ taunts, jace is like a different boy entirely. endlessly curious and ceaselessly kind, the brunette seems to always have time to talk and jape with you. your friendship grows surprisingly easy as children, and with early adulthood comes the bloom of a different kind of affection, too. you never say anything, knowing all too well that if your brothers catch even a whisper of your feelings that there will be no end of hells to pay.

it matters little, regardless. your mother will never tolerate a betrothal between the two of you and you know better than to even attempt to broach such a topic. it had been sheer miracle that she hadn’t tried marrying you off to aemond after securing aegon and helaena’s marriage, and you aren’t willing to tempt fate by giving her ideas now. so what if you spend countless nights dreaming of freckled skin and dark hair? it matters not in the scheme of things.

rhaenyra flees kings landing after daemon’s return to westeros, leaving you feeling strangely bereft without your nephews’ company. years go by with no contact from your sister’s family, and so you let your old daydreams fall to the wayside. there’s no use dwelling on what you can’t have, and no point bringing it up since even now just a mention of luke or jace is enough to inflame aemond’s temper.

and then, of course, the news comes that rhaenyra is returning to court for the king’s fiftieth name day. there are great feasts and celebrations planned in honour of your father, which you privately think silly considering it’s unlikely he would be well enough to attend half the festivities. still, there’s no denying your excitement at the idea of seeing jace again. he would be a man grown, now, his twentieth name day having passed only a few moons ago.

for once the majority of your family will be under one roof, and you are certain it will end in disaster — but you intend to enjoy it while you can.

going flying the morning of the velaryons arrival is perhaps not your smartest idea. 

your nerves wake you well before dawn. you feel as if you’re going to crawl out of your skin if you don’t do something, and you know your chances for flying will be limited with the celebrations expected to start tomorrow. so you decided to take the chance while you can, dressing quickly in your riding gear before creeping to the dragon pit well before any of your family wake.

silverwing likes it when you take her for unexpected flights, so she makes no complaint when you have the dragon keepers release her. you go through the motions of saddling her yourself, as you always do, taking the chance to reinforce the bond with your dragon.

silverwing hadn’t been your hatched dragon. the egg that you had slept beside as a babe had never hatched, just as aemond’s and helaena’s hadn’t. it had infuriated aemond when you were children, that jace and luke’s dragons hatched while he was left without. it had made him an easy target for the other boys; aegon had often led the others in riling him about his lack of dragon until he had claimed vhagar. you can admit now that the others had oft been cruel to him in their japing, and it had ended poorly for everyone involved.

your claiming of silverwing had been incredibly boring in comparison. she had found you, in truth, a year after aemond claimed vhagar. she’d been your great-grandmother the good queen alysanne’s dragon before your own, and had not taken a rider since the queen’s death. she’d flown from the dragonmont to find you, and you’ve been nigh on inseparable since. your mother despairs over it, hating how her often her ‘perfect daughter’ has shown up to court late with windswept hair and flushed cheeks.

but, to you, flying is freedom.

there’s nothing else like it in the world; the sensation of silverwing beneath you, the seven kingdoms at your fingertips, and only the sky above. your mother has never really let go of her fear of the dragons, and you can understand it in a way; she is no targaryen, and she’ll never know what it is to bond with a dragon, to have that presence so alien and yet so familiar nudging against the corners of your mind. any attempts to explain it to her are met with bemusement and wariness, and you’d long ago learned to stop bringing it up.

silverwing’s joy to fly merges into your own as you climb atop her, running a soothing hand over the gleaming silver spikes at her neck as you adjust the straps. her impatience thrums loudly through the bond as you settle yourself into the saddle, and you feel her heart beat through you like a second pulse as your own anticipation rises.

“ivestragī īlva sōvegon, ñuha raqiros! [let us fly, my friend!]”

she needs no further nudging than that, and with a delighted roar she launches into the air. your laughter is stolen by the wind as she beats her wings, propelling you higher and higher before sweeping over the towering peaks of the red keep. with a shouted instruction she banks sharply to the left, flying out over blackwater bay as the sun finally crests the horizon. the dark sea lights up with reds and golds beneath you, the sky gloriously blue above, and silverwing’s distinctive scales shine in the breaking dawn.

a glorious morning, you think, and as the two of you climb higher to the sky you feel all your nerves and excitement for anything but the flight leave you. this is what your mother will never understand; flying is an escape, yes, but not from your duties as she assumes it is. this is an escape from your worries, from the petty machinations of court. in the sky with your dragon, you need worry only about how chill the wind will be, or if aemond is out with vhagar, who’s a grumpy old beast at the best of times and silverwing is feeling mischievous.

you find peace, here, in the sky. this is what you were born for.

long minutes pass as you fly leisurely, circling over the bay and the keep and back again in ever widening circles. sometimes silverwing dives just to do so, plunging so close to the blackwater that you could reach out and skim your hand over the dark depths. you lose track of time as the two of you fly, contentment bleeding across the bond so completely you can’t even tell which one of you it’s coming from.

a dragon’s cry in the distance catches your attention, and silverwing pulls up from where she’d been ducking her head into the water to snatch fish. she propels you rapidly higher into the air, crying out in response as you break through the thin cloud cover. you expect to find aegon’s dragon; sunfyre is the only dragon silverwing likes, rather than tolerates, to be making such a noise in greeting.

but it’s an unfamiliar dragon that greets you, olive green scales shining with the damp from the high altitudes. your mind races as you struggle to place it, and it’s only when you catch sight of a head of dark curls astride the dragon that you realise who it is.

vermax.

and jacaerys.

your heart skips in your chest, silverwing’s unexpected excitement tangling with your own nerves as she swoops towards the much smaller dragon. it’s only her sheer happiness that stops you from panicking or shouting a command to halt in valyrian, and moments later you recall she’d have known vermax from her time on dragonstone.

she somersaults over and around vermax playfully, and you release an exhilarated laugh in response as you cling tightly to the saddle. you see only snatches of jace as your dragons fly complicated patterns around each other, but the quick flashes you do get find an easy smile on his face.

the dragons spend a long while flying together, racing and diving and spiralling to new heights. they move so quickly that you have no chance to try and greet jacaerys, can offer nothing more than quick smiles as you pass him. it gives you the time for your nerves to settle back down, time to reassure yourself that any childhood feelings are long faded and that you will be able to act perfectly composed when it is time to greet him.

eventually you realise your dragon is not going to land until you tell her too, and vermax is clearly just as willing to chase after the larger she-dragon for as long as she is willing to be chased.

“māzigon, silverwing. istiti tegun [come, silverwing. we must land],” you shout, laughing again when the dragon whines her displeasure. she listens regardless, soaring down in tightening circles with vermax following close on your tail. her landing in the dragon pit is far from smooth, but you’re well used to compensating for the jostling as she settles onto the ground once more.

you’re quick in freeing yourself from the saddle, murmuring warm thanks and praise to your dragon as you walk to the side of her great head to meet a single burning eye. “kirimvose, ñuha raqiros. kesi sōvegon arlī aderī [thank you, my friend. we will fly again soon],” you tell her, and she responds with a content grumble as she nudges her head gently against your chest in affection.

you leave the dragon keepers to return her to her cave, instead turning to watch as jace shares his own goodbyes with his dragon. you take the chance to look at him, properly look, and find yourself suddenly warring with self-consciousness and a burning in your chest.

despite the acrobatics of the dragons, he looks perfectly put together with his dark curls brushing his shoulders and a pleasing tan to his skin. you fear you must look a ruin, with your hair undoubtedly a mess and cheeks flushed from the cold bite of the wind. your breath is still a touch laboured from the exertion of the flight, while he looks perfectly composed in his fancy black and red doublet. you curse the old gods and the new that you’d picked out your old riding gear this morning — comfortable, yes, but certainly not ideal for greeting the heir to the heir and the man you’d once daydreamed about marrying.

you push the thoughts away with determined stubbornness, refusing to dwell on the warmth in your chest when jace finally turns to look at you. he’s grown, you note immediately, now standing at least a head taller than you. any traces of baby fat have left him, leaving behind a strong, square jaw and strong yet slim shoulders. his dark eyes are warm, though, and his smile friendly as he takes you in.

you dip instinctually into a curtsey, a perfectly respectable greeting ready on your lips, but you’re startled into straightening back to standing when jace laughs.

“come now, princess,” he says, fond and teasing he approaches you. he’s the only one who’s ever been able to make the title sound more like an endearment. “since when have we been ones for formality?”

it sets you at ease immediately, tension relaxing from your shoulders as you beam at him. “i suppose we never have been very good at that, have we?” you let your eyes skip over him again, something like relief settling in your bones at the sight of him. “it’s good to see you again, jace.”

“aye,” he returns, dark eyes sparkling. “it is good to see you, indeed.”

for a long moment he simply looks at you, and it makes that peculiar warmth in your chest blaze a little brighter. there’s something in his face that you’ve never seen there before — but then you think of course there is. you haven’t seen him in so long there’s probably all kinds of things about you him you no longer know. it aches, almost, to think it, but in a way he’s a stranger to you; a man with the kind eyes of the boy you’d loved in secret, once.

you clear your throat as you drop your eyes from his stare, glancing at the bustling keepers as they tend to your dragons instead as you cast about for something to say.

“are the rest of your family not flying in?” you query after a moment.

he shakes his head, dark curls swaying with the movement. “no, arrax and tyraxes are still too small to fly luke and joff for such a journey, and mother would rather stay with my brothers on the ship.”

you nod in acceptance, shifting slightly on the spot. “well then, let me be the first to welcome you back to king’s landing, my prince.” you take the formality out of your tone with a playful wink, and are gratified to see the way he chuckles at your antics.

“i had hoped you’d be the first i’d see.” he admits this casually, as if this doesn’t set your heart and mind racing. “i have missed you, aunt.”

you duck your head again to try and hide the smile spreading across your face. you tell yourself sternly to stop acting like some lovesick child, all the while that small flame continues to burn away inside of you. “and i you, nephew.” you glance up at him shyly from beneath your lashes, teeth worrying at your bottom lip, and you don’t miss the way his eyes track the movement.

he’s the one to clear his throat, this time, stepping a half-pace away from you and gesturing for you to proceed him. “shall we head to the keep, then? my mother’s ship should have arrived by now and we wouldn’t want to miss the formal welcome.”

“as you say,” you agree, and the two of you set off.

you spend the long walk to the keep catching up on the long years between you. you’d expected the time apart to be like a gulf between you, a canyon that could not be crossed, but if anything it’s the opposite. it’s as if you’d last seen each other only hours ago. it should startle you, how simple it feels to fall into your old friendship, but you don’t have it in you to be surprised. that’s always been the thing with jace, after all — it’s easy. being around him, speaking to him, listening to his odd tangents. it all comes as natural to you as breathing, as if there’s a part of you that was just born knowing him.

he's dodging your questions as you finally arrive at the keep, having let slip something about an old secret from the days of your childhood that he’s never shared with you. it makes something flutter in your chest, the way he looks at you as he says it. the way he’s looked at you the whole time, in fact, has you having to bite back a smile. he looks at you as if he is looking at something precious, expression tender and fond and uncomplicated. it threatens to steal your breath again, and so you make an effort to try and act as unaffected as possible, because he cannot mean it in the way you think you might want him too.

“oh, but you simply must tell me!” you wheedle cheerfully, a mischievous smile on your lips. “you wouldn’t keep a secret from me, would you, my prince?”

you pout at him, fluttering your lashes in the way you usually do when trying to get your way with your brothers. jace swallows audibly at the sight, some emotion you can’t read flickering across his eyes as his gaze drops to your mouth and then lower again before returning to your eyes. something in his expression makes you flush, cheeks burning as your lips part slowly. a heat rises in you, unbidden, as he steps ever so slightly closer into your space. you’re overwhelmed with the smell of him; sea salt and dragon smoke and something almost woodsy underneath it, something entirely jace.

he murmurs your name so quietly you almost miss it over the sounds of courtyard. his hand twitches as if to reach for you as he ducks his head slightly, and you think if you lifted yours just so you’d be able to brush your lips over the strong line of his jaw. you realise suddenly how much you want to — how much you want to drag your tongue over his skin and taste.

oh.

oh.

you want him. that peculiar feeling that had been burning in your chest — you recognise the desire for what it is, now. the easy camaraderie that you’d fell into on the walk to the keep subsides in the wake of it, and abruptly all you can think of is what his mouth will feel like on your own. the palpable tension between you makes your hands tremble with the urge to touch, heart pounding so loudly in your ears it drowns out anything that isn’t him as the rest of the courtyard fades away.

you sway the barest inch closer, inhaling his scent deeply, and watch as jace’s nostrils flare in response. with a shaky breath you lift your chin, eyes dropping to his parted lips, and you bite your bottom lip as his tongue sweeps over his own.

“jace…”

“brother! there you are!”

luke’s voice startles you both back to reality as you spring apart. you hadn’t realised just how close you’d gotten, your chests almost brushing with every breath, until the gap between you widens. you drop your eyes to your feet, cheeks blazing with embarrassment as you realise how close you’d come to kissing him in an extremely public place. you chide yourself internally for forgetting yourself, and take another second to gather your composure before lifting your head with a smile.

“hello, nephew,” you greet luke warmly, doing your best to ignore the way jace’s eyes burns into the side of your face. “it is very good to see you again.”

“aunt!” luke fairly cheers, and you note how the youth still clings to his face. while certainly older than the last time you’d seen him, he still seems like a child to you. his limbs are long and gangly, in that awkward stage at the cusp of adulthood where he’s not quite grown into himself yet. he bounds closer, drawing you into a hug that you allow and return with a fond laugh.

“luke, honestly,” jace tuts, shaking his head as the two of you separate. “we’re at court, now. at least try to remember your manners.”

the younger boy winces. “ah, right, yes.” he sketches a quick but perfect bow your way. “it is a great honour to see you once more, princess.” he flashes a cheeky smile and a wink your way as he straightens out, and you press your hand to your mouth to smother a giggle at the exasperated look on jace’s face at his brother’s antics. he’s hardly one to talk, you think, considering how quickly he had dispensed with manners when greeting you.

in return, you dip into a practiced if impish curtsey. “it is a sincere pleasure to see you as well, prince lucerys.”

luke does giggle, then, as jace rolls his eyes so hard you think they’re at risk of falling out of his head. despite his dramatics, you spot the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth as he watches you jape with his brother.

“the queen is looking for you, dear aunt,” luke says after the greetings are done, and your amusement flees you as your stomach drops.

it’s only then you realise that with both luke and jace being here, you’ve certainly missed the official welcome of princess rhaenyra back to court. you wince at the thought of your mother’s ire, resigning yourself to a long lecture about your responsibilities and how dragon riding is ‘not one of them’. jace catches your expression, concern creasing his face as his brows furrow.

“alright?” he checks, and you do your best to offer him a reassuring smile.

“yes, i’m sure all will be well.” you hesitate a moment before offering a one-shouldered shrug, ignoring the voice in your head that sounds far too much like your mother telling you how unladylike such a motion is. “i expect my mother will be displeased with me for missing the official welcome, but the festivities will surely distract her quick enough.”

luke and jace both offer you a commiserating smile as the three of you head into the keep. you expect your mother will be waiting in her solar, which is on a close route to the guest suites set aside for the visiting royals, and so you walk with the velaryons as far as you can. when it comes time to part, jace lingers at the entry of the hall as luke continues down the corridor. his dark eyes are fixed to yours so intensely it steals your breath as you slow to a stop as well.

“i’ll see you at the feast,” he says quietly, capturing your hand in his much larger one and bringing it to his mouth. your breath hitches in your chest, eyes widening as he brushes his lips tenderly over your knuckles. your lips part in surprise, tingles racing up your arm from where his mouth makes contact with your skin. before you have chance to respond, jace dips into a sweeping bow and then bids you farewell, leaving you staring after him for a long moment.

well. if your mother doesn’t kill you, you think jace certainly will.

jace sinks into the hot water of the bath with a deep sigh of relief.

after meeting with his mother to explain why he’d been late to the formal greetings — or, rather, offer excuses as to why he’d been late, since he doesn’t think his mother will take well to the idea he was so busy enjoying himself flying with you that the thought of any formal welcome party left his mind entirely — he’d sought his chambers. the bath had been ready and waiting for him, tendrils of steam wafting from the clear water, and he’d wasted no time in shedding his clothes. he’s keen to wash the dragon stink from his skin before the feast, and he makes quick work of scrubbing his skin clean. when he’s done, he allows himself to relax against the metal of the tub, arms draped carelessly over the metal rim as he soaks.

king’s landing from dragonstone is not too long a journey on dragon back, but flying for such a stretch causes its own particular aches. vermax had enjoyed the chance to stretch his wings, at least, and had enjoyed the playful flight with silverwing even more.

he can admit to himself he’d enjoyed it, too, the sight of you astride your dragon lighting something within him. it’s been so long since he’d seen you, not since the aftermath of laena’s funeral, and he hadn’t been prepared for how the sight of you — breathless and flush and beaming at him — would make him feel. he’d almost managed to push back his boyhood adoration and childhood daydreams of marrying you one day with the years passing, but seeing you again brings it all rushing back and he feels as hopelessly enamoured with you now as he did as a child.

you’ve grown well, there’s no denying that. where childhood had left you sometimes awkward and gangly, you’ve become a woman grown now with all the curves and delights that come with it. he’d been embarrassed at how hard it had been to pull his gaze from you on the trip to the keep, but you’d not seemed to notice. too occupied with filling the air between you with light chatter, you’d been oblivious to the way his eyes had dragged over your form again and again.

you just — you’re so unlike anyone else he knows. he’d let himself forget how lovely you were, but there was no way to ignore it now. riding the high of your flight and genuinely happy to see him, you’d been like something out of a dream. your face had been as open to him as ever, plainly delighted to see him, and seeing you had eased some ache he’d become so used to he’d not even know it was there until he felt the lack of it.

he’s not some foolish child. he knows better than to think of things like love when his head must lie with his duty. but the thought remains regardless, lingering in the back of his mind that you would be as easy to love now as you had been when you were younger. it had been a childish love then, of course; innocent and sweet in the ways only children could be. but it had been there, unspoken and unacted upon, but no less real for it.

you’re not children anymore. it would be impossible to think otherwise with the way your riding gear had clung flatteringly to your chest and hips. your mouth looked so pretty stretched into a smile, a smile for him, and he thinks it’s a testament to his restraint that he’d not kissed you on the spot when you’d pouted so prettily up at him. he’d thought for a fleeting moment that perhaps you were going to kiss him with the way your eyes had darkened, how you’d gravitated into his space as if without intention.

heat pools in his stomach as he thinks about how the neckline of your riding dress had cut low enough to allow him a peak at your chest, heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. he wonders what your mouth would taste like, what noises you would make if he’d slid his tongue against your own. gods, he feels like a green boy seeing a woman for the first time — almost undone at just the thought of you. he won’t be able to get through the welcome feast like this, he thinks, so on edge with his lust for you burning him from the inside out.

it’s not even a conscious choice to curl his fingers around his cock, half-hard already as he thinks of you. jace’s head tips back against the rim of the bath, eyes drifting closed as a quiet gasp escapes him. the warm water eases his way as he strokes himself, and he lets himself imagine it’s your slick, instead.

he pictures you before him, pretends it’s your hand teasing at the skin at the head of his cock. your hands are so small, so dainty, he thinks you probably wouldn’t be able to wrap them all the way around him. he imagines they’re a little calloused — soft, mostly, but with the fingertips just rough enough from years spent riding and caring for your dragon. they’d drag so deliciously against his skin, and you’d take to the task with the same voracious enthusiasm you do with everything else. you’d watch him closely, pick up on the cues of his pleasure, and he’d unravel for you so quickly it’d be embarrassing if it was anyone else.

“fuck,” he hisses out, thumb dragging over the liquid leaking copiously from his tip. his head tips back even further, water dripping from his curls onto the stone floor as he chases his release. his imagining splinters into disconnected fantasies; you, on your knees with your mouth stretched around him, lashes damp with reflexive tears as your eyes fix on his. you, sprawled beneath him and writhing as he feasts on your cunt like a man starved. you, babbling in high valyrian as he sinks into the tight wet heat of you. you, clenching and shuddering around his cock as you come for him, blazing and beautiful. you, you, you.

his release hits him hard, a low groan tearing from his throat as his hips thrust up into his hand as he drags out those last few moments of pleasure. his panting breaths sound loud in the silence of his chambers, and jace is suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he is alone. there is, of course, no trace of you.

he knows in that moment he has to have you. he cannot tolerate the thought of anyone else — not for himself, and certainly not for you. he wants you as his wife, his queen, the mother of his children. jace doesn’t care how he must do it — as long as you’re as willing as he is, he is going to make you his.

the feast has started by the time jace arrives.

his indulgence had cost him time, and then he’d spent longer than usual readying himself while trying to ignore the fact he was doing so only to impress you. by the time he makes it to the hall his family are already seated and the minstrels are playing a jaunty tune. his eyes seek you instantly, and he resists the urge to frown in disappointment as he sees you sat between helaena and aemond. he’d hoped to sit beside you and use this time to see if there was any hint of you returning his feelings. no matter — there would be time enough later. if he has his way, there’ll be all the time in the world.

you look beautiful, he notes. you’re dressed in your usual deep green, the gown cut flatteringly for your shape. your face is animated and happy as you chat to aemond, and though he finds the idea of anyone enjoying that grumpy prick’s presence bizarre, he enjoys the sight of you so at ease.  

as he approaches the head table and the empty seat between his mother and luke, your eyes linger on him. he’s gratified by the way you light up when you spot him, offering him a warm smile in welcome for all that you’re quickly entangled into a conversation with your sister. it eases some of the sting at finding you unavailable, and he’s helpless but to smile back at you even when your gaze slides back to helaena.

luke eyes him strangely as he settles into his seat but says nothing as jace reaches for a goblet of wine. his mother greets him absently, entangled as she is in conversation with the king, and he takes the moment to glance out at the hall.

it’s a relatively small feast. large enough to not cause offence to the heir to the throne, but not so grand as to detract from the festivities planned for the next fortnight. he recognises a few faces in the crowd, people from different houses from across the kingdoms. the king’s birthday celebrations are no small affair, and he spots representatives from all the great houses as well as some of the more minor ones.

it makes him want to slump in his seat, for all that he keeps his posture straight. he knows the next few weeks will be full of politicking and double speak, and it grates. as the heir to the heir, jace knows it’s partially his responsibility to ensure their alliances still stand while seeking out any news one that might present themselves. he has no doubt that some of the lords in this crowd will have brought their daughters, planning to parade them in front of him and his brothers in hopes they might pick one as their betrothed.

his lack of betrothal has been a point of contention for many of the court, he knows. most had assumed he would be betrothed to his stepsister baela, and he’d thought the same for years. it was only when his mother had confided that baela had no interest in being queen and, in fact, was so strongly opposed to the idea that she swore to fly to essos and never be seen again if they tried marrying her to him that he realised just why such a betrothal had never been announced.

it had left him free, in a way, to pursue his own desires; without a betrothal attached to him he’d shed any guilt about seeking company at the pleasure houses. but, in turn, it had left him open to the machinations of the other houses who all sought to have their blood on the iron throne. it’s incredibly tedious, but he knows he must grin and bear it for the sake of his mother and his house.

the food arrives then, and he busies himself with the meal and talking to his siblings. his grandsire makes a speech welcoming his daughter and her family home, and jace notes the sour faces of alicent’s sons. they keep their tongues, at least, which shows a maturity from them he truthfully hadn’t expected. perhaps they’ve grown just as you have, he thinks, but dismisses the thought when aemond catches his eye and only sneers in response to jace’s tentative smile.

he's often wondered at the conflict between the two sides of the family. the animosity now he can pinpoint, of course; aemond losing his eye. but there had been years before that of tense, standoffish behaviour interspersed with camaraderie when everyone seemed to forget they weren’t meant to be friends. he remembers playing pranks with aegon while luke trailed after them, and he remembers sitting with helaena while she perused the dirt for bugs.

he remembers you, most of all. kind and fearless and smart, you’d enamoured him from the moment he was old enough to recognise girls were different to boys in interesting ways. even before then you’d been fast friends, something in your similarly mischievous behaviour drawing you into each other’s orbit. he’s always been drawn to you, he thinks, to the uncomplicated joy you took in your life. there was so much to be miserable about, so much duty on all your shoulders, but you always found something to smile over. your unfailing optimism would no doubt be irritating to some, but to him it has always been one of his favourite things about you.

his gaze, predictably, shifts to you. he startles to find you looking at him already. you flush immediately as your eyes lock, presumably embarrassed at being caught, and he enjoys the colour it brings to your cheeks. you don’t drop his stare, though, not until helaena says something to draw your attention back to her once again. he catches sight of a private little quirk of your lips as your head turns, and something like satisfaction settles in his chest as he hides his own smile in his goblet.

perhaps this feast won’t be as tedious as he’d feared.

“are you enjoying the festivities, princess?”

jace’s voice pulls you from where you’ve been staring into your wine as if it holds all the secrets of the world. you’ve lost count of how many goblets you’ve had, chattering away with your siblings before aegon had started to become cruel in his inebriation and you’d all opted to split apart through the hall. you glance up to find the velaryon prince standing before you, hands perched loosely on the hilt of his sword. he looks unfairly handsome, you think, with his tumble of curls and well-fitted doublet, and something about the slight smirk on his face makes you think he knows it.

“i am enjoying them well enough,” you allow, flicking your gaze from his to look out at the dance floor. aemond is dancing with helaena, aegon far too deep into his cups to bother thinking of his wife. your mother is as tense as she has been since you’d found her earlier; her stepdaughter’s arrival to court has set her incredibly on edge, and the lecture she’d given you earlier had certainly been one of her worst. and your father is oblivious to it all, simply too pleased at the presence of his favoured daughter to care about the way the rest of his family are fracturing apart.

he's not been a good father to you, the king. he’s called you and helaena rhaenyra more than once over the years, and even when his eyes are you on you, you never feel like it’s you he sees. your mother had tried to soothe the ache of his absence, of his blatant favour for a woman who was not here, but as the years stretched on even she had seemed to fade further and further away from you all. for so long it’s just been the four of you, clinging to each other and tearing each other apart in equal measure. you’ve oft thought that daeron is the luckiest of you, able to thrive at the hightower and away from the mess of your family.

you pause at the maudlin turn of your thoughts, peering contemplatively into your wine again before offering jace a slightly sheepish smile. “i… fear i may have indulged in too much wine,” you admit, startling a laugh from the darkhaired prince.

it’s aegon’s fault, you decide; before he’d gotten belligerently drunk he’d been so cheerful, seemingly pleased to have the pressure of being the eldest targaryen child in court off of his shoulders. in his cheer he had plied you with wine, laughing and japing with an arm over your shoulder as you reminisced on simpler times of your childhood. happy to see him so, you’d not resisted, but now you find yourself regretting those choices as your thoughts tumble sluggishly through your mind.

jace shakes his head fondly at you, reaching out to carefully steal your goblet away. his fingers brush against yours as he does so, the barest of touches and yet enough to set your heart racing as you blink slowly up at him. he sips from your wine deliberately, amber eyes darkening as he holds your stare, and your lips part with an unsteady breath. something about him drinking your wine from your cup has your stomach fluttering pleasantly.

gods, i want him.

the thought is enough to startle you, heat suffusing your cheeks as you avert your gaze. jace doesn’t, though, and you can feel the weight of his stare on you like a tangible thing. it makes your skin prickle with warmth, and you lurch a touch unsteadily to your feet before you can say anything silly like ‘kiss me, please’.

“i think i should retire to my chambers before i make a drunken fool of myself,” you announce, fingers smoothing over the green velvet of your dress.

“i’ll escort you,” jace returns, tone leaving no room for argument.

he sets aside the wine and offers you his arm, quirking an eyebrow as if in challenge. you hesitate for barely a second, taking a steadying breath, before looping your arm through his and allowing him to lead you through the crowd towards the open doors. the woodsy smell of him you’d noticed before is clearer, now, and you take another deep breath of the scent. it calms your nerves and yet inflames your desire, and your fingers tighten infinitesimally against his bicep.

you stop at the doors of the feasting chamber for long enough to let ser erryk know that you’re retiring for the evening, leaving it to him to pass the message on to your mother, and then you and jace are alone in the halls of the keep.

of course, you’re not truly alone. guards litter the corridors and even at this late hour servants bustle along, busy with their chores. but in the quiet of the keep as jace leads you to your rooms, you can almost imagine yourself alone with him. the thought threatens to overwhelm you, mad fantasies of him tugging you into a dark alcove to devour you flashing through your mind, and you scold yourself internally.

you’re really very cross with aegon. he and his wine have left you in this state, too far into your cups to keep control of your dangerous wonderings. if only he had not kept calling for more of that gods-be-damned arbor gold, you’d have been able to keep your wits about you. you’d wanted to dance at the feast, too, mayhaps even with jacaerys but at the very least with your brothers. instead, you’re being led back to your rooms like a child who’s had their first taste of wine with dinner and let it go to their head.

jace’s presence helps your intoxication little. seeing him again, touching him, smelling him — it’s all too much when all your defences are down like this. you feel like a girl again, staring breathlessly after him and so full of certainty that you love him, and it’s just— ridiculous. you’ve spent mere hours in his presence and you’re like some lovelorn idiot with no thought in your mind beyond being as close to him as is possible. it’s foolish, reckless, absurd. but it’s there, regardless, unfurling in your chest with a lovely kind of agony.

you keep quiet on the walk, too afraid that if you open your mouth you’ll beg him to have his way with you or, worse, confess your re-blooming infatuation for him, and jace seems content enough to walk in silence for a while. eventually, though, he speaks.

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen you drunk before,” he observes, tone light.

you glance at him sidelong, pursing your lips at the teasing smirk curling on his mouth. “it’s aegon’s doing,” you tell him solemnly. “my brother is something of an expert on the subject of wines, and his tolerance is… much higher than mine own.”

jace snorts. “aye, i had noticed.”

you lapse into silence, again, only now you find yourself stealing glances at him. he really is very pretty, you think, though in quite a masculine way. something about the sharp line of his jaw and the curl of his eyelashes keeps drawing your attention, and you suspect you are not being subtle with your admiration in your inebriated state. as you walk by an open window moonlight floods into the hall, sending jace’s profile into sharp relief, and your eyes catch on the smattering of freckles on his smooth skin. something about the pattern makes you think of the stars, and you realise too late that your quick glances have turned to a lingering stare.

“is there something on my face, princess?”

jace’s mockingly innocent words draw your eyes to his. he’s smirking down at you, eyes dancing with amusement, and your cheeks flush. gods, you don’t think you’ve blushed so much in moons compared to the mere hours you’ve spent in his company. the things this man is doing to you — it is unconscionable. you don’t know how much more of this you can take before your resolve breaks.

“i apologise, my prince,” your respond after a beat, teeth biting at your lip. “i did not mean to… i was leagues away.”

his eyes darken, mischief fleeing them in favour of flickers of something else as they linger on your mouth, and that damnable heat in your stomach blazes. you want desperately to surge forward and kiss him, or for him to take you in his hands and kiss you. you just want, and ache, and burn. and it’s too much, far too much for your wine-addled brain to process, but you know if anyone was to happen upon you in this corridor, starting at him with your mouth parted and your breaths shuddering through your lungs, there will be consequences.

“we should— we are almost at my chambers.” your words are stumbling, loud in the sudden quiet that had descended over the pair of you, and jace startles a little, eyes darting away from yours as your stomach plummets. gods, what are you doing? staring at him in such a way? he must think you a simple-minded fool, gaping at him for the sake of a few freckles. you step away from him, rubbing your arm as you turn your eyes to stare intently at your feet instead. “i can make it the rest of the way from here. you should return to the feast.”

jace is quiet for a long moment and you peek up at him to see him watching you with an indecipherable expression for a charged breath before nodding slowly and taking a step away.

“as you wish,” he murmurs, ducking his head in a simple bow. “sweet dreams, princess.”

you stutter out your own farewell, half-convinced you’ll be dreaming of nothing but his hands and his mouth this night, before turning and all but fleeing down the hall.

oh, yes. jacaerys is certainly going to be the death of you.

jace spends the next few days at court so entangled in his responsibilities he feels he barely sets eyes upon you.

he and his mother are roped into starting the celebrations in the absence of the king himself. his grandsire’s health is failing, of that there is no doubt, and after enjoying himself a touch too heartily at the welcome feast he requires a few days to recover. he thinks perhaps that’s why these festivities are so important; it’s unlikely the king will make it to his five and fiftieth name day, and almost certainly not his sixtieth. it leaves him with… complicated feelings.

when his grandsire dies, he will no longer be the heir to the heir, but the heir to the iron throne itself. it’s a daunting thought; for all that his mother has seen him well prepared to sit his throne one day, it feels such an impossible task. he doesn’t understand how he’s ever supposed to be ready for such a thing.

the thought rises, unbidden, that it would be easier with you by his side. with your kind heart but sharp mind, you’d make a fine queen. he finds himself daydreaming of it still and scolding himself all the while for acting the green boy, and yet unable to stop. it’s as if his every thought leads back to you in some way or another — he sees a flower and wonders if you’d like the smell of it, or sees a dress and thinks of how much lovelier it would look on you. at night he indulges in more sensual wonderings, and he swears he’s not felt the urge to touch himself so much since he was a boy of five and ten just starting to discover the pleasures the touch of another can bring.

for all that you’d appeared to reject him the night of the welcome feast, he finds himself certain you desire him just as he does you. in fact, he fancies it’s that very desire that had led to you fleeing his company and avoiding him in the days after.

because you are avoiding him.

yes, he is busy with the festivities and you are perhaps equally so. but he does not think it’s busyness that drives you to seek conversation with absolutely anyone else when he looks for your company, and it is not busyness that has you clinging to aemond’s side so fiercely either. you know he won’t approach you when you’re with your brother, knowing how it hurts you to see them trade barbs and knowing himself well enough to know he will not be able to bite back his rancour if aemond says a word about his father.

jace is not an idiot. he knows what people say about him, the words they barely bother to whisper behind their hands about who his true sire is. he has complicated feelings about that, too, but it all boils down to one simple thing: he is his mother’s son. she is heir to the king, and he is her heir. for him, that’s all that can matter.

he knows it’s all that matters to you, too. for all that your brothers had spit bastard at him for as long as he can remember, you’ve never done so. you’ve never looked at him differently for the rumours of his birth, and it’s just one thing among many he treasures about you.

perhaps it’s foolish, to cling to these childhood feelings so tightly, but he cannot let the idea of the two of you together go. he knows luke has noticed how he stares after you in longing, since his brother has never been shy about teasing him relentlessly. he thinks his mother has noticed, too, from the few carefully inane comments she’s made about betrothals and duty. 

he supposes an argument could be made for the fact that with the years without contact between you, he doesn’t really know you anymore, not as he once did, but he doesn’t feel it matters. he can learn anything new about you and will in fact do so joyfully, but the important things? the things that speak to who you are at your core? jace has always known those, has always felt connected to you in a way he never has with another, and he loves you now just as he did as a boy. 

it would be easier in a way if he felt sure you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. at least then he could try and move on from them, put to bed his endless wonderings of you. but for as often as he turns his head to look at you, he finds you looking away from your own watching of him. the few, brief interactions he has with you over the next few days feel loaded, the desire and affection between you a palpable thing, and he’s tiring of pretending there’s nothing there anymore.

he’s tired of pretending he doesn’t miss you.

so, at the halfway point of the celebrations when there’s another, larger feast held with plenty of chances for dancing and sneaking away into dark corners, he makes it a point to keep an eye on you. the moment he spots you, finally alone, he beelines for you. your attention is on your necklace, readjusting the pendant that rests on your chest, and he cannot help but let his gaze linger on the swell of your breasts as he approaches. he’s found himself staring at your chest more often than is wholly appropriate over the last few days, but then he knows his own weaknesses when it comes to a woman’s form.

“p-prince jacaerys,” you greet weakly when you look up from your necklace, hands smoothing over the skirts of your dress. your eyes dart about the room as if seeking a rescue from someone, and he tries not to feel how such a response to his presence stings. “how are you enjoying the feast?”

“well enough,” he returns, echoing the words you’d spoke to him days ago. gods, has it only been days since that conversation? it feels like an age, and he has felt more distant from you in these passing moments than he is in your years apart.

“that is… good.” your fingers twist around each other, teeth catching on your bottom lip, and he has to swallow back the sudden rush of desire to be the one nipping at the pouting flesh.

“would you do me the honour of a dance, princess?”

his request startles you, eyes widening as your fingers drop back to your side in surprise. he thinks for a wild moment that you’ll say no, make some excuse to remove yourself from him, and he feels himself bracing for the rejection. but you hesitate, searching his face, and whatever you find there seems to soften something in you as you nod.

“of course.” you offer him your hand, an unsure smile on your face.

he takes it with relief, trying not to react at the sensation of your hand in his own. he was right in thinking your hands are smooth, but as he leads you to the dance floor and your fingers slide over his palm he feels the drag of callouses as he’d expected. it pulls him back into that heated imagining of before for a moment, and he has to shake his head slightly to keep himself from losing his wits.

you stay quiet as he guides you into position, dainty hand resting on his shoulder as he places his own at your hip. he leads you through the first few steps in quiet, too, taking the moment to enjoy having you in his arms, having you close. but he realises after a silent minute that you’re obviously not going to say anything, and even as he looks beseechingly at you appear to avoid meeting his eyes.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he speaks lowly, watching you carefully as you stare purposefully at the bridge of his nose instead of his eyes.

your eyes flicker away and back and then away again, fingers tightening around his own as he leads you through the steps of the dance effortlessly. “aye,” you admit quietly. “i have been.”

“why?” he doesn’t mean to sound so desperate nor so accusing, but the quiet hurt that your absence has caused him surges forth before jace can stop it.

you finally meet his gaze, eyes helpless and wanting and aching, and his stomach twists at the sight of your conflicted expression.

“i— jace, i can’t.” your voice cracks with the weight of your emotion and without thinking he pulls you closer, arm wrapping tight around your waist to provide you some semblance of comfort. “i can’t. not here, please.”

wordlessly he alters the steps of the dance, drawing you with precision through the crowd of dancers until you come to one of the balconies. it’s blessedly empty of anyone else, and as soon as you realise it some tension seems to shake loose of you.

you step out of his grip slowly, almost reluctantly, and walk to the railing, palms splaying on the stone. he joins you after the barest hesitation, drinking you in as you stare out at the courtyard and beyond. he notices how tightly you grip the banister, colour leeching from you knuckles with the strength of your grip, and almost without thinking jace rests his hand beside your own, pinkie fingers brushing. the touch seems to release something in you and he hears how your breath shudders before you speak.

“i embarrassed myself on the night of the welcome feast,” you confess miserably. “i drank too much, and the way that i behaved— staring at you in that way— it was not becoming behaviour of a princess, nor of a, a friend. i did not wish to make you uncomfortable again, so i thought it best i keep my distance from you.”

he blinks in surprise. “uncomfortable?” the mere idea of such a thing is maddening. he recalls the sight of you before him, lips parted and oh so kissable as you’d stared at him with such intention it had set him ablaze. how in the name of the gods can you think he found such a thing uncomfortable? “princess, i can assure you, the only feeling i took from your admiration is delight.”

your head snaps around, eyes finally meeting his own again, and he shakes his head in bemusement at the sight of your desperate hope. “truly? you do not jest?”

he resists the urge to chuckle, knowing you’ll take any kind of laughter, no matter how well meaning, poorly. instead he reaches for you, grasps your hands in his own and tries not to bask in the way you lean into him as he steps recklessly into your space. he feels your trembling breaths puff against his jaw as he ducks his head to stare intently into your eyes, and if he were a weaker man jace thinks he’d be on his knees in prostration for you in that very moment.

“surely you must know how i feel for you?” he murmurs, tracking the way the flush in your cheeks travels down your neck and onto your chest with greedy eyes. “how desperately i adore you?”

“jacaerys—.” you huff, shaking your head in denial for all that with every breath you take you sway ever closer to him. “we hardly know each other anymore. i won’t deny there is, is a yearning between us, mayhaps, but you cannot claim to adore me when you know me not. it’s been years since—"

“—do you think time matters?” he talks over you, strong in his conviction that you and he share a bond that transcends time or distance or duty. “that any distance between us could change what i know in my bones? i loved you before i had a name for it. i loved you when we were children and, yes, i love you again now. mayhaps i don’t know your favourite sweet or if you prefer to watch the sun rise or set, but i know you. i know who you are, princess, for all that i might no longer know the rest of it. i know your good heart, your quick mind and i know that i love you.” he hesitates, drinks in the dawning, open wonder on your face, and then adds, “and i think you might love me just the same.”

you sigh out his name sweetly, fingers tangling with his own as he squeezes your hands tenderly. you tilt your chin towards him as your eyes flutter shut. his nose slides against your own as you turn just so to the side, and your mouth is so close. he could kiss you, right now, and he knows that you would not pull away. but he’s too aware of the noise of the feast, the crowd of people that at any moment could find you in a compromising position.

he wants you, gods does he want you, but he will not ruin your reputation, will not sully your virtue for the sake of a stolen kiss on a balcony when he desires no less than forever with you.

“i will not push you,” he murmurs against your lips, breathing the air right from your lungs as he presses his forehead to yours for just a moment. “if you do not want this — if you do not return my feelings — i won’t push you nor pursue you. i hold too great a respect for you for that.” he cradles your jaw, thumb dragging at the corner of your mouth, and he glories in the way you shudder at his touch. with an unsteady breath he separates himself from you, hands clenching into fists at his side in an effort not to immediately reach for you again.

“but if you decide you want me as i want you, that you love me as ardently as i you, then my chambers will be unguarded and unlocked for you.” he sketches a bow, heart thundering in his chest as you stare at him in wordless shock. “i hope to see you later tonight, my princess.”

you have no chance to respond before jace leaves you standing on the balcony.

he leaves you with your mind swirling, one thought after another coming so quickly you have no hope in processing them. you’re glad to be outside, at least, the cool breeze helping soothe the heat that blazes through your veins as you press your hand over your racing heart. you don’t know what to think, what to feel, what to do. all you can think about is jace, earnest and honest and in love with you.

he’s in love with you (!).

it’s too quick. too much time has passed with too little contact. in the years since he left court you’ve grown into new people, people who for all intents and purposes are strangers to each other. the lust is there, there’s no point in denying that with how your body warms at the smallest glance from him. and that old familiarity that blossomed as friendship as children and now into easy companionship as adults, that remains as it always has. and mayhaps you’ve thought to yourself, in the dark quiet of the night, that you’ll surely love him once more. that to know him any better at all is to love him again, because how can you know him and not love him?

but there’s been years and leagues between you for so long. time and distance have their ways of changing a heart, and he might say it doesn’t matter but it does. it does.

only it doesn’t, not at all, because giddiness is bubbling up in you so sudden that you cannot fight it, a helpless laugh escaping you as you press your hand over your mouth in unabashed amazement. your brave prince, plunging headfirst into the long-unspoken feelings between you. it incites you to act, drives you back into the hall where you catch aegon for long enough to tell him you’re retiring for the night before escaping into the quiet corridors.

you feel like your heart is going to burst in your chest, nerves and excitement and awe twisting together inside of you until you feel like you might vibrate out of your own skin. the walk to jace’s chambers is a haze, and in the morning you expect you’ll panic, wonder if anyone saw you walking so shamelessly towards the prince’s rooms. but now, in this moment, all you can think of is how fervently you want him, how guilelessly you love him.

the knock on his door — unguarded, as he had promised — echoes loudly in the silent corridor. you can hear your own heartbeat thundering in your ears as you wait for him to answer, and when he finally does he takes your breath away.

he’s shed his doublet and sword belt, standing in only his breeches and a billowing off-white tunic. the ties are loose on his neck and you’re entranced by the peek of tanned skin there, the freckles you can see disappearing beneath the shirt. he says your name, once, and your eyes snap back to him in time to see the relief and wonder coalesce into smouldering fire.

he curls his fingers around your wrist, thumb swiping over the delicate skin in a way that makes you shiver, and he uses the hold to wordlessly tug you into his chambers. you step into the space, eyes darting from the large bed to the roaring fire and back to the bed again as he locks the doors behind you.

you are finally, blissfully, alone.

you feel his presence behind you, heat and woodsmoke radiating from him as you turn to face him. something in your chest loosens at the blatant awe in his amber eyes, like liquid gold in the light of the flames, and before you can pause to think you’re speaking, your feelings escaping you in a flood.

“i shouldn’t be here,” you say shamelessly. “i know my being here is—. i shouldn’t be here. but i couldn’t not be, jace, not when you left without giving me a chance to tell you how i feel. because, gods, of course i feel for you. it’s unreasonable, insensible— there’s so much about each other we just don’t know anymore.” you shake your head, smiling at him wide and helpless and hopelessly, hopelessly in love with him. “but despite all the rationality in the world, all the good sense — despite knowing the trouble this is sure to bring us — i am completely and utterly in love with you, jacaerys velaryon.”

he kisses you, then, surges into your space and cups your cheeks and slots his mouth so sweetly against yours. you gasp into his lips as he kisses you deliberate, slow and tender in a way that makes your chest ache. your arms loop around his neck, pulling him as close as you can as his own arms wrap around your waist. your noses bump and your teeth clash in your eagerness and it’s still glorious, it’s the best kiss you’ve ever experienced because it’s him.

it’s always been him.

you part after a few minutes, remaining close together as he runs his hand through your hair before cradling your face once more. “tell me again,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing your breath.

“i love you,” you say, smiling so wide it makes your cheeks ache. “i love you, i love you, i lo—”

he kisses you again, a quick press of his mouth against your this time, and then he’s laughing softly as his golden eyes shine down at you. “i have loved you forever,” he tells you, indulgent and affectionate as his thumb traces over your cheek. “i will love you forever, my princess.”

he draws you closer still, holds you tightly against him but far enough that he can drink you in, and for long moments you simply bask in the presence of each other, of this slow unfurling of happiness in your heart. this close to him, you can once again see the freckles dotted across his face. without even thinking of it your hand rises, and with butterfly-gentle fingers you trace a path over the constellations mapped on sun-kissed skin. jace sighs softly with your touch, dark lashes fluttering closed as his lips part.

“iksā sīr gevie [you are so beautiful],” you murmur, slipping into high valyrian in the quiet of his chambers.

he exhales shakily, breath hitching in his chest as your fingers brush gently over his eyelids, the slope of his nose, the furrow of his brow. you want to remember him like this forever – bathed in the soft firelight, trembling beneath your tender touch, wholly and entirely yours.

“ñuha dārilaros [my princess],” he breathes, and hearing him speak possessively of you in your mother tongue ignites something within you so suddenly you cannot fight it.

arousal roars to life, deep in your belly, and you are helpless but to do anything but lean forward and press your lips to his once more. jace meets you just as greedily, hands gripping tightly to the flesh of your hips as he hauls you closer until your chests press together. your hand moves from his face to fist in his hair, tugging at his curls until he whines against your lips. he kisses you deep and open mouthed and filthy, tongue sliding against yours so deliciously that you can feel heat pulse between your legs.

one of his hands comes up to tangle in your hair, pulling until your head is tilted back. he trails hot, wet kisses along your neck and you hiss at the sensation, pressing his head closer to your skin. you feel him smirk against you before he mouths at your pulse point, teeth nipping just enough to send a thrill of pain and pleasure through you.

“jace,” you moan, grinding against him shamelessly as he sucks a bruise into the sensitive skin of your throat. you want him so fiercely it makes you reckless, makes you insatiable as the hand not buried in his curls drags down his back to grip at his ass. he groans against you, your name spilling from his lips so deep and husky that you want to do whatever you can to make him say it like that again and again and again.

“this is— we shouldn’t,” he says into your skin. he pushes at the shoulder of your dress to expose more of your bare skin to his greedy eyes, lips trailing the path his fingers have taken. “we should wait until we—. if anyone knew of this—”

“—no one will know,” you assure him, fingers flexing into the taut skin of his ass to drive him closer to you.

“i don’t want to, to besmirch your honour.” even as he speaks he’s dragging his tongue against your collarbone, chasing a bead of sweat down to the swell of your chest.

“fuck my honour,” you burst out, and your language has him moaning. you hitch your leg around his waist and his hand drops instantly to grip you at the knee, pulling you just so until the hard length of him is grinding deliciously against your core. you can’t think, can’t breathe, for wanting him. his touch and his scent and his taste consumes you, inflames you, and you care for nothing but the feel of him against you.

he pulls away from your chest, mouth swollen and pupils blown as he pants hotly. he presses his forehead to yours, squeezing your hip to still you as you shamelessly try to rub yourself against him. “this will bring ruin to you if it gets out, do you understand? it would break me to be the cause of such a thing.”

his desperation makes you hesitate, something about the fierce tone breaking into the haze of lust that consumes you. you take a moment to look at him, and you know with certainty that if you ask him to stop right this second he will.

but you don’t want him to stop. you’ve never wanted anything less.

“jace.” you cup his cheek, thumb dragging over his bottom lip as you force him to keep your gaze. “i know the risks of this as well as anyone.” you lean in closer, your nose sliding against his before you tilt your head to pepper soft, deliberate kisses along his jaw, the corner of his mouth. “i love you.” he sighs softly in pleasure before turning his head to capture your mouth again, and this kiss is a softer, slower thing.

when you break apart, you stare deeply into his eyes, making sure he can see the truth of your words. the heat in his amber eyes threatens to splinter you to pieces as you swallow thickly, almost overwhelmed once more with your desire for him.

“i am yours, jacaerys velaryon,” you say steadily. “no matter what happens from here— i belong to you.”

it’s like a dam breaks in him. his hands are suddenly everywhere as his mouth devours yours relentlessly, leaving you gasping and arching into his touch. he backs you towards his bed as his hands fist in your skirts, bunching the material up to your hips. he breaks from your mouth long enough to tug your dress over your head, leaving you in your thin small clothes, and despite the sweltering heat of the room your nipples harden beneath the sheer material.

“look at you, pretty thing,” he says reverentially, the weight of his heated gaze tangible as he stares at your heaving chest. “is this all for me?”

“yes,” you hiss, head tilting back as he trails kisses down the column of your throat. “all for you, jace. only ever for you.”

he groans at your words, deft fingers making quick work of the complicated stays of the brassiere, and when the material falls from you he stares for a long moment as if transfixed by the sight of your bare breasts. it makes you smug, knowing that those times you’ve caught his eyes lingering on your chest haven’t just been in your imagination.

“you are perfect,” he murmurs worshipfully, large hand cupping the side of your breast tenderly. “such a perfect girl for me.”

his thumb sweeps over your nipple, featherlight at first before returning more firmly when you sigh and lean into his touch. his other hand grips your hip once more, pulling you close to him as he lavishes more attention on your neck. he nips and kisses his way down your throat, your shoulder, the swell of your breast until he’s hunched slightly in front of you, sucking bruises into the tender skin of your chest.

“jacaerys, please.” you know not what you’re pleading for, only that you need something, and it’s as if he can read your mind as his mouth closes over your nipple. his hand, now free, gropes at your other breast as his tongue swirls tight circles around your nipple and your head tips back with a moan. it’s somehow enough and yet not, your hips bucking aimlessly as heat and slick pools between your legs, and you crave.

“more, please,” you beg shamelessly.

jace drops to the floor in response and the sight of him on his knees for you has your head spinning. he presses open mouthed kisses to the soft skin of your abdomen, bites gently at your hip as his hands slide steadily up your legs. you tremble beneath his careful ministrations, and he murmurs wordless assurances into your sweat-slick skin.

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your smalls, dragging them agonisingly slowly down your legs until you can step out of them. standing completely bare before him you expect to find yourself shy, but the way jace looks at you rapturously has liquid heat licking through your veins instead.

he leaves lingering kisses on your thigh and down your leg, and when his mouth brushes over the tender skin at the back of your knee you feel them buckle. he huffs a gentle laugh against you, warm hands cradling your waist as he urges you to sit back on the bed. you do so unsteadily, planting your hands against the soft feather mattress and watching him with intent ardour.

he nudges your legs apart and settles between them, his shoulders spreading you wide around him and you release a soft breath as his thumbs rub soothing circles into your thighs. “let me take care of you, my princess,” he pleads, eyes wide and soft and beseeching as he gazes up at you. you nod hesitantly, not wholly sure what he intends, but then his eyes finally drop to your core and darken so quickly it makes your mouth dry.

“gods, look at you.” he drags a finger through your folds and your head cants back, a whine escaping you at the touch. “you’re so wet for me, love. so gorgeous.” he brings his finger to his mouth, licking it clean of your slick and it has your mouth dropping open because he’s obscene, you think. he’s glorious.

“you taste so good,” he says, his voice so rough with arousal it makes you shiver. “wanna taste more of you.”

with no more warning that that, he licks a deliberate strip along your slit before circling his tongue over your clit. your hand shoots to his hair, tangling in the dark curls as he feasts on you. his name falls from your lips over and over again like a prayer as he laps at your core, tongue pressing deliciously inside you. you grind wantonly against his mouth, panting as he laves at your cunt.

your pleasure climbs sharply, rising so high you’re helpless to resist the way your stomach tightens. as if sensing your approaching high jace shifts his focus to your pulsing clit, flicking his tongue rapidly over the bundle of nerves.

“jace, gods, feels so good,” you gasp out, fingers tightening in his curls to press his head impossibly closer. “please don’t stop, ‘m so close—”

he sucks harshly on your pearl, ever so carefully dragging his teeth over the sensitive flesh, and you fall to pieces as that tightly wound ball in your stomach snaps. he coaxes you through the trembling release, gentling his attention on you to drag out your pleasure until you’re squirming away from him in sensitivity. when he pulls away from your core his face is shining with your slick and the sight makes you feel feral. you bend to reach him and he presses up to meet you, kissing you hot and messy as you drink the taste of yourself from his mouth.

“you did so well for me, my princess,” he pants into your mouth as he crowds you onto the bed and the praise blooms hot in your chest. “need you to be good for me a little longer, okay? need to prepare you.”

you whimper, capturing his mouth in another sloppy kiss and nipping thoughtlessly at his lips as he settles between your legs. you can feel the heavy length of him against your hip, kept from you by his breeches, and you’re suddenly insensible with desire to see more of his skin. you tug wordlessly at the hem of his tunic, pulling it free from his trousers, and with a huff of fond amusement he separates from you to pull it over his head and toss it aside.

you drink in the exposed planes of his chest, leaning up to drag your tongue from freckle to freckle along his collarbone, and jace groans out your name in response. you follow the map of constellations down his chest, pressing kisses and gentle bites to the skin until you come to one of his nipples. hesitantly you flick your tongue out, curl it around the puckered skin just as jace had done to you earlier.

“fuck,” he hisses, fingers clenching in the sheets as his arms tremble with the strain of keeping himself steady above you.

emboldened by his response you lavish the pebbled bud with attention, switching to the other when the fancy takes you, until jace is shuddering with desire and pushing your shoulders back into the bed. he swallows your protests with a flurry of kisses as his fingers trail down your chest, your abdomen until he reaches the heat between your legs. he presses a finger against you again and you arch into the touch, tossing your head back into the pillows.

“i want you so badly,” he confesses in a whisper as he sucks another bruise into your neck.

“yes,” you respond senselessly, hips bucking up to meet the slow stroke of his finger. “want you, jace, please.”

“i need to prepare you first, love,” he tells you again and you whine in displeasure. “i don’t wish to hurt you, so i need to get you ready for me.”

you’ve heard that it can hurt, what happens in bed between a man and a woman. you can’t comprehend the idea with how good you feel right now, how good he’s made you feel already, but you nod in acquiescence at jace’s stubborn expression and he beams down at you.

“that’s my good girl,” he utters affectionately, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

the finger that’s been sliding leisurely against you shifts, pressing inside with a familiar stretch. you’ve touched yourself before, explored what pleasure you can draw from your own body in the late of the night. you don’t know if it’s different because it’s the angle or just because it’s jace, but the feeling of his finger pumping into you is so much better than anything you’ve managed with your own clumsy digits and you moan with the pleasure of it.

“you’re so tight,” he says in amazement, burning gold eyes staring down at you worshipfully. “can’t wait to be inside you, my princess.”

you moan at his filthy words, hips bucking into his touch as he presses a second finger into you. this one pinches more, makes it almost uncomfortable until jace starts to rub slow circles over your clit with his thumb. any discomfort melts into liquid pleasure as he mouths at your neck once more, fingers crooking inside of you just so until stars burst behind your eyes.

“fuck, jacaerys—”

he shushes you softly even as his eyes gleam with smug pride. he picks up the pace, now, fucking you with his fingers as your pleasure starts to climb once more. just when you start to feel like you can’t take it anymore he slides a third finger in, the stetch burning deliciously this time, and you come apart on his fingers with a strangled moan of his name. he doesn’t relent this time, though, even when you writhe helplessly beneath him; he just chases another release for you without giving you a chance to recover, and the thrill rises so quickly it almost makes it a little hard to breathe.

“just one more,” he soothes as you whine, pressing delicate kisses to the corner of your mouth as he drives his fingers into you relentlessly. “you’re doing so well. just one more for me.”

your third climax hits you so hard your back bows up from the bed, mouth parting in a silent cry of pleasure as jace coaxes you through it before pulling his fingers from you. you ache at the loss, mewling your displeasure as your cunt clenches around nothing. he breathes a laugh at your impatience, kissing you so sweetly in such contrast to the delicious heat between you that it almost makes you weep.

with shaking hands you reach for the ties of his breaches, fumbling with the laces while he kisses you languidly. you make a triumphant little noise when you finally untie them and he smiles at you, adoring and soft and yet somehow feverishly aroused as you push the leather trousers down his hips. he helps you the rest of the way, kicking them off before returning to hover over you.

your hands brush his abdomen as you reach for him, fingers curling gently around the hard line of his cock, and he realises a shuddering breath in response. he watches you intently as you stare at his arousal, fascinated by the way your fingers barely close around the thick girth of him. he’s going to fill you so well, you realise, and you bite your lip as your core clenches again. the tip of him is leaking fluid, and you drag your hand up his cock to swipe your thumb over the head.

jace moans at the movement, so you do it again and again, watching in inflamed curiosity at the way his stomach contracts as he thrusts into your hand, the wet noise of it making you flush down to your toes as desire sparks in your core. his hand covers your own abruptly, stopping your exploration, and you pout up at him as he fixes you with a blazing stare.

“if you keep doing that, i’m not going to last,” he says, voice shaking with the weight of his desire.

“fine.”

you huff, pretending at annoyance even as you eagerly lie back and spread your legs for him. you fix him with an expectant look, raising an eyebrow, and he chuckles fondly as he settles himself between your legs once more. you’re not expecting the velvet heat of him dragging against you and you gasp at the sensation, grinding against him as he thrusts shallowly against you.

“are you ready for me, love?” he checks, cradling your face in his hands as his thumb rubs over your jaw.

you turn to press a kiss against his palm, near overwhelmed with your love and affection for this man. “yes,” you say simply, and it’s all the permission he needs as he ducks down to kiss you unhurriedly.

his head catches at your opening on the next thrust, and with the slightest shift of your hips he’s pressing inside of you. the stretch of him burns, pinches, but just as he did with his fingers, he worms his hand between your bodies to drag circles over your clit. you do your best to relax, keeping your eyes fixed on his golden stare as he slides into you, agonisingly slow.

the whole while he keeps up a litany of praise, calling you good and precious and perfect as sweat beads along his forehead. when he’s finally fully sheathed inside you he stills his movements, kisses you hard and wanting as he thumbs at your pearl, and when you’re ready you tilt your hips. the stretch of him burns, still, but in a way that sets your skin alight as you cling to his shoulders.

he moans your name like a prayer, drawing away from you until the tip of his cock catches at your entrance once more, and this time when he sinks back in your eyes roll back into your head. he feels so good, stretching and filling you so completely that you’ve no room to think, to breathe, to do anything but take it as he thrusts into you. he buries his head in your neck, resting on his forearms as he plunges into you again and again and again, and between your own choked breaths and the sounds of skin against skin, you hear him muttering in high valyrian.

“sīr sȳz syt nyke, sīr ȳrda, sīr lōz. vēttan syt nyke. ñuha dārilaros, mirre ñuhon [so good for me, so tight, so wet. made for me. my princess, all mine].”

it drives you wild, his voice and his words and hearing him speak in valyrian combined with the exquisite torture of the slow drag of his cock inside you. it’s too much, not enough, and leaves you with nothing but the need to feel as much of him as you possibly can. your hands drag up and down his back, fingernails leaving raised red lines in their wake as you seek to be as close to him as you can bear.

“more, jace, gods, please, i need—”

he cuts you off with a hard thrust, your breath punching out of your lungs as he starts to drive into you harder and faster. it’s so good, so fucking good, but still not quite enough and you whine, seeking something you’re not sure you know how to verbalise.

“whatever you need, love. i’ll give you whatever you need.”

understanding your need even when you don’t, jacaerys rears up, grips your legs and presses your knees to your chest before bearing down on you. like this he reaches so deep it hurts in the most unbearably, searingly pleasurable way. and it’s perfect, exactly what you needed, feeling him so far inside you that it soothes you and ignites you and makes you ache all at once.

“y’feel so good,” you manage to slur out, head lolling as you lose yourself to the feel of him taking you apart so expertly. “so— fuck— so deep. so good, jace, so good.”

jace groans your name, pounding into you so hard and so deep that it’s unconscionable, has your eyes rolling back into your head as your hips buck up to meet him recklessly. your peak approaches again, searing heat blazing through you as you inch closer to another climax, and all you can do is whine and moan as he fills you over and over again. he starts to lose the thread of his rhythm as you clench around him, valyrian and common tongue mixing senselessly as praise spills from his lips.

“avy jorrāelan [i love you] my perfect girl, gūrogon nyke sīr sȳrī [take me so well], can’t get enough of you, hells, i love you, ao sagon ñuhon [you’re mine], my love, my princess, my queen, ñuha ābrazȳrys [my wife].”

you come so hard you see stars, walls pulsing around jace’s cock as he curses. he thrusts sloppily into you, chasing his own release and dragging out your own as you keen, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. he finds completion with a drawn out noise, seed spilling hot and thick inside of you as he lazily pumps his hips two, three more times before collapsing on top of you.

you press absent kisses to his temple, brushing back the sweat-soaked curls from where they’ve matted on his forehead as he shudders against you. you feel lethargic, body aching in the sweetest of ways as you fight to catch your breath. eventually the heavy weight of jace on top of you becomes uncomfortable and you squirm beneath him in protest. with a sigh he slides himself free of you, rolling over onto his back and wrapping an arm around you to pull you with him so that you sprawl over his chest.

you bury your smile into his neck, satisfaction settling bone-deep as his hand runs up and down your back idly. for long moments the two of simply lie together in the quiet, the only sound the rustling of the sheets and the crackle of the dying fire.

“i’ll speak to my mother and the king on the morrow,” he says into the quiet and you raise your head to look at him. he looks serious, amber eyes contemplative as he peers down at you. “i’ll not let another night pass without you as my betrothed.” he smiles at you then, a little crooked as his eyes crinkle, and without thought you reach up to press a lingering kiss to his mouth.

“i love you,” you say, eyes shining with mischief. “ñuha valzȳrys [my husband].”

jace swallows your laugh with another kiss, doing a poor job of hiding his own amusement as his smile presses to yours, and as the candles burn down you let all of your worries and doubts fade.

you love him. he loves you.

there’s nothing else that matters.

[hannieoftheyear]

after all this time (kmg) TEASER

When you get asked to be on the wedding party of a long-lost friend, you get the chance to reconnect with former classmate Mingyu, but not without your old feelings and struggles resurfacing.

Posted! find it here

pairing: groomsman!mingyu x bridesmaid!reader

w.c: 1,2k (teaser), full au will probably be around ~15k

genre: friends to lovers, fluff (teaser), smut, angst (full work)

warnings for the full work: it's another self-indulgent 'running away from your high school past' story from me, dealing with insecurities, a lot of not standing up for oneself, will probably add more as i keep writing :p

note: don't know when exactly i'll post this one, but i'll try to do it before september ends!! comment on this post if you want to be on the taglist ♥

It is said that changing your usual routine helps improving your mood, taking another path home, shopping at a new place, sitting down at a different park, changing your coffee order, changing the little things to feel more energized and be more productive. You wouldn’t know, because every task you complete as fast as possible to be back home quickly. So, after days of not being to think about anything else but the upcoming wedding, it’s your only option left. 

The sky lit up with golden light, the grass and trees as green as ever, and a light breeze that prevents you from getting too hot, you walk around a park you’ve never been to before with your new ‘hot girl walk’ playlist as a soundtrack. The kids playing on the playground are the only sounds that get through your ears besides the music, maybe a bark or two as well, and the sun against your skin soothes all your worries. Damn. Going on a walk does fix your mood. 

A hand grabbing your arm softly startles you, and you’re about to punch the mystery person when you recognize his face. 

“Mingyu?” 

His eyes are focused on your fist that was ready to hit him and you lower it down, beginning to take out your airpods. 

“Sorry! You scared me!” You erupt in a nervous laughter. 

“I’m sorry! I called your name but you didn’t hear me.” 

He stands apologetic in front of you, looking down at his feet before daring to look back up at you. 

“How are you doing? We didn’t get to talk the other day.” 

“Yeah! It’s good to see you! I didn’t expect you to be there, it was a nice surprise.” 

Is it too weird to say that? Well, it’s already done. 

You notice a bike by his side, a cute pink helmet with glittery heart stickers hanging by the handle. He must’ve been biking when he saw you and took it off before calling your name. 

He gets the tiniest bit shy at your words, his ears turning a light shade of pink before disappearing quickly. 

“It’s been so long...” 

“I didn’t know if you were still friends with Olivia, I didn’t know if I was going to see you.” 

“Oh, we’re not really that close anymore.” 

You fixate on the first part of his last sentence, ignoring your body’s reaction to him implying he wanted to see you. There’s a silence as you finish your words, as it wasn’t the reply he was expecting. 

“Life, you know? We just grew apart.” 

It was you who stopped making an effort to talk to them, but even if it was still for your own good, you’re a little ashamed to admit it to Mingyu. 

“She still asked you to be her bridesmaid, that must mean something.” 

Ever the positive guy, he tries to make you feel better after the sour comment. 

“Yeah, it’s really nice of her.” 

The sun shining so bright prevents you from looking up at him, but you smile hoping he notices. 

The slow steps you’ve been taking side by side turn awkward with silence. You wanted so badly to talk to him after the other day, but now that he’s here, in front of you, your mind goes blank. 

“It’s good that you still hang out with the guys.” 

You don’t know what else to say, and the words spill out of your mouth. He doesn’t seem to notice the awkward atmosphere, his body as comfortable as ever walking by your side. 

“Yeah, even though not as often as I’d like.” A regretful smile forms across his lips, “Our schedules haven’t been lining up, I just met Olivia in person for the first time yesterday actually.” 

“What? There’s no way, you didn’t share any classes in school?” 

He shakes his head, chuckling at your surprise. 

“I think I only ever shared one class with her, but I didn’t really care much about her crowd back then.” 

“Wow, thanks for that.” 

He means all the popular guys your friends would hang out with, and you know it, but there was always something so fun in teasing him and seeing him get so pouty. 

"You know I don’t mean you.” 

His shoulder pushes your body lightly to the side and you chuckle together. It’s hard to prevent the red to rush to your cheeks, maybe he’ll mistake it for a faint sunburn. 

“That’s a cute helmet you got there.” 

Your eyes point to it as a way to distract him. 

“Oh, that?” 

He picks it up with what seems to be an embarrassed voice tone, but his actions quickly override it. He puts it on proudly and looks at you with his eyebrows raised, “my sister gave it to me when I bought the bike, gets all the ladies.” 

“I'm sure it does.” 

Attention from women he for sure gets, but probably not because of that thing. You didn’t get a proper look at him the other day, and now, standing next to him in broad daylight, you almost wish you could still live in the ignorance bliss of not knowing the exact height difference between you two. His tall, muscular, body is only enhanced by his tight blue t-shirt.  

“So, what are you doing around here?” 

His words make you realize you’ve been staring for a few seconds, and you look ahead hoping he didn’t notice. He forgets to remove the helmet, making you chuckle quietly before answering. 

“I just got off from work and thought it would be nice to take a different route home.” 

“That’s such a coincidence! I come here, like, almost every week to bike around.”  

“Wow, It really is.” 

For how long have you been avoiding this specific park for no reason? Pushing away your chance of meeting the one and only person you would’ve wanted to? 

A ping from his phone alerts the both of you, taking you out of your little bubble. 

“Sorry I-" His expression falls as he reads the new text, “I have to get going, but it was really nice seeing you!” 

"Oh, sure! I didn’t mean to hold you back.” It comes out quieter than you’d like. “Goodbye!” With a simple smile a tiny wave at him, you turn around. 

Right when he gets on his bike again, before he starts pedaling, he looks back at you, taking your first step in the opposite direction. 

“Wait!” When you turn around, he’s taking his phone out of his front pocket, “Can I get your number?” 

The both of you blush at his words, and you look up at him cautiously. 

“So we can catch up and, you know, get comfortable with each other for the wedding.” 

You had already forgot about that. The reason you even ran into him in the first place. 

“Sure!” 

Your hand trembles slightly when you take his phone and you beat yourself up for it. It’s just your number! It could mean nothing. 

“I’ll text you later so you can save mine.” 

And with a wink, he’s off to whatever he was late to. 

Great. Now you’re not only re-living your high-school anxieties, but also your high-school crushes. 

[lullabies-blue]

Thomas Hewitt/ Reader

𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔫𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔦𝔱? 𝔑𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔯?

Written in third-person limited POV, focusing on Thomas. Content tags: Neurodivergence, Cannibalism, mentions of rape, Canon typical violence, self harm, Mommy issues, child abuse (mentioned), good vs. evil with nothing in between, religious trauma. Author notes: I honestly intended this to be short and to the point- but here we are. I read a lot of Thomas/Reader stories where Thomas is portrayed as neurotypical and I don't know why it bothers me so much- it's just fanfiction after all, but I wanted to write a short "love" story where Thomas is violent and scared and lonely. He's nonverbal, he's mentally disturbed but not 'slow'. His world is very black and white and full of violence, so that got me wondering- what would love look like for him? What would happen if this man, who has only ever known darkness, met someone who was nice to him? Fair warning, lots of rambling ahead. I also just want to say that I am Autistic and that influenced a lot of this story- from the way that I write, to how I portray characters, to certain interactions. So if anything seems weird to you, I apologize- my mind works in weird ways. If I need to clarify anything, just shoot me a message. I would love to talk about the writing process and why I included certain things. Important: This is about 15k words and NOT even half of it. I had to cut it into pieces, will update the rest in another post.

Thomas brings the axe above his head, his breath ragged as he swings it down and cuts the piece of firewood in half with a low grunt. He’s hot, even though it’s the middle of winter- the weather low even with the sun that hid behind the clouds- and his shirt is sticking to him uncomfortably, the sweat doing nothing to cool him down.

He lodges the axe into the tree stump, grabbing the two pieces of wood and throwing them in the wheelbarrow before he wipes his forehead with dirt covered hands. It was the last chore of the day, and he was tired and sore- a tightness in his shoulders that seemed to spread all the way down to lower back and made him want to get in bed. His mask is damp and tight against his face, the skin underneath irritated. He wants to go inside and change, the thought of taking a shower was frustrating but he knew that he needed one. He could smell himself- bitter with sweat and the slightly suffocating scent that seemed to stick to chickens now clinging to him from when he had cleaned out the chicken coop. His nails were lined with dirt- hands and arms caked in grime. It made him feel heavy and slow.

Uncle Hoyt would drag him to the back and hose him off if he saw him, and he hated that more than he hated cleaning himself off- the feeling of water on his skin something he had never got around to liking. He could handle other things- blood never seemed to churn his stomach, or when Momma or Uncle Hoyt used to ask him to go clean out the pig pen- back when they could afford to have pigs, they were empty now, the whole farm seemed to get emptier and emptier as the months passed- he hadn’t thought that shoveling pig shit into a bucket was all that bad. But he had trouble smelling sometimes, especially with the leather pressed so tight against the place his nose had once been.

He takes the handles of the wheelbarrow, filled with enough dried out wood for the weekend- maybe Monday, if the weather stayed where it was at- and began to haul it towards the house. Momma would need some in the kitchen, to boil water and heat the ovens for Supper when she got back from town. He’d have to check the fireplace on the main floor- sometimes even on the coldest days of winter that room stayed warm enough that if they were to turn on the fireplace it’d be too uncomfortable to sit in. He would wait until Uncle Monty asked for more- he didn’t like it when any of them made decisions for him, more so now that he was stuck in that wheelchair.

There were no fireplaces upstairs, just piles of blankets to layer and hope they did enough to keep them warm. Sometimes it would be enough for him, but there were nights that even with two or three of the ones Momma sewed together for him; he would still lay awake, teeth chattering from the cold. It’s why he hated the cold- he could manage the heat, but winter was unpredictable even in the deep south of Texas.

Uncle Monty is in the living room, asleep in his chair as the TV keeps playing, almost as loud as his snoring. He walks past him, noticing the almost empty fireplace. His footsteps are heavy and loud from the metal on his shoes as he carries an armful of wood into the kitchen. He sets it down on the dining table, right on the white plastic cloth momma had set out before she had left, dirt falls onto the floor and he makes a low, grumbling noise of frustration, hoping that she didn’t see it when she got home.

He had forgotten the plastic mat last time and gotten her favorite tablecloth dirty -the mud staining the light blue cotton forever. He didn’t see why it was such a big deal, Momma had once told him that life was messy, that’s how one knew that they were living it, but she had been so angry at him then- sending him out with the bucket and soap, shouting about the mud he had tracked inside their house. Supper had come late that night- Hoyt growing angry at him. He liked it when it was ready and waiting for him when he got home- shouting at momma that working men weren’t supposed to wait for food.

He had gotten into an argument with him that night- he didn’t like it when people were mean to momma. Uncle Hoyt had called him a bad name- making his blood boil.

He didn’t want that to happen again. He didn’t like how badly he had wanted to hurt Uncle Hoyt at that moment. Momma said that family fought all the time, but he had to be careful not to do anything that he would regret. Maybe he would regret it when his blood stained his clothes, but part of him wasn’t so sure. He liked him better when he was Uncle Charlie. Uncle Hoyt reminded him of the bad men.

He tries not to think about it anymore when he heads back outside to grab a few more pieces of wood for the living room. He didn’t like thinking back on the things that made him angry, sometimes he couldn’t come back from them, and he’d end up doing something bad.

By the time he’s pushing past the double front doors, Momma’s car is pulling into the dirt path off to the side of the house. It’s an old one- rusting from the heat of too many summers, but momma didn’t mind it.

 The car comes to a stop as he picks up another armful of wood and takes it inside.

Ever since Hoyt became Sheriff of the town, things had gotten better for them. There were never days where they went to bed hungry, the meat freezer down in the basement always seemed to have enough for them. If it ever ran low, a Hoyt always seemed to find a way to get it restocked. Momma had taken over the shop in town after the owner had passed away and Hoyt made sure that his son- one of the bad men- went right along with him. He had filled the bellies of those who still stayed in town, too hungry to care enough to question them. Sometimes she brought back what didn’t sell that day and they’d have themselves a little feast. There were days Uncle Hoyt brought a guest with him- always a woman-, other times he’d ask momma to bring his food up to his room- the muffled screaming drowned out by Monty’s TV show.

He liked to stay in the basement on those days. It was harder to hear the pleading and begging as Hoyt played too rough with them. He would always get stuck with getting rid of them afterwards and he was starting to dislike the chore.

By the time he finishes stacking the wood, Momma is calling out for him, the front door swinging open. He freezes- his shoulders squaring and his breath suddenly heavy as he looks up at the hall, hidden between a wall and the fireplace. There was someone with Momma. He could hear the footsteps- Momma walked with a purpose, heavy and loud like him. She said that she did it so God would hear her better, but he wasn’t so sure that God was with them anymore. The ones that came after her were lighter, nervous.

He didn’t like guests. Didn’t like that Momma and uncle Hoyt had developed a habit of taking in strays that would just end up in the basement with him later. They would scream when they saw him- call him those names that made the anger come. Some of them liked to hurt him, momma taking him to the bathroom afterwards and stitching him up.

“You’re going to love my Tommy. He’s a little bit shy but he’s got the sweetest heart.” Momma says and he hears the other person laugh. It’s a soft noise- gentle in a way that manages to make his heart race faster as he tries to crawl deeper into the tiny space. “He’s here around somewhere… but let’s get you set up in your room then you can come down and help me with supper, okay?”

Another laugh, his heart racing uncomfortably in his chest. He didn’t want Momma to find him, he was already so tired.

“Of course,” the stranger says, and she- the thought of a woman in the house irritates him- doesn’t talk like Momma or Hoyt or Monty. Her voice is quiet, it doesn’t drawl out. He’s heard it before- she must be from out of town. “I would love to!”

For a moment, he feels bad for the woman as he hears them go up the stairs. He always feels bad for them at first. Momma said that his heart was too kind. Hoyt called him a pansy boy, in need of toughening up. He doesn’t know why he feels bad, the guests were never good people- he’d always come to learn that, but it never seems to do anything to make the twitch of guilt go away from his heart. The steps grow quieter the farther up they go- until he hears Momma’s muffled voice and then her footsteps coming back down.

She spots him, curled into himself in that tiny, dark space and she sucks her teeth, shaking her head. “Thomas Hewitt, what in the lords name are you doing there?”

He feels embarrassed all of a sudden, getting caught like this. He makes a low noise in his chest, pointing to the firewood.

“Come on and get on out of there if you’re done then, we’ve got company.” She comes down the rest of the steps and makes her way towards him. When she holds out her hand he takes it, a comfort that has his heart slowing down.

 “I need you to go and grab the rest of her stuff from the car- poor girl don’t got no power in her home.” She says with a shake of her head as she pulls and helps him to his feet. “She’ll be staying with us until her electricity gets put back up.”

He shakes his head, this time the noise he makes is in protest, a deep groan of anger. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want her in his house.

Momma frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. “Now listen here Thomas, not everyone is as lucky as we are. Sometimes we have to help those in need.”

He wants to believe her- Momma wasn’t one for lying, after all- but this isn’t anything new. He knew how this would end; with the woman in their bellies and her screams in his head, keeping him awake at night. She would make a mistake and then she’d end up in the basement, begging for her life.

It was like Momma had set her up to fail, like a game that promised a prize that would never come, and Thomas didn’t want to play. Not this time. He shakes his head again, his way of telling her no.

Momma and Uncle Hoyt have a lot in common, no matter how sweet and gentle Momma tried to be, her anger was almost as bad as his. He doesn’t like it when she gets angry at him- everyone was always angry at him- and he can see it in her eyes, making him bend his chin against his chest as he let out a whine, glancing down at the ground. She never hit him, but she would ignore him and that hurt a lot more.

“Then you go on upstairs and tell the poor girl that she’s got to leave. I won’t be the one to break the bad news.” Momma huffs, stomping over to the kitchen. “Tell her you would rather see her freeze than offer a small kindness.”

There it is, that harshness in her voice that makes him tremble, his heart picking up its pace until he feels like he can’t breathe. He shakes his head again, digging his fingers into his arm. He didn’t want to have anything to do with the woman. Didn’t want to be forced to deal with her later but if this is what Momma wanted, then he would do it. He would make her happy.

He lets out another noise, smaller this time and turns towards the door. Part of him is angry- angry that he wasn’t allowed to be angry without being punished. Angry that sometimes it seemed like he wasn’t allowed to have a say when it came to things. He felt as if momma sometimes liked to hurt him on purpose- pushing and pushing until he snapped.

As soon as the thought crosses his mind, he feels the guilt settle in his stomach, hot and suffocating. Momma wasn’t like the bad people. She wouldn’t hurt him. Sometimes he just made her so angry- he knew that. He knew that he was difficult and stubborn and sometimes she got tired of dealing with him.

It wouldn’t be long before the woman disappeared anyways- Hoyt will see her at supper and he’d take her upstairs. The screaming will start, and everyone will act like they couldn’t hear it; Momma would knit, and Monty would turn the volume on the TV up until it was too much. He’d end up sleeping in the basement again, picking at his skin until it was raw and bleeding- the crying twisting his stomach and threatening to swallow him whole.

He just had to wait until then. He would be good until then.

The trunk of the car was left open for him, and he finds the woman’s things waiting for him. It’s not much- a simple backpack, filled with so many things that it ballooned uncomfortably. He grabs it, grunting at the fact that it was heavier than he thought, and slams the trunk close. The car shakes and squeaks at his aggression as he carries the bag inside. He doesn’t like the fact that he’s touching the stranger’s things.

He’s dirty- his fingers staining the bag- but he’s also dirty inside. Rotten from the anger, the bad he’s done. The bad he was going to do. He can feel himself soiling the items inside- turning them just as dirty as him as he walks into the kitchen and sets the bag down on the floor. Momma had taken the firewood he had left and put away the mat. He could feel the warmth of the fire even from where he stood across the oven- filling the room with the scent of smoke. He grunts, wanting Momma to turn around and see that he had done what she asked. He wanted her to smile at him- to ease the way his heart still hammered in frustration.

She turns, but the softness in her eyes isn’t directed at him- she barely looks at him and his heart sinks further down into his stomach, tension building in the back of his neck. He can hear her footsteps now- the creaking of the staircase as she came downstairs. He’s standing in front of a wall, the staircase on the other side. For now, he was hidden- but it wouldn’t be long until she stepped into the kitchen, and he couldn’t hide anymore.

“We’re in here dear,” Momma calls out to her. “Tommy here’s got your bag for you.”

He sees her for the first time out of the corner of his eye- spotting her before she spots him, her eyes on Momma. She’s short- shorter than momma by a bit, and clean and well dressed. Her sweater is thick and colorful, the cuffs of her sleeves neatly folded against her wrists. Something there catches the soft yellow light of the kitchen- a thin golden bracelet halfway hidden beneath the fabric. Her jeans look like they’ve been around for a long time- a different shade of fabric stitched into one of the knees. Her boots are old and worn out, reminding him of his own.

He doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like this feeling that runs through him as he inspects her.

“I really like your house!” she says- voice light and full of excitement that made his mood worsen. “Its-” whatever she was about to say dies in her throat as she turns her head to the left and spots him for the first time.

He doesn’t let her look at his face- turning his head to the side as he folds into himself, chin against chest. He doesn’t like this- doesn’t like that she stares at him without saying anything. He can feel her eyes on him- inspecting him- an animal on display. His chest rises and falls painfully, his breathing hard and loud in the silence. He can feel his hands twitch- his thumb nail grazing along the length of his finger.

“This is my son,” Momma’s voice is tight as she talks. “Tommy this here is our guest. Don’t you want to say hello?”

He shakes his head, his hands trembling. Something wet lands inside the sink and he startles. He hears Momma suck her teeth and he can see her in his mind- shaking her head like she does whenever he does something she doesn’t like.

He doesn’t like this. Doesn’t like that Momma is getting mad at him, that the woman still stands there, watching him tremble in fear. He could already hear it- her laughing as she called him an idiot. They always called him something. They always laughed at him.

“It’s okay,” her voice shakes a bit as she breaks the silence, and she coughs and clears her voice. “I, um, I’m a little shy myself so I know how hard it can be sometimes.” She speaks slowly, her voice almost a low whisper. She tells him her name. Tells him that it’s nice to meet him.

He doesn’t say anything- not that he can, he’s never spoken a single word- but he nods his head, his eyes quickly glancing over at her. She’s still looking at him and his heart almost beats through his ribs. He expects her to be looking at him like they always look at him- filled with disgust and hatred, looking for any excuse to leave, to get as far away as possible from him- but he doesn’t find that in her face.

He finds her mouth twisted downwards and her eyebrows pushed together just a tiny little bit, her eyes gentle and wide. She looked at him as if he was a dog out by the side of the road on a hot summer afternoon refusing help and she had been chasing him with a bowl of water.

She looks at him like there was nothing scary about him. Like he was a man, dirty from a long day at work and not a freak- poor and disfigured- a monster. He had never seen that look from anyone who didn’t live in this house, and it scared him. It terrified him that someone would decide to look at him like that.

But as soon as he met her eyes she looked away, towards Momma- a smile in her voice.

“What are we making for dinner?” she asks, stepping farther into the kitchen and pushing her sleeves up towards her elbows- ready for whatever Momma tells her to do.

The tension disappears just like that, Momma laughing lightly as she places her hand on the woman’s back and pulls her close. “You’re such a darling, helping me out like this. How about you start getting out the pots and pans? They’re over there by the pantry.” She pointed to the cupboards by the fridge and the woman nodded and went straight towards them.

With her back to them- Momma turned and looked at him finally. He could still feel his heart hammering away at his chest, but this was more manageable. He was still waiting for the names to come, for the screaming and the disgust to appear in her eyes. Sometimes when Momma was around people hid it a bit better, but he knew that it wouldn’t be long until they couldn’t hide it anymore.

He expects Momma to still be mad at him- blue eyes dark with anger- but instead she sighs and puts her hand on his shoulder, a silent apology that has his muscles relaxing. The woman pays them no mind- bending down to inspect the cupboard down there.

“Go on and take her bag up to her room and get yourself cleaned up, okay?” She tugs on the collar of his shirt before fixing his hair out of his face. It’s damp from his sweat, but she doesn’t flinch. “She’s a good girl- try to handle her with care, alright?” Her voice is a low whisper- something the woman wasn’t supposed to hear. It unsettles him as he nods along with Momma- not quite understanding what she meant. He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to nod along with her or shake his head, but Momma doesn't wait for an answer, patting him on the cheek before she turns her head and calls out to the woman.

“Honey, Tommy is going to take your bag up to your room- is that alright?”

The woman rises from the ground, two pots neatly stacked in each other in her hands. “Yes,” she says softly- her eyes meeting his. “Thank you, Tommy.”

She smiles at him shyly and his heart begins to hammer against his ribs again. He feels his skin begin to burn- his flesh raw and exposed to her. Even underneath his mask he can feel himself heating up as he looks away, scrambling to grab the bag.

He needed to get away from her- from Momma and her words that he couldn’t understand. He felt like he couldn’t breathe with her here. He stumbles up the steps- feet so heavy against the wood that he swears he can feel the house tremble underneath him.

Momma gave her the room across his- the empty one where she liked to keep the extra bed sheets and towels. But it’s cleaner now as he turns the knob and goes inside, the curtains pulled open to let in the bit of light that still shone from outside- the sun close to setting. The piles of blankets that were on the bed are gone- the sheets neatly tucked into the space between the mattress and the boxspring. There’s a jacket thrown on top- red and faded, the cuffs ripped up on one arm.

He sits the bag right next to it- on the floor, wiping his hands on his jeans. It topples over and he lets out a grunt- fixing it so it sat upright again. He decided that he would stay up here until Momma called him for supper. He wouldn’t go down to the basement while the woman was here- he was worried that she would be stupid enough to follow him down there. That would be the end of her. Blood and flesh and sinew torn from her bones for them to feast on.

He’s careful when he’s leaving the room- closing the door gently so that it doesn’t slam before he hurries off into his own- locking the door behind himself.

Here it’s dark, his windows covered in greased up newspapers. He didn’t like it when it got too bright- when the sun shone through and reminded him of the mess around him. His room is small and cramped and full of things that he had hauled up from the furnace room so that he wasn’t stuck going up and down all the time. Uncle Monty said that he sounded like a ‘goddamned bulldozer,’ stomping around the house when he was trying to sleep. So, it was better this way- even though sometimes he got irritated that there were too many things. But it meant not being bothersome, so he tried not to mind much.

He checks the door again- making sure that he had really locked it, pulling and twisting at the doorknob just to be safe. He knew that no one would come up here and go into his room- Monty was stuck on the first floor, Momma was with the girl in the kitchen preparing supper and Uncle Hoyt wasn’t home yet. But he was always a little paranoid, just the tiniest bit afraid that someone would knock down his door and see everything about him that he had tried so hard to hide. Not even Momma was allowed in here. This was his- the only place where he could hide from everyone, where he didn’t have to worry about anyone disturbing him.

He takes his mask off and it’s not quite the relief he was expecting- the leather inside has gone stiff, his face raw and tender and aching from all the sweat and dirt that had managed to get in. He can feel it as he runs his fingers across his face, a cut on the corner of his lips that wasn’t there last time. It blends into the sores and scarred tissue already there, his skin long ruined. It shouldn’t bother him- but as he opens his mouth and feels the skin stretch and crack, a drop of blood welling up and rolling down his chin- he gets upset, grunting in frustration. He had wanted to clean the mask and add some petroleum to try and soften it up so it wouldn’t bite at his skin anymore- pinching and scratching and making the pain worse. It would have been something to do, something to keep him busy and distracted until he had to face the inevitable, but now it was something that he no longer wanted to do. Why would he? What would it change?

It was never this bad- but ever since his nose began to fall away, it only ever seemed to get worse- no matter what he did or how hard he pleaded for it to just stop and go away- nothing ever changed. There was no one there to listen to his pleas.

With a low groan of frustration, he tears his hand from his face, wiping the blood on the front of his shirt. He hates himself. Hates everything about himself. Momma liked to say that the bad people were liars, that people who were hurting only ever knew how to hurt others- but he knew that wasn’t true. He was a monster. He saw it, looking back at him in the mirror- wild and ugly and evil, everything that he did not want to be. He hated taking his mask off- hated knowing that the man that existed underneath it was the same man that he was trying to escape from.

Coming here was a mistake. He should have stayed downstairs, should have gone out back to the barn- there he would have found something, anything, to do.

He takes a breath like Momma showed him, trying to push the anger away- down, down, down, until he couldn’t feel it slithering through his veins and pounding in the back of his head. He just had to focus on something else-he liked it when he had chores, things to do that kept him busy and away from the bad thoughts. He takes another deep breath through his mouth- dirt and salt on his lips as he picks up the mask and tries to clean it off on his clothing. It does nothing but lift the dust off into the air as he places it on his face, tightening it too much across his head, leather digging into tender skin. He would take a bath, change his clothes, then sit in bed and wait. Uncle Hoyt would come an hour after the sun disappeared and then he would have to go downstairs. He didn’t want to go downstairs.

He didn’t want to feel the bad feelings anymore. The fear, the anger. The woman would look at him and his throat would tighten, and his heart would beat painfully. He hadn’t liked that feeling- trapped in his own skin, unable to get away. Yet at the same time, he wanted her to look at him. No one ever looked at him.

He could still feel her eyes- soft and warm on his skin, simultaneously calming and worsening his anger. He was half embarrassed- covered in dirt and sweat stains, his clothing old and faded- Did she think that he was disgusting? He was always messy in everything that he did- always having to teach himself how to do things. Filth had never been a stranger. Had never bothered him. But he finds himself wanting to wash the grime and sweat from himself- even if he was just going to put the same clothes back on.

His stomach growls, empty and needy as he unlocks the door and roughly pushes it open- he finds the woman outside of it.

The door swings open, the gust of wind pushing her hair around as the door barely manages to miss her. She’s looking up at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open- her arms up by her chest. It scares him, seeing her there and he makes a messy, garbled noise of surprise.

“Sorry!” she speaks fast, her words all pushed together. “I was just trying to find the bathroom!”

He feels his heart beating in his throat, muscles tense and solid as he stares down at her. She’s so much shorter than he thought- he could reach out and crush her throat in his hand and it wouldn’t take much force to do so. He’s almost tempted to, his fingers twitching at his sides. Momma would get mad at him when he dragged her body downstairs- but she would forget eventually.

“I’m in your way- I,” she takes a step back, her eyes finally releasing his. “I’m sorry, I’m just-”

He grunts. Low and short- his way of telling her to stop talking. Nothing she says is making any sense to him and the sound of her voice makes his heart hammer at his chest. Thunderous and loud and painful. It scares him how easily she does that to him. Such a small thing like her, carelessly walking into a house where God was nowhere to be found without a single ounce of caution. He could take her to his room, and no one would hear her scream. He could scare her more than she scared him.

She squirms in the silence like a rat stuck in a trap. She tugs at her sleeve, at her collar- his breathing loud as he watches her- watches her chest rise and fall with every breath, her eyes on the space between them.

 Another grunt and she startles backwards, looking up at him. This time, when her eyes meet his own, he doesn’t cower even though his body tenses and he can already feel her pulse beneath his hand.

 His body is stiff as he steps out of his room and moves out of the way of the door- he has to turn his back to her and for a split-second, panic runs cold and fast through his veins as he remembers the woman who had stabbed him. The door slams close as he turns around quickly, eyes wide and wild as he looks down at her hands.

He expects to see a knife pointed at him- the scar on his shoulder aching from the memory of being sliced apart, the pain still there even after all the months that have passed since. He hadn’t done anything to deserve that pain- the woman and her friends had attacked first, had tried to hurt his family. Uncle Hoyt had told him, so had Momma with tears in her eyes and blood splatters on her dress. They were bad people who wanted to do bad things to them, and it was his responsibility to protect them- to keep them safe. It hadn’t mattered that his hands shook so hard with fear, and he could taste vomit at the back of his throat, vile and burning, he had to protect them. They were all that he had. He couldn’t- wouldn’t- lose them.

He was panting as he searched the woman and finds nothing in her hands, her eyes widening as she takes another step away from him.

 Was she scared?

Did she finally see it? The evil that radiated off of him that others seemed to see- always scared of getting too close to him- He was a disease on this town. A burden. Did he finally scare her?

Would she scream?

Was she going to hurt him- just like everyone else? Drive a knife into his flesh- a pain that would only last for so long before it faded into a memory that he refused to think of. A pain that wouldn’t be so bad compared to the shame that churned his stomach whenever a stranger screamed when they saw him.

He waited- teeth clamped together as he stared her down in the heavy silence.

He watched as her lips part, lower lip trembling slightly. If she screamed, he would hurt her before she could hurt him. If she screamed, she would be nothing but a pile of bones, tossed into the fire by the time the sun rose tomorrow.

Scream, he thought, fingers twitching at his sides. Scream already and let this end already.

“You’re scared of me, aren’t you?” she whispers and her voice trembles even as she keeps talking. “I can tell- you’re looking at me like I just pulled out a gun on you or something.” She lifts her hands towards him and moves them back and forth, as if she was showing him that he had nothing to worry about. “But my hands are empty-”

She lifts her hands, palms facing him, and wiggles her fingers. “If it makes you feel better, apart from a kitchen knife I don’t think I’ve ever held a weapon.” She smiles oddly at him- as if she wasn’t sure how to do so, her eyes still wide and unblinking. As if she was worried that he would lunge at her at any second.

He doesn’t like how his body seems to let go of its worries and fears so fast, his shoulders drooping and his heartbeat slowing down until it’s no longer pounding against his ears as the ringing slowly starts to disappear. He unclenches his teeth, the pain still lingering in his jaw and neck, and suddenly, he’s no longer thinking of hurting the woman- of how easy he would have snapped her neck. He still could, part of him even ached and begged for him to do it. To get it over with.

But he doesn’t listen to that part of him that never truly seemed to go away- always begging for blood, for a voice that would finally be heard. He’s staring at her hands instead, focusing on the tips of her fingers that are flushed pink. He notices the birthmark on her left middle finger- a tiny dot right underneath the crease of her knuckle. He notices all the tiny little lines that make up her palms and the way her thumb trembles lightly.

He did not like her.

He did not like the way something as simple as her hands was enough to draw his attention- his eyes seeking out the tiny little patterns between her fingers. He did not like how her voice could soothe him so easily when he wanted nothing but to crush her- to take her, to taste her flesh on his tongue and her blood on his lips.

He did not like how she called out to him as he just stared at her- stared through her, voice gentle with his name. It wasn’t the same as when Momma said it though. This felt like a spell, a bad omen- Satan’s own voice whispering temptation in his ear. Sweet and gentle and unfamiliar.

She made him feel the same way he had felt that one night he had snuck upstairs to watch Uncle Hoyt and his new friend. He had pushed the door open just enough so that he could see but still stay hidden from the light. He hadn’t made a single noise as he watched Hoyt undo his pants and pull the woman’s legs apart. He hadn’t been able to see much from his hiding place, but what he heard had sent a shock of electricity through his body- blood boiling with need as he listened to the crying and the begging and the sound of something slick being hit over and over again. His stomach churned the same it had that night- tight and hot and restless for something that he could not give it.

He lets out a whine- deep and guttural and full of frustration. Go away, he wants to yell at her. Go away before you ruin everything.

“Tommy…?” she asks again, not understanding his plea.

He whines again and it takes him a second to realize that he’s scratching at his arm- digging his fingers into the old scars there and agitating the skin. It hurts. But that pain is familiar and calming and helps him focus on something other than the panic rising in his throat.

She was messing it all up.

 It’s supposed to just be the four of them- Momma, Hoyt, Monty and him. It’s always been just the four of them. There wasn’t enough space here for her. She was too much of a change to get used to- too loud, too much. Even if he went and hid in the basement until Momma got tired of her, he knew that he would still be able to feel her through the walls, a choking weight in the air that would only poison him until he forgot what it was like to be ignored and cautious even in his own home. He’d be able to hear her- hear her laugh, her steps, the tiny little noises she would come to make the more time went on. She would fill this house with her until she soaked the walls and filled in the foundation. Until everyone forgot that she had a stranger at one point- a spontaneous good dead in all the bad they dealt in.

And even then- what would stop Hoyt from taking her to the room where almost all of the women ended up in? From the emptiness of their bellies that might make them remember that she wasn’t one of them- that she was the answer to their starvation?

He's sinking his nails in harder- the thin skin underneath breaks and he itches at the spot as if there was something alive and buzzing under the flesh. He doesn’t feel the pain as the blood begins to gather underneath his dirty nails. He can see it, even in the dim light- but he can’t feel it. Can’t stop. He digs and digs and digs, hoping for the thoughts to stop- for the voices to stop telling him that he had to kill her. That if he didn’t, he had to make sure that she never left- that this house swallowed her whole and kept her from running, from leaving them. Leaving him. If she tried to run, he could keep her in the furnace room; could tie her up and warn her that if she wasn’t good, she wouldn’t be able to stay.

He could be good to her. He would learn if he had to, would ask Momma to teach him to be gentle and kind. He would not make her angry, would not make her cry or scare her away as long as she listened to him. As long as she stayed with him.

He’s lost, stuck in the farthest corner of his mind, in a future that would stop existing if he simply reached out and touched her. All he had to do was cover her face with his hand, she would be too surprised to fight him off when he pressed her against the wall and kept her there-the weight of him against her back. He could already feel her as she squirmed against him- her body unable to stand still as her lungs began to burn. He could already feel her warmth through his clothes, feel the way his heart would race as she sank her fingers into his skin, drawing blood from fear and desperation. His fear would seep into her flesh, make her lash out more. Her pain would become his and they would be inseparable in that moment.

 It’s when he feels her- fingers cold and desperate as she prods and pulls at his arms, forcing them apart that he returns to reality- to the dimly lit hall, the heat of the fireplace already seeping through the cracks in the foundation. He can feel the way her arms tremble, her fingertips burning holes into his skin.

The woman’s eyes are wild when he looks at her, all wet and round- something in them, in the way she looks at him, makes his heart fill with lead- knocking against his ribs painfully.

“It’s okay!” she says, her voice panicked as she keeps repeating it over and over again, almost as if she’s trying to convince herself- or maybe she thinks that if she says it enough times it’d become true.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” she repeats, her eyes on his as she pulls his arms towards her. “We just have to get this cleaned up and it’ll be okay.”

He doesn’t budge when she tries to pull him towards the staircase- instead, he watches as she stumbles over her own feet, her hands sliding down his arms.

“We need to get this clean,” she’s pleading now, tugging at him to get him to move. “It’s going to get infected if we don’t and there’s no doctor in town anymore-” the more she talks, the more hysterical she begins to sound, her voice growing higher. “I don’t know where the bathroom is, but we can go down to the kitchen, Luda M-”

He doesn’t let her finish, easily pulling his uninjured arm free from her. He didn’t want Momma to know. To see the mess that he made of himself. She would yell at him if he was lucky- tell him that he was sick in the head, hurting himself like a damn fool again.  But he knew that Momma wouldn’t be kind like that- she would take one look at him, dripping blood on the floor and she would blame the woman for his pain.

He could already hear her yelling, the shrill sound bouncing through his head. Momma wouldn’t care to listen, to see anything other than what she wanted. Momma was like that- kind and sweet and quiet until someone was stupid enough to go after the family. He was like her in a way, protective of them all. He liked to think that he got it from her- that he couldn’t possibly be bad when Momma’s blood ran through him, sweet and caring.

He couldn’t let Momma find out. Not now- not when he had decided that the woman standing in front of him was worth more to him alive than chopped up into pieces that would fit into the deep freezer.

 With a grunt that shuts the woman up from her rambling, he grabs her arm. She’s soft and small under his touch- her sweater itching at his palm as he begins to pull her deeper into the hallway, into the darkness. Away from Momma. Away from a future he wanted no part in.

“No, Tommy we have to go downstairs. I don’t know what to do.” Her voice is shaky as she takes a couple steps forward before planting her feet and refusing to keep going. “Your mom might me better at this than me, please.” She pleads even as she begins to walk again when he refuses to stop.

He tries to tell her that Momma couldn’t find out. That if she did then he wouldn’t be able to protect her- to keep her safe. Momma would tell him to get rid of her and he always did what Momma wanted, even if sometimes he didn’t want to.

He loves Momma. Loves her more than Uncle Hoyt or Monty. He loves her more than anything or anyone- even himself. He could suffer through any pain as long as Momma was with him- as long as she was happy with him.

He tries to tell her that he knows exactly what he’s doing, but all his words come out as a garbled mess of a groan, the muscles in his throat too weak to form any actual words. It frustrates him- hearing himself talk in a way that no one would ever understand.

He lets out a low howl, that frustration growing when she stops walking again. He has to be careful not to hurt her- he didn’t want to accidentally pull her arm too hard if she was going to make this a habit. He just needed to get her to the bathroom. She had to wash off the blood on her hands before she went back downstairs. He could take care of his injuries himself- Momma had taught him how to clean and bandage cuts and bruises. Though he wasn’t concerned with the open wound dripping blood down his arm.

Right now, he needed to get the woman to understand that Momma couldn’t find out about this. That if she went down those steps, stained with his blood, then there was nothing he could do to keep Momma from lashing out. Facing her, he points to himself- finger beating against his chest twice before he points at her.

He’s watching her- his eyes on her as she watches him repeat the action two more times. Her face is flushed, her eyebrows pushed together, and he begins to worry that she’s not understanding him, that now that he’s let go of her, she was going to be stupid and try to push him back towards the stairs.

Letting out a small whimper, he grabs at her wrist. She’s pliant under his touch- her skin cool and soft. Touching her reminds him of the Cattle fences that were used back when the Slaughterhouse had been open. He had touched one by accident, not fully understanding why they had so many warnings signs- and just like back then, something hot and quick ran through him. Back then, the muscles in his fingers and arms had tensed and burned, taking away all his strength. But touching her, feeling the way his scarred thumb slid against the thin skin on her wrist- felt like a shockwave of warmth had run through him- intense and disorienting and addictive.

It scared him, but he didn’t let go of her even though his brain was yelling at him to stop touching her. He couldn’t. He had to keep her safe. Slowly, he began to raise her hand towards him, his mouth opening as he made a noise from the bottom of his throat.

He looked at her face as he pressed the back of her hand against his chest. She was already staring at him, her lips twisted into a frown. He couldn’t look into her eyes for too long, something in him ached when he did, so he kept his eyes on her mouth as he tapped her hand against his chest. That same warmth that was spreading through his arm poisoned his chest. He could feel it in his throat, in the depth of his belly- It knocked around in his head until he was dizzy.

For a moment, with her hand on him and his eyes still glued to her lips, he forgets about the bad people who called him all those bad words. He forgets all of the evil that he’s done, all the screams that haunt him, all the blood that he can never wash off.

He finds the confidence to raise his eyes to her own and part of him is scared that in them he would find disgust at having to touch something like him. A smaller, quieter, part wonders if she feels it too- the electricity that flows out of her and through him. He wants her to tell him that she feels him in her- that he’s also warm and electric through her veins. He wants her to tell him that a real monster wouldn’t feel the way he did- that if he really was a monster, the softness in her eyes wouldn’t be affecting him so much.

Dropping his eyes, he taps his chest with her hand twice before pointing it towards him. He does it one more time before he lets go of her. He expects her to pull her hand away, but instead she lets it linger on his shirt, the dirt and stains not bothering her. He wonders if she can feel the way his heart knocks against his ribs.

“You want me to follow you?” her voice cracks a bit as she takes her hand away.

He nods, grunting as he motions to a door off to the side behind him before he lifts his bloodied arm and runs his hand over the scratches- they’ve stopped bleeding already, his arm a mess of blood stains and dirt. Pointing behind here, towards the staircase he shakes his head, bringing his hand back towards his arm and covering the mess he made.

She doesn’t say anything as she tries to piece everything together- her face twisting into itself as she thinks. He repeats the movement, groaning when he points at the staircase and once more when he covers the cuts. ‘Not safe,’ he tries to tell her, ‘Take care of it here.’

Realization makes her eyes brighten, her features smoothing out. “You don’t want Luda Mae to find out?”

It’s not exactly what he was trying to say but he lets it be, seeing as it was close enough. She could have thought that he wanted her to go down and grab Momma- and he was worried that with how small she was she would take off running before he could stop her. In trying to help she would run straight into her end.

The thought made his stomach drop- a sudden chill rocking through him.

“Tommy- I don’t know if I can do anything about that…” she pauses, and he watches as she reaches for him, taking his arm in both of her hands. Her touch burns him again, and this time he can’t stop the small whine of delight from escaping his lips. Her mouth twists down as she inspects his arm- and he tenses, waiting for her to start yelling at him, for the bad names to come. But they don’t- she stays silent, her eyes glued to his arm.

The damage isn’t bad- compared to the collection of scars that line both of his arms, this was nothing. He had scratched a small hole in his forearm- breaking the skin and tearing apart the bit of muscle and fat there. He was lucky that he hadn’t hit anything vital- that he had stopped when he did.

When he was younger, he had taken to cutting- tearing flesh from his body and slicing himself open as a punishment for his mistakes, for his bad thoughts. He had done a good job of keeping it from Momma until the night he had cut too deep, and the blood wouldn’t stop. He had ran to her, howling in fear- bloody arm pressed against his chest. She had made Uncle Monty hold him down while she stitched him together, only a glass of whiskey to keep the pain away. She had yelled at him the entire time-first with tears in her eyes then when they had dried up and she had finished sewing his skin together- she had taken the belt and beaten him raw. When she got tired of beating him, she had told him that this was all Satan’s fault- that she had no choice but to beat the devil out of him. God was gonna soothe his pain, his fears, his anguish. He would see, Momma liked to say. She had kissed him on the forehead, and he swore he had seen the devil on her shoulder, laughing at him.

The pain hadn’t convinced him to stop- he simply learned how to hide it better, how to keep things clean, how to stitch himself together on those nights that he fantasized about finding peace in death. He learned where to cut and how deep to dig- and eventually, Momma made herself forget it ever happened at all. Sometimes, he thought that she was afraid of God- of making him angry, of him turning his back on her. It’s why he didn’t tell her that every once in a while, he could feel the devil itself pumping through his veins. Taunting him.

The woman gently turns his arm, and he pulls himself from the memories, watching as her fingers caress his skin. She’s too trusting- doesn’t she see the danger that she’s in? How easily he could overpower her? This was a Godless house, no matter what Momma and Hoyt thought- he knew the truth. He knew that they were all rotten, inside and out. She would be ruined by them all if she stayed. He would ruin her with his sins-but his guilt wasn’t strong enough to stop his desires.

“It looks a lot worse than it is, doesn’t it?” she asks him, but he doesn’t answer- too busy watching the way she touches him- her touch making his breath deepen.

He likes the way she doesn’t mind that his blood is on her hands- twisted into the tiny cracks of her bracelet. She’s careful and slow as she traces the tip of her index finger above the crater he had created in his flesh. He’s almost tempted to push her hand down- to feel her flesh against the inside of his own, to have her hurt him before he could hurt her- but she moves her hand away before he can make up his mind.

“Okay…” she sighs, not letting go of him. “Show me what to do.”

He grunts in satisfaction, the weight of Momma finding out and the woman being punished lifting from his shoulders. Slowly, he turns the arm she cradled in her hands so that he was grabbing her instead- his hand swallowing hers.

He tries not to think about it too much as he tugs gently and finds no resistance in her steps. He almost smiles- lip twitching against the leather on his face as he leads her to the bathroom. Inside him, the devil starts to dance in glee.

The room is cold as he pushes open the door and pulls her inside before he follows. He can feel the cold seep into his thin shirt, see it with every exhale when he turns on the light and shuts the door, dropping the woman’s hand. She shivers and he wants to know if it’s from the cold or the fact that he’s no longer touching her.

The light flickers and dies for a couple seconds, leaving them in darkness before it turns back on- low and yellow like all the others in the house. It makes the woman’s skin look sickly- washing her out as she blinks and tries to get used to the light.

“We have to clean it,” she’s already walking around him, towards the sink. It’s a small one, too low for him to reach without having to bend his knees uncomfortably. Maybe that’s why she pauses mid-sentence- was she trying to picture him, hunched over as he scrubbed the dirt and blood and sweat from his arms?

The thought of her thinking about him- caring about him- splits him in two, a feeling that he’s never experienced before.

“Where are the towels?” she asks, turning around to face him. “If we lay some down on the floor it should keep the mess down a bit, right?”

He doesn’t tell her that it’s not a good idea- that a pile of soaking towels would raise questions that need to stay buried instead. So, he shakes his head, already closing the small distance between them.

The bathroom is small- all of them are. The tiles on the walls are a faded green color, some of them cracked- some of them are separated by mold- the caulk so old and weathered by age and neglect. He hopes that she doesn’t see them- his blood warming in embarrassment as he tells himself that he would fix them later, before she realized that this house was falling apart right under their feet.

The toilet and sink and the bathtub are old- not quite as stained, but still the same faded shade as the tiles that surrounded them. Under the harsh yellow light, it all looked a mess. At least it wasn’t like Hoyt’s bathroom- with too many colors and carpet all over the floors that trapped the smell of tobacco and sweat and soap, the steam that seemed to linger and stick to the walls doing nothing to lessen the stench.

He’s careful as he walks around her- suddenly aware of just how close they were. In here, with the door closed, being near to her seemed almost intimate in a way that he could not quite grasp.

He was used to being alone with people- usually they were screaming and begging, or already half-dead, delirious and confused from the pain and the blood loss. He was used to them thrashing and running and fighting back- hitting him with their fists, kicking him, throwing whatever they managed to get ahold of. They would always scare him when they did that- the pain eventually making him mad until he lashed out and hurt them on purpose.

They didn’t seem to understand that he didn’t want to make them suffer- that he was being kind- taking their lives quickly so that they didn’t have to be so afraid.

He was used to the screaming, the name calling- no matter how scared or afraid he got, he always knew how it would end.

With the woman, he had touched her- she had touched him- without screaming, without her begging or flinching or trying to run away. Out in the hall there had been enough space for him if he needed to get away, but here it was just the two of them- existing in a space that no one else seemed to belong in.

It terrified him just as much as it thrilled him. It made him feel the same way as when he had to chased down someone that had slipped out of his hold- but this time his mind wasn’t telling him to kill. This time, as he stood besides the woman, her eyes on him as he turned on the faucet and waited for the water to warm, something inside of him was telling him to chase her down in a completely different way- to keep her at his side.

Even if he had to chain her and train her- he did not want her to leave. He would not let her leave.

He remembers when he had first started at the Slaughterhouse, when he had been put to work with the cows- separating the babies from the mothers as soon as they were born. He would take them- carefully scooping them up in his arms, a child at the time, not knowing better, not knowing what it was that he was doing- and carry them to another part of the barn where he would drop them into cages so small that even he couldn’t fit inside.

They would cry and shake, unable to stand, unable to realize what lay ahead of them. He would feed them scraps he had stolen from the feeding center- oats or barley or even handfuls of grass from outside- shoving his hand through and letting them eat from his hand. They would calm down, even though they could not stand fully- their heads hunched over and pressed against the metal. He would show them that even if they weren’t going to live long- even if the world around them didn’t seem to care for them- they weren’t alone.

She did not have to be caged like them- though if he had to, he would keep her locked up if it meant keeping her beside him. Down in the basement where no one would hear her- where no one would disturb them, he would get her to see that he was a kind man, that he only wanted what was best for her.

She was already so much like the calves from back then- stupid and small and too trusting of him. It wouldn’t be hard to break her, to convince her that it was all her fault- that there was nothing left for her outside this home.

When the water heats up- steam rising and filling his lungs- he runs his fingers under the stream. Dirt and blood stain the sink, the hot water turning his fingers pink. It hurts, but not enough for him to stop. He rubs his hands together, the water turning pink as it drains. He can feel her eyes on him as he scrubs the grains of dirt from his skin.

For some reason, it embarrasses him- having her watch him do something so mundane and ordinary. He almost swore that he could feel the warmth from her eyes on his skin- hotter than the water. It makes the simple task suddenly seem foolish, makes him feel as if this was the first time he was doing it and he wasn’t sure if it was right or wrong.

With a grunt he tries to push the thoughts from his mind- cupping his hand and filling it with water before he splashes it onto his arm, onto the wound he had given himself. It makes a mess- water splashing onto his rolled sleeve and onto the floor, the sink too small to prevent the mess.

“Can I?” she says- and she’s suddenly closer than he had thought, her body pressed against his side. He can feel her through his shirt, through the thick fabric of her sweater. He swears that he can feel the softness of her body, the beating of her heart, the blood rushing through her veins on his very skin. It makes his heart leap into his throat- the sudden touch making him want to push her head into the glass of the medicine cabinet or pull her closer- he wasn’t sure which one he wanted to do most.

He stands still, body tense as she reaches for him, grabbing his arm and lifting it closer. She must have found the linen closet- an old, red washcloth in her other hand which she places underneath the running water. She hisses, pulling her hand away and opens the cold water.

“Doesn’t that hurt you?” she asks- and there’s no anger in her voice, no underlying judgement that has him tensing up, muscles rippling with dread that he had done something wrong. Momma liked to talk to him like that sometimes. She liked to ask questions that made him feel bad, that made him regret coming to her- guilty that he had bothered her. Hurt that she saw him as something bothersome.

He shakes his head, his way of telling her that no, it wasn’t hurting him. If he had a voice, he would tell her that his skin is so damaged that he could barely feel it, that some days he even preferred it- he liked the way his skin turned red and pulsed in a way that was almost comfortable, soothing.

“This will feel much better,” she holds her fingers under the water, and once it’s at a comfortable temperature she lets it run over the washcloth. “Tell me if I’m hurting you, okay?”

He nods sharply and she smiles at him- the corners of her mouth lifting. He expects her to rub the wound directly, desperate to clean it off before infection sets in. Instead, to his surprise, she wipes around the length of it- scrubbing gently at the blood matting the hair on his arm. The hand holding his arm is gentle, her fingers sinking into his soft flesh and holding him still.

He watches her- watches the concentration on her face that has her eyebrows knitted together as she wipes and rinses, repeating those two motions over and over and over again until his skin is cleaner- until the dirt is gone and there’s nothing left to hide the many sins he carried on his skin.

She pauses- and he can almost read her mind at that moment. He can see it in the tension in her wrist, feel it in the way her fingers tremble just a fraction of a second before they dig a little deeper into his arm. The feeling of her nails scratching at him isn’t painful, but it startles him just the same as if it were- a warmth growing in his chest that travels down to his belly and pools there- filling him with a different sort of sin.

He expects her to say something about the hundreds of tiny little cuts and bruises that she’s unearthed- he can feel it hang heavy in the air- his lips tingling from anticipation. From the worry that she would open her mouth and ruin it all.

It would either be disgust or pity- and he wanted neither. The scars were his to carry- his own punishment for his terrible deeds. Uncle Hoyt always cringed and acted like he didn’t see them- even though his mouth and face twisted as if he had eaten something sour. The pity always came from Momma- her hands on his as she prayed to God to take away whatever burdens he seemed to be carrying around in his heart. She wouldn’t touch them- maybe out of fear, or anger, or maybe just like Uncle Hoyt, she was disgusted as well- scared that if she touched the scars, they would somehow ruin her as well.

The corners of the woman’s mouth are still twisted down when she glances up at him- her eyes too dark to read. He wonders what he looks like in her eyes- what is it that she sees in him that no one else seems to see?

He waits for her to talk- to break the tense silence that’s choking him- but she doesn’t say a word, dropping her eyes as she picks up the bar of soap that’s been there for months. It almost slips out of her hand, and she lets go of him completely- his arm frozen in place, his body already missing hers. The tension disappears, as if nothing had ever happened, as if it had never been there to begin with. It rolls from the points of pressure that she had left behind on his flesh and up his arms. It moves in his veins, thick and syrupy- coating all of him in a feeling that’s doesn’t sit right.

Maybe he did want her to speak- to pity him after all. But the moment is gone, and he doesn’t have a voice to bring it back- to tell her what he was feeling, so he lets the discomfort drown him just a bit as he watches her act like nothing wrong had happened.

She rubs the bar between her hands, underneath the stream of water and his heart sinks at the thought of her cleaning all traces of him from her skin- he wanted to coat her in all that he was- his scent, his hatred, the bitter taste in his mouth that never seemed to go away- he wanted her to have it all, to carry him even if they were apart for a split second. An extension of him- equally as fearsome.

“Come here,” she motions for him to bring his arm towards her hands, letting the bar fall into the sink. Her hands are covered in soap as she takes his arm in between them- gently scrubbing from his wrist to the inside of his elbow, where his rolled-up sleeve sat. At first, she doesn’t touch the wound- and he can feel the hesitation in her fingers as she scrubs at his arm, circling around it. She scrubs at his skin, at the spaces between his fingers, taking his hand in her own and gently massaging it.

It's the first time anyone has done something like that to him- and while he can’t understand why she was being so thorough when it would have been easier to just hand him the soap and let him do it, he has no intention of stopping her.

He simply watches and enjoys- his mouth twisted into the closest thing of a smile that he could manage underneath his mask.

“Tell me if I hurt you, okay?” she says quietly, and it takes him a second to understand her words, his mind lost even to himself- her fingers lightly press against the cut as she speaks, drawing him back into reality. He tenses as she begins to clean it out, rubbing soapy water into it. It doesn’t hurt- not with how light and slow she moves her hand, her finger dipping into the hole he had scratched open. He expects it to hurt or sting or startle him- but pain doesn’t come. Instead, he groans in delight- enjoying the way her finger seems to be tearing into him, stretching his skin open. It’s like she’s making space for herself inside of him- forcing herself into the parts of him that held him together, sinew and muscle and blood- now poisoned with whatever sickness the woman had inflicted in his heart.

“Sorry!” she says quickly, pulling her hand away from him. The once white bubbles between her fingers are now a soft shade of pink, mixed with his blood. It all disappears down the drain as she rinses her hand, drying them on the front of her jeans.

He grows frustrated at the fact that there’s no way to tell her that she hadn’t hurt him- that he wanted her to do it again. That the pain she caused him was almost addictive- sweeter than the whiskey Uncle Monty sometimes let him have whenever he was in a good enough mood to share.

The woman motions for him to rinse his arm, already cupping her hands together under the faucet and letting the cool water pool between her hands. He angles his arm awkwardly into the sink and she lets the water trickle from between her fingers over his arm slowly. He watches as she repeats the motion, rinsing his arm- it’s so trivial and boring, yet he’s in awe as she takes care of him.

Without a second thought, the woman is already devoting herself to the mundanity of life with him. He could see it as she turns the water off and tells him to wait- as if he would leave her side, as if he could do something so absolutely stupid- subjecting himself to an agony he had no intention of experiencing firsthand.

He hears the closet door open behind him, making him turn around and look at the woman as she rummages through old fitted blankets, washcloths and towels until she finds what she needs. With one hand pressed against the pile of folded towels she pulls one free, tossing it over her arm. “I don’t know how long this has been here for-” as she talks, she moves onto her toes, stretching her arm out as she reaches for something on one of the top shelves.

He almost moves to help her, his body already swaying in place, eager to move, to make himself useful to the woman. But he spends too long trying to decide- her hand closing around whatever it was that she had seen earlier. She lets out a small noise of delight as she drops down to the balls of her feet, and it wracks through him, sending a shiver of warmth up his spine that spreads across his chest- tightening the muscles in his lower belly.

“Expired medicine and antibiotics are better than nothing, right?” She asks as he turns and faces him- lips curved up into a smile and he almost finds himself mimicking it- the corners of his lips twitching. He catches himself, hot embarrassment forcing his eyes to drop from her face- down to the small plastic medicine bin in her hands. It did not matter that he had his mask to hide behind, the way she looked at him made him feel as if she could somehow see through it- his face exposed for whatever ridicule and insults she would eventually throw at him.

 There are bottles of pills stacked on top of one another- the type that Momma used to give him when he was feverish. It would take his sickness as well as his hunger- leaving him too heavy to do anything but lay in bed until the heat of his body burned through the drug. There are other things as well- gauze and bandages, silver packages of pills he couldn’t identify, the label worn off a long time ago- a bottle of Vaseline, faded from the years sits next to a glass jar of Vapor-Rub. Looking at it, he swears that he can smell it even with how far away from the jar he was- even though his nose hasn’t worked properly for months, he feels the ghost of it wrinkle as he cringes from the offensive smell his mind reminds him of.

Momma used to slather him with it when he had first started working at the Slaughterhouse. He hadn’t been used to the smell of it back then and every day he went back had been miserable. The scent of death and blood and shit had soured his stomach until he had gone and thrown up the oatmeal Momma had made for breakfast all over his worktable. All over the slab of meat he had been told to break down. He can still remember the taste of animal blood on his tongue after he had wiped his mouth- forgetting that his hands and arms and chest had been covered in chunks of offal. His boss had called him every bad word under the sun-some were words that he had never heard before, now fully engrained in his mind, tearing at his heart once Monty had told him what they meant.

When he had gone home that night, after scrubbing his station clean- the blood mixing with his waste underneath his nails, in the strands of his hair and in between the cracks of his boots, Momma had slapped him. She had been waiting for him on the porch, her face twisted down in anger, the blue of her eyes dark and cold behind her glasses.

She had called him a great big idiot- uncaring of how dirty he had been, of how hard he had silently prayed to God for the day to hurry up and end so that he could leave and go home. At one point, when the bell for Lunch had rung and he was forced to stay and catch up to everyone else- his boss throwing what Momma had packed for him in the garbage before spitting on it with a laugh- he had wanted to die, his chest burning every single time he brought the cleaver down. He had wanted to die right then and there- to stop existing all together. To be nothing but the air around him- free from the bad people, from the stares, from feeling like all that he did was somehow inherently wrong. No matter if it was an accident or not, no one ever seemed to care enough to listen to him.

Momma had gotten a call from the Slaughterhouse- telling her that because of his careless mistake he would have to be let go. Momma had told him, as she dragged him to the hose out back, that she had begged and begged and begged for them to give him a second chance. They couldn’t lose his income, not with Uncle Monty getting less hours at his job and the Government cutting Uncle Hoyt’s veteran checks so suddenly. They were barely making ends meet as it was- this would ruin them.

She had yelled and shouted, spraying him with cold water until he was a shivering mess, the blood no longer crusted over on his skin. He could feel the cold water pooling in his boots, making his socks stick to his toes. It hadn’t even mattered to him then, his heart hammering away at his chest at the thought of never having to go back. Of not having to wake up so early to walk all the way to the other side of town in a place that he hated.

He didn’t even mind when Momma had beat him, welts forming on his wet skin from the belt she kept exclusively for punishments. The pain was nothing in comparison to when Momma had told him that she had made sure that he had kept his job.

They were going to cut his pay, a little every check, until he paid off the cost of the half cow he had puked all over. But he still had a job, he was still able to help the family out- wasn’t that good? Momma asked him, smiling at him like she hadn’t just beat him tired.

 Momma warned him that he couldn’t mess this up again. That there were no more chances after this- sending him up to his room with no dinner, his stomach already empty and rubbing against itself.

The morning after, when she had woken him up- his body sore from all the walking that he had done and the bruises forming on his back and legs- Momma had twisted open the jar of Vapor-rub for the first time, filling his room with the slightly sweet- minty smell.

She had bought it last night, right before the shop closed- with the bit of lose change she had managed to scrap together. It’s gonna help you from making another mistake she said right before she shoved a finger full of it into his nose. It was thick, and cold, burning the inside of his nose as he moaned in pain, trying to push Momma away before she shoved more into the other nostril. She had smacked his hand away, telling him that this was for his own good. That this was only until he got used to it.

He had moaned as tears began to form, shaking his head- trying to empty his nose, the burning crawling up into his head and making his eyes water painfully. Every inhale he took through his mouth burned its way to his lungs. Momma only slapped him again- telling him that this was his fault. That he had to do this for the family.

“You’re so selfish Thomas!” she shouted at him, holding his jaw and shoving another finger into his empty nostril. “There’s no room for useless boys in this house, do you understand?”

He couldn’t remember anything after that. His memories about that day lost to the pain he had put himself through. He remembers bits and pieces- the hunger. The burning. The anger.

He always seemed to remember the anger. Flashing through him- hot and cold, boiling his blood.

Something outside of his thoughts rattle and he’s once more standing in the bathroom, a man three times the size of the child that he had once been. Beside him, the woman had set the medicine bin on top of the toilet tank and was rummaging through it- the source of the noise that had brought him back.

He’s tense, the muscles in his neck thick and tight. He doesn’t like how he seemed to live more in his memories- constantly remembering all the things that he just wanted to forget. He didn’t want to remember, to be reminded of the pain he carried.

The woman glances at him, holding a small yellow squeeze tube and a roll of self-adhesive medical tape in one hand. Their eyes meet and she smiles at him, even though he can feel the way his face is twisted down into a scowl- his eyebrows heavy over his eyes.

He doesn’t mean to glare at her- to make her smile falter slightly as her eyes widen just a fraction. He could almost see himself in her eyes and he doesn’t like the him that he imagines. Large and imposing- a thing that only knows how to hurt, how to cause fear. He waits for the woman to realize her mistake- to realize that she was trapped in a small room with a monster.

“Give me your arm?” she asks him, holding out her right hand. “Let’s get you all wrapped up, okay?” her smile is still small, and he can see the wariness in her eyes, but when he places his arm in her hand she doesn’t flinch, she doesn’t rush him- wanting to get this over with.

She pulls him towards her instead, slender fingers wrapping around his forearm as much as possible. She tugs, and he moves- lightweight in her hold.

He’s aware of the muscles in his face- of how, even if he’s partially hidden behind his mask, his face sits. He makes himself relax- something that comes easy with the warmth of her hand on his body, easing the tension that he still carried from his memories. Her touch burned into him, filled him until he swore that he could feel her in his blood- pumping through his heart.

Her eyes don’t leave his as she pulls him closer, and motions with her head for him to sit down on the toilet. “It’ll be easier, that way you don’t have to keep your arm in the air.” She explains, shuffling out of the way to make space for him.

Underneath his weight, the toilet squeaks and shifts as he does as told, awkwardly sitting down. She’s taller than him like this, his head at the same level with her chest, making him have to tilt his head back just a bit to meet her eyes.

Her smile had grown in the time he had looked away- and he can’t help the heat that spreads across his face, his ears growing hot. Could she feel it? The warmth that she caused him? The uneasiness thrumming through him that had the tips of his fingers aching to touch her? To hold her like she held him?

“Can you hold this?” she asks, already dropping something into his expecting hand. It had been resting on his lap, calloused covered palm open and waiting- a beggar’s pose. The ointment and tape weren’t what he had been waiting for, but he takes them, closing his thick fingers around them.

What he didn’t expect was for her to lean over him with a mumbled “sorry”, her hand falling onto his shoulder as she reached for something behind him- inside of the medicine bin.

He doesn’t know what to do- his body freezing underneath hers as her neck grazes his mask covered face. It doesn’t last long- maybe a fraction of a second before she’s pulling away and dropping the hand from his shoulder, but it was enough.

Enough for him to inhale the light scent of her- woodsy and sweet and nutty- just the smallest hint of sweat underneath that. It reminded him of the baked goods Momma used to make for him on his birthday when he was small. It was comforting in the same way that it twisted his stomach with the pain of remembering something that used to make him so happy, something that had been taken from him so abruptly once Momma decided that he was too big to celebrate his birthday. Too old to be cared for.

The woman had been so close that he swore that he could almost hear the blood pounding through her veins. He had almost been tempted to turn his head and feel its pulse with his lips. To scratch her skin with his mask- the scent of her tainting it the same way it has already ruined his senses.

He could picture it- his teeth sinking into the warm and thin flesh she had so stupidly given him access to. It was almost scary- the way his mouth began to water at the thought of her blood on his tongue, raw flesh between his teeth. He wanted to fill his belly with it- to make her a part of him in a way that no one could take from him.

Would she taste as sweet as she smelled?

He swallowed down saliva, clearing the bad thoughts from his mind- scared that if he kept focusing on them, he would do something that he didn’t really want to do.  Something that he wouldn’t be able to take back, no matter how hard he begged and prayed and tried to undo.

He didn’t want to hurt her right now. No matter how hard his mind was telling him to do it- replaying all of the times that he could have done so. Showing him all of the ways that he still could.

He feels ashamed of his thoughts, of the temptation that he was barely keeping at bay- and finds himself unable to look at the woman as she rips open a piece of plastic, tossing it in the garbage can between the toilet and the sink. He keeps his eyes on the space between his legs, on her beat-up boots as she stands in front of him- sweet and unaware of what a horrible person he truly was. Of all that he was struggling to not do to her.

“Do you think Luda Mae is getting suspicious?”

The question startles him, reminding him of the world outside of the bathroom, outside of the woman in front of him.

“She’s probably thinking I ran away; don’t you think?” the woman’s laugh is small, feathery light. He doesn’t know how to answer- not knowing how long they had been up here. There was a possibility that Momma had grown suspicious, or maybe she thought that he had snapped and taken care of her in the only way that he knew how.

Vaguely, he shakes his head. Whether it’s to disagree with her or to tell her that he wasn’t sure- he let’s her decide on which one he’s trying to communicate. If Momma had been concerned, she would have come upstairs to check on her already, so he wasn’t too worried. He shrugs, and her laughter fills his ears again.

“Right. If you’re not worried, then I won’t be either. I just don’t want her to think that I’ve been a horrible guest- running off in the middle of helping her with dinner.”

He shakes his head again and this time its to reassure her that Momma wouldn’t think that. At least he hoped that she wouldn’t. The thought of Momma angry at the woman made his chest burn uncomfortably. An ache that slithered in the tight spaces between his ribs- hot and uneasy in its slickness.

“Well, what’s done is done, lets just get your arm bandaged. I might need your help facing her again.” The woman likes to talk with a smile, he’s noticed. It was as if her mouth had no other way to rest- the corners turned up towards the heavens, towards her eyes that liked to seek him out- unafraid of what she saw, of what others liked to look away from.

He wondered if she was joking- if she was just talking in order to fill the silence. He knew people who did that- people like Hoyt and his old boss at the Slaughterhouse, who had to keep their mouths moving or they would stop existing all together. He liked to think that if he had a voice, he would be like that too- not quite as annoying, but loud enough that people were forced to look at him, to listen to what he had to say.

He would tell the woman that he would keep her safe. That he wanted to go down with her and show Momma that she had done nothing wrong. That if anyone was to blame, it was him. It was his fault that she had stayed away for so long. He would hide her away from Momma’s anger- keep her tucked behind him- safe.

If he was being honest, he wasn’t sure that he wanted her to leave just yet. They could stay here a little longer- everything behind that door non-existent. He could make believe that Momma was still at work, busy with too many customers- outsiders who were just passing by, headed for more than the meat hooks in the basement of this house. That for a bit his uncle’s Monty and Hoyt didn’t exist. That the world was just for him and her.

That would be enough for him. He was almost tempted to ask God- to check and see if he was still paying attention to him after all that he had done.

The woman moves from in front of him and takes a seat on the edge of the tub, her knees rubbing against the outside of his thigh as she grabs his arm and places it on her lap. He can feel the buckle of her belt against his knuckles- his arm suddenly a solid weight as he feels the warmth that radiates from the space between her thighs.

 It crawls along his skin- up to his shoulder and through the space in his chest. It reminds him of the times that he’s stayed in one spot for too long, his limbs falling asleep. Though there was no uncomfortable pain this time- Instead it felt like a million little bugs were crawling around inside of him- a buzzing under his skin that he was unused to, but not disgusted by. It was something that maybe he could get used to.

It settles in his belly- thick and heavy and hot, stirring awake thoughts that felt too uncomfortable to focus on. Shamefully, he raises his eyes from the woman’s lap, trying to think of something other than the way her jeans clung to her thighs or how close his fingers were to the space between her legs- somehow hotter than the rest of her, the back of his hand burning pleasantly. He wanted to keep it there- to soak all of himself in her warmth until he knew nothing more.

He pushes the indecent thoughts from his mind, suddenly growing paranoid that the woman would find out what he was thinking about her. He didn’t want her to think that he was disgusting. Rotten just like Uncle Hoyt, who was obsessed with playing with their food.

“Is this uncomfortable for you, Tommy?” maybe it was because the silence had gone on for too long, but the woman whispers her question- her voice only for him, distracting him slightly as she reaches for the things she had given him, plucking them from his hand before he even had a chance to register the movement- her hand too fast that he barely feels the way her fingers skim his palm.

She’s already twisted open the bottle of ointment by the time he shakes his head- the cap balancing on the edge of her knee. With a hum she nods- her eyes focused on her own hands even though he wants her to look at him again. He wanted her to ask him more questions- her voice tender and sweet whenever she spoke to him. He wanted her to distract him for his thoughts that liked to pull him away from her- and right now he wanted to stay right here, to not miss a single moment.

The ointment is cold against his skin- the woman squeezing a light amount right above the wound. He can feel it cleansing away all of his wickedness- her finger swiping at it until it’s in the deepest layer of his flesh, leaving nothing behind but an oily residue that coated her thumb. Without a pause she sticks a piece of gauze on top- taping it up until the gauze is well hidden under flesh colored medical tape.

He had found it in the pocket of one of the first of Uncle Hoyt’s guests- setting it aside for Momma along all of the jewelry he had collected. Maybe it was for a reason that he had second guessed his decision to throw it away. Maybe that had been a sign from above that you were on your way- that God hadn’t abandoned them after all.

The woman is gentle as she pats the covered wound and leans back a bit to meet his expectant eyes. What does she see in them- in him- that makes her look at him so sweetly?

“You’re all set. How’s it feeling? It’s not too tight, is it?”

[joelscruff]

one day i'll feel alright (joel miller x reader) 18+

here it is... the Big One. i've been hyping up this part of my soft!dom joel series for a while now (probably too much, i'm sorry) but i'm so excited to finally share it with you guys. i just wanna note that this is not the end of soft!dom joel by any means. i wanna keep writing for these two as long as i can, just probably nothing else as long as this lmao 💖 enjoy! | masterlist summary: joel must finally face his demons when you don't return from patrol. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: fem!reader, age difference (reader is mid 20s, joel mid 50s), dom/sub dynamics (joel is dominant but not degrading or aggressive), hurt/comfort, angst, praise kink, dirty talk, bathing together, oral (both f and m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, size kink, orgasm denial, comeplay, come eating, yall this one is SO filthy be warned word count: 15k | ao3 spoilers: this contains vague spoilers for part two of the video game (and most likely for season two of the show). nothing too major (joel does NOT go golfing in this fic).

The patrol schedule is posted on Monday morning outside the community center and you're one of the first people to look at it, eyes frantically scanning for your name as your heart pounds in your chest. There's no way, you think to yourself, still searching, He wouldn't actually talk to Tommy about a schedule change.

You finally find your name and feel those annoyingly familiar angry tears begin to burn in your eyes.

"Fuck you," you mutter under your breath, shaking your head, "Fuck you, Joel."

You're no longer his patrol partner.

You briefly consider going to his house, pounding on his door until he answers and screaming in his face about how ridiculous and immature he's being, but you realize that doing so would make you just as immature. Instead, you just decide to pretend it never happened, like you never patrolled with him to begin with.

"Steve is nice," one of your friends says to you later, "I like him, you'll get along."

Who the fuck is Steve? you want to ask, but then remember that it's his name that has replaced Joel's on the schedule. To make matters even worse, you're no longer going up to the ski lodge and are instead going out past the perimeter, a patrol location known to encounter raiders pretty often. Fantastic.

--

The next time you see him is that night in the dining hall, sitting in his usual corner by himself and gulping down bites of chili like he hasn't eaten in weeks. It used to be endearing, those big bites, now it just pisses you off.

He doesn't look at you. Over the past few weeks you'd grown accustomed to him peering over at you every so often, giving you small smiles to acknowledge that he saw you and remembered what the two of you shared every weekend. Neither of you would talk about it; it was private and belonged on the mountain, which you were fine with. At least he'd give you those looks, those smiles, and remind you that you were his pretty girl, his little secret.

Now his lack of acknowledgement, his purposeful ignorance of your presence, it makes you feel sick. You end up having to excuse yourself before you do something you'll regret. Like punch someone.

--

Steve is nice, but that's your first immediate problem with him. He's too nice. He talks too much, constantly trying to fill a silence that doesn't need it, asks you way too many questions and doesn't seem even vaguely put-out when you give him the most basic possible answers. He's young, probably in his mid-thirties, and you find yourself desperately missing the long and comfortable silences you shared with Joel, his gruff sighs, his breathy chuckles, his music, his books, his age. You realize pretty quickly that you view Steve as a boy and not a man, despite him being older than you. Internally, you tell yourself you need to get a grip.

Your new patrol location isn't as bad as you'd first thought; you're stationed in an abandoned cabin in a wooded area past the perimeter. It's cozy and inviting, kind of reminds you of the ski lodge, which quickly makes you feel depressed. You both take turns circling the area - although at first Steve had suggested you do it together; you'd vetoed that immediately. Your main responsibilities are checking traps and watching out for infected. It's actually a bit more engaging than your previous patrol which you feel slightly grateful for; it's nice to feel busy. And to shut your thoughts up.

At the end of your first patrol with Steve you both walk back to Jackson together in the early morning, him still continuing to chat and tell you things about himself regardless of whether you respond. You're almost back to town when you notice that you're suddenly on the same path you and Joel used to take, the one that leads up to the mountain. You stop in your tracks.

"What time is it?" you ask, interrupting whatever Steve had been prattling on about.

He looks down at his watch, "Almost six," he smiles at you, "We'll be back just in time for breakfast."

Almost six; around the time you and Joel would usually be reaching the bottom of the mountain. Your eyes scan the tree line, brow furrowing as you search for any sign of him making his way down the path. Steve stands there awkwardly, waiting for you to say something.

"Should we...?" he gestures toward the path you're both on, toward town, and you bite your lip in thought.

"Just gimme a sec," you say quickly, still searching, "I wanna say hi to my old patrol partner."

"Aw, that's sweet," he says with a smile, and it's so earnest and endearing that you can't necessarily be annoyed, "My old patrol partner, we-" he starts chatting again, buying you some more time.

Not more than a moment later, two figures suddenly emerge from the trees: Joel and Tommy. You feel your heart start to pound as they walk down the path, neither seeing you and Steve standing there until they're almost directly in front of you. They're caught up in some kind of deep conversation, you might even call it an argument judging by Tommy's stiffness and Joel's flared nostrils.

Tommy sees you first, giving you a wave and a smile, then nudging Joel. Joel follows Tommy's eyeline and suddenly freezes in his tracks, standing still on the path while Tommy continues to approach you.

"Good patrol?" he asks, nodding to Steve, "No trouble?"

"No, sir," Steve says, eager and polite, kind of like a golden retriever puppy, "No problems whatsoever."

"Glad to hear it," he looks at you again, "Hey, mind if we meet later for a chat?"

You wonder if he wants to chat about whatever he'd just been arguing about with Joel. Intrigued, you nod, "Sure."

Joel reaches you then, pace slow and hesitant. You turn to look at him, trying not to let the anger you feel toward him completely overtake you; the last thing you need right now is to either start crying or yelling.

"Hey," you say with a stiff nod.

"Hi!" Steve says beside you, and you try not to wince as he puts his hand out, waiting for Joel to take it, "I'm Steve."

Joel simply stares at him, then his hand, and then looks at you, eyes dark and cold. His gaze slips between the two of you back and forth for a few seconds, expression unreadable, then continues down the path without speaking.

"Meet me by the stream 'round noon, alright?" Tommy says, backing away to follow Joel, "I'll bring you lunch."

You watch as he catches up to Joel, says something to him, but Joel doesn't respond and just keeps on walking ahead, pace quicker and quicker. You're still just standing there watching their forms get smaller when Steve finally speaks again:

"He's...uh...friendly."

You laugh without humor, hitching your pack up your shoulder and starting to walk, "Oh, you have no idea."

--

You meet Tommy around noon by the stream like he'd asked, crossing the bridge and giving him a small wave of acknowledgement as you approach. He's got a paper bag with him; lunch, just like he'd promised.

"Tuna fish," he says with a kind smile, chuckling at the face you make as he hands the bag to you, "It was either that or egg salad."

"The dining hall must stink today," you reply with a scrunch of your nose, but you take the bag gratefully, "Thanks, Tommy."

"No problem," he gestures toward the bench he's sitting on, inviting you to join him, "Let's talk."

He talks and you mainly listen, nodding along every so often and chewing your tuna sandwich thoughtfully. He starts by thanking you for "everything" you did for him and Maria, which you quickly dodge because all you'd done is take a patrol off his hands - a patrol that's gone back to being his again, but he doesn't mention that part. He talks about how big a help you've been, how he's glad you're here, all the basic stuff he's already told you before. You're almost done your sandwich when you realize he's talking complete bullshit.

"Tommy," you say, balling the paper bag up and shoving it into your pocket, "If you wanna talk about Joel, just do it."

He freezes, recognition dawning in his eyes as he sighs and presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. It's a habit he and Joel share, and you can't help but feel an ache in your heart when the image of Joel doing the same thing crosses your mind.

"I'm sorry about the switch," he finally says with a deep sigh, "Joel told me to do it. Not asked, told. He was pretty obstinate, told me it wasn't workin' between you two anymore and he wasn't gonna stay on ski lodge if you were there."

The words sting, even coming from Tommy. You swallow the last of your sandwich and cast your eyes down to the stream, watching the water ebb and flow as Tommy continues to speak.

"I just want you know that if I had it my way, you'd still be up there with him," he says it earnestly, and you understand now why he'd led with all the compliments and reassurances; he'd thought you didn't know why you'd been switched.

"I know," you say quietly, "Tommy, I know it was Joel's idea. He told me last patrol that he was gonna ask you to take me off ski lodge."

"But why?" he sounds genuinely confused, "It was working so well, Maria and I thought you had a great thing goin'."

You nod slowly, refusing to look at him, "We did. But I guess he never told you any details?"

You sense him shake his head beside you, "No, I spent almost the whole patrol trying to get him to talk about it and he wouldn't. Just kept saying it wouldn't work anymore and that he wasn't gonna say anythin' else about it. Stubborn, my brother. Always has been."

I know, you want to say, believe me, I know.

"So I figured I'd ask you."

You finally look over at him then, "There's not much to say, Tommy."

"But there's somethin'," he leans forward, looking concerned, "I know my brother, I know when he's hidin' somethin'. There's somethin' he's not telling me and I want you to tell me 'cause otherwise I'm just gonna assume the worst."

"Which is...?"

He sighs, leaning back against the bench again, "I don't even know."

You touch the back of your neck awkwardly, trying to decide how to word it. There's absolutely no way you're giving him all the details - or any details for that matter - but you do owe him some kind of explanation considering he's now losing his free time again over this.

"Me and Joel, we..." you bite your lip, "We had...." you sigh and shake your head, "Okay, what I'm about to say does not leave this bench, Tommy. You can tell Maria but that's it."

"Oh shit," he says, eyes going wide, "Were y'all fuckin' up there?"

You groan, leaning forward as your arms fall to your knees and you cover your face with your hands. He's not necessarily correct, but somehow the reality is much more embarrassing to admit. You don't say anything in response, confirming his suspicions.

"Jesus Christ," he says, voice full of genuine surprise, "I was...holy shit, I was not expectin' that."

"Anyway," you say into your hands, skin turning bright red beneath your fingertips, "It's over now and he doesn't want me up there with him anymore, that's all you need to know, okay?"

"Yeah," Tommy says immediately, "Yeah, sure, of course. I wouldn't dream of -" he makes a weird noise, "God, I did not think that's what was goin' on."

"Sorry," you wince, pulling your hands away and sitting up again to look at him. He looks genuinely uncomfortable, arms crossed as he shifts next to you on the bench, cogs turning in his mind. He's probably thinking about what exactly the two of you have been doing up there when you're supposed to be patrolling and the very thought makes both of you cringe simultaneously.

"No, don't apologize, I asked," he shakes his head again, eyes still wide, "I, uh, I won't tell anybody, no worries."

"You can tell Maria," you reiterate, "I don't want you keeping anything from your wife."

"I'll tell her but I doubt she'll believe me," he's staring ahead, still in shock, "You? With Joel? I'm sorry but..." he laughs loudly, still shaking his head, "I didn't think my brother had it in him."

You make a face and stand up, "Okay, that's my cue to leave."

"No, sorry, I'll leave," he stands up as well and digs his hands down into his pockets awkwardly, "I'll uh... be at the bar, if you need me."

He goes to cross the bridge but stops halfway, turning slowly and giving you one last kind and gentle look, apologetic.

"Hey, I'm sorry it didn't work out," he says, and you can tell he means it, "You're real sweet, my brother's just an ass."

"I know," you say with a small nod, "You did warn me."

"I did," he says it sadly, looking down at the stream, "He has his reasons, though. Maybe he'll tell you one day."

"Maybe."

He turns back around and walks away, leaving you standing there alone by the stream with an ache in your heart that won't go away.

He was pretty obstinate, Tommy's words echo in your head, told me it wasn't workin' between you two anymore and he wasn't gonna stay on ski lodge if you were there.

You stare at the steady flowing water and try not to think about how much it hurts to know he really said that to Tommy. Is that how little you mean to him? How little what the two of you shared meant? You've known the whole time that it wasn't a "real" relationship, you haven't even kissed him for god's sake, but it was a relationship nonetheless. A little weird, a little timid, but soft and new and safe and warm. And all along you'd just been a distraction for him.

In the deepest parts of yourself you've known this all along, remembered how many times in the past few weeks he said that it would be the last time, that he couldn't do it anymore, and you'd just continued to persist and persist until he'd finally had enough. You hadn't really thought he'd end it, didn't think he really meant it.

The tears start flowing before you can stop them. You continue to just stand there dejectedly, staring at the water and trying to figure out what exactly it is about you that made him simply stop caring - if he even cared to begin with.

A rustle of branches makes you jump and your head snaps up, looking toward the sound. A short distance away you catch a bush moving in an unnatural sort of way, shaking back and forth like someone had been watching from behind it. Quickly, you dash forward and pull the leaves apart to find the culprit.

No one's there.

Hurriedly you wipe your face and walk across the bridge, shoving your hands back in your pockets and hoping someone hasn't just witnessed your moment of weakness. And if they have, they'd better keep it to themselves.

--

Another week passes without any acknowledgement from Joel. You decide to stop eating in the dining hall because it hurts too much, instead grabbing your meals to-go and eating them either in your house or by the stream. On one occasion you'd arrived at the stream at the same time Ellie had decided to sit and practice guitar, freezing in place when you saw her. You hadn't spoken since that one very brief conversation months ago when she'd asked about your scars. You hadn't known then what you know now.

"Hey," she'd said with a nod, then went back to strumming aimlessly on her guitar, "You can eat your lunch here, I don't mind."

You'd shaken your head and taken a step back, "No, that's okay, sorry," then you'd turned and practically run away from her, not entirely sure why.

She reminds you of Joel, you dummy, you'd thought to yourself on the walk back home, biting down on your lip and trying to keep the tears at bay this time. Everything reminds you of Joel.

--

On Saturday morning you hear a knock at your door. You're still in bed, confused and bleary eyed as you sit up and wait to hear it again, just to be sure you're not still dreaming. When you hear a second series of knocks you practically tumble out of the bed and run downstairs, blanket trailing behind you as you dart to the front door.

It's Joel, it has to be Joel, he's here to apologize, he's gonna kiss you and tell you he's sorry.

You yank open the door and feel your face fall immediately when you see none other than Steve standing there, hands on his hips. He grins at you but it falters slightly when he looks down and sees that you're still in your pajamas.

"Morning, sleepy head," he greets you, reaching forward to playfully bump your arm with his fist, "Looks like someone missed their alarm."

You stare at him, vision still slightly blurred from sleep. You reach up to rub your eyes so you can see him clearer, make sure he's actually standing there in front of you. Yup, he is.

You force yourself to smile back - something which takes a lot of effort but he seems to find genuine - and reply, "My bad, I guess I did."

"No worries," he says with another wide grin, "We got some time before we need to leave, no rush!"

You force one last smile and shut the door in his face, trying not to slam it - even though you really want to. You look at the clock on the wall over your fireplace and make a face: 4:30. He woke you up at 4:30, half an hour before your alarm.

"Steve, I swear to god," you grumble to yourself, heading for the bathroom as you drop your blanket to the floor and clamor back up the stairs; there's no point in going back to sleep, you're wide awake now and pissed.

You know who'd never do this? Joel.

After a shower and a quick bowl of cereal you head back out to meet Steve, prepared to put on your best everything is great impression again. You stop dead in your tracks as soon as you open your door.

"Listen, sir, I think you should leave," Steve is saying, voice cracking slightly as he talks to the figure in front of him.

It's still dark outside; the sun hasn't come up yet and everything is muted and hard to make out. It takes you a few seconds to figure out who Steve is talking to, the figure shrouded in shadow and half hidden behind Steve's tall form. You feel your face go pale when you hear him reply.

"You didn't answer my question," the growl is unmistakably Joel's and you grip the edge of the door in your hands tightly, not opening it all the way as you eavesdrop. What the fuck is he doing here? What question?

"I don't think I owe you a reply," Steve replies, attempting to stand his ground but sounding pretty pathetic, voice shaky and high, "I think you should move along, sir."

"What the fuck are you doing at this girl's house at four in the fucking morning?" Joel practically spits, taking a step toward Steve. In response, Steve takes a step backward. He's not a confrontational guy, you know that from the one patrol you've spent with him, "Answer me."

"I'm her patrol partner," Steve finally says, putting his hands up in defeat, "I'm waiting for her to get ready."

"Patrols don't start 'til five thirty."

"It's true, I swear, you literally met me last week!"

That seems to stump Joel, and he must be trying to figure out what to say next when you shove the door open and walk out onto your porch.

"Joel, what the fuck are you doing?" you ask, voice steady and firm. He looks over at you in surprise, backing away from Steve. Is it just your imagination or did his expression soften when he saw you? But that doesn't matter now.

You walk down the steps of your patio and stand in front of Steve, shoving him behind you lightly, "Steve, I'll meet you at the gate," you say firmly.

"But-"

"Steve. Please leave. I'll meet you in a few minutes."

"...Okay," you can't see him but you hear him walk away from you, trudging down the gravel path in the opposite direction. Once his footsteps are faint enough, you finally address Joel again.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you repeat, "Why are you berating Steve in front of my house?"

"Who the fuck is Steve?" Joel asks; the question of the hour.

"My patrol partner," you reply, shaking your head, "I mean, you should probably know that seeing as you're the one who switched with him."

"I don't know who I switched with, Tommy did that," he retorts, looking away from you, down at his boots, "Wasn't my decision."

"Right, 'cause nothing's ever your fault, right?"

He looks back up, a glint of emotion in his eyes that you've seen only once before, "You have no fucking idea," he says, voice heavy and gruff, "Don't even-"

"Don't even what, Joel? You're the one standing in front of my house at the ass crack of dawn yelling at some guy you've never even talked to before. Steve's actually great, by the way," you're laying it on thick but you don't care; you want him to think you've moved on, "Patrolling with him is much better than patrolling with you."

He raises an eyebrow, "Is that so?"

"Yeah," you lie, cheeks going red with anger, "He actually talks to me."

"And fucks you, I gather?" he says it with a hard edge that makes your blood run cold.

You stand there just staring at him, mouth agape as he lets what he just said wash over you. You inhale and exhale deeply, feeling those godforsaken tears sting in your eyes as you take a step away from him, genuinely fearful that you might end up slapping him or punching him or doing something you shouldn't.

"Fuck you," your voice is small and broken and the tears are already flowing, "Fuck you, Joel."

His expression changes then, and you know an apology is coming. You put your hand up before he can speak, shaking your head.

"Don't," you say, firm and solid, not bothering to wipe your tears as they flick off your face into the grass below, "We're done." You turn on your heel and stomp away from him, feeling a sob wrack through you as you cross your arms and speed walk to the main gate where you know Steve is waiting.

Joel doesn't follow you.

--

Steve knows better than to question you about what happened. As soon as you'd approached him at the gate he'd seen your tears and the shake of your head when he'd opened his mouth to say something. Ten minutes later you were on your way out to the cabin again without either of you saying a word.

Now you're back on patrol with an aching heart and a huge lump in your throat that won't go away no matter what you do, trailing the perimeter back and forth with your head hung and eyes downcast. Joel's words repeat over and over in your head like a curse, damning you into a feeling of guilt that you don't think you really deserve. You haven't done shit with Steve, the assumption that you'd just immediately moved on from your sexual relationship with Joel to another man makes your blood boil. Who the fuck does he think you are?

Do you really even know him? This whole time he's remained so secretive and aloof, mysterious and cryptic. You hadn't pushed him to reveal more about himself, hoping eventually he'd open up to you, but he never did. Just kept you on a short leash with good girl and pretty girl and the way he'd look at you in those moments where you bared yourself to him.

But you're not much better, you remind yourself with a grimace, and you know it's true. You never told him much about yourself or your past. Yes, you would've, but you didn't. And you're the one who kept asking to get off with him, kept expecting more and being disappointed when he wouldn't give it to you even though he was clear about his boundaries.

"But that doesn't give him the right," you mutter to yourself, still walking through the muddy grass, deep in thought, "It doesn't make what he said okay."

No, it doesn't. But maybe he's hurting more than he lets on. Maybe this isn't as cut and dry for him as you'd thought. Why the fuck had he been snooping around your house so early this morning? He only lives a few houses down from you; had he seen Steve and felt he had to protect you? Does he actually care about you, as much as he tries to put on a front that it's only been sexual between you two and nothing more? Is that why he's been so distant?

You suddenly realize that you've gone much further than the perimeter, continuing to walk ahead instead of turning back and circling the area. You freeze, eyes scanning around as you try to discern exactly how far you've gone.

"Fuck," you mutter, turning around and starting to walk directly back the way you came, hoping it'll lead you right back to where you're meant to be.

--

It doesn't.

You'd been so lost in thought that somehow you've managed to lose the original path, the tall grass hiding any sign of your own footsteps. This is only your second time out here so nothing looks familiar; it's all grass and mud and trees and rocks. How long have you even been walking? Joel had once admonished you for not having a watch, said one day it was gonna bite you in the ass; you hate that he was right.

"Steve?" you call out, unsure if he'll be able to hear you since you don't know how far you've trailed from the cabin, "You there?"

No reply. You stop again and do another quick glance around, looking for anything that seems familiar to you. But no, this isn't the ski lodge perimeter where you'd grown accustomed to each tree, each stump, each rock. Nothing here is even vaguely telling you exactly where to turn.

You feel the dull throb of panic beneath the surface of your emotions but you quickly shove it down; you're good in situations like this, you've certainly been through enough shit to not get frightened over being a little lost. You've been lost before, you'll figure it out.

All the same, you keep track of the sun's location in the sky as you continue your directionless trek, noting that it's directly above you; noon. You have plenty of time before dark to find your way back, no sweat.

--

It must be around three o'clock when you finally make it back. Relief floods your entire body as you walk into the clearing and see the small wooden cabin sitting there still and picturesque, exactly how you'd left it. You bend down, closing your eyes and pressing your hands to your knees to take a few deep breaths and ground yourself. The panic had started to really settle in about an hour ago, but luckily it hadn't gotten to a point where you'd been too afraid to keep going.

"Steve," you say loudly, still breathing deeply, "I'm back."

No reply. You open your eyes again, heart still thumping in your chest as you eye the cabin for any sign of him. You walk over hesitantly, feeling a knot forming in your stomach when you open the front door and are greeted to a dark and empty cabin.

"Steve?" you say again, voice shaky.

No reply.

Fuck. He must have gone looking for you when you didn't come back to switch. Either that or he went back to Jackson, but you can't see a guy like Steve doing that. The way he'd stood up to Joel this morning, as embarrassing as it was, it had been enough to show you exactly what kind of man Steve is. He'd definitely gone to look for you. It's only fair that you do the same for him.

You grab a roll of twine from the cabin and start your search, making sure to mark the trees every now and then so you can find your way back again. You'd been advised in your patrol orientation not to do this because of raiders, but you doubt Tommy or Maria will give you shit for making sure you and Steve actually make it back to Jackson alive.

The thought makes the panic start to rise again, but you keep going.

--

You keep hoping you'll find some sign of Steve, but it's been about two hours and nothing has caught your eye. The twine is starting to run out and you fear you'll have to go back to Jackson without him, which will undoubtedly start a panic and a huge search party, all because you got a little distracted. This shit with Joel doesn't even matter anymore - you can't believe you let it affect you how it did. And now Steve is paying the price.

Another hour passes and you're preparing to turn back when you see it out of the corner of your eye. You freeze, hair standing up at the back of your neck when you look down to see shiny droplets of blood painting the grass.

You lean down instinctively, eyes wide, reaching forward to touch one of the many large red drops. It shivers beneath your finger, not yet fully dry. It's fresh.

Without hesitation you stand back up and pull your pistol out of its holster, cocking it and holding it steadily in front of you as you start to walk again. You have absolutely no idea what you're expecting to pop out at you; raiders? Infected? Or maybe Steve just cut himself somehow and you've taken your gun out for nothing.

A loud scream suddenly pierces the silence of the forest.

"STEVE!" you scream back, face going pale as you begin to sprint through the woods, gun still in front of you, "STAY WHERE YOU ARE, I'M COMING."

It's the last thing you say before you suddenly feel something tight grip your ankle and send you flying into the air, gun falling out of your hand. You find yourself completely upside down, entangled in a net.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You sway back and forth in the thick netting, trying to find your gun somewhere below you, but you quickly become much too dizzy to discern absolutely anything. You hear Steve's scream again, further away this time, and your blood runs cold. The panic takes over and you can't speak.

Please, you think to yourself, shutting your eyes tight and trying to keep the dizziness at bay, please don't let me die before I see him again.

It's not Steve you're thinking about.

It doesn't take long for the blood to rush to your head, for your body to go completely numb as you hang there upside down, completely alone. You pass out within minutes.

--

It's pitch black when you wake up.

You're no longer hanging from a tree in the forest, no longer tangled up in a net. Instead, you're lying on what feels like a concrete floor. Your head is pounding, lips dry and parched. Your whole body feels heavy and achy, so much so that you can barely move.

"She's awake," you hear a voice say somewhere close by; it's female and sounds familiar, but not enough for you to place it.

You hear the squeaky hinges of a door opening, then a few hushed whispers that you can't make out. The door shuts again and you swear you hear the sound of a deadbolt being locked in place.

"Where am I?" you finally whisper, voice rough and broken, "Let me go."

"You're in Jackson," the female voice replies, kind and gentle, "You're safe now."

"Who are you?" you can't bring yourself to open your eyes, unsure if this person is really telling you the truth.

"It's Ellie," the voice replies, and recognition dawns on you immediately, "Remember me?"

You nod slowly, wincing at the pain as you continue to lie there on the floor, "Y-yes."

"When you didn't come back this morning they sent out a search party. Tommy found you hanging in a tree, brought you back right away."

This morning? So you must have been hanging there all night. Jesus, no wonder you feel the way you do.

You finally open your eyes then, and are beyond relieved when your vision isn't dizzy and blurry like it had been before you'd passed out. You spot Ellie a few feet away, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, peering down at you with a soft expression.

"Steve?" you whisper.

Her brow furrows, "They found him too. I don't know the details but he was hurt pretty bad," she shakes her head, "They're gonna do everything they can."

You nod again, swallowing and wincing at the dryness of your throat, "C-can I have some water?"

"Oh, fuck, of course," she reaches behind her and grabs a bottle, then walks over to you. Her movements are slow, hesitant, and when she hands you the bottle her arm darts out and back extremely quickly.

You stare at her in confusion, slowly bringing yourself to sit up. She backs away from you again, presses herself against the wall and crosses her arms again. It's like she's feigning nonchalance.

Reality dawns on you.

"Am I bit?" you manage to whisper, clutching the water bottle tightly.

She swallows, looks directly in your eyes, "We're hoping you can answer that for us."

You slowly bring the water to your lips, mind racing. You try to remember anything beyond getting caught up in the net but there's absolutely nothing. If you'd been bit afterward, wouldn't it have woken you up? Wouldn't you feel the pain somewhere on you now?

You drink the entire bottle of water and place it next to you on the floor, then you begin to feel your body, placing your hands back and forth all over yourself and trying to find a particular spot that feels like it might have been bit. You come up blank; all that you feel is a steady ache from being numb for so long.

"I don't think so," you finally say, crossing your legs and bringing your hands to rest in front of you, "I feel okay."

"We only found you about two hours ago," she says softly, "So we weren't sure. This is where they keep people for observation, people who might be infected."

You assess your surroundings. You must be in some kind of shed; it's small and there's no furniture, only a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. If you'd woken up alone you probably would've thought you'd been kidnapped. Your brow furrows and you look over at Ellie in confusion.

"If I might be bit, why are they keeping you in here with me?" you ask, bewildered, "It's not safe for you."

Ellie kicks her heel and shrugs, "I don't know, they just thought you shouldn't be alone when you woke up."

She's lying and you don't know why, but you don't have the energy to press her further. What's important is that you're not alone, and you appreciate that. You watch as she inhales deeply, lost in thought, then brings her fingers to the bridge of her nose and squeezes. Just like Joel.

Joel.

"Does he know?" you suddenly whisper.

You didn't say his name but she clearly knows who you're talking about. She sets her lips in a firm line, "Yeah."

You place your head in your hands and sigh loudly, shutting your eyes tight. You suddenly feel like you want to cry, just at the thought of that big, broad, grumpy man being told that you didn't come back from patrol. Had he been upset? Annoyed? Angry? Scared?

"He's freaking out," Ellie answers for you, voice quiet, "He punched Tommy in the face."

"What?" you stare at her, eyes wide, "Why'd he do that?"

She laughs softly to herself, shaking her head, "Tommy wouldn't let him go with the search party."

Your face scrunches in confusion, "Why not?"

She looks away from you then, eyeing the closed door, "Because Tommy thought his feelings would get in the way," her voice is slightly shaky, like she might cry, "He thought if they found you dead, Joel might not come back, might try to find the motherfuckers who did it and make them pay."

You're already shaking your head, "That's dumb, he wouldn't do that."

Ellie laughs again, turning back to look at you, "You really don't know anything about Joel, do you?"

You stare, waiting for her to speak again. She adjusts her position, slowly sliding down the wall and sitting across from you with her knees pulled up against her chest.

"Joel's killed a lot of people," she says quietly, looking over at you with tired eyes, "I mean, a lot of us have, I'm sure you have too. We've all done shit we're not proud of," she thumbs a tear on her jeans, biting down on her lip, "But when it comes to the people he cares about... Joel doesn't do things halfway, never."

You swallow, "Ellie, I don't think Joel cares about me in the way you're thinking."

She smiles then, small and hesitant, but still a smile, "As I said, you don't really know much about him. Not like I do."

"But-"

She puts a hand up, "I know about the two of you. I overheard you and Tommy talking last week."

You remember that afternoon by the stream, the rustle of the bushes, when you'd pulled the branches back expecting to see someone but found nobody there.

"That was you?" you ask, eyebrows raised, "By the stream?"

She nods, "I showed up to play my guitar and you guys were already there talking. I wasn't gonna listen but then I heard Joel's name and..." she sighs, looking down at her knees, "I might not be talking to Joel right now but I like to know what he's up to."

You nod slowly, "So...you heard about..."

"The mountain, yeah," she makes a face, "Listen, I don't want the details, trust me, but I wasn't surprised when you said that, not the way Tommy was anyway," she giggles, "I love seeing him get all uncomfortable, it's so funny."

You snort, shaking your head, "Please, it was so awkward."

"He really had no idea, but I think I did, somehow," she smiles again, wistful, "As I said, I might not be talking to Joel but that doesn't mean I don't look out for him, watch him, make sure he's doing alright," she looks down again, "I'm not heartless, okay?"

"I know," you say earnestly, "I know you're not."

"I knew something was different with him. He's been so quiet and sad, doesn't talk to people very much anymore, but these past few weeks it was like he had a pep in his step, like the old Joel was coming back," she smiles at the thought, "And then I saw the way he'd look at you in the dining hall, all those little smiles. And at first I was like...gross. But then..." she sighs, shaking her head, "I don't know, I think it's cute how much he likes you. How much you changed him."

Her words elicit a warmth in your chest, soft and safe, like the feeling of being in Joel's presence. You wrap your arms around yourself, huddling forward and continuing to listen.

"We were eating breakfast when Tommy announced the search party this morning. As soon as he said what had happened I looked over at Joel. He looked like he'd just received the worst news of his life," her voice shakes again, like she's on the verge of tears, "He ran up to Tommy, started asking questions about the search, when they were starting, what way they were going, all that. Tommy told him that he couldn't come, they argued, Joel punched Tommy and then I had to practically pull them apart."

"You?" your mouth is agape, "You stopped the fight?"

She nods with another small smile, "As soon as Joel realized it was me pulling on him, he stopped. I told him I knew about what was going on, I said I'd stay with him until you came back safe and sound."

You feel tears prick in your eyes at the words, "That must have meant a lot to him."

"It meant the world to him, I know that," she says quietly, "I haven't talked to him for a long time, I'm sure you know that."

You nod, "I do."

She's silent then for a few moments, staring at the closed door again. When she finally speaks, her voice is shakier than ever, "I sat with him in his living room until they got back with you and Steve. He wanted to see you but they wouldn't let him, so I volunteered to stay with you. That's why I'm here."

She leans back against the wall with a sigh, biting down on her lip. You see tears beginning to brim in her eyes and you look away, knowing you wouldn't want someone staring at you if it was you getting emotional.

"He's lost a lot, you know," she says softly, sniffling a little bit, "He lost his daughter a long time ago, and a woman named Tess he really cared about," she takes a breath, shaky and full of emotion, "He almost lost me, too. That's part of the reason we're not talking."

You stare at the concrete floor, letting her words sink in. A daughter? Joel had been a father? And Tess, who was she? A girlfriend? A wife? Clearly someone important, and he'd lost both of them.

You've been through your share of trauma, experienced your own losses, but never to that degree. You'd never gotten close enough to someone to really feel a loss like that, can't even imagine what it would feel like. Your heart aches for him; that stoic, quiet, and mysterious man who'd let you in but kept you at arm's length... for reasons you're beginning to understand.

You stand up slowly, wincing at the aches you feel, your skin feeling prickly and uncomfortable as your circulation continues to regulate. Ellie's words cycle through your mind as you stretch, ringing quiet and tender in your ears; I think it's cute how much he likes you. How much you changed him.

"When can I see him?" you ask softly, still avoiding looking at her as you pull at parts of your clothes, searching again for a bite you're pretty sure doesn't exist.

"I'll ask Maria," Ellie replies just as quiet, standing up as well and walking over to the door, "If you were bit you'd be showing signs by now, I think you're okay."

"Ask her about Steve too, please," you add, "I need to know if he's alive."

She nods and opens the door, then goes outside and shuts it behind her. You hear the deadbolt slide back into place.

You burst into tears.

--

Ellie returns with Maria about ten minutes later, both of them looking at you with kind and sympathetic expressions when they find you standing in the middle of the room sobbing your heart out. Without hesitation, Maria walks forward and wraps her arms around you tightly.

"It's okay, sweetie," she says softly in your ear, rubbing your back gently, "Steve's okay, he's gonna make it."

Ellie looks down when she says this, and part of you knows that she knows you're not crying about Steve.

--

They walk you home slowly, Maria on one side and Ellie on your other. You complain a bit, telling them you're okay to walk on your own, but neither pay your stubbornness any mind, just keep their arms linked through yours as they walk you to your house.

You're on your street when you see two figures up ahead, and your heart starts to pound harder and harder in your chest the closer you get. Because you know who it is.

Joel and Tommy are leaning against the banister of Joel's front patio, talking quietly to themselves. You grimace at the sight of Tommy's black eye but feel relief flood through you when you see that he's smiling at Joel, clearly no animosity present.

"Look who's up!" Ellie says loudly, and they both turn to look in your direction.

Joel freezes, staring at you for a few brief seconds of recognition before he's suddenly throwing himself from the patio and sprinting toward you. You feel both Ellie and Maria release you from their grips, right before you're suddenly enveloped in the warmest, sweetest, most sincere hug you've ever received in your life.

Throughout all these months of knowing Joel, he's never truly touched you. Sure, he's touched your hand, shook it during your official introduction, helped you stand up here and there. He's touched your face once, your lips twice. And he's touched you where you longed for him to, begged him to, but only for a moment, just one touch. Gentle, tender, but never long enough for you to really feel him the way you've wanted to.

Now he pulls you close without any hesitation, no rules, no consequences. He presses his lips to the top of your head and whispers your name over and over until it sounds like a mantra, a prayer.

"Joel," you breathe, and you feel the tears start up again as you shut your eyes tight and just feel, listen to him say your name and hold you like you'll fall apart if he lets go.

"I thought I lost you," he says, voice rough and emotional, "Before I could even tell you how sorry I am."

"Shh," you squeeze him tighter, burying your face in his strong chest, "Don't worry about that, I'm here. I'm okay."

He holds you impossibly tighter and you hear the unmistakable sound of a sob rip through his teeth, tears dripping from his face into your hair. You pull back just enough to look up at him, see him peer down at you with an expression on his face that you've never seen before, impossibly soft and fond, eyes bright and yearning. Love.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, inhaling shakily, "For everything."

You shake your head furiously, "Joel, it's oka-"

"It's not okay," he interrupts, voice breaking again, "I'm so sorry. Not just for what I said yesterday, but for everything else. For pushing you away, making you feel like it was your fault, I'm so fucking sorry," he pulls you in again, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, "God, you have no idea how bad I've wanted to just hold you like this. I was such a fucking coward."

"You were afraid," you whisper, shaking your head, "I understand, Joel, I get it."

He lets out another sob, squeezes you tighter, "Don't let me go," he breathes, "Please don't let go."

For the entire hug you'd thought he was the one holding you, but you now realize that for him it's the other way around. You feel yourself start to cry harder as you pull him in tighter and just stand there, arms wrapped around his middle, face pressed against his chest as the beat of his heart thrums steadily in your ear. You both inhale and exhale deeply, moving as one being, one solid force. He kisses your head again and you melt further into his touch.

"I'm gonna head back to town," you hear Maria say softly nearby, probably to Tommy and Ellie, "Tommy, can you go check on Steve, make sure he's still doing okay?"

Joel stiffens at the name, suddenly pulling back from you to look over at Maria, "He alright?"

Maria nods, "Yeah," she turns to look at you then, expression serious, "He told us that when you didn't come back to switch patrols, he got worried, went out looking for you. Ended up running into a group of raiders, the same ones who set that trap you fell into. They stabbed him a couple times but nothing critical, he managed to get a few hits in himself before he got away, led them in the opposite direction."

"Jesus," you mutter, feeling guilt rush through you, "Are they still out there?"

"No," Tommy replies, shaking his head, "We took care of it. Steve knocked 'em around pretty good but we made sure none of 'em were breathin' by the time we left."

You nod slowly, still in Joel's embrace, "Tell him I'm sorry," you say quietly, "It's my fault."

"Shhh," Joel pulls you close again, rubbing your back gently, "Don't worry about that, let's get you inside."

"Make sure she has a bath," Maria says quickly, "Keep her warm, give her some food."

"I'm not a hamster," you groan, and you're surprised to hear Ellie laugh behind you. You'd forgotten she was there.

Joel suddenly pulls out of your embrace, still holding you with one arm while he reaches toward Ellie, "Come here," he says softly, "Please."

She shakes her head, taking a step back, "I'm going with Maria," she bites her lip, looks down and then looks back at Joel who's still staring longingly at her, "But I'll meet up with you later, okay?"

"Okay," he says quietly, voice still shaky, "Promise?"

She nods, gives him a small smile, "Promise."

--

"Where do you wanna go?" Joel had asked you softly, "Mine or yours?"

"Yours," you'd whispered immediately, no hesitation, "Please."

You now find yourself in Joel Miller's house, somewhere you never really ever pictured yourself. It's pretty similar to yours but there are a few differences, namely the amount of books and art. You hadn't known that Ellie was an artist; there are drawings all over his house, some in frames, some just laid around, all signed by Ellie, all beautiful. There's a picture she drew of him that he has framed on his fireplace, and you find yourself picking it up with a smile.

"Bath's almost ready," Joel says quietly behind you, and you spin back around. He looks at the picture in your hand, smiling softly, "Ellie drew that."

"She's really talented," you reply with a smile, "Wonder where she gets all this artsy fartsy stuff from?"

He chuckles, still standing a few feet away from you, "It's a mystery."

You place the picture back down and turn to look at him, feeling a nervousness in the pit of your stomach that you haven't felt around him in a long time, not since that first night together. Things are different now, it's palpable, and both of you are aware of it.

"Will you take a bath with me?" you ask quietly, unsure.

He nods slowly, eyes trained on your face, "Of course I will."

--

The bath is warm and welcoming. Joel had told you to strip down, get in, and that he'd be back momentarily with some food for you. You can't help but feel a little disappointed that he hadn't stuck around to watch you undress, but maybe it would've been inappropriate considering the circumstances.

You ease yourself under the water, a satisfied moan escaping your lips as the bath completely envelops you. He's put something in the water to make it smell good, lavender or vanilla. It instantly relaxes you, the heat of the water and the delicious smell making you feel completely at ease.

You lay there for a few minutes in silence, eyes closed, focusing on your breathing and bringing things back into perspective. You're okay, you're safe. Steve is okay, he's safe. You're both back in Jackson. You're with Joel, you're in his bath tub, he's downstairs making you lunch. Everything is okay.

Ellie's words filter through your brain again, distant but present; He lost his daughter a long time ago, and a woman named Tess he really cared about.

A light knock on the bathroom door shakes you from your thoughts. You smile, "Come in."

Joel enters the bathroom, bowl of soup in one hand and a tall glass of water in the other. He places them on the chair next to the tub, eyes avoiding you as he focuses on the task at hand. He kneels by the tub and spoons some of the soup carefully, then finally looks at your face as he brings the spoon to your mouth. You open, letting him feed you, letting him take care of you.

"Good?" he asks softly, gaze still on your face, ever the gentleman.

"Good," you say with a smile.

He feeds you a few more spoonfuls, smiling fondly at you as you eat. After a few moments of this you put your hand up, shaking your head, "That's enough for now, why don't you get in with me?"

His gaze finally falls then, looks at your body beneath the water, sees your nipples poking through the surface. He sighs, leans back a bit on his knees and shakes his head.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," he says quietly.

"Joel," you say quickly, voice steady, "Don't pull away from me. Not now. Not anymore."

He looks at your face again, expression sad and distant, "I'm afraid," he admits, "I'm afraid of being close to you."

"I know," you whisper, and you reach over to place your hand over his, stroking him gently with your thumb, "It's okay. It's okay to be afraid."

"I've lost a lot of people," he whispers, tears shining in his eyes, "I thought...I thought if I let myself get close to you, if I gave you what you wanted...I'd get attached. I'd fall for you," he says it earnestly, voice breaking slightly on the last few words, "But here I am, fallin' for you anyway."

You smile at him, soft and loving. You squeeze his hand and slowly sit up in the bath, putting yourself on display for him. His eyes don't leave yours, but he swallows and tenses his jaw at your movement.

"Bad things have happened to the people I care about," he says quietly, barely a whisper, "And you're young, you're beautiful, you have this whole life ahead of you and I'm-" his voice breaks and he looks down again, tears cascading down his cheeks, "I'm scared you'll end up like those people, dead and gone because of me."

"Joel-"

"And I'm scared I don't deserve it," he interrupts, looking up at you again, mouth trembling, "I don't think I deserve love. I don't deserve someone like you 'cause of everything I've done."

"What about Ellie?" you ask softly, squeezing his hand reassuringly, "She's alive and she loves you."

He scoffs, shaking his head, "She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," you mean it, leaning forward to cradle his hand in both of yours, "I talked to that girl for the first time today, really talked to her, and I can see it plain as day. She loves you more than you could ever know, Joel."

"She stayed with me today," he whispers shakily, nodding slowly, "She sat with me 'til we knew you were safe."

"And you think that's hate?" you ask softly, "Joel, that's love."

He looks at you again, expression pained. You bring his hand to your lips, press a gentle and tender kiss to every knuckle, showing him how much he's worth, how much he means to you.

"I'm afraid," he repeats through his tears, watching you kiss him, "I'm afraid to want you the way I do."

You release his hand and lean back slightly in the tub, extending your arm for him to take, gazing at him with all the love and care you can muster, "Get in with me," you whisper, the splash of water the only sound in the room save for your heartbeats, both of which you swear you can hear, "Don't be afraid."

His eyes cast downward to your lips and he swallows again, then looks back up into your eyes, "Okay."

You watch as he stands up and starts to unbutton his shirt. You can tell that he's extremely nervous, his fingers trembling as he fights to get each button open.

"I'm gonna close my eyes," you say tenderly, "And when you're ready, tap my shoulder and I'll let you in behind me, okay?"

He nods slowly, fingers frozen on the third button, "Okay," he repeats.

You close your eyes and lean back, listening to the rustle of clothes beside you as he undresses. You're not used to this Joel, the one who seems powerless and submissive. You're not usually the one giving him orders, it's always been the other way around. You know he's just nervous, afraid of being close to you like this, and all you want is for him to feel relaxed again in your presence, feel like himself.

After a moment he taps your shoulder; you lean forward in the bath and feel him ease in behind you, his legs entrapping yours along the edges of the tub. He seats himself down, places his hands around your middle and pulls you in close. You feel his groin press against your lower back; you've never felt his cock before, and somehow the casual intimacy of his softness pressed against you makes you smile.

"You can open your eyes," he whispers, then presses a gentle kiss to the back of your neck.

You do as you're told, immediately seeing the way his legs are splayed out in front of you, long and strong beneath the water. You've never realized how small you are compared to him until this moment, completely enrobed in his body, heart thrumming against your back.

"This is heaven," you whisper, leaning back against him and closing your eyes again, "This is what I wanted, all along."

"I think you wanted a bit more than this," he replies with a chuckle, kissing your neck again, "And you'll get it, I promise. Let's just...let's just sit here for a little while first, alright?"

"As long as you need to," you murmur, and you swear you feel him smile against your skin.

--

You bathe together for a long time, just laying in each other's embrace and enjoying the company. Being this close to Joel truly is everything you could have ever hoped for, his strong arms wrapped around you as he noses your neck and breathes you in, holds you against his naked body like you're meant to fit there. He's so big and warm; you've never felt more safe.

At one point you scooch back a bit in this embrace, feel your ass unintentionally rub lightly against his cock beneath the water. Neither of you say anything, but you both slowly become aware of the way he hardens, begins to grow larger against you.

A few moments later the head of his cock is pulsing against your lower back. Your eyes are lidded, heavy, head bobbing backward to nestle at the base of his neck. His hands on your belly move upward to cup your breasts, holding you firmly and securely against him.

"Joel," you whisper, "Touch me."

The words bring both of you back to the ski lodge, the power he holds over you there, the way you're always at his mercy. You hope, despite the new situation, he'll be that person again for you. You crave it, need it.

"Not yet," he murmurs in your ear, "Be patient, pretty girl."

There he is.

You swallow, close your eyes and submit completely as he palms your breasts, tweaks your nipples between his fingers gently. You whimper pathetically, shuffle back against his cock again, feel the hard length of it along your back.

"You were a bad girl yesterday," he whispers in your ear, tongue darting out to taste your skin, making you shiver, "And today. Gettin' lost like that, makin' me worry..."

"M'sorry," you murmur, hands moving down to grip his thighs as he brings your earlobe into your mouth and sucks it, "Didn't m-mean to make you worry."

"I think," he whispers, breath hot against your skin, "I'm finally gonna have to punish you."

The words send tingles up and down your spine, eyes almost rolling back in your head when he sucks your earlobe again, eliciting sounds from you that only he knows how to generate. You squeeze his thighs tighter, feeling your pussy begin to pulse beneath the water.

"How?" you breathe, voice weak.

He releases your ear and noses your cheek, brings one of his hands from your breasts and rests a finger against your chin. He turns your face to the side, urging you to look at him. His eyes are dark, full of want and desire, and you know you're completely at his mercy.

"I'm gonna fuck you, baby," he whispers, "Gonna fill that pussy up with my cock."

The words send you into a tailspin, a guttural whine escaping your lips as your fingers press into his thighs, rubbing your own together to seek some purchase against your heat. He smiles, presses a gentle kiss to your temple, drops his hands and places them over yours, big and strong.

"I know that's what you want," he whispers, entangling his fingers with yours over his thighs, "But I'm gonna give it to you over and over again, gonna make you come as many times as I want, 'til you're begging me to stop, tellin' me it's too much, that you couldn't possibly come again," he squeezes your hands, licks a stripe up the side of your neck, "And then I'll give you another one."

"Please," you breathe, voice broken and full of desire, "Please, fuck me, Joel. I need it so bad."

"I know you do, baby," he whispers, "So be a good girl for me and do as I say, okay?"

"Okay," you whimper, leaning back in his embrace, feeling his cock prod your back.

"Say it."

"I'll be your good girl," you whine, trembling under his gaze, "I'm your good girl, Joel. Only yours."

He groans softly in your ear, "That's right, baby," he releases your hands from beneath his and cups your breasts again, squeezing gently, "Now, open yourself up for me."

With trembling fingers you reach beneath the water and pull your lips apart, using both hands to spread yourself for him. The water tickles you, makes you quiver in his grasp as you slowly push your middle finger inside.

"There you go," he whispers, "That feel good, pretty girl?"

"Y-yes," you whimper, throbbing around your finger.

"Add as many as you like," he tells you, "Need to be nice and open for my cock."

The very thought of finally having him inside you makes you whimper again as you add a second finger, feeling his familiar gaze on your cunt. It's so different this time, feeling how hard he is against you, being in his naked embrace while you obey his commands. This is nothing like being in his lap when he'd been fully clothed, holding you open for him. This is sex, pure sex that you know is going to last hours.

"Look at that," he murmurs when you've started to pump three fingers in and out of yourself at a steady pace, "So full for me, already ready to come, huh?"

You whimper, leaning back against his chest, feeling his wiry hair rub against your cheek. Without any hesitation he suddenly reaches down and presses his index finger to your clit, making you cry out in pleasure.

"Remember when I touched this clit for the first time?" he murmurs in your ear, circling it softly over and over, "Remember how you came just from a little touch? So sensitive, baby. Such a good girl."

His words send you over the edge, making you squirm and shake in his embrace as he gives you your first orgasm of the day, coaxes it out of you easily. You whimper when he touches your wrist, pulls your fingers out to replace them with his own.

"That's one," he whispers, sliding his index finger inside your heat, and you're not sure if he's talking about the orgasm or the digit. You're too blissed out to care, head bobbing against his neck again as he fingers you, adds a second and presses his lips to your ear, "Baby, she's so tight," he breathes, teasing a third at your entrance, "How's my cock gonna fit?"

"Mnnhnngg," you can't make words, looking down beneath the water at where he's fucking you relentlessly, fingers so big and thick compared to yours, his thumb toying with your clit.

"Can't even talk, huh?" he whispers, "Need to come again, I bet."

You don't think you'll be able to, not yet; you're so overstimulated but he just continues to fuck you with abandon, rubbing your clit with every thrust of his fingers. You arch back against him, his cock throbbing against your ass. Your fingers dig into his thighs again and he chuckles in your ear.

"Can't do that, baby," he whispers, "Play with your pretty little nipples for me, show me how hard they are."

You bring your trembling hands to your breasts, squeezing your tender nipples between your fingers and feeling another orgasm start building in your tummy. How? It's so soon since you had your last one, how the fuck can he give you another one so quickly?

He pumps his fingers steadily in and out of you, watching as you play with your nipples. He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to the skin of your left breast, inches away from where your fingers are pinching.

"Put it in my mouth, pretty girl," he murmurs against the skin, nosing the little bumps and dropping his jaw. You whimper at his words, squeezing your breast and dropping it downward so he can wrap his lips around the sensitive bud. You groan, feeling his tongue dart out and begin to lick tiny circles around it.

Seconds later, you're coming again. You shake and shiver and then go completely still in his arms, eyes rolling back as he continues to suckle at your nipple. He removes his fingers, thumbs your clit one more time, then releases your breast with a light pop.

"Two," he says quietly, smiling at you, "Good girl."

--

Somehow you make it to his bedroom. Exactly how, you're not sure. You're so wrecked from having two orgasms in ten minutes that you feel like jelly, but you're vaguely aware of him picking you up from the bath and carrying you to his room, putting you in his bed. You lay there like a starfish, arms up and legs wide as you breathe heavily, chest heaving.

"So sleepy," he says tenderly, stroking your cheek, "You ready for bed, baby? Wanna stop?"

Your eyes snap open and you shake your head frantically, only to see him standing there with a wide smile on his face.

"I'm kidding," he says with a laugh, "Don't worry."

You roll your eyes and look up at his ceiling, "Ass."

"There she is," he replies warmly, "Missed my feisty girl."

"She never left," you say with a wink, turning to look at him; he's shuffled closer to the bed, standing over you with his cock in his left hand, slowly stroking up and down. Your lips part unconsciously, eyes going straight for the plump and wet head.

"Yeah, you wanna suck it, huh?" he says quietly, thumbing exactly where you want to place your tongue, "Tasted my come twice but never had me in your mouth, how naughty."

You look up at him from under your lashes, smiling playfully, "I'm a good girl, promise."

He smirks, "Are you? Then show me how a good girl sucks cock."

You don't need him to ask you twice. You sit up on the bed and slide forward, watching as he releases his cock and lets it bounce upward toward his stomach, big and thick. You've never been so close to it, never seen it in broad daylight like this; he's huge, so wide and girthy with a big vein trailing along the underside all the way to the head, fat and leaking. With a shiver you lean forward and suck the tip into your mouth, trying not to smile when you hear him release a deep sigh.

"'Atta girl," he groans above you, his hand immediately coming up to cradle the back of your head, "That's my good girl."

You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, swallowing down everything he's leaking and then starting to bob your head along the shaft, reaching up to grasp the base firmly in your hand. He tastes like the bath; lavender and vanilla, mixed with a salty and masculine flavor that makes your mouth water.

"Oh, baby," he murmurs, watching as you take his entire length in your mouth with barely any hesitation, the head hitting the back of your throat without even making you gag, "That's it, take the whole fucking thing, just like that."

You're aware of the fact that you don't have a gag reflex; you'd thought about telling him a while ago, thought maybe it'd convince him to let you blow him, but you'd never been brave enough to say anything. Now, you're glad you never did. Hearing his absolute wonder as you take his entire length is more than enough.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, watching as you pull back almost all the way and then push yourself forward again to fully envelop him, the tip repeatedly prodding the inside of your throat, "Jesus fucking Christ."

You swallow around him and look up from underneath your lashes, eyes wide and burning. He looks down at you and immediately slips his cock out of your mouth, taking a step back and putting his hands up in surrender.

"Okay, okay," he says quickly, hissing through his teeth, "I'm gonna come if you keep goin'. Fuck."

You look at him with faux-innocence, eyes wide, "Did I do something wrong?"

He shakes his head, inhaling deeply and taking another step backward, "You're gonna kill me, baby," he curls his hands into fists, and you swear his cock bobs again completely on its own, like he's about to come without even being touched. The thought makes you shiver, "I know I say that all the time, but I mean it. You're gonna kill me."

You giggle, falling backwards on the bed again and stretching out your arms and legs, closing your eyes and listening as he does a quick pace around the room to distract himself from the orgasm his body is threatening to have. You just laugh and rotate your legs back and forth, feeling an immense amount of pride that you're not the only overly sensitive one in the room.

"You think that's funny, huh?" he asks you, and your eyes snap open to see him kneeling in front of you at the edge of the bed.

"N-no," you say, but your smile betrays you. He looks at you darkly and suddenly grabs your legs, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed and pushing your thighs apart, "Oh," you whimper, looking down at yourself, seeing where he's looking, where you're wet and dripping all over the sheets.

"Messy," he whispers, "Such a messy little pussy."

"It's yours," you tell him, as if he doesn't already know, "It's your little pussy."

"I know, baby," he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, "I've wanted to taste her for so long."

You quiver at his words, brow furrowing as he presses another soft kiss to the opposite thigh. He licks a stripe along the inside, just outside your lips where you're puffy and swollen. He kisses your mound, drags his tongue down and down and down until it swipes lightly against your clit.

"Joel," you moan, throwing your head back and fisting the sheets. He pulls back and you look down again to see him smirking at you, eyes suddenly bright and playful again.

"Tastes like heaven, baby," he says softly, then ducks his head down and pushes his tongue inside you with no warning.

You let out the loudest moan of your life as he begins to eat you out, tongue alternating between twisting and licking your insides and then suckling on your clit like he'd done with your nipple, circling it inside his mouth relentlessly. You writhe beneath him, so much that he has to press his hands firmly against your belly to hold you down.

The noises you're making are practically inhuman, uttering almost a completely different language under your breath as he coaxes more ridiculous sounds out of you. You quickly realize that looking down at him is a mistake; the sight of his greying curls splayed across your pubic bone and the shape of his curved nose pressed into the hair on your mound, his eyes closed in pleasure as he sucks and licks and devours, just the image alone brings you close to the edge.

"I'm gonna come," you manage to squeak out, and he pushes his hands harder against your belly, the added pressure making you groan louder than ever.

He pulls his mouth away.

"No," you breathe, shaking your head wildly with wide eyes, "No, no, no, don't stop. Please don't stop!"

He smirks at you, removing his hands and leaning backward to release you completely from his grip. You stare at him, completely bewildered.

"Joel," you cry, real tears starting to form in your eyes, but not from sadness or anger - this time, you're just horny. "Joel, why?"

He still doesn't speak, just sits there and watches you groan in disbelief, your hands coming up to cover your face. You buck your hips into the air, seeking some kind of pressure, but nothing helps.

"Joel," you repeat, "This is mean."

"I told you I was gonna punish you, baby," he says it with faux-disappointment, like he's not the one who makes the rules, "I'm the one who decides when you come. And what I just did is exactly what you just did to me."

You pout, sitting up on your hands and giving him a dirty look, "That's not fair, you told me to stop, I would've kept going."

"But if you'd kept going, how would I have been able to do this?" he asks, and suddenly he's standing up and leaning over you on the bed, knees sinking into the mattress as he hovers above you.

"W-what?" you ask, but you know the answer as soon as you feel the wet head of his cock gently prod your entrance.

"This, baby," he murmurs, and pushes himself all the way inside.

You almost let out a scream, squeezing his sheets in your hands as his huge cock practically rearranges your guts, feeling him in your stomach as he reaches his hands up to entwine his fingers with yours, plying them away from the sheets.

"Oh, she wasn't ready, was she?" he asks quietly, nosing your neck and smiling at the incoherent noises coming from your throat, "Poor little pussy, never had something so big inside of her, huh?"

He stays still inside of you, letting you get used to his wide girth and thick length, so large within you that you feel like you're going to burst. You continue to make odd noises, twitching under his grasp, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that you're coming. You're coming, just from having his cock fully sheathed inside of you.

"Three," he whispers in your ear, pressing a soft kiss to the skin there, "That's three times now, baby. Such a good girl for me."

Your pussy pulses and throbs around him, aching and burning in the most perfect way. How does he know exactly what you need? How does he know exactly what'll get you there?

"You're okay, baby," he murmurs, stroking your hair gently as you convulse around him, "You're doing so well, takin' it all so good."

You've never felt so full in your life. You've only ever had sex a handful of times, only ever actually been with two other men. If you had to compare them to this, you'd laugh in their faces.

"Big," you finally find your words, barely a whisper, "So big."

"I know," Joel kisses your temple, pulls back to look down at you with a gentle smile, "I'll wait 'til you get used to it, don't worry."

It's only then, looking up into those big brown eyes, that you realize you still haven't kissed him. He's got his enormous cock inside of you, stretching every inch of you open, and you've never kissed him.

It's like he's suddenly thinking the exact same thing. You watch as his brow furrows, lips parting slightly as he leans down and presses a sweet and gentle kiss to your lips, your eyes closing as you kiss him back with a hunger you've never known. You slip your tongue inside his mouth and he grants you entrance immediately, breathing deeply against your face as he sucks you in, lets you taste him. You can taste your own wetness on his tongue and it makes you moan against his lips.

"You're so fucking perfect," he breathes against your mouth, closing his eyes and rubbing his nose against yours, "My perfect girl, always so good for me."

"I'm yours," you remind him, voice weak and shaky, "I'll do whatever you tell me to, Joel."

He inhales deeply, removing his hands from yours and trailing them down your body to hold you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your torso and trailing his fingers up and down your back.

"You can move now," you whisper, still pulsing around him, "I can take it."

"I know you can, baby," he murmurs, "Such a good girl."

It takes a few slow thrusts, your mouth still eliciting the most unhinged sounds as he fucks you at the slowest pace imaginable, but eventually you build up a rhythm. He's so big, it's hard to believe he's actually fitting inside of you. You'd only ever seen his cock from a distance, in darkness, never realized how fucking huge he was. You can't believe you'd even managed to fit all of him in your mouth.

"I'm close," you groan in his ear, your own hands coming up to grip his back tightly, loving the feeling of having him pressed so close to you as he fucks you, "Give me my fourth, Joel, fucking give it to me."

He laughs lightly in response, pulling back to look down at you, "Not much of a punishment anymore, is it?" he says with a smirk, shaking his head, "Now you're begging for it." He slows down his thrusts, eventually stilling inside of you and pulling almost all the way out, letting the head of his cock sit inside your pulsing hole.

"Look at that," he says softly and you sit up to follow his gaze, looking down at your already fucked-out hole, his cock only connected to it via the fat head that sits nestled at your entrance, "Look at all your come on my cock, pretty girl."

You notice the white and glistening spots along his cock, feeling your cheeks go red at the recognition that it's all from you. You bite your lip, chest heaving breathlessly as he carefully pulls the tip from your hole and places it against your clit.

"Oh, fuck," you whimper, watching as he gently rubs the head in circles on your clit, his tip continuing to leak and making you even more slippery than you already are.

"Here's number four for you, baby," he murmurs, and pulls back his cock to lightly slap the head against you, the pressure immediately making you moan. He slaps it again, a little harder, and you have to bite down on your lip again to stop the onslaught of little whines you're threatening to make.

"Come," he says firmly, deliberately an order, and slaps the head of his cock against your clit one last time, delivering the final push.

Your eyes roll back again and you fall back on the bed, body twitching as you come for the fourth time, feeling his eyes on your pussy as your hole pulses and throbs around nothing.

"Good girl," he whispers, and seconds later you feel his cock slide back inside of you, exactly where it belongs, "There you go."

You lay there completely limp for a few seconds, body only moving with the thrusts of Joel's steady pace. You finally open your eyes again, see him kneeling on the bed above you. He's holding your lower half upwards, hands digging into your hips and thumbs splayed across your tummy.

"Use me," you breathe, eyes closing again, "Just use me for a few minutes."

He groans, a guttural and fierce noise that rips through the silence of his bedroom. You relax completely, melting into the sheets and letting him take what he needs, take and take and take, using you like his personal fuck toy, something you'd only dreamed about and never thought would ever actually come to fruition. Your arms hang limp and loose off the edge of his bed as you inhale and exhale, trying to get your energy back as fast as possible so you can come again.

Because you know he's not gonna let you off at number four.

After a few more steady thrusts you slowly sit back up on your elbows, looking at him through hooded and tired eyes. He can see that you're close to being completely done, smiles gently at you and slows his rhythm.

"Welcome back," he says softly, leaning down to pull you up so you're level with him. He repositions the both of you so his legs are circling you, yours coming up to wrap around his lower back as you sit on his cock. He pulls you closer, cradling the back of your head and pressing kisses along the side of your face, "I know you're tired but I'm gonna give you one more, baby, just like I promised."

"I know," you whisper, voice shaky.

He holds you in his wide arms, completely envelops you as he fucks up into you steadily, nose and lips pressed against the side of your face as he brings himself closer and closer to release, continuously whispering a thread of dirty things to you, building you up.

"Such a tight fuckin' pussy, all for me," he murmurs, "So wet and pink and perfect, takin' me so good, so fuckin' full of cock."

"Joel," you whimper, leaning further against him and letting him fuck you mercilessly, letting him push you closer and closer to your fifth orgasm, "Keep talking."

"Okay, baby," he whispers, brow furrowed, "Okay, pretty girl. So fuckin' good to me, so fuckin' pure and perfect, lettin' me fill this little cunt, lettin' me fuck it so deep," you scratch at his arm, tension building in your belly, "Waited so long for me to give it to you, begged for it for months, and now you have it. It's all yours, baby. You get this cock whenever you want now, just say the word."

He reaches down and rubs your clit with his thumb, feeling you tense against him as your orgasm overtakes you. You shake in his embrace, moaning out his name one final time before you start to come, heart pounding and chest heaving as he releases your clit and hugs you close to him. You tremble beneath him, feeling completely spent, almost boneless in his lap as he keeps fucking you.

"Where do you want my come, pretty girl?" he asks you through clenched teeth, "You still want it in your mouth?"

"Yes," you say immediately, eyes widening, "In my mouth, please."

Without another word he pulls you from his lap, watching as you fall backwards on the bed weightlessly.

"Christ, I fucked the shit outta you, baby," he says, genuinely shocked at how blissed out you are.

"You did," you reply softly, feeling a smile cross your face, "Can't move anymore."

He gives you a gentle smile, walks around the bed and aims his cock toward your face, "Here's your reward, baby, open up, nice and wide."

You do as you're told, feeling an immense amount of pride and satisfaction as you finally get what you've been craving for months. He strokes his cock once, only once, and suddenly ropes of thick white come are painting your tongue and lips, your cheeks, your chin. He groans, long and low, watching as you close your eyes and take every drop he gives you, watching it all pool on your tongue, dribble down your chin.

"Fuck," he breathes, and you open your eyes again to see him staring at you, eyes still dark and pupils blown wide, "Swallow it, pretty girl."

You close your mouth and swallow all of it, reveling in the salty taste on your tongue and in the back of your throat. You bring a trembling hand to your mouth, push the leftovers from your cheeks and chin past your lips, swallowing a second time.

"Good girl," he whispers, leaning down to push your hair out of your eyes, "That's my good girl, did so fucking well for me. Did everything I said."

"I'm yours, Joel," you whisper, voice completely wrecked, "I'm your good girl."

--

He cleans you up tenderly, pressing kisses to your skin every now and then as he takes a warm washcloth and wipes you down, pays extra attention to your sensitive spots and lets you lay there in peace. He's so sweet, so gentle, you'd hardly know it was the same Joel who walked out on you back at the ski lodge.

But it is the same Joel. He's just finally let himself have what he wants, finally let himself give you what you want. When he climbs in bed beside you and wraps his arms tightly around you, you've never felt so desired in your entire life. He kisses your face all over, whispers praises, tells you how beautiful you are, makes you feel wanted.

"You asleep?" he asks you softly, hands running up and down your arms soothingly.

"In and out," you murmur back, "You really did a number on me."

He chuckles quietly, kisses your cheek and holds you tighter, "I know. It was okay, right? I didn't go too far?"

"It was perfect," you reply sincerely, leaning back into his touch, "It was everything I ever wanted, better than anything I imagined."

He smiles against your skin, "Good, I'm glad."

You both lay there in the silence of his bedroom for a few more moments, listening to each other's breathing. He kisses the back of your neck, noses your skin and inhales your scent.

"Are you still afraid?" you ask quietly, "You can tell me, I want you to be honest."

He takes a few moments to reply, sighing deeply and bringing one of his hands down to hold tightly to yours. You squeeze his back, quietly reminding him that you're here, that you're not going anywhere.

"I am," he says softly, voice barely a whisper, "But not so much anymore. I think it'll be easier now."

"It will be," you reassure him quietly, tightening your grip on his hand, "I'm here for you, okay? Every step of the way."

He nuzzles into your hair, presses himself against you and sighs contentedly, "Okay."

You close your eyes, focusing on the perfection of this moment, the feeling of his body so close to yours, warming you up and keeping you safe. You can't help but notice how perfectly your bodies fit together, how right it feels to be lying together like this.

"By the way," he whispers suddenly, "You'll be my patrol partner again, right?"

You grin, tilting your head back slightly so his cheek brushes against your temple, relishing in the feeling of his stubble against your skin, so natural, so easy.

"I thought you'd never ask."

i can't believe how long this took me to write but i'm so glad i finally finished it. this isn't the end of soft!dom joel, but i would consider it the end of their story, most likely. i'll probably write some more smutty one-shots for them, but i doubt i'll write anything for them again with this much detail. i feel pretty satisfied with this.

let me know what you think!!! i love hearing yalls feedback, it makes me so happy. i also have a kofi if you'd like to leave me a tip. thank you so much for reading 💖

[sxcret-garden]

Haechan ღ Painted with You [M]

ღ NCT Dream Haechan x fem!reader ღ feat.: short mentions of Renjun & Jeno ღ words: ~15k ღ genre: college AU, fwb to lovers, exes to lovers, fluff, slice of life, slow burn, pining, reader is a little dense, angst, humor, smut (switch!Haechan (but sub-leaning), oral (both receiving), hair pulling (idol receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, some begging, fingering, handjob, edging, orgasm denial (idol receiving), dry humping) ღ warnings: alcohol consumption, depiction of anxiety and reader feeling burnt out, mentions of unhealthy coping mechanisms

Desc.: You and Donghyuck were a couple back in high school, each having your own reasons for dating the other, but ultimately what you seeked out in each other was a distraction. Now that you meet again five years later, you both come to realize that the connection between you is still there, and eventually it’s crystal clear that the people you’ve become won’t be as easily separated as back then.

Author's note: aaaa I've had this in my drafts for sooo long avoiding to proofread it cause I wasn't happy with this at all... so now I finally came back to it to edit a bit and I think in the end it turned out quite okay^^ I hope you guys like it 🫶

There’s a hint of victory in the smile he gives you when you sit down next to him. Like he knew it would come to this - that you’d get bored of exchanging mundanities with the others and eventually find yourself drawn to him as your only escape. And it’s not like you didn’t know it too, it was clear from the moment you greeted each other with a hug that lasted shorter than it should have, and at the same time felt more familiar than you wanted it to. Yet his stance is inviting as he turns his whole body towards you in his seat, and the curiousity in his eyes is apparent.

“Long time no see,” he says, and it comes out softer than you would’ve expected it to. And he probably had the same thought, because he’s clearing his throat now, talking more firmly as he continues, “What have you been up to?” The last time you’ve seen each other was at your high school graduation ceremony, and since then it’s been almost five years. Which, as your former class president Renjun had decided, was about enough time to gather for a reunion. 

“Well, you know. This and that,” you try to avoid an answer, but of course he wouldn’t let you off the hook so easily. He knows you too well for that.

“Come on,” he snorts. “You can tell me. My time wasn’t spent in a purely productive manner either.”

“You probably spent about 3 years total on just playing video games…” you say with a grin playing on your lips, and you make him huff in disbelief, before his expression as well returns to a somewhat mischievous smile. 

“Now that was just tactless,” he says, straightening his back now. “I quit uni to go to work, and then started again with a different major. So now I’m a freshman!” He gives you a peace sign with his hand, sounding a lot prouder about the fact than he should’ve been.

“Feeling like 19 again?” you joke.

“Yes! Everyone automatically assumes I’m their age,” he explains. “But then I tell them I’m older, so I can make them work for me!” An exaggeratedly mischievous laugh follows, and you can only shake your head at his shenanigans.

“You haven’t changed at all,” you say, turning away and facing the bartender working just a few seats away. Originally you were all going out for dinner and nothing more, but when some girls suggested paying a nearby bar a visit, nobody could refuse in the face of getting some booze into their veins. Maybe you aren’t the only one who’s getting fucked over by life.

“One margarita,” you raise your hand and order, then you add, directed at Donghyuck, “Anything for you?”

“Just soju.” And so after placing both your orders, he adds, “Still can’t drink the adult drinks?”

“Excuse you, it has alcohol in it, so it is an adult drink. But if you’re asking if I still hate bitter stuff - yes I do.”

“I see… anyway, I’m not letting you get away without properly answering my question.”

“Too bad,” you respond. “Well…” And then you hesitate. You remember what it was like between the two of you in high school. When you were dating, each for your own reasons and certainly not because you had feelings for each other. But he still felt like a friend you could entrust your deepest feelings with - you knew each other like the back of your own hand. And yet, you find yourself hesitating in the face of five years passed by without a word from the other. It wasn’t like you had a fight or broke up on bad terms. It’s just that you both agreed it would be better not to see each other again, for reasons that seemed smart at the time. But now that you’re looking at the person he’s become and how much he seems to have grown up, you’re not sure anymore what those reasons even were.

“That bad?” Donghyuck interrupts your train of thought as he raises an eyebrow at you, and when you shake your head a short laugh escapes him.

“No, just… I’m also still in university,” you say. “I had to take a year off, so I’m trying to finish everything now. It’s not going great though.”

“Oh…” he looks away, directing his gaze at his hands that he’s hiding in the sleeves of his knitted sweater. “Are you managing though?” And that’s when you suddenly feel the past and the present connect - the way he immediately becomes serious when the situation calls for it, just like he has always done, makes you feel safe to keep speaking, and to keep your heart open, just for a bit.

“It’s… difficult,” you admit. The bartender sets down your ordered drinks, causing another pause, and you acknowledge it with a nod. “I’m trying not to do too much, but you know what’s it like living here.”

“Yeah,” he says. “That fucked you over before, didn’t it?”

“Yeah.” You fall silent after that, but not for long. Your conversation partner is Donghyuck after all, he wouldn’t let an awkward silence get too long.

“I have changed… by the way.” You raise your eyebrows at him as he speaks those words, letting the sip of your cocktail slowly trickle down your throat.

“Have you?” you ask. “Well, I mean… you’ve grown up.”

“Oh?” Suddenly seeing him straightening his back as he’s overjoyed, you can’t but giggle at the way his face is graced with a beaming smile now, but he glosses it over with a cough and a sip of his soju.

“But you sure are still the same guy,” you add, a nostalgic smile on your lips. 

“I guess,” he agrees, his features softening. Another pause falls upon you as you give your cocktail another taste, and this time it’s you who breaks the silence. Continuously chatting, you’re starting to feel a little tipsy from the sweet beverage after a while.

“I heard you got a girlfriend?” Donghyuck huffs, a wide smile meant to hide a bitter feeling appearing on his face.

“Yeah…”

“What about her?” you pry, sensing something off.

“Dumped me,” he simply says, then pointing across the room and at Jeno, one of your former classmates. “For that guy.”

“Ouch.”

“It’s whatever,” he shrugs it off, pouring himself another glass and offering the shot to you instead. “You sure you don’t want any?”

“I’d rather have my own drink, thanks.”

“Alright. Then cheers.” He downs the shot, grimacing at the taste, and when he sets the glass back down, he adds, “I don’t get why she went for him anyway. I bet it’s cause of all that muscle he got.” You can’t help but chuckle at his words, and you hit his upper arm playfully.

“You should hit the gym too and then see if you can get her back.”

“Very funny,” he replies dryly. “I’d rather die.”

“Understandable…” you reply, taking another sip of your drink as well. “So… you’re probably glad I finally came to you.” Donghyuck shoots you a questioning look and you explain yourself. “For a distraction. Like in the old days, you know?”

“Ahh…” He merely lets out a sound, before staring at his empty shot glass. 

“You’re not doing that anymore?” you assume.

“I guess.”

“Yeah… me too,” you say. “Or like… I stopped using people for it.”

You were dating back then, that’s true, but you wouldn’t go as far as to call yourselves high school sweethearts. You were both going through some stuff - for him it was a breakup with his first love, for you it was just life itself. When you were both at your lowest you started talking properly, and it soon became clear that you both wanted nothing more than to escape. And so you formed an alliance - as you used to call it, to everyone else you simply said that you were a couple now. You did behave like a couple, but just for the rush. The first time you held his hand you felt nothing, but when you made out secretly in the backyard of your school instead of attending class, that’s when you were overwhelmed with excitement. It was a stupid idea, you know that now too, and it only worked for so long. You spent the summer of your junior year together, meeting up almost every day and talking, and eventually distracting yourselves by making out secretly in your or his room. And then your final year came, and as you started seeing yourselves forced to take life a bit more seriously, you gradually met up less, until you both agreed that breaking up would be the best decision, so that you could focus on your studies and try to get into a good university. At least for your part, you still have mixed feelings when you remember that day. Because you know you made the adult decision, but at the same time you always end up thinking back to what fooling around with him felt like when you have a bad day now, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss it at least a bit. But you found other distractions - obsessing over tv series, finding just the perfect kind of music to drown out your feelings, and sometimes, whenever you could find a good excuse to drink with friends, alcohol. Though you’re being careful with the latter, just as you are now. One drink is usually enough to help you relax a bit and not pay all the things stressing you out so much thought.

“So when are we gonna start writing your redemption arc?” you ask nonchalantly, and he raises an eyebrow at you. “Your ex.”

“Stop that, for real,” he says, and the way he remains serious tells you your joke wasn’t well received.

“Sorry,” you utter.

“It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but you know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” He’s playing with the glass in his hands, thumb rubbing along its edge as he keeps staring at it, and you take the last few sips of your drink, before you too start spinning the cocktail glass around between your fingers.

“Actually…” Donghyuck speaks up, now throwing you an entirely different look. “How about we get out of here. Maybe we could both use a distraction after all.”

“But-”

“Just for today.” You stare at him blankly, blinking once, twice, then a third time. This sounds like a bad idea, but at the same time you know you’re probably not gonna see each other for the next five years, just like it was for the past five. So what would be so bad about taking his offer now?

“Alright,” you say eventually, having made up your mind. “My place? It’s nearby.” His lips are parted slightly as he watches you jump out of your seat and put on your jacket. As the air around you changes, so does the look in his eyes, and a moment later he gets up too, his arm wrapped loosely around your waist while he holds the door open for you as he walks you out of the place.

“You really have changed,” you comment as you’re sneaking out, so none of the others would notice, and you giggle at your unnecessary secrecy once you’re past the entrance to the building.

“I can be a gentleman too!” he insists. “Of course a high school boy wouldn’t think of that.” You catch the pout that forms on his lips as he adds the last part, and you inevitably laugh, pointing at his face.

“But you’re also really still the same.”

You decide on going to your place, as it’s nearby, and you take a taxi there. Though you know this is only going to be a one time thing, neither of you seems to be in a rush. You take the elevator to the sixth floor, grinning at each other in silence the entire ride - maybe because this reminds the both of you a bit too much of the way you used to sneak off together all the time back in school. But once you arrive at your apartment, the atmosphere between you somehow changes, and as you’re walking over to your little kitchen to offer him a drink, he stops you, wrapping his arm around your waist. His touch is firm now, and he comes to a halt when he’s standing right in front of you, closer than a friend would, but leaving more distance between you than a lover would, and keeping his voice lowered, he asks,

“So… are we going to go right to the distraction part? Or do we need to pretend that we still need to warm up to each other first?” You find him staring at your lips, then returning his gaze to your eyes as he waits patiently for your response. And you don’t manage to come up with anything smart to say to him, so you simply take a step forward, wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, and you kiss him. His lips feel soft, just like you remember them, melting against yours perfectly. Yet there’s a firmness to his kiss that feels new to you. He used to always kiss you with eagerness, too much of it at times, impatient to feel more of you and for you to take control. It was no secret between you two that he actually quite enjoyed being put into his place by you, and now that there’s no such intentions apparent behind the way he moves his lips against yours, you find yourself having your breath taken away by the time you part. 

“You really did grow up well…” you mutter, barely an inch apart. “Did your ex teach you to kiss like that?” 

“Watch your mouth, Y/N,” he mutters darkly, another side of him that’s not exactly new to you, but one that you haven’t seen a lot in the past. And then he simply brushes his lips against yours again, softly and with care, quite in contrast to his sharp words. “I don’t wanna ruin this with thoughts about people I don’t know anymore.”

“Right…” you whisper, and before you can add a mumbled apology, he presses his lips to yours again. In between short kisses that inevitably leave you longing for more, he steers you closer to the wall behind you, until he has you trapped against it. Your shoulders meet the cold surface gently, and as you’re slowly getting to know this different side of him, you feel yourself being swept off your feet like he never knew how to. 

One of his hands resting on your waist, his fingertips creep towards your hip as you’re sharing an open mouthed kiss. A moan escapes you when he presses you up against the wall closer, and as he slowly parts from you, you can see the playful grin showing on his face now.

“You changed too,” he comments, and again he closes the distance between you without giving you a chance to question his words. Your hands finding their way up into his short hair, your fingers get tangled with the strands and you carefully tug at them as he deepens this kiss as well. He’s kissing you slowly as you let him have the lead naturally, and as you keep making out like this, you eventually find yourself burning up whole under his touch. He moves from your mouth to your neck eventually, and you lean your head back with a deep sigh as he begins scattering hot kisses all over the area. His hand that’s been propped up against the wall now finds the back of your nape to support you, and when he comes back up, he whispers a question,

“Do we keep going like we used to? Or do you wanna go all the way this time?” Drunk on his kisses, you pull him in for another one on the mouth, and as you part you mutter,

“We’re not kids anymore. Let’s go all the way.” You step aside and he lets you, and you reach for his hands to walk him over to your couch. Giving him a push, he lets himself fall back onto the sofa, leaning against the backrest as his curious gaze never leaves you. “Don’t need this anymore…” you mumble as you pull off your shirt and throw it somewhere onto the ground, and then you crawl into his lap to straddle him. His hands find purchase on your hips immediately as he looks up at you with warm eyes. You cup his face in your hands and you lean in, capturing his lips in a teasing kiss. Sinking your teeth into his bottom lip, you lure a breathy moan out of him, and wanting to hear more, you keep kissing him like that. Feathery touches that would for sure make him want more eventually become overshadowed by you rolling his hips on top of him, and with each time he lets you hear his voice you become more eager. It’s almost as if you’ve become the one who can’t wait, and he’s the one acting with patience.

“Never knew you could turn me on this much,” he mutters as you pull back, moving your hips at a leisurely pace. You can undoubtedly feel the bulge in his pants, and it’s certainly not leaving you unaffected.

“I grew up too, Hyuck,” you say, and then you bury your face in his neck. You kiss a trail up to the spot right below his ear as he leans back, and his hands wander up your sides and to your back when you start nibbling on his skin. 

“Mhm… you did, hm?” he answers. He finds the clasp of your bra and undoes it, and as the piece of clothing slides down your arms, you sit back so he can take it off you and fling it to the ground as well, somewhere in the general direction of where your shirt should be. He holds onto your sides as he takes in the sight in front of him, and as he draws closer to connect his lips to the skin on your chest, you can hear him saying,

“I know I never told you this as a boy but you look beautiful. I really regret not saying that to you.” He kisses his way up from the valley of your breasts to your throat and then back to your mouth, and just before he can connect his lips to yours, you whisper,

“It’s fine. I might’ve actually fallen for you if you had done that.” You laugh, and he does too, but his grin has a different meaning to it than yours.

“Don’t say that. We don’t want anything unfortunate to happen.” Connecting his lips to yours, he runs his tongue across them to ask for permission to enter, and without protest you let him deepen the kiss.

“Now you’re the one who said it,” you mumble a response in between kisses. “That’s a stupid thought anyway.”

“Right.” His fingertips dance south along your spine, and he eventually tugs at your pants as a sign that he wants those off as well. And so you peel yourself out of his hold, and while you’re discarding your jeans, he slips out of his shirt, and both clothing items land somewhere on the floor, soon to be forgotten. He makes you lie down flat on the couch as he crawls on top of you, and when he leaves a trail of small kisses up your torso, one of his hands finds its way to your hips, thumb hooking under the fabric of your panties.

“These too,” he says. “I want these off too.” You give him the okay to take them off as you comb your fingers through his hair once, and as soon as he’s gotten rid of the last piece of clothing on your body, he lowers himself to let his lips draw a map of your figure. Feeling his warm hands against your sides, you let out a sigh as you lean your head back and you close your eyes for a bit, just enjoying the way his kisses feel against your skin. Your hands fly to his hair again, and you find yourself massaging his scalp as he’s slowly going down on you. You let him lift your legs up onto his shoulders eventually, and when he buries his face between your legs, you can’t but let out a small moan. Tongue lapping at your folds, he hums at your taste, and then he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking on it gently. 

“That feel good?” he asks, slurring his words a bit, and you nod, tugging at the strands of hair between your fingers.

“Yeah. Keep going…” And so he does, alternating between teasing you with his lips and the tip of his tongue, and when he retrieves one hand to slide his fingers inside you, he comments,

“So wet for me, hm?”

“Y-yeah…” You can unmistakably feel the knot in your stomach being tied tighter with every single touch of his, and when he pumps his fingers in and out of you at a frustratingly slow pace, you find yourself begging for more. “Faster… p-please…” Donghyuck simply hums at your plea, before he obliges, curling his fingers inside you just a little faster. Gradually picking up on speed, the way he flicks his tongue against your clit along with the waves of pleasure that run through your body with each time he hits that sweet spot inside you make you slowly lose your mind, and you let him know just how good he’s making you feel by moaning in tune with his movements.

“Don’t stop… please don’t stop…” you mewl as you look down on yourself to find him already gazing back up at you, observing all of your reactions closely through half-lidded eyes. Just a few more repetitions and he’s throwing you over the edge, making you clench around his fingers as you throw your head back with a moan. “Fuck…” you mutter after he pulls out of you carefully, and he crawls back up to kiss you on the lips. You can taste yourself on his tongue as you share a lazy kiss, and once you part, you place your palms on his chest to push him off you.

“Your turn,” you simply state as you sit up and you make some space so you can comfortably kneel in front of the sofa. Getting the message, he hurriedly rids himself of his pants and boxers, and when he sits down in front of you, you don’t waste another second to wrap your fingers around his length. Giving him a few strokes, he’s fully hard in no time, and he watches as he leans back, enjoying the attention.

“You really have no patience anymore, huh,” he mutters, and you lick your lips before returning his gaze.

“Want me to torture you a bit? Make you beg for it? I can do that too.”

“I can beg if you want me to,” he retorts, the confident expression not being wiped off his face so easily, and you decide to keep that piece of information in mind. Just in case. But for now you’re not planning on making him wait - he’s right, you’ve become impatient, and you’re dying to know what kind of sounds you might lure out of him with his dick in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his tip a few times, watching him part his lips slightly as he lets you hear a deep sigh and a praise directed at you. “That’s right…” he mutters, and when you take his tip into your mouth fully, he lets you hear a moan so sweet, you swear you could cum just from the sound of it. Slowly bobbing your head up and down and having your hand that’s wrapped around his base follow those same movements, you enjoy the way he keeps moaning at your ministrations, until eventually you hum in approval and he whines from the pleasure.

“Fuck…” A curse escapes him when his tip hits the back of your throat and you gag a little, and you find yourself amused at how easy it is to make a guy whine as soon as you have him in a position like this. You go painfully slow, but he takes all of your teasing, and just when you start feeling bad for him because of how desperate his moans are, you speed up, making sure to take him in as far as you can. 

“Shit, Y/N…” he calls out to you. “Wait-”

“Hm?” You come up at his words, letting him slip out of your mouth.

“Wanna cum in your pussy…” The request makes you grin.

“So demanding…” you mutter, shooting him a challenging look.

“Please…” he tries to convince you, his pupils shaking as he’s awaiting your answer. But you’ve already made up your mind on how you’re going to proceed, and so you merely throw him a grin, before taking him back into your mouth. He throws his head back at you sucking him off at a faster pace now, probably in a mixture of frustration and pleasure, and as more curses fall from his lips along with your name, you know he’s close. You hum at his desperation and at the way he’s twitching in your hand while he’s bucking his hips up into your touch, and the next time you’re sinking all the way down on him, he cums with a moan. You try to swallow everything as he releases into your mouth, and when you let go of him you lick your lips to get the rest of it too, all while he watches with a hazy mind. And then you crawl into his lap, leaving a trail of kisses down the side of his throat, and eventually you say,

“Why not both?” You grab his face in one hand, gaze falling to his lips, and before he can say anything you kiss him to cut off his train of thought. “We have so much time tonight…” you mutter against his lips in between kisses, and he merely lets out small moans at your words. “We can do all the things we want. But let’s move somewhere more comfortable first.” And so you hurriedly walk over to your bedroom, Donghyuck pushing you against the mattress as soon as you’re there, and he doesn’t waste a single second to kiss you again. His lips nipping at your collarbones, you throw your arms around him, until finally you switch positions again, and you end up sitting on top of him, sinking down on his hard cock and biting your lower lip from how good it feels to be filled up like this.

“Fuck…” Now it’s you who’s cursing, fingers intertwined with his as you’re pinning his hands down to keep yourself stable. You know he’s drinking up the sight in front of him as you start slowly riding him, and the way he looks at you only turns you on more. 

“Shit, you look so pretty like this…” he mumbles, completely taken aback, and he sits up, freeing his hands to hold onto your sides instead. “Can I kiss you?”

“You’re asking that now?” you chuckle as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and he lets out a short laugh as he too realizes how ridiculous his question was.

“You’re right,” he mutters, leaning in. “Then I’ll just kiss you whenever I want.” A rush of heat courses through your body as he presses his lips against yours, and you roll your hips on top of him just a little faster.

“Please do,” you whisper, barely audible, before Donghyuck closes the distance between you again. You take your time making out, until both of you feel that you’re coming close again, and with one hand between your bodies, he starts rubbing your clit for you as you keep your pace.

“I’ll help you,” he whispers, unable to take his eyes off your face as you’re both completely drunk on the other’s touches.

“Mhm…” you moan, chasing your own high on top of him. You’re the first one who comes undone, digging your nails into his shoulders and burying your face in the crook of his neck as your high shakes you.

“Don’t stop, Y/N…” His words sound desperate, and you do your best to keep moving despite feeling the overstimulation building up. He has both his hands on your back now, and you let out a moan when you feel him dragging his nails down to your hips. “Shit…!” Spitting out a curse, he releases inside you, and finally you come to a halt. You stay in your positions for a while, waiting until your heartbeats have returned to a normal pace in each other’s arms, before you both lie down side by side, out of breath and grinning at the other.

“Didn’t think you’d get that good without me…” he mutters a comment.

“Hey!” you shout playfully. “What was I supposed to do if you just disappear on me like that?”

“You didn’t contact me either,” he tries to defend himself, but you both know it was him who stopped replying to your messages, even though your conversations were already scarce after graduating. For now you decide to say nothing - your mind filled with bliss from what your night out ended up turning into, you wouldn’t want to ruin the mood. Instead, he’s the one to break the silence.

“Wanna keep going?” he asks, scooting over closer to you and making you lie flat on your back, kissing a trail down your jawline and placing a hand on top of your stomach. “I wanna keep going,” he adds, more silently, as his fingers are already wandering south.

“Alright,” you mutter, your hand up in his hair again as he drags his fingers down your folds, dipping inside once and then coming back up to your clit to draw circles onto it. “If I walk weird tomorrow it’s your fault,” you add, laughing.

“You just made me wanna see that,” he jokes back, before pressing a kiss to the side of your throat and letting his fingers take care of you.

You keep in touch after that, texting each other throughout the day - even on those days where you barely find the time or energy to be social, you’ll at least send some memes back and forth - and meeting up whenever you both have some free time. It really feels like you’re continuing right where you had left off five years ago whenever you find yourselves unable to stop laughing because of your own bickering, or when you’re sitting side by side, having a more serious conversation and simply offering an open ear to the other. And at the same time something about the way you treat each other has undoubtedly changed. Of course you both grew up and you’re more mature than you were as high school students, but it seems there’s something else lingering in the air during every interaction you have, you just can’t really put your finger on what that is. 

You also keep meeting up to have sex. 

“So? What does that make us?” you ask a question into the dimly lit room, staring up at the ceiling. You’re both lying side by side on his bed, the sheets beneath you messed up as evidence of what you’ve been doing, and the chilly air in the room hitting your skin lets you cool down a bit.

“What? This?” Donghyuck asks, turning his head so he could look at you.

“Yeah,” you respond. “We’re not just friends if we’re constantly hooking up, are we?” Your words are accompanied by a chuckle, meant to tell him that you’re not being as serious as you sound. Or maybe you are, but mostly because your other friends keep asking where you’re sneaking off so frequently these days, and why you don’t seem to have the time to meet up with them anymore. And everytime you tell them you’re seeing a different friend, a part of you feels like you’re lying. Maybe that’s because they’ve stopped believing you too, and they keep urging you on to finally admit that you’re dating someone. But you’re not dating Donghyuck, right?

“Fuckbuddies?” He rolls onto his side, head supported by his hand, and he gives you a mischievous look.

“I guess,” you say, and after some consideration you add, “My friends keep asking who I’m meeting all the time. They think I have a boyfriend.”

“Well, what does it feel like when you kiss me?” You’re too stunned to speak for a moment, not expecting him to pose such a serious question.

“I mean… you’re a good kisser?” You grin at him, rolling onto your side as well so you could face him, and as you’re drawing near, he’s already reaching out to capture your chin between his thumb and index finger.

“That’s all?”

“I think so.” He lets his lips brush against yours, puffy and reddened from making out earlier, and you feel warmth wrap around you. You also feel safe with him, but that’s not exclusively related to him kissing you, so you don’t feel the need to mention it.

“Then I can’t be your boyfriend,” he mutters when you part.

“So friends… with benefits then?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, great,” you say, letting yourself fall onto your back, sinking into the mattress. “I can’t go around telling my friends that I’m seeing a fuckbuddy.” Your friend giggles beside you.

“I mean you don’t have to,” he says. “If it’s easier to explain, you can just pretend you’re seeing a boyfriend. I don’t mind.”

“I wonder…” you mumble, more to yourself than to him. “Then they’ll want to meet you, so… anyway.” You sit up, letting your feet dangle off the side of the bed. “I’m kinda hungry. You wanna order something?”

“I’ll make us some ramen. But we should shower first.” He sits up as well, and when you throw him a look over your shoulder, he cocks his head to the side, giving you another grin. “Together?” You laugh at his suggestion.

“You just want another round in there, don’t you? We’re never gonna get food in that case. I’m going alone.”

“Awww…” he whines in defeat and it makes you smile. You crawl closer to him, placing a peck onto his pouting lips.

“We kiss an awful lot for fuckbuddies, though,” you remark, and then you get up.

“I don’t think we’re kissing nearly enough…” he mumbles an answer. Amused by his words, you shoot him another glance, and then you trot off to the bathroom. 

“You free Friday night?” You glance at your phone screen when it lights up to quickly read Donghyuck’s message that you just received, and as you let out a sigh, you return your focus to the notebook in front of you. Skimming through your handwritten notes from the lecture you visited every wednesday afternoon a year ago still gives you anxiety - you’re not sure what more you’re supposed to study than this and the materials displayed on your laptop screen, and yet you don’t feel nearly prepared enough. You’re in your last semester - or at least you’re planning for this to be the last one - and you finally forced yourself to register for the exam you keep postponing because you horribly failed it the first time. The worst part is that it’s an oral exam, so no turning back once you’ve answered (or not answered) a question, even if a better response comes to you later on during the exam. And you hate that, because you know your brain tends to black out in stressful situations, and panicking while you’re supposed to recite your knowledge on a complicated topic doesn’t exactly help with that. You tear your eyes away from the materials eventually, taking another sip of your coffee and then picking up your phone off the small round dinner table in your flat.

“Sorry, I don’t have time then ㅠㅠ” You press send, and it doesn’t take long for your friend to reply.

“On the weekend? I’m busy Saturday but Sunday is fine!!”

“I don’t think I can make time until Tuesday. Sorry. Difficult exam coming up…”

“Then you should take a break!! I’m sure you’ve been studying all day” He’s not wrong with his assumption, but still you can’t bring yourself to set aside a few hours to fool around with him. You wouldn’t be able to relax and truly get the exam off your mind anyway, so you refuse again, even if it hurts you.

It’s been like this for a while now. The last time you’ve seen Donghyuck’s face was almost three weeks ago - after that university and sending job applications have taken up all your free time, and the few hours you had in between to rest you simply spent alone in the comfort of your own apartment, feeling too exhausted to even consider making plans with someone else. You know it might do you good to get out more for other things than going to uni, but at the same time you know you simply don’t have the energy right now - or you would’ve already scheduled a meetup with friends. It sucks, and you’re hoping for some space to breathe in between your schedules sometime soon, but at the same time you know you will be busy with uni until your graduation, and from then on you’ll be busy getting accustomed to work and proving yourself there. And the more you think about it, the more it starts to dawn on you that things will likely not change in the near future, and that somehow the life of a freshman and that of a senior don’t really match well at all.

But you brush those thoughts off for now. The last thing you need right now is a distraction, and so you get back to revising the contents for the exam.

And then comes Sunday afternoon, and you can feel the panic coursing through your veins as if you were about to suffocate from it any second now. You’ve always had some kind of exam anxiety, but it’s never been this bad, and you have absolutely no idea what to do with it except endure and hope that tomorrow will pass quickly. That’s when your phone buzzes to let you know you’ve gotten a message, and what you see when you open the chat room tips you over the edge. 

“This would’ve been more fun if we had watched it together~” - along with a picture of a laptop screen showing the credits of a movie, the interior of Donghyuck’s flat showing in the background. Your hands are shaking as you read his message, your head spinning because suddenly the stress and a feeling of helplessness overwhelms you. You end up doing the first thing that comes to mind - you call him. He picks up after the first ring.

“Jealous?” he teases you, and you stay quiet, your words suddenly stuck in your throat. Hearing only your ragged breathing, he sounds serious when he continues talking after a few moments of silence. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

“What’s up? Wanna talk about it?”

“...the exam…”

“Ahh… you’re freaking out because of it?”

“Y-yeah…” Tears well up in your eyes, but you fight hard to keep them from falling. You know if you start crying now, chances are you won’t be able to talk properly in order to explain yourself to him. “I studied everything but I don’t feel like it’s enough… I have no idea how I’m supposed to pass tomorrow…” A sob escapes you at the end of it, and Donghyuck doesn’t hesitate to answer,

“I’ll come over. Just wait for me and hold tight, I’ll be there in 30.” 

And so that’s what he does. He doesn’t even give you the time to refuse when he hangs up, and sure enough roughly 30 minutes later he’s at your doorstep. Putting down his bags and taking off his shoes, the first thing he does is pull you into a tight hug.

“Come here,” whispered against the side of your head as he’s already holding you close, he hugs you until he can feel some of the tension leaving your body. When he finally lets you go, he picks up a paper bag he brought with him, holding it out to you and you take it from him. “I bought them on the way. I thought you could use some comfort food.” A glance inside the bag reveals a box decorated with the logo of your favourite bakery.

“Oh my god… thank you!” you exclaim, and you give him another hug as he lets out a bit of an awkward laugh.

“Ah, it’s fine, it’s nothing. Let’s have these while we go over your materials together, okay?”

“Huh?” You take a step back and raise your eyebrows at him.

“I came to help you study. So you can kick ass tomorrow!” Throwing a fist in the air in a victorious gesture, you cringe a bit at his childlike enthusiasm, but at the same time you feel thankful. Like you had been in free fall for the past days and finally someone came to catch you.

“Okay,” you accept his offer to help, and then you walk over to the small table in your living room where your laptop and your notes are scattered all over. Briefly organizing them, you skim through them together, and when you’ve reached the end of it, Donghyuck starts asking you random questions related to the topic that he can come up with. And with every question that you manage to answer, you feel just a little calmer, until you’ve gone through everything several times and it’s long dark outside.

“You’re gonna do well tomorrow,” the guy sitting next to you tells you, throwing his hand up in the air to do some stretching and you do the same, your body aching for a bit of movement after sitting down for hours. 

“You think so?”

“Of course!” He seems almost offended at you doubting yourself now. “Look at all these things you memorized perfectly! You’re gonna be just fine.”

“You’re right…” you mutter. “I do feel more confident now.” Yet, you let your head hang.

“But…?” he asks.

“But… I know by the time the exam starts tomorrow I’ll be so nervous, I might forget everything…” He reaches for your hands, taking them into his and giving both of them a gentle squeeze as he looks intently at your face.

“Then you think about how well you just did and how long we just spent repeating everything you studied. With this much preparation, there’s no way you would fail.” You know that realistically speaking, that’s not necessarily true, but you decide to believe him for now. Putting trust into his words puts you at ease, so that’s what you’re going to do.

“Alright,” you say. “It’ll be fine.”

“Of course it will,” he says, laughing as if he had not a single doubt about it.

“But…”

“Another but?”

“It’s almost 2am,” you say.

“Oh.”

“Wanna stay over? It takes you ages to get home if you have to take the night buses, right?”

“It’s fine, I’ll just take a taxi,” he replies, adding, “I don’t wanna stress you out more by staying over.”

“No, I-” All the times you felt yourself forced to turn down his invitations to meet up during the past few weeks are suddenly fresh in your memory, and eventually you manage to say, “I’d actually be thankful if you could stay over… you know… keep the bad thoughts away…”

“Sure…” he responds, and growing very quiet suddenly, he gets up to wrap you into another hug. “I’ll stay.”

You each take a shower and get ready for bed, him throwing on some of his clothes you had lying around at your place anyway, and when you get under the sheets together, it feels different than usually when you sleep in the same bed. Neither of you has any thoughts about having sex for a change, and instead he simply pulls you close to let you rest your head on top of his chest. You wrap an arm around his waist as you listen to his heartbeat, already feeling sleepiness overcome you as you snuggle up to him and you can feel him drawing mindless patterns onto your skin. You feel a sense of peace and safety washing over you when your eyelids simply fall shut, and as you fall asleep you almost don’t register the way he presses a soft kiss onto your forehead.

When you open the email telling you that you got a C on your exam, the first thing you can think of doing is letting Donghyuck know. 

“I passed!!!” You send him a message, and he surely doesn’t let you wait too long for an answer, along with a little sticker of a bear wearing a gold medal and giving a thumbs up.

“I told you so!!”

“It’s all thanks to you,” you write. “We need to go celebrate! Drinks on me.”

“Sounds good~”

With a broad smile on your face you put your phone into the pocket of your padded jacket. It has become cold outside, and there’s a thin layer of snow on the streets from last night. It’s the beginning of December, and before Christmas and new years you’re still going to be very busy. You have two job interviews coming up, have to prepare for your final exams and in between you should find some time to work on your dissertation. Still somehow you’re confident that you would easily be able to find a date where you can go out for your little celebration with your friend, but when you run into him on campus a week later, reality hits you right in the face.

“Y/N!” Donghyuck calls out to you as he spots you among a bunch of other students, and you fall behind to briefly talk to him.

“Oh, hi,” you say, not having seen him at all.

“You still didn’t reply to my messages,” he remarks and you immediately pull out your phone, indeed finding that you’ve left him on read two days ago.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you apologize as you remember that you clearly had the intent to respond to him, but then very obviously failed to do so. “Ah, if we can meet… today?” 

“Yesterday,” he corrects you. “But I guess that didn’t happen…” You can unmistakably see the disappointment in his expression, even though he’s doing his utmost to hide it, and you furrow your brows at the sight in front of you. 

“I’m sorry… I must’ve forgotten to reply while studying or something,” you say, unable to look him in the face. “You know, finals coming up.”

“Yeah… I’m studying a lot too these days,” he says, quickly adding, “But I guess as a senior it’s only natural that you’re even busier than I am.” His words sting for some reason, but it’s not like he’s wrong. Truth be told, you’ve been studying every free minute for the past few days, and in between you had a job interview that you don’t have the best of gut feelings about. You were so busy that you barely manage to have three meals a day, and yet you feel guilty about not being able to make time for him.

“I’m really sorry, Hyuck…” you say and he mutters an “it’s okay” as an answer. “But it’s not, is it?” To that he merely glances to the side, showing a sorry smile. And right then you have an idea. “You know what?” As you reach out to take his hand into yours, he raises his eyebrows at you, taken by surprise by your sudden action. “Let’s set a date right now. Then we don’t have to worry about me forgetting to reply or something.” 

“But… that won’t change the fact that you’re super busy���” he reasons, but you cut him off.

“It’s fine, I should be able to spare at least a few hours,” you say, opening your calendar app on your phone and scrolling through the days until exam week starts. “How about next Friday? Friday night sounds like a good time for a little study break and having a celebration instead.”

“S-sure.” You barely notice how he’s atypically dumbfounded at your enthusiasm, only focusing on the fact that you finally found a date to see each other again.

“Great! My place or yours?” you ask, already typing it into your phone.

“Mine… you wanna bring the drinks? Then I’ll take care of the food,” he offers, now taking his phone out as well, probably to put the meet up into his calendar as well.

“Sounds good,” you say in a rush. “Then I’ll see you Friday! Sorry, but… I really have to go now. I was gonna study some more at the library - you coming too?”

“Ah, no, I… have class in half an hour,” he explains briefly, and as you wave your goodbyes and you’re already running off, you fail to notice how his shoulders are suddenly slouched over and there’s a hint of disappointment in the way he looks at you as you’re walking away.

You sigh as you stare at the email you just received, and you immediately regret even checking your mailbox in the middle of studying in the first place. You got rejected for the last job you applied to - but at least you should be thankful that they let you know about it in the first place, right? After all, the last two companies didn’t even do that much after your interview with them. You gulp, trying to swallow all the disappointment bubbling up inside and attempting to shove it back down to where it came from, and then eventually you cross your arms on the table, resting your head on top and you close your eyes for a while. Another sigh escapes you, and you feel the weight of your responsibilities lay heavily on your shoulders. You’re trying not to beat yourself up over not having found a job for after your graduation yet - you know that everyone’s struggling with finding employment these days. But you really don’t want to take on a job you’re overqualified for, or one that’s not in your field of studies at all. You’ve already made too many compromises because of this, like being willing to move to another city for your job, or expanding on what type of positions you’re applying to. And still, nothing. It’s starting to get to you, even though you hate that it is, and even though you had told yourself to focus on your exams and your dissertation first and foremost. But all of these things stacked on top of each other have led you to lose your spark a bit, and there’s no denying you’re starting to feel burnt out. 

You tell yourself it’s fine, it will pass and eventually your life will get less stressful again. But for now you can feel that you’re at your limit, and you could really use some comfort.

“Right,” you mutter to yourself, lifting your head and looking at the date displayed in the bottom corner of your laptop screen. “Only a few hours to go. Then I can see him.” It’s Friday afternoon, and so you take a deep breath and bring yourself to study some more, before you can finally go to Donghyuck’s place, spending a full evening not having to think about any of this. Burying your head in your books and your lecture notes, you end up not realizing how fast the time is passing, and next time you check the clock, it’s already past 7. 

“Oh god…” you quickly pick up your phone, seeing that your friend already sent you a message asking where you are. You were scheduled to be at his place at 7, but somehow you completely lost track of time.

“I’m so sory I didn’t realize hwo late is is. Ill hurry!!” You type up that message as quickly as possible, ignoring the typos as you send it, and then you jump out of your seat to get ready. 

It’s almost 8pm when he opens the door for you and you apologize first thing as you hand him the tote bag with the alcohol you had promised to bring.

“Ah, but you thought of the important stuff,” he says with a forced smile, trying to brighten the mood a bit before he invites you in and you kick off your shoes and take off your coat to follow him inside.

“I’m really really sorry,” you say once again when you’ve made yourself comfortable on his couch. “I was studying and suddenly it was already this late…”

“It’s okay,” Donghyuck says as he carries over two glasses from the kitchen, handing you one of them. “We’re both busy, it’s not like I don’t understand.”

“But you’re upset.”

“A little,” he admits without looking you in the eyes, and when he continues talking, he does his best to sound cheerful. “But let’s not let that ruin the entire evening. We were both looking forward to today, right?”

“Yeah,” you say. “You won’t believe how glad I am to finally be here,” you add, and you feel the way your body relaxes just by being near him. You earn yourself a bright smile for that comment, before he lifts up the glass in his hand.

“I found the recipe for this a few days ago and wanted to try it,” he says. “I thought it’s your style.” You find a few ice cubes swimming in the beverage he handed you, along with a slice of lemon. The color is a dark shade of yellow at the bottom, and completely transparent at the top, and you nod at the presentation.

“It looks good,” you say. “I’ll try it. Cheers!” Each taking a sip, you agree that you like the taste, and the guy sitting next to you on his sofa explains,

“The recipe says you should put a bit of mint in as well, but… I didn’t have any.”

“I think it’s good the way it is… but, I’m starving. Let’s order food?”

“Me too,” he answers, getting out his phone. 

You order takeout, and while you eat and drink, you watch a movie that you’ve both been wanting to see for some time. You end up chatting here and there during less interesting scenes, and even though you enjoy the movie overall, you enjoy talking to him more. Eventually, as your eyelids begin to feel heavy, you rest your head on his shoulder and he lets you, and you don’t think anything of the peaceful smile he gives you upon feeling you so close to him. He puts one of his hands on top of your thigh, mindlessly rubbing his palm up and down, and by the end of the movie you can’t deny anymore that his actions are affecting you. Credits still rolling, you turn your head to face him, and wordlessly you kiss him, his lips melting against yours. You part for a mere second in which you put your hand behind his neck, and as you let yourself fall against the backrest of his sofa, he hovers above you, distance closing again. 

“Hyuck…” you breathe his name when you part the next time. “Need you…”

“Let’s go somewhere more comfortable,” he mutters into a sweet kiss, and then he gets up, taking you by your hands to pull you up along with him. As soon as you step into the bedroom you pull him in for another kiss, and you stumble backwards as he steers you towards his bed. He barely lets you lie down when he’s already on top of you, kissing you more deeply. Tongue running across your lip to ask for permission to enter, you allow it without hesitation, and you moan at the way he kisses you slowly but passionately. 

“I’ll take care of you,” he says after parting, “just lean back, okay?”

“Okay…” you answer and he lets his fingertips wander down your clothed body. Undoing the button of your jeans, he unhurriedly slips his hand inside them, and he watches you intently as his fingertips brush against your soaked panties, his voice sultry as he teases you, “So wet already… I didn’t know you were that desperate for me…” Before letting you answer, he leans in to place a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth, starting to rub up and down between your folds slowly.

“I thought I’d go crazy without this…” you confess, arms wrapped around him and one hand up in his hair. You play with his locks as he teases you, and you whine, “More, please… don’t make me wait even longer…”

“What do you want, baby?” he asks, and then he buries his face in your neck, leaving kisses there as you throw your head back.

“Anything… even if it’s just your fingers, please just get me off…” you beg, only now realizing just how desperate you really are. Donghyuck gulps at your words, and he kisses his way up to your jaw and along it, until his lips are hovering right above yours.

“Tell me how badly you need me…” he mutters, pushing the fabric of your underwear aside so he could touch you directly. “I wanna hear everything.” As he starts rubbing small circles on your clit his lips go back to tending to your neck, kissing and nipping on the sensitive skin and making it that much more difficult for you to form coherent sentences. Still you can’t but do as told.

“So bad… need you so bad,” you mewl. “I tried to get off so many times, but nothing feels as good as when you touch me…” He hums at your words, granting you a finger dipping inside your pussy for just a moment in return and gasping at just how wet you are.

“I’ll make up for it,” he says. “I’ll make you cum so good.” You whimper, and then you instinctively buck your hips as his finger ghosts above your entrance. You hear him curse through gritted teeth at how needy you’re becoming, and blood rushes to your head from the thought alone that your state could turn him on so much as well.

“Please… just give me your fingers…” you whine, and to your surprise Donghyuck doesn’t drag out his teasing for longer. And so you cry out when he pushes inside, pumping in and out of you while watching your every reaction to his touch. “Fuck…” you hiss, already seeing your high approaching from far away. “I’m not gonna last long…”

“It’s okay,” he coos over you. “Wanna feel you cum around my fingers… can you take another one?”

“Y-yes… yes please…” you say mindlessly, only being able to think about how you want to feel him more. The stretch is bearable when he pushes into you with three fingers, and when he presses his thumb against your bundle of nerves, fingering you skillfully, you think you’re about to lose your mind. “Fuck… yes… don’t stop, please…” you mewl as he slowly picks up speed until he can see the bliss on your facial features. At this point all you can do is moan his name and dig your nails into his shoulder blades as you cling to him, bucking your hips in chase of your orgasm. 

“Shit, you’re so pretty…” you hear him mutter under his breath as he marvels at the sight in front of him, and next thing you know your whole body is shaken by the force of your high. You whine as he fucks you through it, right until your last aftershocks, and then you simply close your eyes as you lay back on his bed, feeling the exhaustion from the past weeks taking over you. Licking his fingers clean after pulling out of you, he then captures your chin between his thumb and index finger to make you look at him.

“What do you want me to do next?” he asks, his words sounding maybe even sweeter than usual to your ears, and you blame it on the way your mind is still in a haze from your orgasm. You think about it for a short while, and in the end you simply snuggle up to him closely.

“Let’s just… stay like this for a while,” you answer. “If that’s okay with you… I think I just need to be close to you.”

“Sure…” Donghyuck mutters, a bit taken aback by your response that must’ve come very unexpectedly to him. However, he doesn’t hesitate to put an arm around your frame, making you feel safe in a warm embrace. “That good?” he asks, and when you nod he presses his lips against your forehead, lingering there for a while.

You don’t move, not knowing how much time is passing while you’re merely listening to the other’s breathing and enjoying each other’s warmth. At that moment, you wish you could stay like this forever, but as you close your eyes and begin to relax, all your thoughts from the past weeks about your situation with him catch up to you one by one. Deep inside you know it can’t stay like this. And the longer you’re dragging this out, the more clearly you can see just how unfair this is on him. And so eventually, you don’t see any other plausible course of action to take next than to start talking.

“Thank you… for being by my side,” you mutter. Your hand having found its way into his, you’re playing with his fingers, eyes focused on that. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you lately… really.”

“Of course!” he responds, moving back a bit to get a proper look at your face. “You know I’d do anything for you.” You chuckle at his exaggerated words, letting go of his hand and ruffling his hair instead.

“I’m glad to have met you again,” you continue. “But… I’ve been thinking, you know? And I don’t think we can go on like this.”

“What…?”

“Just… I’m only gonna get busier, you know…?” The exact moment that he sits up, his comforting touch being torn away from you as he stares at you with disbelief on his face, you inevitably begin to feel like you fucked up. But you started this now, and there’s no way you could dig yourself back out of this mess, so you decide it’d be for the best to just see it through and be honest with him. “You know that I could never pay you back all that you’ve done for me… Hyuck.” You call out his name, but he barely even reacts with nothing but a blank expression in his eyes. You could’ve sworn you’ve never seen him this pale. “I’m gonna graduate, Hyuck. You’ll still be a student when I start working. Hell, I might have to move somewhere completely different if I don’t find a job in this city soon. And once I do find employment, I’m gonna have to work my ass off to prove my worth. I won’t have time to fool around like this anymore…”

“Fool… around…?” he repeats, speaking slowly, as his expression suddenly reflects a hundred complicated feelings. “Fool around… was all this is to you?”

“I mean… we’re friends too, obviously-”

“Y/N,” he cuts you off, and the way he says your name stabs you like a knife. “I have feelings too, you know. You can’t just…” A bitter laugh escapes him. “You’re going to tell me that it’s better if we didn’t see each other anymore, aren’t you?”

“No!” you immediately refute. “I mean-... look, we can stay friends, but I don’t know how much we’ll actually be able to see each other-”

“Friends?” he repeats in utter disbelief. “You don’t realize it, do you?”

“Realize what-”

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. I love you.”

“What…?” That is all you manage to reply to his confession. You really did never notice it, and so this comes as a shock to you. You realize that maybe him saying he’d do anything for you wasn’t an exaggeration at all, but you didn’t think he’d keep this fuckbuddy thing up if he had feelings for you all along. As if he had read your mind, he says,

“I’m sorry… I-... I didn’t want to tell you like this…” he speaks, his head hanging low now. “Not when I know you have a thousand other things to worry about, but… I just couldn’t… you said all these hurtful things. I don’t think you know how much hearing all that just now hurts.”

“I-,” you begin, but you don’t know what to say. You stare at him in utter disbelief for a moment, and then all of a sudden, from one second to the other, you feel like you’re going to suffocate if you don’t get out of here as fast as possible. “I… I can’t do this right now.” You get up off the bed and zip up your jeans. Your head is in chaos and your emotions are all jumbled up, but the one thing you can clearly feel is the anger burning in your veins. You truly are upset that he dropped such a bomb on you just before exams start and you need a clear head more than anything. “I’m going home… sorry,” you mutter under your breath, and without another look back at the guy who can’t do anything but watch as you’re slipping out of his grasp once again, you walk out of the door.

“Good luck for your exams” You let out a sigh as you finally delete the notification of the message Donghyuck sent you four days ago as you’re on your way to uni for your last exam. It’s Friday noon and you can’t wait for all of this to be over, the beginning of winter break feeling like you’re finally about to reach the safe shore after you’ve been almost drowning for weeks. 

You didn’t talk to Donghyuck for the entirety of the week - of course, or you would’ve long answered his message that he sent you on Monday. But you couldn’t bring yourself to, you didn’t even dare open the chatroom. Instead, you had focused on the necessities to get you through this week: sleep, eat, revise everything you studied, be on time for your exams, rinse and repeat. And now that it’s already the last day of this nightmare, you can’t wait to simply crash into bed once you arrive home tonight. 

It’s true that you’ve been feeling the relief after every single exam you finished, like some of the weight was taken off your shoulder with each time you walk out of a lecture hall. And yet you still feel the tiredness in your bones, but there’s something else tugging at your limbs and trying to make you stop running from one task to the other. However, you don’t let it. Too big is the fear of what you might find if you do stop and have a look, so you force all thoughts out of your mind that have nothing to do with your exams. And today as well your mind is empty when you take your seat and you’re handed the paper you’re supposed to fill out during the next one and a half hours, trusting your memory and your ability to recall the correct answers you have studied to each question.

As you’re leaving the lecture hall, finally done with the last one of your exams, somebody calls out to you. You turn your head to find one of your friends catching up with you, greeting you with a lively expression on her face.

“We’re finally done,” she says. “Now we only need to wait for our final paper to be graded and then we’re free!”

“Yeah,” you respond, trying to sound cheerful but inevitably failing. You’re just tired at this point, and no matter how relieved you are that exams are over, you can’t bring yourself to be happy.

“What’s with you?” your friend asks, concern in her voice. “Do you have to redo one of your exams?”

“No, no, it’s nothing,” you assure her, but she doesn’t buy it. 

“There’s something up with you. Did studying take that much out of you?”

“I guess,” you reply as you walk down the hallway with her, but then you hesitate. “Actually… nevermind.”

“Hm? Y/N, what is it? You’re being really weird.” She steps in front of you, making you halt on the spot, but eventually she keeps walking. “It’s okay, I shouldn’t pressure you to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“...it’s about a friend,” you admit finally.

“A friend?” she repeats. “Did something happen to them?”

“No, just… we just haven’t seen each other much lately, and… yeah.” You lower your head and she steps closer.

“That must be a very good friend if you miss them so much,” she states, matter of factly, and that’s when you feel a stab right to your heart, putting you in physical pain.

“Right…” you mutter. Without you realizing, Donghyuck’s presence has painted your ordinary days in a color of hope, wrapping you in a feeling of safety whenever you’re with him and making you become way too comfortable around him. And now that it’s come this far, you don’t know how you’re supposed to scratch off all that paint anymore. The thought alone makes you feel sick to the stomach - you shouldn’t have been such an idiot. You knew where this would lead, and that you wouldn’t have the time to fool around with him anymore once you’ve graduated. A feeling of deep regret overcomes you. 

You shouldn’t have said yes when he suggested leaving your class reunion together.

When you get home that day, you finally let yourself feel the full consequences of the past weeks filled with stress and you crash into your bed immediately. You haven’t planned to go to sleep this early, but at some point you simply find yourself drifting off, and the next time you open your eyes it’s Saturday morning. 

Your body aches as you force yourself to get out of bed, and when you open the curtains and the sunlight blinds your eyes, you curse existence itself. You trod over to the bathroom, wash your face, and after finding yourself unable to look at your reflection in the mirror, you return to your little kitchen to get yourself a simple breakfast. Finishing it while scrolling through social media on your phone, you then get yourself back to your bed, plummeting down on it and grabbing one of the books stacked atop your bedside table that you never found the time to finish while uni has kept you occupied. You open it on the page you had left off weeks ago, and after fighting your way through roughly two and a half paragraphs, you give up and you put the book back to where it’s been resting untouched until now. Your mind just won’t let you focus on this now, so you pick your heavy body up off the comfortable sheets and decide to take a shower first of all.

Things continue like this for the next few days. Even though exams are finally over, you just can’t find it in you to rest properly. Neither going out to have fun nor staying at home and having some quality alone time sound appealing to you, and soon enough you figure out why. No matter what you do or where you are, there’s this constant pain in your chest dragging you down, because time and time again you find yourself impulsively wanting to tell Donghyuck about your day, or even just sending him a funny meme you found on instagram. But you can’t. In a way this reminds you of five years ago, when you started spending less and less time together in high school and then eventually broke up with each other. You recall finding yourself in situations like this back when you started college as well, wanting to tell him about something fun or exciting that happened but feeling unable to, because it’s already been months since you had last talked. However, there’s one significant difference between then and now. 

Then, you merely found it a shame that you couldn’t freely text him or talk to him anymore. But you had moved on, finding new friends to talk to about those same things. Now, it’s like someone had torn a chunk of yourself out of your chest, and you’re slowly bleeding out as your nervous system prevents you from doing anything at all, signaling you that there must be a more urgent matter to take care of first. And only once you come to understand that this matter has to do with nothing other than Donghyuck himself, that’s when something finally connects in your mind. Your days have been painted with his colors, but maybe you’re not supposed to get rid of all that paint. Maybe you’re simply supposed to embrace it, because after all those years he’s become someone who’s just right for you. And maybe he’s become someone you can even come to love.

No, he’s already someone you love, you just never realized it.

Without thinking, you open your chatroom with Donghyuck, his last message still unanswered, and you start typing.

“I need to see you.”

“Now.”

You stand on his doorstep, taking a deep breath. Donghyuck had texted you back eventually, offering to meet at his place, so that’s where you are now, nervous to ring the doorbell. It was you who suddenly decided to come see him, so why are you so hesitant?

Another deep breath, exhaled shakily, and you reach out to press the bell button. Maybe 10 seconds later, the door opens, and when Donghyuck mutters a greeting with a distant expression in his eyes, it’s like a slap to your face.

“Come in, I guess,” he says as he’s already turning around, and you do as told. Taking your shoes off, you follow him a few steps inside, and shooting you a cold look, he asks, “What do you need to talk about?”

You’ve never seen him like this. Even when you broke up at the end of high school there wasn’t such a dark expression on his face. At that moment you have no idea how to shake off the guilt anymore, and so all you can do is let the words burst out of you.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry for doing this to you.” He watches you with a look over his shoulder and you let your head hang, hoping he isn’t aware of the way tears are welling up in your eyes. “I can’t imagine how much I must’ve hurt you.” You add those words through gritted teeth, afraid of a sob suddenly making its way past your lips if you’re not careful.

“Then why are you the one crying?” he asks, staying surprisingly calm.

“B-because…” You gulp, and figuring that it’s too late anyway, you lift your chin to look at him and you use the sleeves of your shirt to wipe the tears from your eyes. “Because I’m an idiot. And I don’t want to see the person I love suffer.”

“Y/N…” he breathes your name before turning around fully to face you. He steps closer, but still keeps a good distance between you two. “You rejected me only a few days ago…”

“I know.” Your words are merely a whisper now. “Because I was scared… the future seems so overwhelming that I kept thinking I don’t have space for something like this. But… that doesn’t mean… that I didn’t still fall in love with you.” Silence follows, the only sound disrupting it being the soft sigh Donghyuck lets out before he finally closes the distance between you.

“Can I… hold you?” You nod at his question and you let him come closer, until you find yourself safely wrapped into his embrace, his warm breath tickling your neck as he buries his face there. 

“I’m so sorry for how I acted… you must really hate me now…” you mutter, and you’re almost startled when your friend lets out a laugh as he’s holding you.

“Yes, because I always go around hugging my enemies like this,” he says with a tired yet cheeky grin on his lips, and seeing that expression on his face suddenly washes all your worries away.

“Right…”

“It’s okay, Y/N… I know you had a rough time. I shouldn’t have confessed to you so suddenly either,” he apologizes, but you immediately shake your head, vigorously.

“No, don’t say sorry! I… I kind of get it… that it had to get out,” you say. “Especially after I said all those hurtful things to you.” He brings one hand up to your cheek, brushing his knuckles against the skin there and as his eyes scan your facial features you can unmistakably see how much he adores you. It makes your heart soar, and you part your lips as your gaze falls to his mouth.

“Y/N,” he calls out to you. “Does that mean… I can ask you to be my girlfriend now?”

“Sure…” you mumble, the urge to feel his lips on yours clouding your mind. “And when I’m your girlfriend… can you kiss me then?”

“Of course,” he chuckles, and he takes a tiny step away from you so he could take your hands into his, intertwining your fingers. “Y/N, would you be my girlfriend?” You can’t suppress the smile that creeps onto your face as you listen to his question, and you nod.

“Yes, please,” you answer. “Let me be your girlfriend.” And then he kisses you, slowly and carefully, and this time you aren’t confused on what those feelings he’s pouring into this kiss are. This time you know that it’s all the love he has for you, and you let it wrap you into a veil of warmth and comfort, feeling safe with him.

“I love you,” you mutter in between kisses, and eventually your hands find their way up into his hair. You kiss him back as you comb through it, and when you hear him whisper those same words back at you in between kisses, you once again can’t control the smile on your lips. You part to look at each other, finding an unmistakable desire for more behind his gaze, and so you begin moving as you connect your lips to his again.

"I'm sorry..." you mutter in between kisses, as you're steering him towards the bedroom, and he lets out a sigh against your lips in response. "I want to make it up to you."

"You don't have to," Donghyuck mutters with his hands on your waist, and you reach the bed, positioning yourselves so you could have him sit with one swift push against his chest. Crawling on top of him as he merely looks up at you, eyes half-lidded and lips slightly parted while he awaits your next kiss, he's already completely drunk on you.

"Then see it as me taking care of you?" you whisper, reconnecting your lips to his. Your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and him having his hands securely placed on your sides for stability, you merely keep kissing like that. Unhurriedly, because now you both know there's nothing rushing you anymore, nothing that would tear you apart.

"I love you." He mutters those words as you part, and when you open your eyes you can see him already nervously peeking up at you. You can't help but smile endearingly, cupping his cheek with one hand before you lean in for another sweet kiss to his reddened lips.

"I love you too, Hyuck," you say just when you pull back, and you let your fingertips wander down his upper body. Watching his face closely for his reactions, you pull his shirt off him, tossing it to the floor, and then you add, "Lie down for me, baby. I'll make you feel good." It comes as a surprise even to you to see him obey so quickly, and you let your palm glide down the bare skin on his chest and abdomen as he lies back. And then, when you reach for his wrists to pin them against the bed right next to his head, you can see a slight but still apparent blush creeping onto his cheeks, and he lets out a sound that's somewhere between a groan and a quiet whine.

"Fuck, you make me go crazy," you mutter as you press another kiss to his puffy lips, and when you sink your teeth into his bottom lip he moans into your mouth, the act alone sending heatwaves through your body. You instinctively roll your hips on top of his, earning yourself another small mewl from him, and then you trail kisses from the corner of his mouth to his throat. He leans his head back to give you better access, brows furrowed as he sighs in contentment. Forming his hands into fists, he digs his nails into his palms and whines some more as you continue grinding down on him, and the way you feel him grow underneath you turns you on as well. And then eventually you let go of his wrists to work your way down, peppering kisses all over his chest as he immediately throws his arms around your body, holding onto you tightly. 

"Hyuck..." you call out his name as you sit up briefly, and then you continue trailing nips and kisses down his body. "Let me hear you." He curses as your hand ghosts above his core, watching you with an expectant gaze in his eyes. You pull down the sweatpants he's wearing, and then his underwear, both just enough so his hard length is exposed. You wrap your fingers around him, and you kneel above him now, one of his thighs positioned between your legs, so you could get a good look at his face as you start to slowly jerk him off. 

"Look at me," you demand, and he does, the blush returning to his cheeks.

"Faster..." he mutters, barely audible, and you teasingly ask him to repeat himself. "Faster, please..." he begs through gritted teeth, and when you tighten your grip on his shaft just a little bit, he responds with a moan. "Can't take it..."

"Are you gonna let me hear more of those pretty moans?" you question, lips quivering in anticipation.

"Y-yes..." You don't know if your mind is tricking you or if his blush is growing just a bit darker as he answers, but either way you begin to move your hand faster, having him whining underneath you as he throws his head back. You watch with your lips slightly parted, and it's not like you've never seen him like this before, but there's just something about the way he gives himself up to pleasure when you have him in this kind of position that always gets you going. You move your hips in tune with the speed at which you get him off, grinding your clothed core down on his thigh, and he pushes his leg up just a bit to give you more friction.

"Shit..." you hiss, pleasure clouding your mind, and Donghyuck reaches down to wrap his fingers around your hand, guiding you into a faster pace. You collect the precum leaking his tip and use it as lube to glide down his length more smoothly, and as you can see on his face that he's about to lose himself to the sensation, you mutter a warning, "Don't cum yet."

"But-" he whines, and you take your hand away just before he can reach his high. "Y/N..." he desperately whines your name and you lean in to press a soothing kiss somewhere onto his chest, and then another one against his cheek.

"I wanna have you cumming inside me," you whisper, and when you sit back up you quickly rid yourself of all your clothes, in the end helping him out of his pants as well. You crawl on top of him, your hands placed on his shoulders for support, and you let out a curse as you roll your hips against him, his tip rubbing against your folds. And once again he whines, pressing his eyes tightly shut and digging his nails into your hips. 

"Just fuck me already..." he breathes, but you have other plans.

"Be good and I will, baby," you coo as you repeat your motion without letting him slip inside you. He begins to squirm underneath you, visibly fighting to suppress his orgasm, and you swear you could cum from the sight alone. "Fuck... you're so fucking hot like that, Hyuck..." you mutter through gritted teeth, his repeated whines sounding like music to your ears.

"C-can't... hold back..." And once again you stop the stimulation just as he's about to cum, and with a frustrated groan he throws his head back into the mattress, dragging his nails down your skin. You reach for his hands, and as you intertwine your fingers you pin them above his head, and you can't but coo over the desperate look he gives you, and the way his cheeks are reddening again.

"You gonna cum right when I take you in, aren't you?" you ask, smirking at him after pressing a kiss to his forehead. "So desperate for my pussy..." And he can't do anything but whine at your words, because you both know you're right, and him denying it would just make him look stupid. "Then cum for me, baby," you mutter against his lips as you seal them with yours, running your tongue along his mouth to deepen the kiss. You sink down on him, taking in his size with ease, and the second you start rolling your hips he releases inside you as he moans into your mouth. Heat rushes through your veins when you part and you sit up, letting go of his wrists and combing the fingers of one hand through his disheveled hair instead. 

"Didn't think you really would cum the instant you're inside me," you mock him, earning yourself another whine from him. "And I bet you're also gonna be hard again in no time if I keep this up," you mumble, rolling your hips on top of him slowly. "Such a sucker for when I'm in control, huh?"

"Yeah..." he breathes out, and you unexpectedly feel your heart swell at his answer. Usually he'd be fighting back by now, trying to battle you for dominance or at least being bratty, but today you really just have him at your mercy unconditionally.

"Is it because I finally said that I love you?" you conclude, as if he had heard your thought process.

"Huh?" You run your fingers through his hair again, and then you lean in for another deep kiss.

"Do you like it that much when I play with you like this, or are you being good because you're scared I'll leave if you're not perfect for me?" Donghyuck stares at you for a while as you sit back up, the blush on his cheeks fading, and when he finally reaches out to you to press your body against his for a tight embrace, he answers,

"No, I trust you. And I kinda like it when you sometimes use me." A storm of emotions washing over you, you bring some distance between you and him slowly, and after mustering his genuine expression for a while, you reach for his hands once again.

"Don't touch me," you order as you put them back into their place above his head. "And don't cum until I tell you to. If you wanna be my little toy you gotta be good, alright?"

"Alright." He gulps, taking you in as you're sitting on top of him, starting to ride him with one hand sliding down your body, fingertips reaching your core to give yourself some extra stimulation. Eyes dripping with honey, he keeps his hands in place, and the more you can feel him growing inside you, the more you can also see him struggling to keep his composure.

"Fuck, you're so sexy," he mutters eventually, and you hum a praise to signal him to keep going. "Feels so good... wanna be good for you..."

"That's right..." you mutter, your eyelids fluttering shut as you bounce on top of him, rubbing circles onto your clit. You position yourself so that everytime you sink down on him his tip would graze that perfect spot inside you, and along with listening to his words and the way his voice starts shaking from the pleasure has you seeing stars soon enough.

"U-use me, please... wanna feel you cum on my cock..." he sputters, and you moan at his pleas.

"Doing so well for me, baby... shit, nobody could ever make me feel as good as you..." He whines desperately as you keep your pace slow, in hopes of bringing him as close as possible to the edge as you're racing towards your own high. "Hyuck..." you mutter his name, your voice trembling. "Cum with me." Another moan falling from his lips and you feel yourself shaken by your orgasm, clenching around him as he spills inside you a second time. 

"Shit..." With a curse you collapse on top of him, finding him wrapping his arms around you in a comforting motion, and you add, "You were amazing." He nuzzles his face into the side of your head, lips brushing against your temple, and once you've caught your breath a bit you give him a proper kiss. "I'm sorry... for trying to push you away like th-" Donghyuck puts his index finger across your lips, shutting you up in the process, and with a soft smile he shakes his head.

"Stop apologizing," he says. "It's okay now. Let's focus on the future, and how we can build it together." His hand cupping your face and his thumb brushing against your cheek make your heart skip a beat, and you simply nod.

"You're right," you respond, and you lie back down on top of him, nestling into his chest. "If we just have each other, we can make it through anything."

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Chapter Four

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, profanity, age gap, sexual tension, size difference/kink, praise kink, fingering, alcohol consumption/drunk character, mating, oral sex (both receiving), p in v, virginity loss, blood, marking/biting, let me know if i forgot anything?

Word Count: 15k (i think, i dont even know at this point)

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Guys, I'm so sorry this one took so long. I hope it's worth the wait. I tried to proofread this but the app keeps crashing and I lost my progress thrice. So forgive me for any typos and errors. I'll probably go through it with fresh eyes tomorrow and fix them. Enjoy 🤍🤍

Synopsis: Your family seeks uturu with the Metkayina in the village of Awa’atlu. You have a difficult time adjusting, and are assigned your own special teacher, Ralak.

<- Previous Next ->

“Not today, tahni. I must get you back, now.”

----

You protest, not wanting to go back to the prison with your less-than-understanding father and his two soldiers keeping an eye on your every move. You try to convince Ralak to have a conversation with your father, but he insists that won’t do anything. Jake is a man of action, and he would need to prove himself to Toruk Makto – prove that he is worthy of mating with his daughter.

To do things ‘the right way’.

All it took for you to behave was him grabbing your hand, pressing it against his warm, half-hard cock while he looks you dead in the eye.

“Tame Tsurak. And this is yours to do whatever you please with.”

“Oh?” Your lips pucker as you husk the word, brow raising in astonishment.

Of course, Ralak would turn this into a lesson of some sort, saying something along the lines of you being a fast learner and would only need a day to learn. It was laughable really – him saying that you need a week to learn the sign language of his people but less than a day to tame a skimwing.

He clicks for his swimwing, watching as it glides quickly through the water towards him. He takes a few steps back, making space for the large creature to come to a standstill. Ralak approaches it cautiously and respectfully, hand reaching behind him to grip and stroke the length of his kuru.

You’re only now just getting a good look at his kuru, it’s much longer than yours given the stature of this man. His tendrils are a deep pink, very composed and calm, much like Ralak himself. They dance slowly, sporadic movements gaining direction once they sense the kuru of the Tsurak in proximity.

“Bond carefully. Tsurak are not like ilu.” Ralak says, pupils constricting momentarily as the tendrils slowly entwine with one another, making tsaheylu with the scaley, large beast. It shivers vigorously as their breaths synchronize, two beasts becoming one. Ralak takes a sharp breath before swinging his leg over the creature, settling himself graciously on its back. “They deem if the rider is worthy.”

“Oh. I see...” You nod slowly, nerves fraying from the thought of not being worthy enough to tame one.

Ralak motions you to mount the Tsruak, patting it’s back behind him. “Come.” He holds your hand, helping you on before wrapping your arms around his waist. “Hold tight.”

With that, you’re off. The beast glides easily, and slowly through the water, never going underneath. Ralak spends the ride teaching you about the techniques to apply when bonding, mounting, and riding a skimwing. Even how to hold the harness properly, so you’re not pulled off by a water drag.

“Most important. When you dive back in, maintain a good position.” He rambles, demonstrating the diving movement with his hand, fingers pointing downwards.

You listen, but you’re focus is primarily on the way his waist feels in your arms. You savour the sensation, feelings of self-doubt making you think that this may be the last time you’ll touch Ralak in this way. You rest your face into the dip of his back, ear pressed into his skin as you listen to the thump of his heart.

The words echo in your head. “...to do whatever you please with.”

You could do this. You can do this. You’ll do it for him. For your mate.

Ralak slows to a halt a far distance away from your family marui pod, exchanging glares with your two older brothers. Though they were younger than Ralak, he still treats them as equals, respectfully signing ‘I see you’ to them both. Reluctantly, they return the gesture, maintaining their downward glare to the giant. Neteyam stands tall, chest puffed out to appear bigger, whilst Lo’ak’s arms are crossed over his chest, shifting his bodyweight from one leg to the other.

You scoff. Two idiots doing their idiot thing.

“We will meet again, my love.” You whisper, planting a kiss on his back before dismounting the creature to swim around to the mangrove roots.

“My tanhi.” He hums lowly, watching you swim away and climb up the root to the backside of the marui pod. He turns around, diving under the water to leave before your father’s arrival. Your brothers help you up, pushing you inside the pod by a hand on your back.

“You smell even worse.” Neteyam makes the snarky remark whilst grimacing, turning his head away from you.

“Yeah. He’s not joking, sis.” Lo’ak adds with a chuckle, leaning in to get a better whiff. He pulls back dramatically, letting out a loud ‘whoof’ as he turns his head away too.

“Ha-Ha.” You say, imitating the sound of a laugh. “Thanks guys.” You mutter sarcastically, although you really did owe them.

The sound of your father flipping back the flap of the marui averts your attention to the door. All three of you stand in formation, acknowledging the former marine’s presence. He walks past you, lips pursing into a thin line once your scent wafts past him.

“Jeez, y/n. Ya need to take a bath or something. Preferably before tomorrow ‘cause that’s when training with Tsireya starts.” He shifts his glare to his sons, patting them both on the back as he praises them for doing a good job watching you. Another scoff bubbles up your throat, prompting you to roll your eyes and find refuge behind your privacy curtain.

----

Swish. The sound of your privacy curtain being yanked aside, allowing slivers of the first rays of sunlight to shine against your cheek.

“Get up, kid. Time for your lesson with Tsireya.” Jake’s voice beats against your eardrums.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Never have you had a lesson this early. Nor have you had someone wake you up for one. And how many times did you have to speak to your father about privacy? That’s why you sat down for a week straight making these curtains. And by the way everyone keeps yanking and tugging at it, you’ll have to make another sooner than planned. You lift your head groggily, rubbing your right eye with the ball of your palm. Groans of irritation rumble up your throat as you roll over onto your side to ignore your father.

“Hey. Don’t make me come over there.” He jesters, hoping to lighten the mood.

It only makes things worse. How could he joke after locking you away and having his two watchdogs guard over you? He’s taking away the one good thing for you in this wet-land and thinks a joke will make things better?

“Leave. I’ll come out soon.” You mumble into your pillow.

Jakes brows lower in defiance for a moment, and relax when he realises that you’re just hurting. Regardless, this is what he thinks is best for you. You were still his ‘babygirl’. He takes a few steps back before turning around to walk out of the marui. Once you hear his footsteps die out, you rise from your cot and get ready for the day.

----

“Wow, y/n. You have improved so much since I last taught you!” Tsireya exclaims, surprised by your skilful movements.

“Yeah. Ralak was a good teacher.” You smile, tugging the fishnet towards you. Your lips flatten into a line when you realise how that sounds. “Not saying that you weren’t or anything.” You add quickly, staring wide eyed at Tsireya.

“It is okay.” She giggles, two dainty fingers covering her lips.

“Yeah. There’s just something about him. He’s… different.” You smile once more, slowly wrapping the fishnet around on itself, “A good different!”

“I know Ralak, y/n. He is... like a brother to me. Although we don’t talk very much...” Tsireya says, swimming towards the spears on the shore. “I am surprised you two got along for this long.”

Your brows twitch. Brother? What did she mean by that? What does she think even happened?

“I’m going to mate with him.” You blurt out, earning an astonished expression from Tsireya. “When I pass my iknimaya, of course.” You say, knowing that’s not what she’s concerned about.

“You two got along that well?” She questions, reaching for the spears.

“You could say that we confessed to each other in the heat of the moment” You mumble as you work your way to sit on the shore.

“So, why am I teaching you?” Her movements come to halt, inquisitive gaze flicking down at you.

“Dad found out. He is forbidding me from seeing him because I haven’t passed my iknimaya yet.” You twirl a strand of wet loose hair around your pointer finger, “He didn’t even care to ask about the situation. Or if I even need lessons anymore.” You shake your head, watching the hair unravel from your finger.

“I see. I think you two would be good for each other.” She shrugs, staring at the spears for a moment before throwing them back into the sand. She looks at you and smiles, “Has he taught you about our dances?”

Gaze snapping up to hers, a smile stretches your lips as your brows raise in fascination. “Dances?”

Tsireya offers her hand, and you take it, letting her help you up. “Mhm. Our way of dancing. It is very... sensual. It is said that eywa speaks through the soundwaves of the music.” She walks you over to a clearing near the shore. ��

Apparently, the musical instruments are sacred, some parts of it harvested from the spirit tree.  And when they are played, the way of Eywa can be felt by those that listen, expressed in bodily movement – dancing. It’s movements manifest erotically, acting as a mating ritual.

It draws in the fated or desired mates of those that partake in the ritual, driving them to find one another and dance together.

“Teach me.”

----

The days go by slowly as Tsireya shows you the sinuous movements of the Metkayina. She explains that it is much like the way of water, gliding and flowing freely with the music. One must allow the music to flow through the body in waves, to slip into a trance like state for your body to sway with the rhythm.

It takes you about a week to learn all the movements. It posed to be an even more difficult task without the music, and just Tsireya’s humming. Of course, this music is only only played on the night of an iknimaya celebration.

Tomorrow is your iknimaya, and Tsireya decides it’s best to run through a few pointers on taming a tsurak. Taming one is not something you practice doing, not like an ilu. You attempt it, and if denied, it is because you have much more to learn. You may try again after further training.

“Your grip is the most important thing. Once it loosens, it is ove –”

“Girls.” The olo’eyktan’s voice booms above you, averting your attention to the three casted shadows on the shore. Your eyes trail up the silhouettes to see Tonowari, your father, and... Ralak. Your heartbeat quickens, body heating up from sensing its desired mate in proximity. You try to play it off, looking down at your knees buried in the sand.

“Father.” Tsireya shuffles to her feet, signing ‘I see you’ to the three men, acknowledging their presence.

You follow slowly after her, eyes now locked onto your feet. “I see you.” You gesture, finally lifting your gaze up to the three men.

Ralak’s brows twitch as his cold eyes trail up your body, doing their best mask his excitement from seeing you. You look beautiful – dressed in clothing native to his people, pearls embellishing your top and a string of shells sewn to the band of your tewng [loincloth]. Braided hair with bright red flowers twisted into it, his chest tightens from seeing you like this.

This is the first time you’ve seen him in a week. He looks... dishevelled. Nothing like he usually looks. Hollow eyes, body enveloped with bruises and scabbed over wounds, you can sense the fracture in his spirit. He looks so, so worn. A heated wrath simmers your blood, making you red in the face.

What have they done to you, my love? You ask him through concerned eyes, breaking your stare to seethe at Tonowari.

Jake could see the upset on your face, lips pursing into a thin line as he squints his eyes, telling you to drop the attitude. But you were vexed with him too. Did he really think you’d be an obedient little soldier? You scoff at the thought, rolling your eyes to land them back onto Ralak, who is also giving you a look.

Now that’s different.

All it takes is a quick raise of his brows and a slight shake of his head to quell your attitude. You huff a small sigh of defeat and drop your irate stare to your feet once more, holding your tongue. You wanted nothing more than to lash out at Tonowari, despite him being the olo’eytan. But you understand that this would only make matters worse.

Jake witnesses this, feeling a little embarrassed about your blatant disregard for his order and not Ralak’s. But he can’t ignore the smidge of respect he’s feeling towards him right now. To be able to handle your rebellious attitude with a simple shake of his head is impressive.

“Iknimaya is tomorrow.” Tonowari speaks, eyes drifting towards the discarded spears.

He’s clearly speaking to you, but you’re too caught up in your own head to even hear him.

“Yes, father. I am confident that she is ready.” Tsireya answers quickly, using her tail to nudge the back of your leg.

“Yes – yes sir. Your daughter taught me well.” You say a little too composed, avoiding eye contact all together.

“Good. We will be on our way then.” Tonowari nods, turning his heel to leave.

Jake follows behind him, throwing one last glare in your direction, whilst Ralak lingers for a second or two. He does one last scan of your body, before locking eyes with you. A soft smile pulls at his lips as he slowly retreats.  

It’s like all the negativity bubbling in your being washes away in an instant, leaving you standing there with a dumb smile on your face. He spins around, walking nonchalantly behind the two olo’eyktans, arms tucked behind his back.

“Did he just – smile?” Tsireya asks, a little dumbfounded.

“Mhm.” You hum, smile only growing wider.

----

That night you walked home beaming, smile plastered on your face with your ears flickering wildly. It had been so long since you’d last seen him that it was so uplifting to see that sweet, sweet smile again. You haven’t felt this happy since Jake separated you two, and honestly you couldn’t bring yourself to go home and see him.

Despite your strict curfew, you find yourself alone sitting in the wet sand, watching the sun set, bright hues of red and orange lighting up the sky. You bring your knees to your chest and rest your cheek between them, thinking about tomorrow.

What if I can’t do it? You sigh, feelings of self-doubt crashing in like the waves at your feet.

“Y/n.” Jake’s voice booms behind you.

Of-fucking-course you’re going to come find me.

“What?” You mumble into your knees.

Jake’s purses his lips before letting out a small sigh, shoulders relaxing as he seats himself beside you. “Feelin’ ready for tomorrow? Not nervous, are ya?”

“Ha. Yeah. I had the best teacher in Awa’atlu.”

“Babygirl.” His voice softens as he tries to look you directly in the face. The fact that it’s been over a week, and you’re still upset tells him that he’s really hurt you.

“Not your baby anymore.” You mutter under your breath, turning your head to look the other way.

“Yes, you are... ‘nd you always will be. Even when you have your own.” He speaks gently, resting his hand on your upper back.  

You shrug him off, causing his hand to retreat entirely. He reflects for a moment, on how his actions have made you feel. Has he been too harsh on you? Was the ‘tough love’ act too much? The rift that’s he’s driven between the two of you is just too thick and he must remedy it.

“Look. I’m – I’m just tryna look out for you.”

“Excuse me?” You lift your head up and look at him with an expression of disbelief. "Look out for me? Or coddle me? Cut the shit, dad. I know you’re trying to keep me from him.”

"Language!" Jake hisses, “And I am looking out for you, whether you wanna believe it or not.”

“So what? How far are you gonna go to keep me from him? Gonna make us move again? Fresh start, somewhere else?”

Jakes voice is low now, a dangerous growl as he grows frustrated with your venomous words. “Everything I do is to protect you kids. Your safety is everything to me, y/n. I just want what’s best for you.”

"Ralak is what is best for me. He's good to me. Patient with me." You croak, lump forming in your throat. "And - I love him, dad."

Jake quickly stands, letting out a scoff. "No. You don't. You barely know the guy!”

"I do. I know him more than anybody. He's a gentleman–”

“Y/n” He starts, “We’ve only been here for a few months. He’s your teacher. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. Why are you settling for the first one you meet?”

“Dad, just – stop! He’s a good person. And when I tame tsurak tomorrow... I will choose him.” Your voice fades away as you utter the last four words, heated tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Yeah. If you tame it. I didn’t even tame it myself the first try. You really think you can?” Jake spits, growing frustrated with your defiant attitude.

Ouch. You didn’t even have the words to respond to that. Your own father taking a jab at your competency, knowing it’s one of your biggest insecurities. And to instil is own personal doubt into you is on another level of petty.

And just like that, the rift grows wider.

Your bottom lip quivers, revealing the small dimples in your chin. You stare up at him glossy eyed, tears welling up so much you could almost see the way it makes your eyes glisten. His gaze softens, as if he were just hit square in the jaw with words he just uttered to you.

“Y/n, I’m s –”

You shake your head in disbelief, brows gathering so tightly it hurt. You walk past him, shoving him with your shoulder as you make your way towards your marui. You can hear him calling after you, hollering whatever things first popped up in his head that could possibly make it right.

“Babygirl, please! You know I didn’t mean it like that. Just try to see where I’m coming from!”

But you ignore him and keep it going. Slumping into your bed, you lay your head on your pillow and close your swollen, wet eyes in hopes to get some rest for your big day tomorrow. The day that would change it all.

The day of your iknimaya.

----

It wasn’t only your iknimaya today.

Much like when you tamed your ikran, you stand in a line of other younger na’vi, who have been waiting patiently for their chance to prove themselves. Eager and excited to earn their place in the clan and mate with another.

They all speak amongst themselves, whispering harshly and huddling together to hear one another. They’re discussing pointers, reviewing techniques, and sharing tips they’ve learned from the more experienced warriors. It’s a bit annoying, in all honestly. They all seemed to have a completely different motive from you. An intrinsic one.

Whereas your motivation is standing in waist deep in the water, effortlessly holding the thrashing, winged beast in place. His hands grip the harness tightly, whilst Tonowari and another warrior secures the mid and hind section of the skimwing.

You watch as the other young na’vi attempt to tame the tsurak before you. Some pass, some fail, tsurak swimming with such force that it leaves the rider disoriented. Some even begged for another chance, while others accepted their defeat with a tail between their legs.  

It makes you nervous. And the more you stand and stare at the thick skinned creature, the more is registers how big it actually is. It’s enormous – the length of six na’vi. Yet Ralak holds it down firmly, arms growing veiny from the sheer grip he has on it. It writhes beneath him, prompting him to restrain the beast even further.

You’d never seen Ralak ‘in action’ before. To you, he’s this big, soft giant, patiently tolerating your less than composed attitude. A man with simple goals, and simple desires. Not this strong, war machine he has been turned into. But you can’t ignore how seeing him like this makes you feel.

A strong and competent man.

But the more the creature thrashes around in his grip, the more your shot nerves fray. Just as you feel the nerves creep their way up into your chest, tightening it with no mercy, Ralak locks eyes with you. A stoic expression, with eyes that said so much. Ocean blue eyes, telling you ‘I’m right here. You can do it. Do it for me. For my big coc-’.

“You got this, kid. I mean – y/n.” Jake’s sudden voice interrupts your... train of thought.

If you hadn’t just been eye-fucking the man he’s keeping you away from you would’ve probably warmed up to his... attempt to make things right.

You let out a loud scoff and roll your eyes before diving into the water. Your fingers pierce the surface of the water, slender body moving through the water quickly and making the lap in one breath.

Turning your head, you quickly realise why they had you so far up in the mangroves. It was a test. A breath test. But what confirmed your suspicion is the look at your fathers’ face. An expression of surprise – shocked to see you even swim much less hold your breath for the entire lap.

Did he really have that little faith in you? You shake your head in disbelief, landing your stare on the spectators – the olo’eyktans’ family and other superior hunters and warriors. All of which stood high up in the mangroves, observing your every move.

How intimidating.

You exhale slowly, hoping to steady your galloping heart, but your efforts are to no avail. It feels as if its leaping from your chest the more you near the writhing, restless beast. And the closer you get, the louder its low, deep rumbling grows.  

You’re about chest-deep in the water now, bouncing on the tips of toes as you inch closer and get a better look. You scan its entire body, starting at the white caudal fin, up to its furled wings and long snout – which houses at least a hundred jutting-out, needlelike teeth. Overall, its menacing demeanour makes your stomach sink.

Shit. Can I really do this? You think, shaky hand reaching behind you for your kuru as you continue to study the beast’s tough exterior.

“Y/n.” Tonowari saying your name snaps your eyes up to him smiling down at you. “Make the bond.” He gestures over to Ralak, who’s holding tsurak’s kuru in one hand, and the harness in the other.

He can tell from your body language and the glint in your eye that you’re nervous and having doubts. It’s the way you gnaw at your bottom lip, just like you did whenever you were getting frustrated during your lessons.

You settle yourself beside him, feeling his warmth radiate off his body onto yours. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to each other. You’re not even touching, yet it feels so good. So right. You allow yourself to sway with the current of the water so that your shoulder brushes against his arm, sending your freckles flickering in broad daylight.

His chin remains tucked into his chest, arm extended towards you with the beasts’ kuru in hand. “Remember what I said.” He mutters under his breath, low enough for only you to hear.

You glance up at him briefly, trying your best to recall what he’s said to you about tsuraks. Your brows pinch in ponder as your pink tendrils dance wildly when they near the creature’s kuru. Was it something about the bond? Or was it how to grip the harness?

Ralak leans in, pretending to bring the kuru closer to your short stature. “yours to do whatever you please with.”

Oh. That.

You recall when he pressed your hand against his half-hard cock and told you it was all yours if you tamed tsurak. Just thinking about how warm it felt in your hand ebbs away the fear you’ve harboured in your chest, replacing it with a new feeling of determination.

Trying to withhold the smile creeping up on your face, you watch as your tendrils intertwine with the tsuraks’, kurus bonding together with a quick pull. A shiver runs through the creature as it snarls and growls, and your pupils dilate and constrict, breath hiccupping as you sync together.

You can feel it’s strength – it’s prowess. The way it breathes under and out of water. The way its left wing is injured from the na’vi that kicked it when tumbling off. The frustration brewing in its stomach. The exhaustion he’s feeling.

Instinctually, your hand caresses the length of his slippery snout, razor sharp teeth grazing your darker blue skin. “tam tam, tam tam [calm; there there]” You coo quietly, sliding your hand up his snout to grip the harness tightly. To your surprise, he settles immediately, sensing your empathy towards his state.

A sense of mutual respect.

Taking this as your signal to mount him, you hoist yourself up onto his back, being extra careful not to touch his wing. You find yourself struggling, being so far out at this height was only another obstacle in your way. Without warning the tsurak sinks into the water, lowering itself for you to haul your leg over its back.

“Irayo [thank you].” You whisper through a smile, settling yourself comfortably on the woven saddle.

Finally lifting your head up, you’re met with the stare of two surprised men, and one proud man. Ralak has this smug look on his face, like he knew all along that you would be able to make the bond in this way. And that – that’s just what you needed.

The three men let go of the beast, backing away with their hands in the air, allowing you space to ride. You tighten your grip one last time – something you recall being the most important thing, and think, go.

The tsurak takes off at full speed, caudal fin swishing from side to side, providing thrust to propel you forward. The sheer force of his jerky movements has your grip loosening already, audible swoosh of his tail growing louder the more wobble side to side.

Easy. Easy.

He steadies instantly, providing you with enough time to tighten your grip and position yourself properly on his back. You’re mindful of his injured wing, grounding the heel of your non-dominant foot beside his good wing. With your other leg, you settle your knee into his back, finding balance in your own body.

The shimmying comes to a halt, leaving you gliding effortlessly through the water, swoosh of his tail steady and low. You pull up, prompting his wings to splay out, revealing their vibrant red and orange colours. Soon the whoosh of his flapping wings drowns out the noise of his caudal fin propelling you upwards and out the water.

“There you go.” You think out loud, steadying yourself mid-air.

It’s an exhilarating feeling. The cool wind in your face and the way the sun rays heat up your skin. It almost feels like your ikran. A big smile spreads across your lips as you give his gill a gentle, reassuring tap. That’s when you feel the dull ache in your left shoulder worsen.

“Tam, tam. [there, there]” You repeat, recognizing his pain. That’s your cue to prepare yourself for the hardest part – the dive. This is the part which typically ends with the force of such a plunge knocking the na’vi off it’s back. The true test.

With a quick, deep breath, you tighten your grip around the harness one last time and dive onto your stomach, hugging his lower back with your knees. You tuck your chin to your chest and brace yourself for impact. The tsurak tucks his wings flush to his sides and plunges in, long snout piercing the water’s surface with ease.

The force of the plunge is indescribable. It’s almost like the feeling you get when you plummet down the hallelujah mountains on your ikran. But more intense. The water adds extra resistance, knocking you back to the point of your knuckles almost dislocating.

Despite that, your grip remains strong as you hurtle through the water, tilting to the side to avoid the reef. The slight sting of your lungs act as your cue to make a sharp turn and head back. You ascend slowly as you dart through the water, resurfacing completely before the three men.

You let out the breath you’ve been holding with an audible haa as you bring the beast to a halt. You wipe the water from your face and try to catch your breath, looking up to see Ralak with one of the biggest smiles on his face – the first of its kind. And you couldn’t quite tell if the shock plastered on the other mens’ faces are for you or for him.

You return the smile as you gently pull away your kuru from the tsuraks’ and dismount him. “He is weary. And injured. Left wing.” You pant, meeting eyes with the giant beaming with pride. “Let him rest, Lak.”

“Ah.” He chuckles breathily, using his tail to caress the back of your leg. “I will be sure to do that, my Tsurak Makto.”

Cheeks heating up to a dangerous degree, you avert your gaze elsewhere, only for it to land on the Olo’eyktan himself. He, too, is smiling wide, moving towards you with an extended arm. You link arms, slender fingers wrapping around his strake.

“You are Metkayina now, y/n. Soleia [congrats; you did it]” Tonowari declares.

“Thank you, sir. And your daughter –”

“While I am sure she has taught you well, Ralak is the one to thank here.” He rests a firm hand on Ralak’s shoulder.

You look over into the mangroves and see your father with his arms crossed over his chest, nodding and smiling. He’s impressed, to say the least. But not only with you and the way you absolutely mastered the taming of the skimwing, but also with Ralak – who is clearly to thank for that.

----

With night being only a blink away, things move quickly. Na’vi men and women rush to begin the preparations for the iknimaya celebration on the open, sandy area on the beach. They haul in large, tightly strung instruments, scrupulously carved flutes, drums made from animal skin, and horns made from bone, setting them up on the large, flattened rocks.

The clans’ best singers apply various colours of tsamopin [warpaint] to their skin, accentuating their features, while the elder, wiser na’vi prepare the native dishes for the feast. Fruits, vegetables, grains, and meat are cooked to perfection and spread carefully for everyone to have a taste. Bottles of fermented fruit garnish the spread. Others hurry to ornament the space with harvested bioluminescent flora from inland, and light the bon fire.

Tsireya approaches you with a full, large basket tucked on her hip. She smiles as she places her free hand on your back, guiding you and the small group of four other na’vi who passed their iknimaya to a secluded marui. Propping the basket between two jutting mangrove roots, she retrieves a handful of different coloured beads and shells.

As tsakarem [Tsahik in training], it is Tsireya’s duty to seal the iknimaya by rewarding those who passed with a few artefacts to signify their adulthood. “For your songchord.” She speaks, distributing the beads among the five of you before fetching the special pieces of clothing.

“You have all passed your iknimaya.” She speaks softly, distributing the clothing to the others. “Soleia! [congrats; you met the challenge] You may all receive your inking at the ftxozä [celebration]”

She comes to you last, carefully handing you a woven palm leaf. “I am proud of you, y/n.” She whispers, watching as you quickly open the woven packet, revealing your first Metkayinan article of clothing. Your eyes widen as you hold it in front of them.

Seven warbonnet fern leaves stained in crimson coloured ink, strung tightly together with fishing line. It’s beautiful. The leaves are long and pointed, meticulously placed to provide enough coverage for your chest. You rest it against your chest, raising your brows at Tsireya for her opinion.

She clicks her tongue, hand flying to grip her chin as she ‘thinks’. “Hm... He’s definitely going to rip that off of you.” She teases, fingers covering her mouth to hide her giggle. You laugh, probably a little too loudly given the four pairs of eyes staring at you both.

“The sun is setting, everyone! Get ready, wear your pen [clothing] with pride, look your best, and most of all, have fun!” Tsireya shouts happily, gesturing with her hand for them to hurry.

Everyone rushes to get ready, slipping in their pen and putting on their best face. You observe their hasty, excited movements, when the last rays of sunlight avert your stare to the horizon. You catch sight of the sunset, something you rarely got to see back home. The big, blood orange orb sinks beneath the horizon, turning the water a hue of orange.  

Your gaze follows the ginger ripples of the water up to the beach, where you’re met with the sight of a blazing bonfire, flames growing as tall as some palm trees. A breath-taking sight. The skilled pamtseotu [musicians] work at their instruments, nimble fingers plucking the taut strings, and the wax coated bones beating away at the drums.

You admire the glow of the people as they enjoy themselves. Two elderly women trying to hear each other over the loud da-dum of the drums. A few young adults having their first sips of pxir [beer; liquor]. Parents with their sleeping babies strapped to their backs sharing a dance under the moonlight. Ao’nung and Rotxo eating as much as their cheeks can hold. Ralak – oh.

Ralak talking to your father.

----

Ralak’s POV (starting from iknimaya)

“While I am sure she has taught you well, Ralak is the one to thank here.” He rests a firm hand on Ralak’s shoulder.

Ralak remains silent, yet his mind is loud. He has so much to do – so much on his plate. But all he can think about is you. How you bring light to his small, dim world. How your presence alone uplifts the weight on his shoulders. And oh, how the past few weeks have been tortuous for him.

Tonowari, the man that took him in after the passing of his parents, had him hard at work since you weren’t allowed to see him anymore. Tonowari isn’t oblivious to what’s going on. He can tell the situation for what it is, but out of respect for Jake he made the arrangements for Tsireya to teach you instead.

Ralak has been waiting for the right time to speak with Tonowari about the matter. The matter of asking for your hand. Although he wasn’t necessarily asking Tonowari for permission for your hand, but more so permission for himself. Permission to dedicate his time to his mate, his family – to his dream, mundane life.

He watches you swim back to the mangroves, and with an injured tsurak there’s a bit of time between you and the next contender. Tonowari instructs for the other warrior to tend to the tsurak, and for a moment, it’s just Tonowari and Ralak.   

The two giants exchange glances, standing in silence as one waits for the other to speak. Ralak knows it’s the perfect time to do it. You’ve just passed your iknimaya and they’re alone and far from any company.

“Sir.” Tonowari turns to face Ralak, knowing what’s coming next. Ralak slowly raises his head, tilting it to return the gaze. “I want to mate with her.” He speaks assertively, showing his seriousness through a stern gaze.

Tonowari nods a few times, breaking eye contact as he momentarily drops his head. He knows what this means – what he’s truly asking for. Freedom. Less duties. More time put into building the family he’s always wanted. To rediscover his days as a fisherman. To live his simple life.

Tonowari looks at Ralak, hand swiftly moving to firmly grip his shoulder and give it a squeeze. “You have my blessing, son.” Ralak smiles, using his free hand to clasp Tonowari’s. “But you must speak with Toruk Makto first.” Tonowari booms with laughter, pulling his hand off Ralak’s shoulder.

Although Ralak is almost as much as a giant as his mentor, he found Jake to be intimidating. He has extreme respect for Jake, admiring how family oriented he is. Which is why he wants to do it right. “I will. Tonight.”

--

Ralak hauls in a lengthy, wooden table, plopping it down in the open, sandy area. An elderly woman approaches him, thanking him with a gentle hand to his back and a gummy smile. Her free hand holds a bowl containing a mixture of diced fruits. He quickly takes it from her, placing it carefully in the centre of the table.

“Allow me. You rest.” He says with a thick accent, linking arms with her to walk her back over to the seating area.

“Tak. Always such a kind boy.” She whispers softly, patting his hand before letting go and taking a seat.

Jake and Neytiri are assisting with the seating area, rearranging the order of things. Ralak gestures a respectful greeting to them both, bowing his head before the former Olo’eyktan. Neytiri gives him a warm smile, acknowledging his kind gesture towards the elder.

She has always disagreed with Jakes decision to separate you two, insisting that he is too harsh on you and that you have already passed your iknimaya back home. She had taken a liking to Ralak since the day you rode an ilu after only a week of lessons.

“Sir. May I speak with you?” Ralak asks politely.

Jake lets out a hesitant sigh, looking at his mate who’s shooting him a deathly glare. He purses his lips into a thin line and gives Ralak a firm nod, gesturing with his hand that they go somewhere more private to talk. He follows Jake willingly, walking with him to the shoreline.

They stand in silence for a moment, much like he did with Tonowari earlier. Ralak takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the worst. He turns to look Toruk Makto dead in the eye, mask of indifference fixed tightly to his face.

“I would like to apologize for the way things turned out. It was never my intention.” Ralak speaks, holding eye contact with the great warrior – who is visibly biting his tongue for the sake of not being strangled by his own wife. “Your daughter. She is truly the best thing that has happened to me. Kind. Caring. Understanding. Yes, she has her moments.” Ralak widens his eyes, quirking his brows before smirking a little. “But I love those too.”

“Uh-huh.” Jake gives him a small nod, doing a ‘come on’ motion with his hand, implying he should get to the point.

A little intimidated, Ralak averts his gaze to his feet and speaks quickly and confidently. “I want to provide for her. Protect her. With my life. I will give her anything she desires. Everything she needs. I will give her a good life.” Ralak’s eyes snap up to meet Jake’s. “But only with your permission, sir.”

“You gonna look me in the eye this time and make that promise?” Jake raises his brows, wrinkling his forehead.

Ralak clears his throat, straightening his shoulders to stand at full height, towering over Jake. “I love her. I will take care of her. Give her everything. If you’ll allow it.”

There’s a moment of silence – other than the increasingly loud thump of the drums – where Jake and Ralak stand face to face. Jake process all what Ralak has said. He’s never heard so many words fall from this man’s mouth before. Jake’s shoulders drop as he heaves a sigh, perked ears now relaxing against his skull. Hands flying to his hips, he looks away briefly before looking back at Ralak.

“She’s my babygirl. You know that, right?” Jake growls through gritted teeth.

“Yes, sir.” Ralak is quick to answer.

“I swear, if you let anything – and I mean anything happen to my babygirl...” Jake’s voice his dark and gruff, laced with uncertainty. 

“Understood. And, agreed. If anything happens to her, you have every right.” Ralak assures the former Olo’eyktan, grimacing at the mere thought.

“Right. Then you have my permission, Ralak.” Jake nods, extending his arm to the taller na’vi. Ralaks ears bolt upright, overjoyed to hear the words. They join arms with an audible smack, sealing the deal with a firm shake. “Go on. Go find her.” Jake nudges over to the mangroves with his chin, “Before I change my mind.” Ralak bows his head slightly and parts ways to look for you.

---- End of Ralak’s POV

Shit, I should go. You think, turning on your heels to go find Ralak. By the time you’ve turned around, everyone is gone except for Tsireya.

“Come, let’s get you ready.” Tsireya grins wide, slowly creeping towards you with her handmade palette of colours.

You pull your head back, a downturned smile spreading across your face. “Where are you putting that? What is that?”

“Just a little something for your cheeks, come on.” She smiles even wider, dipping her finger into the creamy concoction.

“Eh. Not my thing.” You pull your head back even more.

“Ralak will like it.” She sings, wiggling her pink stained finger in the air.

You let out a small sigh of defeat and lean forward. “Fine. Only a little, okay?”

“Mhm!” Tsireya squeals, beaming with delight as he smears the creamy mixture on the apples of your cheeks. “There. And a little for your lips, too.” She says, quickly swiping it on your lips before you can refuse.

You grunt in response, popping your lips to distribute it evenly. “Well. How do I look?”

“Sevin [pretty], and you’ll look even better when you put that on.” She stares at the crimson strained top in your hands.

You slip into your top, fixing the leaves into position to cover your nipples, and do a twirl for the chief’s daughter. “Well?” You ask with open hands.

You didn’t think that cheeky grin could grow much wider, but it does. A grin so wide that it’s ear to ear.“Fyole [perfect]. Now let’s go get your mate.”

Maybe her giddiness is just catching, but hearing one of the most beautiful girls in the village call you fyole makes you grin too. She tugs at your arm, urging you to follow her down the webbed pathway towards the sandy area.

As you both make your way down to the beach, the faint whoof of the drums deepen in bass, and the plunk of the stringed instruments grows higher. And soon you can make out the song that’s playing. It’s the same song that Tsireya has been trying to hum to you for the past week. You keep your chin tucked to your chest, gaze locked to your feet as you follow behind Tsireya.

Once you see the silky sand spill through the cracks of your toes, you look up to see that you’re both standing at the edge of the crowd. People are packed tightly together, sweaty bodies pressed firmly against each other as they move to the beat.

The ambiance is electric, you can practically see it jolt through the crowd. Different colours glow around the moving bodies, it reminds you of your dream hunt.

Tsireya grabs a hold of your hand, squeezing it tightly to bring you out of your deep thought. “Remember what I taught you, yes?” You stare at her wide-eyed, knowing what she’s going to tell you next. “Dance with me, vultsyìp [stick].” She sings the last word teasingly, tugging you into the crowd behind her.  

As much as you loved the music, you’re focused on Ralak. You want to find him, be with him. You look around as you both weave through the crowd, bumping into people having a good time, drinking, and dancing. You swear you see a few people laying in the sand on top of one another, bent into positions you’ve never seen before.

Tsireya can sense that you’re a little anxious. Perhaps you feel out of place, or maybe you’re just a little stunned by the way of her – your people dance. She looks back on you and gives you a reassuring smile, squeezing your hand tighter as she burrows you both through the dancing crowd.

Finally coming to a more spacious area, she wraps her arms around your waist and pulls you in close. You slump into her, chin resting on her shoulder. Her lips brush against the shell of your ear. “Let him come to you.”

You pull back, looking around to see if he’s anywhere nearby before leaning back in to speak into her ear. “How will he know where to find me?”

Tsireya laughs, lifting a hand from your waist to tap her flat nose a few times, signing ‘smell’.

You nod slowly, trusting her word, despite you being in a large crowd that reeks of pxir[liquor], and – sex. You take a deep breath, smelling an array of scents all mixed, and overlapping one another. It’s almost overwhelming, leaving you feeling all hazy and dazed.

“Now dance with me!” She shouts over the boom of the music, sliding her hands down your waist to grip your hips. A giggle bubbles up your throat, the aphrodisiac properties of the music now taking affect. It sets a fire in your body, heating you up from the inside out and making your hips move in her grip.

It’s a little frightening, feeling your body move on its own, much like it did during your first heat. You try to fight it a little, feeling a little timid from how the music is affecting you in this way. But you recall Tsireya explaining to you that it’s something to do with ‘the way of Eywa permeating through the music’ – or something.

Tsireya realizes that your movements are bit rigid and broken, plagued with uncertainty. “Let go. Feel the music.” She urges you, guiding your hips in the direction of her motions. You allow yourself to let go, closing your eyes to immerse yourself in the trance of the music, moving freely to the rhythm.

With each beat of the drum comes a quick roll of your waist. And soon you’re dancing on her, vibrations of the instruments rippling through you. It comes naturally, body moving in a sinuous manner against hers. At the same time, it’s such a foreign feeling, as if your pores are dilating and releasing your essence into the air.

Meanwhile, Ralak is searching for you at the edge of the crowd, peeking over the sea of people. His eyes quickly scan the waves of dancing na’vi, looking for his tahni. His deep blue tahni. He had no interest in going into the crowd, much less surrender himself to the hypnotic ways of the music.

But he has no other choice.

He nosedives into the crowd, working his way between people as they increasingly get more and more suggestive with their bodies. One cannot simply walk through this without being affected to some degree – the pink tinge of his cheeks is evidence of it.

A hand instinctively flies to his nose to block out the mixture of scents bombarding him. Pxir. Sex. Desperation. Its almost contagious. Only making him want to be with you even more. Nearly to the point of desperation. He needs you. To be around you. To touch you. To be inside you.

Until it just becomes too much. Too much that a simple hand overing his burning nostrils won’t suffice. He drops his hand in defeat, allowing the mesmeric fumes to engulf him. It’s nauseating, yet his want for you grows stronger, to the point where he could swear to Eywa herself that the scent is slowly morphing into yours.

And yours only.

Ralak closes his eyes, inhaling so deeply that his chest tightens – all so he can savour your sweet, sweet aroma. He succumbs to it, nose following the scent to the source like an ilu being lured with a piece of fish. When he opens his eyes, he sees you. Clear as day.

There’s an aura around you, glowing so bright it’s almost blinding. It’s like the light in the darkness – all over again. Just like the first day he met you. The day you brought meaning to his life after losing so much.

Right there.

In awe, he watches your little body move effortlessly to the rhythm, slender tail swishing excitedly behind you. It’s the way you look – all flushed and flustered, dressed in the clothes of the Metkayina. He swallows thickly at the sight, influence of your pheromones making it that much harder – literally. He’s so hard it hurts, balls tightening and pulling so close to him that he shifts his weight to the next foot.

Yet his eyes dare not move. They bore into you so deep that even you can sense his stare. Your body knows he’s close, speeding up with your lewd movements, luring him in even more. And it works. He can’t help but move a little closer. Just to get a better look at you. At how you’ve learned the dance of his people, moving just like one of them with no difficulty.

And then you feel him.

Pressing against your body from behind, his warmth only heating you up more. You can smell him – no need to turn around to check who it is. You lean back into him, back of your head slumping into his chest. Everything’s so hot – so heavy. He leans down, pressing his soft, warm lips against your throat, using his tongue to taste the sheen on your skin.

You exhale an audible haah, chest heaving harshly as your nipples harden into peaks underneath your new garments. Tsireya lets you go, retreating into the crowd to leave you both alone. His hands quickly replace hers, wrapping tightly around your waist, pulling you in closer to his hot body.

That’s when you feel it, hard and firm, pressing into your lower back. Then your breaths turn raggedy, becoming louder. You can’t help but grind into it, feeling him bend his knees, body receptive to your movements. And soon he’s grinding into you too, bodies falling into synchrony.

“So this is what you have been learning. Hm?” He whispers gruffly into the shell of your ear, following your every move as you lower yourself even more.

“May-be” The word comes out broken from the pace your body is setting for him to keep up with.

“All for me?” He chuckles, greedy hands lowering to your thighs, fingers smoothing over your clammy skin.

“Mmn – mhm.” You purr, thighs squeezing together as you shimmy your hips into him, providing your throbbing clit with a little friction.

His hands swipe underneath your loincloth as they glide back up to your hips, his lips pressing into your neck once more. He peppers hot, wet kisses down to the tips of your shoulders and up to the back of your neck. It sends your freckles flickering under the moonlight, surely gaining more eyes on the two of you.

But neither of you cared. Not in this moment.

“Feel me.” He growls, sinking his fingers into your hips to shove you into his pelvis. “Feel what you do to me.”

You can hear the frustration in his voice, he’s so wound up that you can just tell from the way he’s manhandling your hips. “Oh, fuck.” You gasp, rubbing yourself against his hardened bulge, tail wrapping around his thin waist.

Calloused hands work their way up your stomach, fingers grazing over the dip of your navel before finding purchase under the strings of your top. He hooks his thumbs under the twine, running them along its length. You bow your back against him, pushing back into his crotch.

“My beautiful tahni.” He groans shakily, resisting the urge to pin you down and take what’s his, right here, right now. “I have missed you.”

“Ma’ Lak.” You moan softly, feeling so out of it – so hazy and light-headed.

“Do me the honour of being my mate.” He tries to speak politely, keeping his voice steady and calm, rough grinding smoothing into gentle swaying.

“Say that again for me.” You pant through a smile, dipping your head forward to give him better access to your neck.

A low growl rumbles in his chest as pointed canines graze over the nape of your neck, eager to sink into your supple skin. You spin around, drawing a little blood when they scrape against your skin. He shoves a knee between your legs, spreading them apart to press his pelvis firmly into yours. “Mate with me, woman.”

“Oh, yeah? Right here?” You tease, tugging at his queue to bring it over his shoulder.

“You’re trouble. You know that?” He chuckles breathily, leaning down to nuzzle into your neck, breathing in your hypnotic scent.

“I’ve been told.” You let out a soft giggle, twirling the end of his kuru around your finger.

Eywa, did that feel good.

“Come.” He says quickly - impatiently, hoisting you up onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist. He stumbles over to the shore, still feeling the effects of the melodic music coursing in his bloodstream. Quickly calling for his tsurak with a tik-tak, he watches as the large beast glides through the water towards him.

In an instant, Ralak bonds and mounts the beast with you stuck to him, holding you close with one hand and gripping the harness tightly with the other. You bury your face into his chest, basking in his natural scent as you try to calm down. But you’re so on edge and need some sort of release soon.

“Need y-you. S-so bad.” You moan needily, breath hitching as you grind the soft flesh between your legs against the tautness of his tewng [loincloth].

Ralak’s brows pinch tightly together, huffing a breath of hot air through his nostrils. His restraint is dwindling by the millisecond. He needs you. Craves you. Hungers for you. And he can no longer withhold himself, not when you’re still grinding into him, even though the music has faded out.

“I know. Almost there. A little longer.” He hums breathlessly, beads of sweat rolling down his temples.

Ralak’s so flustered and hot that he can barely maintain control over his winged beast, making the ride to the cove of ancestors rough and bumpy. The burning need to possess you – dominate you – only grows stronger with each huff of hot air you breathe onto his bare chest.

He wants so badly to just drill himself inside you, right on the back of this tsurak. Leaving his cock buried deep in your tight, wet heat for the remainder of the ride. So that when you do arrive, he can lay you down on the nearest rock and have his way with you.

But he won’t. Not for your first time. Not before you mate.

Your breath rasps in your throat, nimble fingers working away at the knot above his tail. It’s as if you could hear his thoughts already, telling you to take him right here, right now. Or perhaps it’s the way his painfully hard cock almost bores through the thin cloth, right into your sopping cunt as his hips buck into you. Both of you reek with desperation, a scent so pungent any passer-by would gag. Yet he still finds the self-control to reach behind him to rest a gentle hand on your wriggling fingers.

“Wait.” A single word parts his flushed lips, gruff and strained. It’s all he can get out in his state of mind. He wants nothing more than to just do this the right way. The way he’s been planning for years on end. You whine a little when he pulls your hand away, plunking it back onto your slippery thigh.

“Please.” You mewl, fingers now burrowing between your pelvises to slip under the band of his loincloth, pulling it down just enough to unsheathe his thick cock. It’s slaps against his flexed abdomen, tip of his glossy, reddened head poking right below his crossed ribs. It’s all swollen and throbbing, sticky from how much precum he’s leaking all over himself.

Denying him the chance to refuse, you shove your clothed cunt against his slickened length, humping into him with ease. He tries to bite back a sudden groan, tightening his jaw so much he may fracture it. His breaths turn raggedy as he rests his chin on the crown of your head.

Eyes becoming so lidded, he doesn’t even realise that you’re finally here. The cove of the ancestors. The most sacred places in the village of Awa’atlu, where na’vi go to mate. You’re blissfully unaware of your surroundings, trying to stick your hand in your crotch to shift your loincloth to the side.

“I said. Wait.” A gruff, stern voice sends a shiver down your spine.

And fuck – it only makes you hornier, sending your hips in a thrusting frenzy, doing their best to line his cockhead up with your dripping entrance. You can’t quite catch it as it keeps bucking and slipping over your puffy clit. You grunt a frustrated ‘mmph’, irritated that he isn’t sliding in like you thought.

Ralak is struggling to maintain his composure. Half of him wants to chuckle at your futile attempts to fuck him, and the other half wanting to just ram his cock inside you for being so stubborn. He takes a deep breath in, holding it to reground himself. He exhales a sigh of relief once he bumps into the rocky cove of his people’s most sacred place.

“Eywa – tahni.” A tortured groan evades his lips when he forces himself to shift his pelvis away from you as you persist with your efforts to hurt yourself. He inhales deeply, slowing his galloping heart. “Be a good girl for me, hm? We are here now.” He croons at you, wrapping your hands around his neck and supporting your back as he dismounts his tsurak.   

The bioluminescence of the water glows behind you as Ralak walks you both towards a nearby sea cave. Directly below you is the spirit tree – its fronds and filters luminating the area radiantly. You try to squirm out his grip, feet dangling above the cave floor from the way he refuses to let you go.

“Not here. Too rough.” He grunts as he hoists you back up and walks further into the large, open sea cave. Its floor is completely flat, with all sorts of flora growing between the cracks of the rock. The deeper you venture in, the greener it becomes. Until eventually, all that covers the floor is a thick bed of green, silky moss.

Little creatures buzz around, luminating the darkness of the cave, exposing the markings on the wall from previous mating sessions. Etched swirls, zigzags, and other patterns to signify a new union. There’s no doubt that this little ‘hidden’ spot is a popular place for na’vi to mate before Eywa.

You calm down a bit, influence of the music wearing off now that you’re both so far away from the celebration. At this point you just feel a bit buzzed, melting into Ralak’s grasp as your tense muscles relax. But your droopy eyes snap open when you feel him unwrapping your legs from his waist.

“Here.” Ralak husks, voice deep and thick with arousal.

He lets you down gently, snaking his arms around your waist to pull you in for a kiss. His lips crash into yours, so heated and frantic that there’ll for sure be bruises there tomorrow. His eager hands explore your body, releasing all the pent-up feelings he’s been holding back for the past few months.

Hearts thumping wildly in your chests, you pull away and share the same breath, panting open mouthed before your lips meet again. His hands find themselves cupped around your reddened cheeks, impatiently pulling you in closer until your bodies are flush against one another.

Webbed hands work their way down the column of your throat, calloused thumbs gently pressing into your windpipe. You let out a choked gasp, mouth hanging open as his hands continue their way down to your chest, fingers parting the blood-red leaves to expose your stiffened nipples.

Rolling the tiny, sensitive peaks between his thumb and index fingers, he quickly moves his kisses down your jaw and up to the lobe of your ear, biting it as gently as he can. You stand there open-mouthed, breath catching in your throat momentarily.

You exhale as you rub your thighs together, smearing your sticky arousal all over them. It spreads your scent into the air, causing Ralak to pull away from your ear and takes a deep breath in. He releases it with a lengthy ‘ahh’, face growing hot from the way you smell. You can see him clench and unclench his jaw as the lump in his throat moves from how hard he’s swallowing.

Cerulean eyes pierce into yours, a moment of stillness passes by where his face morphs into the same face he makes when he’s trying not to succumb to that animalistic urge to ravish you on the spot. But it’s been too long. No amount of clenching and gritting could help him.

Not tonight.

He grabs you by the jaw, pulling you up on the tips of your toes to kiss you – hard. His lips crush yours frenetically, letting go all his worries and apprehensions. Truly indulging himself in the moment. In you. He fills his lungs with your arousal – your aphrodisiac. Getting high on you and allowing his body to speak for him.

Slipping his tongue into your mouth, he backs you up against the wall, hand flying to the back of your head to cushion the impact. Your tongues roll over each other, taking in the feeling of every tastebud. Both his hands slip down to yours, lengthy fingers enfolding your wrists as he brings them above your head, pinning them to the wall.

He quickly binds your wrists together, securing them tightly with one hand whilst he shoves his free hand between your slickened thighs. A small, shaky gasp breaks the kiss, thick fingers tugging down your soddened garments. You help him by shimmying your hips, allowing the flimsy material to drop to your ankles.

Now you’re just irresistible.

His fingers graze past your plump, smooth folds, before finding their way in between them. “Ralak.” His name slips out, all breathy and small. You say it so nicely, so sweet and innocent, and his ears can’t help but flicker at the double syllabled word. Eywa, he loves it so much that he makes it his mission to have you scream it by the end of the night.

But not yet.

He brings his digits to his nose, inhaling as deep as his lungs can go, closing his eyes to relish in the sweet, sweet scent of your arousal. And when his eyes open, you swear you see them shift in colour, darkening to a cerulean blue. There filled with greed, gazing longingly at you as if you were something to devour.

And that’s when he takes his fingers into his mouth, having his taste of you. Tongue weaving through the cracks of his digits, he licks them clean, using his thumb to wipe the corners of his mouth before popping that in too. There was something about the way he did that, sucking on his fingers as if you were the best thing, he’s ever tasted in his twenty-four years of living.

It makes you want to taste him too. Back bowing against the jagged wall, you try to wriggle free from his grasp, prompting him to loosen his fingers. In an instant you sink to your knees, staticky hands latching onto his thighs as you press your face against his half-covered bulge. His hand flattens against the wall, supporting his weight as he peers down at you wide-eyed.

You walk your fingers up his thighs, tucking them under the band of this loincloth to yank it down. Out springs his twitching cock, rock hard and throbbing from how swollen he’s gotten from sharing a few kisses. Your eyes cross as you look at it for the first time up close.

It’s... thick. So thick you can’t close your hand around it, leaving a spacious gap between your fingers and thumb. It only gets fatter towards the middle, then tapers off into his mushroomy head, curved and ribbed. His ridges are pointed, yet soft, spanning around and down the underside of his cockhead.

It curves upward, jumping to the rate of his heartbeat. A single bead of precum oozes from his slit, dripping off his cockhead in a thin string. Your tongue darts out, flattened with the tip of it touching your chin, eyes locked on his as you wait patiently for your fill. And when it finally drops onto your tongue, your tastebuds dance from the slightly sweet taste.

His brows jump at the sight, eyelids fluttering a little too quickly to be considered calm and collected. You can’t fight the smug look creeping on your face when you lock your jaw and swallow it with glee. Oh, to make a big, grown man like him crumble.

Naturally, you want to see how far you can push him. You wrap your dainty fingers around his cock, hold it taut to expose his throbbing head. Unsure of what you’re doing, you give him little kitten licks, playing with the little ridges underneath the tip of his cock.

His head slumps forward, thick strands of loose hair swaying side to side as his core flexes and unflexes. He’s biting his bottom lip, struggling to hold back that low grumble deep in his chest, hand balling into a fist against the wall.

And when you finally take him into your mouth, engulfing him in wet heat, his hips thrust. Hard. He didn’t mean for it, you just feel so fucking good around his cock, swollen lips stretching to their limit just for him to fit. Your eyes water, tip of his cock prodding into the back of your throat, corners of your mouth burning from the sheer size of him.

The way you’re looking up at him all glossy eyed and innocent, trying to absolute hardest not to gag on not even half of his cock sends him over the edge. He tightens his fist, knuckles scraping against the rocky wall, surely becoming bloody as he fights the urge to thrust into you one more time.

That’s when you hear the rumble in his chest, the steady, low growl traveling up his throat. Perhaps it was meant to scare you, or maybe it’s the face he’s making – narrowed, beady eyes and thinly pursed lips. Make you sit in the dip of your feet and be the good girl he wants you to be. But it only makes you wetter, thick strings of your own slick oozing onto the mossy floor.

You take him deeper into your mouth, mushroomy tip making its way down the tightness of your throat. The hot tears stream down your cheeks, washing away the rouge to reveal an even pinker tinge of your skin. The saliva pooling in your cheeks spills out the corners of your mouth, dribbling down your chin with nowhere to go.

Instinctively, you swallow.

An innocent reflex, as innocent as the glazed eyes that peer up at him. He lets out a sudden, sonorous groan, brows pinching so tightly together it creases his forehead. It’s so sensitive, so tender, that his hips snap back, cock pulling out your mouth with a loud pop. His bloodied hand flies down to your pinch your chin, pushing you away from him all together.

“’m sorry.” You apologize through a hoarse voice, thinking you’ve hurt him.

He shakes his head, thumb swiping the drool on your swollen bottom lip. “Don’t.” He exhales, chest rising and falling from how hard he’s breathing. You watch this gentle giant crumble to his knees before you, chin tucked to his chest to hide his face. He swallows harshly, clearing his throat as he slowly raises his head and looks up at you through hooded eyes.

“Tsaheylu.” He says breathlessly, heated ears laying flat against his head. He catches his breath as he shuffles closer to you, hand reaching for his kuru. All that’s running through his mind is that he must do this right. And with whatever remaining restraint ebbing away, he must do it now. “Tsaheylu, tahni.” He repeats quickly.

Ralak holds his kuru upwards, exposing his pink tendrils as they dance wildly before your eyes. There’s a moment of silence, where you both take in the lilac hue of his kuru. You nod franticly as a hasty hand reaches behind you, quickly tugging your queue in front of you. You hold yours next to his, revealing your wiggling tendrils.

Your eyes widen when you realize that they sense one another – an invisible force pulling them together. You glance up at him, wondering if he’s feeling the tug too. He’s watching intently, ears twitching and eyes tinted purple from the hues of your kurus coming closer together all on their own.

Looking back down, you witness your tendrils excitedly intertwine with one another, kurus meeting with a quick, harsh tug. His eyes slam shut, ears practically disappearing as they embrace the curve of his skull. He exhales loudly, head dipping forward as his brows gather tightly.

Your breath catches in your throat, body waiting for him to take a breath. When he finally does, you gasp for air, filling your lungs in synchrony with him. His eyes pop open, pupils so blown that only a thin ring of blue remains. Your tail swishes wildly behind you before curling around your waist to tickle his thigh.

A faint ring buzzes in your ears, fading out into a vague, echo of his voice. You can hear his thoughts, feel the way your tail brushes against his skin makes him hot and bothered. You can feel his tightened chest, thick with emotion and overwhelm. And if you close your eyes and focus enough, you can feel his deep-rooted trauma – his past.

But you can also feel his present. His future. The way he desires you to be the one to bear his children. To make his marui into a home. His immense adoration for you and only you. and the more you tune into your mate, the more you feel his immense restraint and composure, the way he’s forcing himself to be gentle.

It’s all too much at once, yet not enough all together.

“I love you.” You blurt out in unison, urge so strong it’s exigent.

The tightness in your chest grows ten-fold, spreading to your core. Eager hands caress one another’s cheeks, pulling each other in for another heavy session of kissing. You break the kiss with a shove to his chest – your futile attempt to push him onto his back. He’s unbudging, strong and solid, even in such a carnal state.

“Lie down, Lak.” You pant, still out of breath from such an intimate experience.  

Ralak nods, slowly leaning back to prop himself up on his elbows. Loose, curly strands of hair sticks to his temples, inebriated gaze boring into yours. You climb between his legs, settling yourself comfortably in the dips of your feet.

His neglected cock twitches madly, pre-cum practically flowing down his length and onto his swollen, firm balls. You swallow thickly at such an enticing sight. You want to taste him. To return the pleasure he’s always ensuring for you. Now that you’re here, between this gentle giant’s legs, you realise that you’ve never even stroked him before.

Shaky, inexperienced hands wrap around his girth, experimentally gliding up and down its length a few times. You can feel every vein, every ridge pressing into the palm of your hands. He’s so rock hard that it looks painful. You can tell in the way he grimaces, peering down at you as you pump him without rhythm.

Holding his cock out the way, you lean in do something you’ve been thinking about since the day of your first lesson. Lick his tattoo. It’s raised and warm, even a little veiny too. You trace each stripe with the tip of your tongue, trailing it down to the base of his cock. Nuzzling your face into the space between his thigh and balls, you fill your lungs with his musky aphrodisiac.

“Eywa. You smell... so fucking good.” You exhale, licking his cock from base to tip. He shudders before you, lying down flat on his back and covering his face with his hands. You can tell you’re doing a good job, the little groans evading his mouth confirming that for you.

Taking him into your mouth, you suck on his mushroomy head, swallowing all the slick that pools in your cheeks. Its mostly sweet, with a little bit of a salty aftertaste. You mindlessly play with the ridges under his tip, liking the way they feel against your tastebuds. He seems to like it too, hips jolting forward with each swipe of your tongue.

“Muntxate [wife]” He growls the word, hand flying from his face to grab a fist full of your hair.

Yes, my love? You think, knowing he’s hearing your every thought and feeling your every emotion.

“Keep doing that and I’ll cum.” He warns you, tone of voice gruff and serious.

Good. Cum for me.

“Ssst–ah.” He lets out a shaky breath, hand beginning to pull your head off him. You quickly clutch his wrist, picking up the speed of your tongue whilst bobbing your head on his cock. “Tahni. Tahni. Tahni.” He groans, each word becoming more and more guttural as they slip off his tongue.

Let me taste you, Muntxatan [husband].

“Shit.” He whispers, caving in on himself as his other hand flies to your head, stopping you from bobbing your head all together. With a quick, single swipe of your tongue, his head pulsates feverishly, spurting ropes of warm, thick cum in your mouth. It pools in your cheeks, stuffing them until they burn from how full they are.

You swear you can hear the da-thump of his throbbing cock, balls pulling closely to his core. You hum triumphantly, proud of yourself for making him cum. You pull off with a subtle pop and a loud gulp, swallowing his huge load with greed. Wide eyes stare down at you, processing what you just did.

Seconds of silence fill the air, two freshly mated na’vi staring into each other’s eyes.  

Within seconds he’s pinning you down on your back, assaulting your throat with rough kisses. His core ruts against yours, sweaty, inexperienced bodies bumping into each other. Everything moves so quickly that you can barely process how he’s got you pinned down on your back underneath him, trailing wet, feverish kisses down your chest. You go to slip out of your top, only for a large hand to stop you.

“Keep it on.” He grunts into your skin, tip of his tongue leaving a trail of saliva down the centre of your stomach. Eyes flicking up to yours, his predatory, lustful gaze bores into you, soft lips pressing into your abdomen. They flicker from side to side as they admire your luminous beauty, flushed lips sucking bruised-like marks into your dark skin.

Little broken mewls part your lips, hips lifting slightly as he peppers gentle kisses below your navel. He maintains eye contact with you as he works his way down to your hipbones, leaving open-mouthed kisses against your hips, he works his way down to your soft thighs, tip of his tongue swiping against your skin – salty from the sea. He lingers there for a while, breathing deeply to savour the sweet scent of your heat that’s so, so close to him.

He lingers there, waiting patiently.

Waiting for your permission as he begs you with his eyes to let him have a proper taste of you. To have his turn. One side of your mouth pulling coy smirk, you weave your fingers through his hair to push his nose between your folds. He wrenches your thighs open, pinning your legs to the mossy ground as he begins to devour you.

Tongue parting your pussy lips, he greedily laps up the sweet nectar dripping from your slit. He grunts into your cunt, sucking on your clit, all swollen and puffy from being so neglected. His hips buck into the mossy bedding beneath him, chasing the feeling that’s transferring to him through the bond.

You yelp out when you feel his finger stretch you out, sinking inside you at a torturously slow pace. He doesn’t want to be too rough with you as it’s been a while since he’s touched you in this way. But you reassure him with a tug at his wrist, shoving his finger knuckle deep inside you.

But it’s just not enough.

“M-more, Ralak. Please!” You cry out, extreme pressure in your chest coming to a head.

Feeling the taut tension, Ralak quickly obliges, sinking another digit inside of you as he assaults the little bud of nerves with the flat of his tongue. Your toes curl at the same time he curls his fingers inside you, prodding them deep into that gummy part of your heat. The pressure feels like electricity, surging through your core and to the tips of your extremities.

He loves how you’re squirming around, hips sputtering to chase your orgasm all on your own. He’s so proud of you, working for your own release like the good girl you are. Praising you with a quick pat on your thigh, he quickens the pace of his fingers, working out a squelch with each thrust.

You begin chanting his name over and over, voice waning with each syllable, until its nothing a tiny, pathetic whimper. Your head spins and your heart skips as you clench tightly around his digits. Your legs tremble, working their way towards one another to close around his face.

“Gonna – oh f-fuck.” You let loose a sudden whine, shoving him into your pussy when you feel the final shockwave ripple through your being, leaving you a shaking mess at the mercy of his two fingers and tongue. Following your every jolt, he hums a victorious groan from the feeling of your pussy walls fluttering helplessly around his fingers. He pulls away with a ‘pwah’, using this opportunity of pure, unadulterated pleasure to stretch you out even more.

“Good girl. And breathe for me.” Ralak coos, sliding his third and final finger inside you. The stretch stings, causing you to wince for just a moment. He quickly curls his fingers, causing another wave of white-hot pleasure to ripple through you, masking that string just right.

Ralak gently moves his fingers inside you, just enough to get you used to the such a big stretch. The sharp sting fades away, leaving nothing but small shocks of electricity surging through your swollen pussy. Slumping your head back into the pillowy moss, you focus on steadying your breathing. Your vision is blurry, and things are becoming hazy, but you don’t want this moment to end.

“Lak... Want more. Please.” You moan weakly, eyes crossing before they roll to the back of your head. You’re already all fucked out from his fingers alone yet you’re begging him for more. And he can see it, too. The way you’re just so spent, body trembling beneath him as he continues to stimulate your rubbed out sweet spot.

“I am not like you, tahni. I only have three.” He chuckles softly, curling them inside you as a reminder.

“Ngh! Y-you know what I mean. I want you...” Your voice falters, hand reaching down to grab his erection, a little surprised that he’s still this hard. “I want this. Please.”

His features soften, apprehension filling his lower stomach just from the jaded look you’re throwing his way. “Are you sure? We can do it another time.” He insists, feeling how tight you still are, despite taking three of his fingers.

“No, please no.” You pant as you shake your head lethargically, shimmying your hips closer to his. “Need-you-to-fuck-me!” You cry out, stringing the desperate words together so quickly it almost sounds like one.

“Tahni.” He utters just over a whisper, staring down at you with eyes of concern. Not only can he see the exhaustion on your face, but he can feel it too. It travels in waves through the bond, right into him. And after such a long day, iknimaya and all, it’s expected. “It will be too much for you right now.”

“You said, ‘anything I please with’. Right?” A tremulous, soft voice reminds him of his deal, knowing he’s a man of his word, albeit few. He chews on his bottom lip, a little impressed with you. He heaves a heavy sigh of defeat, positioning himself between your clammy thighs as he hoists your legs over his.

“Tell me if it hurts. Okay?” He leans over you, using a thumb at the base of his cock to line it up with your entrance.

You nod lazily before tucking your chin to your chest to witness you become one. The crown of his cock prods at your tight opening, looking massive in comparison. For a second you even question yourself how that will fit inside you. It’s way bigger than his three fingers combined, not to mention, much, much lengthier.

It bucks against your innocence, slipping and gliding over your sticky clit. You both grunt in unison, tension snapping just to rebuild all over again. His hips snap back, all four fingers now gripping the base of his cock.

An unexpected wave of anxiety crashes through you, making you cling onto your mate. You bury your hot face into his shoulder, completely abandoning the plan to witness it strip you of your innocence. He can feel your hesitation through the bond, holding his position in case you change your mind.

“Do it, ma’ lak. Put it inside me.” You mumble quietly into the dip of his collarbone, inching your hips closer to his.

He pushes into you slowly, breaking past the resistance of your tightness, mushroomy tip liding in with an audible pop. You bite down onto his shoulder, hard enough to sink the full length of your canines into his cyan coloured skin, staining it red with his blood. It muffles your pained, little cry, tear drops crashing onto the swell of your cheeks.

Fuck, it hurts.

It hurts so much that it makes your body shake and shiver underneath him as it tries so desperately to adjust to his size. It burns and stings and oh – it’s just too much. It feels as if something were lodged between your joints, snapping you open with such force.

His movement comes to a standstill, as if he were frozen in time. He grimaces, unsure if its from the way you’re pinching him or if its from how deep your little canines are sunk into him. Or maybe it’s your pain transferring to him, but he feels it too.

“You okay? Feeling pain?” Ralak’s voice is tender, a gentle hand moving to release your bite.

You unlatch from his shoulder, leaving open puncture wounds for blood to trickle down his chest. The pain fades at a torturously slow rate, but any little movement causes a new wave of fire to shoot down your legs. Surely, just like with his fingers, if you stay here for a bit, it’ll fade completely.

“No. Haah. Just give a m-minute.” You pant out a lie, breath hitching at the last word.  

“Y/n. I can feel your pain.” He utters breathily, pulling out as gently as he can.

“Don’t. Please, I want this.” Your voice is breathy, yet strained, legs quickly locking around his hips to push him in a little deeper. You let out a sudden, high-pitched whimper, burning sensation worsening. Your legs begin to shake uncontrollably around him, sending little vibrations up his spine.

“You’re shaking. Another time.” Ralak says sternly, unhooking your legs from around his hips.

“No, please.” A pathetic little plea falls from your lips.

He shakes his head, grinding his teeth together to deal with the guild bubbling in his chest. “Your body isn’t ready.” He mutters, pulling out tenderly. The more he moves, the more the scent of blood fills the air. He can feel it trickling down his back, but it’s the least of his concerns right now.   

“I-I am ready. Please Lak, just give me a moment to –”

Ralak looks down as he pulls out, head snapping back up to reveal the panic etched into his features. “You – oh Eywa. You are bleeding, tahni.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” You coo with quivering lungs, cupping his cheek to make him look in your eyes. “Really. Look at me, Ralak.” You give him a wobbly smile, only for him to pull away from your grip.

“I am hurting you. Look.” Two fingers pinch your chin, pulling it down to avert your gaze. A thin layer of blood coats your inner thighs, some smearing on his too. Your eyes snap back up to his, which are glazed over with panic and guilt. He pulls out of you fully, sitting in the dip of his feet to have a proper look between your legs. “I am so sorry tahni... I-I thought I stretched you enough.”

“Lak...” You whisper shyly, trembling legs slowly closing to hide yourself from his eyes.

“We must go.” He declares, carefully scooping you up into his arms, holding you close to his chest as he makes his way out of the cave. Calling for his tsurak, he glances down at your face to see it screwed with discomfort. The guilt weighs heavy in his heart, driving him to act quickly.

So quickly that you don’t even realise that you’re already on the back of his tsurak, soaring at full speed through the water. You were truly fine, just a little sore and uncomfortable, but certainly nothing that required this level of speed. The ride back is uncomfortably quiet, Ralak trying his hardest to regulate his emotions. You can see the restrained look on his face, tightened brows, and thin lips.

“I’m alright, my love. You don’t have to go so quickly.” You try to reassure him with a small voice. He huffs a sigh in response, clenching and unclenching his jaw, biting back his feelings to focus on remedying the situation. “’ts not your fault.”

Eyes slamming shut, he shakes his head slightly, as if he were saying you were wrong. He holds you closer, opening his eyes to glance down at your blood-stained thighs. Eyelids fluttering, he looks back out into the distance, watching his marui pod appear larger and larger as he approaches it.

Within seconds he’s dismounted his skimwing, and takes large, quick strides to the cave. Your legs dangle over his forearm, other arm supporting your back as he carries you bridal style into the water. A shaky hand reaches for his kuru, holding it in the air to expose his pink, tendrils.

“Tsaheylu, Lak.” You groan needily, wrapping your tail around his thigh.

“Soon, tahni. Let me clean you first.” He hums tenderly, glancing down at your body one last time before slowly submerging you in the water.

The lake is always warmer in the nights, glowing around you from its bioluminescent properties. Supporting your back with one hand, he carefully parts your legs and cleans you gently. Your eyes remain locked onto his face, his clenching jaw, his flattened ears – the way the column of his throat protrudes when he swallows.

The guilt is evident on his face, and it worsens the more he looks at what he’s done to you. And when he moves down to the flesh between your legs, you can’t help but jolt, legs closing around his hands as you wince a little. His head whips towards you, worried eyes boring into yours. You give him a quick smile, nodding that he can continue.

Hand parting your legs once more, he ensures to be extra gentle and tender, even leaning in to see if he’s doing it right. After he’s finished, he bathes the rest of your body, rinsing the sweat and grime out of your hair after such a long night.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to –” You mutter, trying to stand so you can have your turn at bathing him.  

“No need.” He says quickly, scooping you back into his arms with ease, making his way up to his marui. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine, Lak. Honestly. You could’ve kept going, I just needed a moment.” You blubber out, trying to wriggle from his clutch.

He scoffs, shaking his head as he ducks under the flap to his marui. “You are like a baby.” He walks over to his bed and lays you down carefully, treating you as if you were really wounded. The leaves of your top stick to your breasts, wet and saturated from such a long bath.

“And you were about to fuck –” You mutter under your breath, to be cut off by Ralak’s glare. You let out a small sigh, a little frustrated from how the night played out. He walks towards a shelf on the opposite side of his marui, giving you the opportunity to sit up, and scoot over to the edge of the cot to get up.

His ears perk up from the shuffling sounds, but his back remains turned to you as he mutters the word. “Sit.”

Defeated, you plop back down onto the soft bedding, thumbs twiddling with one another as you wait for him to come back. Meanwhile he extends his arm to the top shelf, back muscles flexing as he retrieves two wooden drinking bowls and a bottle of liquid.

It’s mauve, and iridescent, swirling around as it sloshes from side to side. He pops it open with his back teeth, spitting the cork into a woven basket on the floor. He plans to cut it into two later, saving a piece each for your songchords.

Sitting next to you on the end of his cot, he hands you the wooden cup, nudging it closer to you with raised brows for you to take it from him. Reluctantly, you take it, a little confused as to what he’s giving you to drink. He pours the thick liquid into the cup, stopping after a few glugs. Then he pours himself one, too, waiting until the liquid touches the lip of his cup.

“Drink.” He orders, bringing his cup to his mouth as he waits for you to do the same.

Bringing it to your lips, your face screws with disgust, head turning away to get the smell out your face. You lower the cup into your lap, looking at him with an expression of perplexment.

How could he drink such a foul-smelling thing?

“Erm, no thanks... I’ll pass.” You barely get out, afraid to take a breath in.

His ears flatten in frustration, lip twitching ever so slightly. He knows this will help with the pain, so why are you being so stubborn? He doesn’t utter a single word, beady eyes piercing into yours.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll drink it... Eywa.” You say the great mother’s name like a curse, bringing the cup to your lip.

You take a sip, face contorts with revulsion, eyes watering as the liquid burns on the way down your throat. Your tongue darts out in repulsion as your eyes flicker up to him, brows raising inquisitively to ask if you drank enough.

His lips purse, and he shakes his head slightly. “All.”

You heave a sigh, rolling your eyes a little before bringing the cup back up to your lips once more. You feel a single finger rest under your hand, nudging it upwards to tilt the cup all the way back, encouraging you to take a swig. You knock it back, gulping down the viscous liquid and stick your tongue out for proof.

He nods in approval, slight smirk curling the side of his lips. He knocks his back in one go, letting out ‘ahh’ after the liquid travels down his throat. Not even a wince. He seems to enjoy the burn.

For you, the after taste is even worse, making your nose scrunch and the tears overflow from your eyes. He’s quick to wipe them away with his thumb, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear before retracting his hand entirely.

“What did I just drink?” You croak, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Fermented fruit. Pxir...” He looks at you, “Liquor.” Ralak takes the cup from you and refills it, as well as his.

Plunking it back into your hand, you look at him through pinched brows. “What does it do?”

He brings his to his wet lips, exhaling a sigh of guilt. “Pain. It will help with the pain.” He sighs, throwing his head back and swallowing the pxir in one, loud gulp.

Your features soften when you realize how he knows such a thing. “Is this what you had when you did your own tattoo?”

“Yes. Not the same. But the same effect.” He chuckles a little, impressed by your ability to put things together so quickly.

“Ah. I see.” You say, looking at the liquid as it swirls around in your cup. “So if I drink enough of this, you’d do my tattoo for me?”

“Sure.” He utters, fighting the little smile creeping on his face as he watches you chug the pxir. “But tomorrow. I have already caused you a great deal of pain today.”

Another sigh makes its way out your nose. You give up entirely, handing him the empty cup and laying down in the bed. Your bed. In your marui pod. Wondering, heavy eyes begin exploring the pod all on their own. It feels like the stilts holding the roof up are spinning, making you feel a bit woozy.

“Ralak. I feel weird.” You hiccup, heavy lidded eyes threatening to close for good. “All... bubbly.”

“Ah. My tahni.” He hums softly, sliding into bed next to you. “It will do that to you. Get some rest, okay?” He rakes his fingers through your hair, using his fingertips to massage your scalp.

“Lak. I want – I want to try again, doesn’t hurt anymore.” You blabber incoherently, trying to open your legs for him. Reminded of the pain that he brought you, Ralak shakes his head, closing your legs gently and covering you with the sheet. Snuggling into his warm chest, your eyes fall shut for the night.

“Another day.” Ralak whispers, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

Unable to sleep, he spends the rest of the night swigging straight from the bottle, bathing, and checking up on you. You’d wake every so often to him parting your legs, checking to see if you were alright.

He thought nothing of it, just one of his duties as your mate to care for you. But you’d be quick to shove away his hand, mumbling to him not to look despite the coy smile on your face, all from knowing he cares that much.

When he finished the bottle, he was woozy enough to crawl back into bed with you and snuggle behind you. His eyes finally closing when the first rays of sunshine beam through the marui pod, the same rays that wake you up.

--

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + seventeen

authors note: this chapter covers the aftermath of solana's attempt in the previous chapter. please heed to content warnings in order to make an informed decision regarding reading this chapter.

i'm going to handle solana's experience in the hospital as realistically as i can, but there are creative liberties taken as well. and don't come for me for the ending either. :/

cw/tw: angst, discussion and coverage of the aftermath of a suicide attempt, mental health discussions.

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 15k

Roman has a long to-do list. He always does and always will. But, this is by far one of the last things he wants to do. 

He’s going on 24 hours of no sleep, which isn’t the first time he’s done as such, but it’s the first time he’s done as such and actually felt the impact of the sleep deprivation. And truth be told, deep down he knows the exhaustion that he feels is more mental than anything.

It’s the result of the toll that finding out Solana tried to kill herself has taken on him. 

Is taking on him.

But, he can’t deal with that shit right now. He can’t deal with it because he’s got his Wise Man, Rikishi, Solo, Jimmy and Jey all sitting around him, wearing various levels of confused expressions. Which only irritates Roman more because Rikishi and Paul are the only ones who should be confused. The twins have been with him dealing with all of the shit the past 24 hours. 

Solo too.

Rikishi is the first to speak, studying Roman. The Tribal Chief is more than sure he noticed the grimace on Roman’s face as he went to roll his shoulders, remembering yet again of the wound that probably won’t heal as quickly as predicted given the fact he’s done the complete opposite of ‘taking it easy.’

“You gonna tell us what happened or—”

“There was an assassination attempt on Solana’s life last night.” Roman’s sentence is matter-of-fact and to the point, nevermind the fact that his right hand forms into a fist at just saying as such. 

Rikishi and Paul share shocked expressions, Roman’s older cousin being the one to ask, “is she—”

“Bullet hit me instead. Didn’t lodge. I’ll be fine.” Roman only adds that last part because of the horrified look on Paul’s face, already knowing his Wise Man will bombard him with questions about his injury. “Xavier Miller and his boy were behind the attempt. I’m handling them now.” 

“But sir, why would Miller want his own daughter dead?”

Roman closes his eyes and rolls his neck, working to settle his rising temper. He hates talking about this shit. It only spikes his eagerness to get his hands on Miller and rip him apart limb by limb. “Because she didn’t go along with his plan.”

Rikishi speaks up again. “Plan?”

Roman’s jaw clenches. “He wanted her to kill me.” 

The rest of the men look equally shocked, Paul gasping loudly, asking, “she’s a traitor?”

If looks could kill, Paul would be six feet under. Roman has to mentally restrain from acting out on his suddenly murderous urges. “She’s my wife.”

Rikishi, however, seemingly tosses his longtime friend a lifeline, trying to reason with his younger cousin. “Uce, that doesn’t mean she can’t be both—”

“What I’m hearing….” Solo surprises the men around the table as he sits forward. “—is that she can’t be trusted.”

Roman isn’t sure just how much of his anger and rage at the accusations being slung against Solana is showing, his Solana, but it must be enough for the twins, of all people, to try and de-escalate.

“Come on now, this is Soso we talking about.” Jimmy is the first to kick off peacemaking. He looks at his father, “pops, you was there when we first met her. She was nervous as shit. Ain’t nothing about that girl dangerous.”

Jey chimes in, handling Solo. “And you of all people should definitely know that’s not Solana. She would never hurt nobody, let alone kill nobody.”

Solo, however, simply scoffs. “Like she ain’t hurt her brother?”

“What was she supposed to do? Let him beat her?” Jimmy is the one to snap, shouting back with a suck of his teeth, “man, that bitch deserved it!”

Rikishi jumps in, defending his younger son. “I think what Solo is trying to say is that it proves she is, in fact, capable of hurting someone if she wanted to.”

“Why would she want to hurt Roman? That don’t even make no—”

“Enough!” Roman’s fist slams down on the table. “The next person to say one more negative thing about my wife is getting a bullet in their fucking skull.” There’s a blanket of silence, all of the men knowing that Roman would absolutely carry through on this threat. A promise, really. 

Roman swallows, both from anger and something else he can’t pinpoint. “Solana tried to kill herself last night. What in the fuck about that presents a danger?” He doesn’t care enough to observe the reactions of that news. Doesn’t give a fuck. “The only person she’s a danger to is herself.”

Paul is the brave soul, or perhaps just stupidly and naively asking, “is she—okay?” 

“I said tried, didn’t I?” Roman snaps, forcing the pudgy man to recoil back in his seat. Roman clenches his jaw yet again, directing his statement to the next older man. “Rikishi.” He runs a hand over his face. “Meet with the Elders. Tell them about the assassination attempt. That it was Miller. Nothing about the plan. And leave it at that.”

Rikishi removes his glasses, sitting up at the table. “Roman, the Elders should know—” 

“The Elders know what I want them to know, and I want them to know that someone tried to kill my wife, and I’m handling it. That’s it.” Incapable of dealing with any more of this shit, Roman stands up from the chair, turning his back on the rest of his family. “Wise Man, let’s go.”

The obese man also shoots up from the chair, nearly tripping over his feet as he wordlessly follows Roman out of the room. 

Left alone is just Rikishi and his sons, the patriarch asking, “she tried to kill herself?”

Jimmy and Jey wear similar frowns, recalling the horrific truth they learned about their ‘Soso’ just hours prior. Jimmy shuts his eyes, unable to push away the memory of a hysterical Naomi throwing herself into his chest at the memory of finding Solana unconscious. 

“It’s….it’s a long story,” Jey answers in a low voice, wanting to be respectful. Aware or not, Solana’s story is hers to tell and hers only. 

Truthfully, he’s slightly surprised Roman even disclosed that part of the past 24 hours. 

“Yeah, there’s a lot of the story that Roman left out,” Solo suddenly finds his voice again, sharing directly to his father and brothers. “Like the fact that Roman took that bullet for her.”

“What?” Riksihi asks, shock stamped all over his voice. 

“I was right there. I saw the whole thing. He pushed her out the way.”

Jimmy shrugs. “He protected his wife. What’s wrong with that? We all would have done the same.”

Jey nods in agreement. Rikishi looks torn. 

Solo continues, pointing out. “But, Roman ain’t like us. He’s the Tribal Chief. He needs to act like it.”

“Careful, son,” Rikishi cautions, seemingly breaking from his conflicted state. “Your Uce sits at the head of the table for a reason. His ways may be unorthodox at times, but his reign won’t be questioned. We won’t disrespect him.”

Solo scoffs. “But you’ll disrespect the other Elders by lying for him?”

Jey jumps in, chiding, “man, what’s up with you tonight?”

Solo scoffs, pointing to himself. “Me? I’m not the one whose judgment is clouded. We all know if this was one of us and the roles were reversed with our wives, Roman would want them executed. He’s not thinking straight.” Solo looks around the room, noticing there’s a brief second of silence. “Ya’ll see it too. I’m just the only one who’s willing to say it. Roman is losing focus—”

“That’s enough, Solo.” Rikishi raises his voice, firmer, that of a father. “You’re out of line, son.” 

Solo looks around the room, halfway waiting for his older brothers to jump to his defense, to agree with what they have to know is the truth. But, when that doesn’t happen, he also shoots up from the table, rocking it in the process, leaving the room without another word.

Once gone, Jimmy motions with his thumb. “Man, he is tripping.” He shakes his head, asking his father, “you want us to talk to him?”

“No.” Rikishi answers almost immediately, sighing heavily, running his hand over his face. “I’ll do it….you all just….watch Roman.” He stands up, as Jey mutters something about having the hard job. “And sons….this conversation doesn’t leave this room, understood?” Jimmy and Jey look slightly confused and taken back, Rikishi explaining, “I know you’re both closer with Roman. But, he’s just your cousin. Solo is your brother. He’s definitely tripping, but he’s still your family too, and there’s nothing more important than brotherhood, alright?”

________

Roman awakens with a heavy sigh that’s followed by his eyes closing. 

His sleep has been shit the past few days, and it’s been solely because his bed is cold and empty on the other side. Because he’s sleeping alone, something he once cherished but now can barely tolerate. He didn’t realize just how much he enjoyed Solana’s soft body pressed up against him, the satisfaction he felt waking up to her every morning.

Now, he just awakens to silence or the sound of Dulce whimpering or barking. 

Dulce’s whimpers on the side of the bed remind him of the fact that she’s still sleeping in his room. In their room. On Solana’s side.

Her empty side.

Moving the blankets off, Roman swings his big body over the side of the bed and walks over to motion for her to follow him. “Come on.”

He knows she has to empty her bladder, but he’s grateful for a reason to leave the space that reeks of Solana, a constant reminder of her absence. 

It’s….an experience, to say the least. 

Picking her up, he carries her down the steps, through the house, and out the back sliding door by the kitchen. Roman places her in the grass, letting her do her business as he goes to sit down on the edge of one of the chaise lounge.

He closes his eyes.

Love. 

Suck a weird fucking thing. Something he’s never really understood. 

Or felt. 

Not….not in this aspect at least. 

He’s always been confounded by the emotion that makes people act so outside of their character, clouds their judgment, and seizes their brain in crippling ways. He never saw the appeal in it. Never wanted it.

And then came Solana. 

If someone had told him four months ago that he’d not only be married to a woman he actually cares about let alone would end up loving, he’d probably knock them flat on their ass. Harshly criticize their stupidity at the very least. 

Falling in love with Solana was never the plan. He never wanted this for himself. He just needed to marry to create an official heir. And that was it. She would do her thing, taking care of the kid and whatnot. And he would still do him, continuing his life of commitment free sexual relations with whoever was his flavor of the week. Or day. 

And yet all of that, just the thought of it, sours his expression. 

He doesn’t want anyone other than Solana. Doesn’t desire to be intimate with anyone other than her. It’s her he wants to wake up to every morning, her he wants to make happy. He just wants her. Nobody else.

Because he loves her.

And it’s a shocking, life changing realization he finally stumbled into while sitting at her hospital bed. An epiphany he’s certain was heavily transitioned from subconscious to conscious given the events that transpired that night.

She almost died, was almost shot, and there’s not a fucking part of him would do anything differently. He’d take that bullet and any other bullet for her anytime. 

Because he loves her.

He stood between her and her piece of shit father, not thinking twice about it, only knowing that decision would forever negatively change her life. Thinking how he promised her he would never let her end up in that position. 

Because he loves her. 

And he sat at her hospital bed, holding her hand, pouring his heart out to her because the second those infamous words left Jey’s mouth, his world nearly collapsed. He couldn’t think straight as he rushed to the hospital, uncaring and uninterested in anything except being with her, holding her, catering to her. Whatever she needed. He just needs her to be okay. 

Because he loves her.

Roman’s head tilts back, the weight of all this lying on his chest. 

He can’t deny it. Can’t deny he loves her. Not to himself, at least. He just doesn’t know what the fuck to do about it.

There’s…..there’s no room for love in his life. No place for it. Love is weakness, and Roman has never and can never be weak. He’s the Tribal Chief. The Head of the Table. The leader of the Bloodline and Cosa Nostra. There is no space for weakness.

Or love. 

And yet….it’s there.

It’s there for her. 

Dulce walking over to the chaise lounge that Roman realizes is usually the one she sits on when she’s writing brings him back to the sadness that creeps in at her absence. Dulce must feel the same as she lays down, ears also down, whimpering.

Roman beckons her over, watching as she slowly walks over to his feet, ears still down as he picks her up and places her on his lap. It’s something not even a week ago he would probably do. But, that was then, and this is now. 

And now, he almost feels a sense of duty to Solana’s puppy. 

Because it’s this same puppy, he’s learned, that barked nonstop at Bayley and Naomi, running over to Solana and starting to cry, effectively alerting them that something was wrong.

Very wrong.

With an uncharacteristic level of emotion, Roman gently strokes the top of her head. “You saved her life….” For his own mental sanity, Roman chooses not to think about what the alternative could have been. What his reality would be if this small, five pound animal didn’t have such a close, protective bond to her human. “Thank you.”

Dulce whimpers in response, laying her body on his lap, staring at the empty pool chair. 

Roman sighs, eyes shutting again. 

The emotion is undeniable as he acknowledges in a soft voice. “I miss her too..”

This shit is much harder than he realized. 

________

Roman: How are you doing? 

Solana glances at her lock screen at hearing the familiar, personalized notification sound. The sound she set specifically for texts from her husband. Her smile is already set on her face but settles into something deeper as another message slides in.

Roman: Do you need me to come home?

Placing the pencil down on the nearest surface, she swaps out her task at hand for a brief break to respond to the question she anticipated would be proposed at some point in the day. 

Just not this soon, perhaps.

Solana wipes one hand on her shorts, the other unlocking her phone to open his thread. Preparing to reply, her gaze shifts over to her sweet baby boy, sleeping peacefully in his infant pillow. Low, relaxing music plays from her Alexa on the nightstand, lulling and keeping him in his slumber. Similarly, Dulce lays peacefully in her bed on Solana’s side of the bed, curled into a little ball.

The smile somehow grows deeper.

Solana: I’m okay. You don’t need to come home, really.

Solana quickly snaps a photo of the baby and includes it with her next message.

Solana: We’re good. :) 

Solana brings her finger to gently caress her son’s cheek. He has such a calm disposition about him. Even at 6 weeks. She can just see he’s taken on more of her demeanor than his dad’s. Granted, she also noticed the same thing about her oldest twin, only for her to gradually be morphing into the female version of her father.

Roman hearting the photo captures her attention once again followed by his reply, which seems to be the result of long distance mind reading.

Roman: He’s been a lot easier than the girls were. But, time will tell. 

Roman: Where are they?

She giggles, imagining his elongated sigh as he considers what could be in store for them once their son starts to get bigger and older. Can move around and get into things with his sisters. It’s more likely than not bound to happen.

Solana: In their playrooms. They’ve been surprisingly quiet too….for now. Lol

Solana knows her girls well enough to know silence with them, mostly when they’re together, isn’t usually long lived. The quieter of the two is very much like Solana, able to stay and keep to herself just fine without making much or any noise. Her sister, however, older by 6 minutes exactly, is not.

She is rambunctious and loud and loves to be moving. And when they’re together, that adventurous nature rubs off on Solana’s twin, usually resulting in them getting into something. More often than not.

Roman: I talked to them last night. Reminded them it's important they listen and help you out.

This is something she already knew, having overheard as he put them to bed while she catered to their newborn. He’s done that a lot since the birth of their son. Really taken over as much as he can with helping the girls, when it’s something he can do. And if he can’t do it, like them wanting to do art with her or bake something, usually the youngest vs the oldest, he’s on baby duty. 

Whether he realizes it or not, he truly is great at being a dad. Though something tells her, always has, that even three kids deep, he struggles with that insecurity at not being good at it.

Not being good enough.

Roman: I still think it was too early for me to come back to work and leave you alone with everything.

And there it is. What Solana already knew he was thinking but is happy to see him finally admit. Roman’s been working from home the past six weeks, since the birth of their son. And while she’s appreciated having him home, helping her out with managing their growing family, it was time for him to return back to the ‘office.’ 

She knows he worries about her, worries about her feeling overwhelmed, but she’s been good the past few years with being open with him. That hasn’t and won’t change. 

Solana: You were going to have to go back eventually, Ro. I’m okay, really. The girls really don’t cause me any issues. And he’s easy.

Solana: Outside of when he’s groping and squeezing the mess out of my breast. 😅

Breastfeeding has never been much of an issue for Solana. And, while it was definitely a bit of a challenge breastfeeding twins, there was never a pressing enough problem for her to not consider doing the same for her third child.

Granted, unlike the girls who, at most, felt around her breast while getting their fill, her son is more handsy. His little palms often slapping, squeezing and even scratching with his nails she makes sure to try to keep cut low. 

She chuckles, thinking about how this could very much be another small sign she’s in store for yet another energetic child. It lines up though. Even when he’s sleepy, little scowl on his face, she sees Roman. In all of the children, really. But with him, the way his little lips dip and light eyebrows cave into a look of unmistakable disapproval, usually when she takes too long to pick him up or feed him, that’s all Roman.

Roman: Smart kid. 

She giggles, sending out a reply that’s a result of years of growing more comfortable with teetering the lines of risque topics and innuendos.

Solana: Your kid, clearly. 😅

Roman: Damn straight.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she keeps the conversation going with another risky text. 

Solana: Just two more weeks until I’m….cleared. 

Over the years, and as she’s continued to heal, Solana has found herself with a sexual appetite that’s nowhere near her husband’s nor most women her age, but it’s there. Coming and going. Ebbing and flowing. And lately, it’s been on the flowing side.

Roman: We should wait longer. 

Roman: I’m not taking any risks.

She sighs at his reply that’s not entirely unsurprising. He absolutely would want to go past the recommended 8 weeks that she was told by her doctor that they would need to wait to resume intimacy. An extended period of time than the usual 6 weeks due to the second degree tear she sustained while birthing her third child. A thing that can happen during childbirth and wasn’t anything too serious, but something she knows her husband sees as just that.

Thus him wanting to not ‘take any risks.’ 

Solana: I understand.

Understanding is different from agreeing, but she won’t push him on it. 

Solana: Besides, don’t want to risk another baby.

Solana: Just yet anyway….

Having this conversation over text probably isn’t the way to go, but she has no doubt he’ll talk with her about it more in person when he comes home tonight, after all three kids are down for bed.

That doesn’t mean they can’t start it now, at least, though.

Roman: Seriously? You really want another baby?

Roman: He isn’t even a year yet.

Roman: You forget I’m 10 years older than you. I’m getting too old for all these kids, Solana.

It’s true they just welcomed their baby boy not even two months ago. And Roman is aging. He’s older, the gray in his beard spreading by the day, but he’s still just as active and fit into his forties as he was when they met years prior. Thus, he’s exaggerating. 

Solana: No, you’re not.

Solana: And that wasn’t a no…..

His reply comes in a bit quicker than she was anticipating. 

Roman: It wasn’t. 

She smiles. Solana has learned her husband well over the years. Knows him well enough to know that if there wasn’t a part of him also interested in maybe having another child, he would be clear about his standpoint. He would express his disagreement. 

So his comment would suggest he’s not team no. That he’s open, and his following texts confirm as such.

Roman: But, this would be it. Four is more than enough.

She smiles, knowing that this definitely will still be discussed in person tonight but happy that he’s unwilling to deny himself. Solana’s love for him has only deepened since seeing him step into the role of fatherhood. 

She just wishes she could get him to see how good he is at this. The girls wouldn’t adore him as much as they do if he was bad at it, per se.

But, he’s not.

If only he could see it. 

Solana: Unless we get another set of twins….😅

Roman: Jesus Christ 

Solana giggles, imagining the look he must have on his face. Probably similar to when they found out about the girls. She wasn’t entirely surprised given how strongly twins run on his side of the family.

But, he most certainly was.

A quiet knock pulls her from the conversation as she lays her eyes on the twins who are waiting by the door with hesitant expressions. She waves them over, placing her finger over her mouth to remind them to be quiet to avoid waking up the still sleeping baby.

They tip toe over to her, moving to her side of the bed, leaning over and looking at him. The oldest is the one to ask, whispering, “why does he sleep so much, mama?”

Solana chuckles. “That’s what babies do. They need a lot of sleep to grow big and strong.”

The quieter of the two of them deviates from her usual silence to predict, “he’s gonna be big and strong like papa.”

The oldest, however, doesn’t hesitate to reiterate. “I’m still gonna be the tribal chief though.”

Solana has such a torn reaction she does well at hiding. As much as she loves how much her technically first born admires Roman and wants to be just like him, she also has no idea just what it is that Roman really does. The true weight that comes with wearing the Ula Fala. 

Or the fact that by his family’s laws and traditions, their son is the true heir to the Bloodline. Granted, she also suspects it’s those same laws and traditions Roman will fight tooth and nail to change should their daughter, even after knowing the truth about the Bloodline, still want to pursue taking his place when the time comes for him to step down.

Roman would do anything to give her just as much a chance to the keys to the kingdom as her brother.

But, that’s so far down the line, and Solana doesn’t like thinking about it too much. She just wants to enjoy her children as they are now, innocent and oblivious.

Ms. Quiet stays on her talking streak, asking quietly, “can we still go to aunt Bayley’s house today?”

Solana nods. She briefly forgot about that, but it’s still very much doable. “Of course.” 

The girls gasp and look at each other, Solana already knowing another request is about to follow. Roman’s little twin ends up being the one to ask, “mama, can we go see papa at his office before?”

She shouldn’t be surprised. One of their favorite things to do is stop by and see Roman while he’s at work. Something she hasn’t done in some time, not since the birth of her son and even then, it had been a few months.

Solana starts to text and ask him if he’s busy, but one look at the happiness on the girls’ faces at being able to see their dad, and she knows she doesn’t need to.

She knows there’s no way on God’s green earth that he would turn them away, even if he stopped or canceled a meeting just to interact with them.

That’s just the kind of father he is.

His kids come first. 

With excitement bubbling in her stomach at seeing her husband, Solana takes a glance at her son, smile growing as he stirs, clearly just as ready to see daddy. 

She then looks back at her just excited girls, sharing, “time to go see papa.”

“Time to get up.”

Solana has to blink a couple of times to reorient herself, almost entirely due to the shocking nature of her dream. A dream she’s now had every night since being admitted to the hospital, glimpses, and what feels like peeks, into the future.

Her future.

But, at the same time, it’s a distant thing that seems unattainable and unrealistic given where she is now. On a legally mandated psychiatric hold after attempting to die by suicide.

“You up, sweetie?”

Solana nods and sits up in the bed, accepting the water and pills in the small medicine bowl. She doesn’t hesitate to swallow all three, offering a small smile to the nurse who’s been assigned to her, making sure she takes her medication as prescribed.

The nurse, Carol, she thinks, reminds, “breakfast starts in twenty.”

Solana nods, pushing back some of her hair, waiting for the older woman to leave before she lays back down on the bed. 

She shuts her eyes. 

The past few days have been…..an experience. An emotional ride unlike any she’s been on in years. The last time she can recall struggling and feeling as heavy as she was was when she woke up from her coma and had it confirmed that her mother was dead. Something she knew but held onto the invisible string of hope that Nina somehow survived. 

Even though Solana still recalls the moment she heard and saw her mother take her last breath. 

It’s a weight that’s lessened tremendously over the past couple of days, since she woke up yet a second time, less irrational, not as hysterical. Part of her reaction was most definitely due to still feeling suicidal, still believing that being dead would be better for everyone. But her reaction was exacerbated by the fact that two male nurses moved to restrain her as she tried to move from the hospital bed. Having male hands on her like that was triggering and made her emotions that much more difficult to manage in an already tense situation.

But the second time she awoke, Solana saw nothing but women. Truth be told, she’s only had women on her care team since being admitted. It’s made such a big difference. 

All of it has.

Being in this space, so separated from the outside world. It’s been both difficult and welcomed. A nice escape from a recently draining reality but also a heavy separation that she’s brought up a couple times now in her individual therapy sessions with her therapist, Gail.

That is the difficulty in being separated from Roman. It’s a dichotomy. As much as she wants to see and talk to him, she wants to hide and avoid him. She wants to explain yet also never have to discuss it again. An avoidance behavior that is typical for survivors of suicide attempts, another thing she’s learned in therapy thus far. 

But more than anything, Solana just wants to talk to him. She remembers from when she was admitted as a teen following her first attempt that communication is typically cut off from the outside. She just didn’t realize it would be the same protocol as an adult. 

Something intended to avoid patients from being re-triggered. She gets that, but it doesn't make her miss him any less. 

This is the first time they’ve been separated from one another since before the wedding, and it’s not a fun experience. 

But yet….

It’s not a horrible experience either.

No one wants to be in the hospital. And no one definitely wants to be in the hospital on a legal hold because they’ve been deemed a danger to themselves and thus needs 24/7 supervision.

That part sucks, but what hasn’t sucked for Solana is being able to be as honest and vulnerable as she needs to be. To cry and fully acknowledge the extent of her feelings, to be as raw as she’s been in her therapy sessions thus far with Gail. The woman whose kind smile, non-judgemental and self-disclosure of also being violated has created such a safe space for her. 

Solana knew, knows, that she can talk to Roman. That he’s made it clear there’s nothing she can’t discuss with him. But, there’s something about speaking to another woman, someone who’s also sadly been through something similar that’s….that’s healing, almost. 

Knowing Carol will be back for another reminder about breakfast, Solana pulls from her thoughts and leaves her bed to start her day.

Everything in the hospital is planned, time cut out for everything from meds, breakfast, group therapy, individual therapy and more. There’s only so much time in the day that’s reserved as ‘free time,’ though being hospitalized doesn’t present a ton of options for one to choose from during said ‘free time.’

However, Solana has always been able to occupy herself and keep herself busy, and this is no different. 

Later that day, she’s in one of the common areas, utilizing her free time with one of her favorite coping mechanisms. One she’s recently revisited and brought back to lean on. Pencil in hand, Solana uses the sketchbook she was given by Gail. No particular drawing in mind, it’s not missed on her how the bare bones outline of the face she’s drawing has very similar features to that of her husband.

“Hey.”

Solana lifts her head from the page, landing on two women who she’s seen in passing and up close in her group therapy. Both are brunette with similar heights yet different builds. The shorter one looks like she keeps herself in the gym, slender muscles visible even with the hospital provided clothing they all wear. The other is a few inches taller and curvier, her breast stretched against the material. The shorter one is the one who spoke. One looks amenable, the other does not. The one who spoke is, unfortunately, not the one with the friendly expression.

Solana swallows, gaze somewhat traveling as she sees one of the orderlies already watching the interaction. Closely. He’s a big man whose size looks disproportionate to the job he holds here, and she’s noticed him watching her a couple of times. Yet, it’s never been a predatory gaze. Almost…..protective.

“Solana, right?” She nods as the two women plop on the other sofa adjacent to the one Solana sits on. “I’m AJ, and this is Candice.” She gestures to the other woman with her thumb, the brunette waving and smiling almost giddily. Before Solana can say anything else, AJ is leaned over, asking in a low voice. “You’re Roman’s wife, right?”

Solana tenses. For some reason, that rubs her the wrong way, sends an unfamiliar chill up her spine. Something in her tells her to lie, but it’s no use in denying the obvious. “Yes.”

AJ snorts and sits back, arm lazily lounged up on the top of the sofa. “Well, I was gonna ask you how’d you end up here, but I guess that’s an obvious answer.” AJ laughs darkly, making her comment to Candice but directing it towards Solana. “I’d try to off myself too if I had to be married to that son of a bitch.”

Clearly, Solana has not been in a good place recently, hence her current situation. Her emotions have been all over the place. That’s why she chalks up her next actions to the fact that she’s still coming down from her relapse. 

Closing up the sketchpad, Solana sits up and doesn't stutter as she states clearly and concisely to AJ, “you have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, so why don’t you just shut up and leave me alone?” 

Candice's shock matches that of Solana’s, but the former doesn’t back down. Doesn’t suddenly regret her statement. Maybe it’s adrenaline. Maybe it’s the fact that Solana feels the anger stirring inside her at even the insinuation that Roman could ever be the cause of her trying to end her life.

When he’s the one that saved it. 

AJ, however, doesn’t look shocked. She looks pissed off.

And then she’s smiling. 

“Oh, sweetie, you have no idea who you’re messing with.” AJ starts to stand up, Candice following suit though she looks more confused and dumbfounded than anything. Like she’s there but not here. “Your psychopath husband isn’t here to save you—”

“You lay one hand on her, and I’ll snap your fucking neck like a twig.”

Three sets of eyes land on the figure who’s way too big for them to have not heard his footsteps, but that’s exactly what’s happened. The orderly who Solana has noticed watching her since her admission is standing almost protectively beside where she still sits on the sofa. His gaze and voice are hard as steel, focused on AJ and Candice. “I suggest you leave. Now. And stay the hell away from her.”

Solana looks between this man who, for some reason, is defending her and AJ, who still looks more amused than anything. She scoffs. “Of course.” Frowning, Solana is still stuck on the fact that this orderly who’s working in a psychiatric wing for women who’ve tried to kill themselves just threatened to kill another woman when AJ simply turns to walk away, Candice hot on her heel.

And as soon as they're out of the vicinity, the man steps back, as if wanting to grant Solana space. He then exclaims, further deepening her shock, “you’ll be safe here, Mrs. Reigns. You have my word.” 

Mrs. Reigns…..

Solana is suddenly taken back to her birthday trip, the way she was addressed by the pilots, the chef, and anyone else that Roman hired to assist them on their vacation. And that’s when it hits her.

“Bloodline…..” It makes so much sense. Why he’s always seemed to be around when she’s not in her room, the way he’s watched her almost nonstop since she arrived, the way he intervened just now. “You’re Bloodline.”

“Dave.” He offers a small, respectful smile that’s all the answer she needs. “But everyone calls me by my last name, Bautista.”

________

“Hey.”

It’s interesting how a simple word can bring on such a reaction.

Just yesterday, the same word was said to her and followed up with a not terrible but strange interaction.

She can only pray this time around is different. 

Solana takes a second to pause and shut her eyes before she looks up from her inner arm where she works on the assignment given in her first group therapy session.

Her eyes land on three women, all familiar faces because they’re all in her group. However, she’s never directly spoken to them prior to now.

Solana swallows and offers a small smile. “Hi….” 

Solana studies all of them, different in skintones, builds, hair colors and even facial expressions. The one who spoke first pushes her raven hair over shoulder and clears her throat, asking, “is it—is it true that your husband had the orderlies and security replaced with Bloodline members?”

The question takes her back, Solana unsure of how to respond, not because she doesn’t know the answer. She does. Baustista indirectly confirming that he was sent by her husband to watch over her has made Solana realize that it’s not just him who she catches watching her whenever she’s not in her room. It’s other men as well. Big, strong, much too in shape for a job like this.

The only logical thing that makes sense to her is that Roman is, once again, looking out for her. As he always does. 

“That’s pretty fucking cool. If so.” Another one comments, her brunette pulled to the side of her neck as she sits down on the sofa opposite Solana. “It was even better seeing AJ put in her place.”

Solana swallows, quite unsure just how to respond to that. “I—I don’t want to cause any problems.”

The first woman scoffs, also sitting down next to the other lady. “You might not, but AJ does. I honestly don’t know why they don’t put her in the other wing with Victoria.”

“The other wing?”

The third woman breaks her silence, explaining, her voice quiet and typical for her equally unassuming demeanor. “There’s two psychiatric wings here. The one we’re in and another for more….severe cases.”

“I.e. the really crazy bitches.”

“Melina!” The woman with brunette hair shakes her head, smiling a little as she formally introduces everyone. “I’m Mickey. This is Melina, and that’s Cameron, but we call her Cam.”

For some reasons, the names fit all of them, Solana moving to the side as Cam gestures to the space next to her and takes an almost apprehensive seat. 

“Solana—”

“Oh, everyone knows who you are, girl.” Mickey snickers, leaning back into the sofa and crossing her legs over one another. “You might just be my new favorite person.”

Solana frowns, completely lost at this seemingly random title. “I don’t—-I don’t understand.”

“AJ thinks she runs shit around here. Her and that dumbass friend of hers, Candice Michelle.” Melina explains, shaking her head. “AJ definitely should be in the other ward with Victoria. She’s the psychiatrist that runs it. Doesn’t put up with shit. Almost polar opposite of Dr. Stratus.”

Solana doesn’t know much beyond what’s being said, but something tells her she’s most definitely in the better of two places. Even if just getting to have Dr. Stratus manages her meds. She really likes her. 

However, this conversation brings up a very valid question that Solana doesn’t exactly know how to word very well but finds it in her to ask. “So you all….you’ve been here before?” 

It’s obvious, given the fact that they’re all so familiar with each other and dynamics. Same with this AJ and Candice person, but Solana doesn’t want to assume.

There’s a silence that falls over the women, and Solana instantly feels bad, feels silly for not recognizing how invasive that question is. However, before she can apologize, Cam is the one to speak up.

Shrugging, her smile is tight and undeniably sad as she says so simply, “demons are hard to kill.”

And just like that, Solana has never related to something more.

Feeling overcome with an almost duty to share, her eyes drop to her arms, the intricate outlines of butterflies camouflaging the scars that will never fully go away. “I get that……I really do.”

Looking up, Solana feels the set of understanding gazes on her, instantly knowing without any of them needing to share specifics that they just get it. They understand the specific and tragic ways one can end up in a place like this, oftentimes due to demons beyond their slaughtering capabilities. 

Mickey clears her throat, gesturing to Solana’s arm. “You’re really good.”

She glances down at her still unfinished art, a small smile falling on her face. “Thank you.” An idea crosses her mind as she notices each of them attempted to follow through on the assignment as well but clearly struggled. “I can—I can help, if you want?” 

Cam gasps, obviously excited by the idea of it. “Really?”

Solana’s smile grows as she explains, “I—I love art.”

Mickey squeals almost and pulls out a black sharpie from her bra, shrugging with a playful smile. 

“We were kinda hoping you said that.”

________

“You’re quiet today.” Gail’s assessment continues as she asks in a gentle voice, “are you nervous?”

Nervous is an understatement. Solana fidgets on the sofa, running her hands down her sweats. “I—I haven’t seen or spoken to him since….you know.”

Gail presses her lips together, nodding. “You don’t know what to expect.”

Solana nods, eyes starting to water. “I don’t—I don’t want him to be upset with me.” 

It’s officially been a week since Solana has been admitted into the psychiatric ward. An interesting experience, to say the least. She’s made enemies, made ‘friends’, worked through and started to process with a professional so much of her trauma, and more. And while her longing for seeing and speaking to her husband has only continued to grow by the day. The day finally being here where she’s allowed a visitor, where he will come to see her this evening feels almost….it feels too soon.

She’s just so nervous, unsure of what that reunion is going to look like. 

Gail sees the thoughts brewing in her client’s head as she asks in an attempt to redirect, “are you responsible for his emotions?”

“No, but….but I—” When she struggles to get out a coherent response, Gail presents a thought provoking question.

“Solana, based upon what you know about Roman, what’s more likely? That he’ll be upset with you or that he’ll just be happy that you’re alive?”

It’s such a good question, one that has the emotion bubbling in the back of her throat, emotion she shows as silent tears begin to fall. “I—I want him to be happy, but…..”

“You’re still struggling with feeling like a burden to him….” It’s an assessment by her therapist that is wholly correct, but one Solana can’t verbally comment on, only offering her agreement with a silent head nod. “Do you remember the exercise we did a couple of sessions ago about faulty thinking? About the ways your trauma influences your thinking.” 

Solana reflects back on that session, so heavy yet so helpful. It provided her such insight on just how deeply her experiences have painted her view of so much. Of everything, really. Including how she so lowly views herself sometimes. 

“I want you to think about that and compare it to the thoughts that you’re having now……where are they coming from?”

Solana closes her eyes and blows out a breath. “My…my fear.”

“And if your fear was a living, breathing entity sitting opposite beside you right now, how would you combat it? Think about the cognitive challenging we discussed.”

Keeping her eyes shut, Solana travels back to that session, utilizing the skills and tips and knowledge she’s learned since her admission.

She takes an ‘efficient breath’, as Gail calls them. “I’d tell my fear that….that you don’t get to control me anymore.”

Gail smiles softly, gently encouraging the young woman to continue. “What else?”

Silent tears continue to fall, but Solana’s voice remains firm and unwavering. “And that….that Roman cares about me and just wants me to be okay and….and get better.”

Gail hasn’t felt so proud and pleased with a client’s response to the empty chair exercise in quite a while. “Exactly.” She sits back in her own chair, jotting down some notes. “Can I ask what you’re feeling right now?”

Solana finally opens her eyes and wipes at her eyes, scoffing quietly. “A…a little better, actually.” She motions to her chest. “It doesn’t….it doesn’t feel as heavy.”

“Good.” Gail makes note of this and starts to ask a follow up processing question when Solana’s soft voice beats her to it.

“Can…..can I talk about something with you?”

Gail’s grin is warm and welcoming as she offers genuine assurance. “Solana, there’s nothing we can’t discuss here.” She’s pleased to see Solana’s smile grow at this reassurance. “What would you like to talk about?”

Feeling on the spot all of a sudden, despite being the one who initiated the conversation, Solana does her best to manage and push through her anxiety. “I—I’ve been….I’ve been having dreams since I got here.”

Gail is mindful of her expression as she asks in a soft voice, “dreams or…..”

Sensing what she’s asking, Solana quickly shakes her head. “No. Not those. Not nightmares. They….they really are dreams. Good dreams, I—I think.”

Studying her, Gail assesses. “You seem unsure.” 

Deciding to bite the bullet, Solana shares in a low voice, “they’re dreams of me in the future…..as….as a mother.”

Gail nods. “I see.” She makes note of one of Solana’s nonverbals. “You’re smiling right now.”

Sniffling, Solana continues to share and exhibit so much vulnerability, most of which is solely because of how safe and non-judged Gail has made her feel. “In the dreams, we have three kids. Twin girls and a baby boy.” She wipes at her nose and swallows deeply. “I—I want to be a mom someday, but I don’t….I don’t want to be a bad mom.”

If these dreams have shown her anything, it’s that she wants more than anything to be a positive influence in her future child, or children's, lives. She doesn’t want to cause them even a fraction of the parental trauma she’s experienced. 

And deep down, Solana knows that she’s absolutely nothing like her father.

But, she knows she’s very much been deeply impacted by her fathers’ abuse. By all of her trauma. And the last thing she wants is for any of that to negatively influence her children. 

“Solana, what makes you think you could ever be a bad mother?” She shrugs, shutting down a bit. Gail sighs lowly, offering words of affirmation and support. “You are not a bad person. You are not a broken person. Not a damaged person. Just a person who’s been dealt some not so  great cards, but you’re here, working on these things. Working on becoming a healthier version of yourself.” Gail chuckles, pointing out, “that doesn’t sound like a bad future mother to me.”

Really sitting on the words of encouragement and doing her best to not let the self-doubt creep in, Solana asks in a voice barely above a whisper, “do you….do you really think I could be a good mother?”

Gail’s response is almost immediate, not a thought to be had as she answers honestly, “Solana, I think you could be a damn good mother.” 

Solana laughs, emotion seeping in as she nods, utterly grateful for such kind words. “Thank….thank you. That….that means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” Gail would like to process this more, maybe get into some additional trauma work, but there’s another important thing on her agenda for this session. “Solana, as you know, your hold will be up exactly one week from now, meaning you’ll be officially discharged and allowed to return home.”

Solana eyes lighten up at that, an expected reaction as Gail gently slides into a deeper conversation pertaining to her release. “But, there’s something I would like to speak to you about.”

________

Roman doesn’t think twice as he walks into the room that’s suspiciously quiet to be located in a hospital, decorated just as one would expect a therapist’s office to look. He only briefly takes a look around before plopping his big body down on the sofa. 

He didn’t even pay any attention to the fact that Gail was attempting to extend an olive branch, offering a handshake that he so rudely ignored, clearly ready to get this over with.

She keeps her togetherness, offering a verbal introduction. “Thank you for com—”

“This has to do with Solana, right?”

Gail makes a face, pressing her lips together as she chuckles quietly. “Of course.”

“Then get to it.” Roman is quick with the demands, asking, “how is she doing?”

Gail offers a tight smile. “I’m Gail Kim, the therapist on staff who’s been handling Solana’s individual therapy sessions.”

“Did I ask you who you were?” His stare is cold and uninterested. “I asked you how she’s doing.”

Sighing, Gail refers to the tablet on her lap, opening up the notes she’s happy that she prepared ahead of time. This is going exactly as she predicted it would. “Your wife is no longer endorsing suicidal ideation which means she’s denying any thoughts and plans to take her life, which is significant progress considering it’s only been a week—”

There’s a hint of hopefulness in both his expression and voice as he asks, “so, she’s ready to come home?”

Gail hesitates. “Not exactly.”

The previous hopefulness melts into something cold and harsh. Roman is visibly and understandably irritated. “You just said she’s not suicidal anymore.”

“Yes, but it’s not that simple. Solana is….she’s an interesting case. Her trauma history is significant. Though she seems to be on the way to stabilization, there’s still a lot of work that needs to be done. She needs continued professional help.”

“Isn’t that why she’s here with you?” His tone is cruel and condescending. “If you’re too fucking incompetent to help her, let me take her home, so I can.”

Gail bites the inside of her cheek. If this was anyone else, she would set them straight on the importance of mutual respect. But, this isn’t just anyone. This is Roman Reigns, and she’s well aware of the fact that one wrong statement or sign of disrespect could very well end her life, so she does her best to remain calm and professional. And she tries an alternative approach. 

“You know, one of the exercises she did in an individual session asks about what safe spaces she has, sources of support and whatnot. And you know what she put down for almost every answer?” Gail gives a small, closed mouth smile. “You.” Well trained in reading nonverbals, she picks up on the brief giveaway sign of emotion that flashes in Roman’s eyes at this. “She put down that you are her number one reason for wanting to live.” 

There’s a good minute of silence before Roman asks in an uncharacteristically low voice. “So why did she do it?”

Gail's smile shifts into a solemn frown. “I’ll leave that discussion to the two of you. She’s expressed wanting to talk with you about that directly.”

“I’m asking you.”

Gail leans back in her chair and goes a different route. “It’s okay to be upset with her. To be angry at her. To be angry at and blame yourself.” Gail catches just a glimpse of surprise in his eyes at the last part. “To actually feel your feelings.”

Roman, however, is uninterested in any of this. Offended even. “Why the hell would I be angry at her?”

“Why wouldn’t you be? She tried to leave you. That’s essentially what suicide is. Escapism. It provides the patient with the peace they’re looking for but leaves the loved ones left behind with a world of questions and emotions.” She explains, mindful of her tone and voice. “Two truths can exist in the same universe. You can be happy she wasn’t successful and still angry at her for trying in the first place.”

Roman is quiet for a good two minutes, Gail wondering if she should transition to another topic when he breaks said silence in that same low voice. 

“I don’t understand why she didn’t call me. I told her to tell me if…..if those thoughts ever returned.”

“But she didn’t…..” Gail’s voice softens as she adds, almost empathetically. “I think you’ll find talking with her will give you some of the answers you’re looking for. But, they truly should come from her.”

Roman won’t push. He wants to, but won’t. If this is something Solana wants to discuss with him herself, he’ll respect that. So long as it’s not triggering to her, which it seems, surprisingly, it’s not. 

Gail clears her throat and transitions to the next section. “Dr. Stratus started her on a medication regimen of Sertraline, 50mg and Wellbutrin, 100mg, once a day in the morning as well as Hydroxyzine, PRN, which means as needed. The Sertraline and Wellbutrin are antidepressants, and Hydroxyzine can be taken when she starts to feel overwhelmed or triggered. So far, she’s responding well, though it typically takes 4 to 6 weeks for patients to truly notice the full benefits.” 

Roman nods, as Gina or whatever her name is, continues to explain what’s otherwise obvious. 

“We’ve been administering her medication and given how she attempted to take her life, Dr. Stratus and I strongly advise that you or someone else take over that administration upon her discharge—”

“Do you honestly think I’m stupid enough to allow her to have unmonitored access to pills again?” Roman doesn’t even try, not that he was before, to hide his frustration and irritation. She’s acting like he’s stupid. His degrees may be in business, but one doesn’t need to have a degree in behavioral health to know thatyou don’t give a formerly suicidal person free access to the same method they used to take their life. 

Gail, however, decides to not feed into it. “You know, anger is sometimes just anger. Just people mad as hell. But sometimes….sometimes it’s what we call a blanket emotion, meaning there are other feelings hiding beneath it, being presented as anger.”

Roma sits forward. “Just what the hell are you trying to insinuate?”

“Nothing at all, Mr. Reigns.” A small smile falls on her face, and that only pisses him off even more. Is this bitch trying to patronize him or something? “But, you should know that we offer support for spouses and loved ones like yourself who are supporting—”

“The only thing I need for you to do is to help my wife, so I can get her the hell out of this place and home where she belongs.”

Gail takes a deep breath. 

It was worth a try. 

“I want to show you something.” She stands up from her chair, moving to her desk as she pulls out a key to unlock the drawer. “Solana signed a full release authorizing us to share all details regarding her care with you. But, there are some things she’s explicitly expressed you not being okay with knowing and seeing. This is not one of them. And I think you would find it interesting….”

If not for the fact that the therapist already made it clear that safety concerns and suicidality are exceptions to confidentiality, Roman would be concerned, wondering just what exactly Solana doesn’t want him to know.

But something tells him she’s perhaps opened up in therapy about specifics regarding her trauma more than she has with him, and if that’s the case, his only hope is that this woman knows what she’s doing and doesn’t trigger Solana further.

She walks back over, handing him a set of sheets. Roman takes them, immediately noticing the handwriting. 

Solana’s handwriting. 

He gets to reading the bolded question that each has answers of varying length.

Who is your safe person? What makes this person safe?

My husband. He’s the first man in my life to not hurt me. The first man I’ve ever trusted.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you trust this person with 1 being none and 10 being absolute trust?

 10

How does this person make you feel safe?

He’s patient with me and listens to me and makes me feel beautiful.

How does this person serve as a member of your support system?

He listens to me and always checks on me. 

How long have you experienced thoughts/urges/practices of self-harming behavior including suicidal ideation and/or attempts?

The first time I felt like I didn't want to be alive anymore was when I was ten. I woke up from my coma and realized my mother was dead. I just wanted to be with her. But it’s my brother constantly telling me I should kill myself after my mom’s murder that made me seriously think about doing it. 

He would tell me that it should have been me who died, and I should just kill myself because no one wanted me.

And I started to believe him. 

It’s been on and off since then.

Has there been a point in time where you have not had these thoughts/urges?

Yes. For the past four months. 

If you answered yes to the previous question, what caused or contributed to the cessation of these thoughts/urges?

I met my husband. I had real friends for the first time. I found myself having a real family for the first time in a long time. 

I was happy.

Prior to this gap, when was the last time you experienced any of these thoughts? What triggered them?

The day of my wedding. This was before I got to know my husband. I was scared he was going to beat me like my dad and brother.

What happened to re-trigger you? If uncomfortable sharing, list the emotions you felt during this episode. 

Sadness. Anger. Confusion.

Do you remember what thoughts you were experiencing before the suicidal and self-harming ideation returned? What were they?

I couldn’t stop thinking about my rape and my mother’s murder. It was like I was reliving them over and over again, and I couldn’t get the memories and flashbacks to stop. It felt like all my progress was reversed, and I’d have to start over, and I didn’t want to put my husband and family through that, as they’re the reason I even started to heal.

I just didn’t want to be in pain anymore, and I thought everyone would be happier if I was dead. I didn’t want to be a burden to my husband.

Looking back and reflecting on your thoughts, have they changed? And if so, how?

I don’t want to die. I still don’t feel as good as I was feeling before I found out the truth, but I’m not thinking or wanting to kill myself anymore. I still have a lot of things I want to do. I’m not ready to be done here. Just want to get better.

 Do you wish you would have done something different? What could you have done differently?

Yes.

Called my husband. 

Can you identify at least one reason your life is worth living?

Roman 

Roman has oscillated through so many different emotions reading through this worksheet from beginning to end. Anger seems like the dominant emotion, his jaw clenching as he learns how close to the paternal tree Solana’s bitch brother remained..

He’s not much better than Xavier. 

If not worse. 

And Roman is determined to find even more, additional ways to make that fucker suffer the way he made Solana suffer for so many years.

He’s also livid and something else unknown that on a day that should have been special for her, she was considering taking her own life.

And he hates himself for putting her in that position in the first place. He was the one who wanted to speed everything up, not even considering how traumatic that process could have been for her. 

But he especially doesn’t know how to feel reading just how highly Solana views and feels about him. She hasn’t been very quiet regarding how much she cares about him, but reading her words, her writing, her honesty, it makes him aware of just how much she cares. 

“You mean a lot to her. And her healing and progress moving forward will require your support.” Gail cuts in, voice calm and almost soothing. “One of the things I ask clients all the time is who their support system is and is there anything else they need from this person or persons….she couldn’t tell me a single thing she needs from you that you don’t already give her.” Roman says nothing, not even offering a nonverbal gesture or movement for her to analyze. Thus, Gail continues, reviewing her notes of topics she wanted to touch on with him prior to his seeing Solana in a few hours. “Now, I will say, Solana does exhibit strong codependent tendencies. Specifically with you. She’s extremely attached to you, and while that should probably be addressed at some point, her stabilization is the priority.”

Roman doesn’t pay much, or any, mind to that last part. He doesn’t care what this woman says. Whatever Solana needs, she’ll get. 

Especially if what she wants is him.

Cause he wants her just as much. 

________

Roman doesn’t get nervous. 

Ever.

But, he’s certain what he’s feeling in his fucking stomach is some level of nerves.

And he hates that shit.

Cause why the fuck is he at his grown age feeling anxious about seeing his wife? Perhaps it’s the fact that it’ll be the first time in a week that he’s actually laid eyes on her, seeing her not lying unconscious in a hospital bed. That he’ll be able to have her big brown eyes focused on him. Hear the sound of her voice, so soft and light.

He shuts his eyes.

Fucking nerves.

He decides to pull out his phone as a distraction while security escorts her to him in the visitors section, remembering a text from Paul that he should probably respond to. Not that he wants to, but it’s better standing here feeling fucking stupid and—

“Roman…”

He wasn’t sure just sure how he would respond or react or even feel seeing her for the first time in a week, but Solana is barely able to get his name out of his mouth when Roman snaps his head up from the phone in his hand to the direction of which the voice came. 

It happens a bit too fast for him to even process. The rise and easy falter of her smile, the gloss of her eyes, the tiny scoff of disbelief that leaves her mouth before she’s running toward him.  Roman wastes not a single fucking second to pick her up the minute she throws her body against him. And just like that, almost every trace of irritation, of vexation, of anger melts away.

Roman’s eyes shut as he holds her close against him, noticing how tightly she’s holding him back. 

Her voice cracks followed by a sniffle as she murmurs against his shoulder. “I’ve missed you….”

For a brief second, he’s angry again. Angry because has she been asking for him? And if so, why was he not informed? Stratus has been texting him frequent general updates. That she’s been consistently opening up in individual therapy, not as open in group sessions, often writes and draws during their designated free time, etc.

But nothing about her asking for him. 

He makes a mental note to ask Stratus about that shit, but not now. Now, his focus is entirely focused on the woman in his arms.

“I missed you too.” Saying he missed her feels like an understatement. Roman has been fucking miserable without her around, but what good would it serve her to share as such? So, he keeps it simple but still accurate.

He ignores the small part of him that dislikes when she finally pulls away, but that dissatisfaction is easily shoved to the side when he sees her eyes watering. “I’m so sorry. I—I didn't mean. I just—”

Roman’s focus is now solely honed in on stopping her from crying. He can’t see her upset. Not after what happened. He moves his hands to her face, gently cupping her cheeks and brushing away her tears. “Let’s talk, okay?”

She nods, stepping back, forcing his hands to drop but easily sliding her hand into one of his as she leads them in the direction from where she came. Roman won’t lie. He’s not paying attention to much in passing. Just her. It’s like there’s a blurred lens on them, distorting everything around them except his wife.

And he has zero issues with this. 

He has zero issues until they’re walking past a group of three women who seem to notice that Solana is crying and stop her, the one who almost looks like she could be Hispanic asks Solana, “are you alright?”

Who the fuck is this? Roman would most definitely ask as such as well as tell her to stay out of their damn business if not for the fact that Solana answers almost reassuringly. 

“Yes, of course.” 

To make matters worse, this irritating ass stranger has the audacity to almost send a suspicious damn near glare his way. Just who the fuck does she think she is? 

The woman on her right suddenly asks, her quiet voice strangely reminding him of Solana. Right off the bat, he can see they have similar demeanors. “You’re still joining us for breakfast, right?”

Solana answers right away, shaking her head. “Of course.”

Joining for breakfast? What the fuck is this? A psychiatric ward or summer camp?

The women all seem to give Solana that ‘call us if you need anything’ nod before finally leaving him alone with his wife. Roman has to keep his sigh to himself.

Only Solana would make ‘friends’ at a damn hospital.

She finally leads him into what he would guess is her ‘room.’ He’s instantly not impressed and annoyed because he directly instructed Stratus to make sure she had the best this place has to offer.

This clearly ain’t it. He adds it to his list of complaints to bring up to the psychiatrist. He’s also annoyed by the ‘sheet’ that serves at the door, irritated that they won’t have total privacy. But, he understands. It’s a psychiatric ward. Not the Four Seasons. 

Roman allows Solana to guide him over to her bed where she motions for him to sit down. He does as such, partially surprised when she climbs onto his lap, legs on either side. He doesn’t protest though, simply holds her by his hips as he shifts so that his back against the wall. 

Solana, however, keeps her head down, her hands scrunching the bottom of his shirt as she seems to force out, “I don’t want to talk about this—”

That’s an easy thing, Roman quickly moving to remind her of her autonomy. “Then don’t—”

She cuts him off. “But, I need to.” She finally lifts her gaze, and my God, he’s missed staring into those pretty eyes, seeing her pretty face. “I can’t—I won’t avoid it.” She takes a deep breath, asking, “what do you want to know?”

He’s partially surprised by how direct she’s being, but in his defense, the last time he spoke to her directly, she was in such a different place. A much darker place.

That doesn’t seem to be the case anymore, but he knows looks can be deceiving, so he remains cautious. His voice is surprisingly gentle, as he answers, “I think you already know the answer to that, Sol.”

Her eyes shut again, and he can’t tell if it’s because of his use of his nickname for her or the emotionality of it all. 

Both, probably. 

She brings her gaze back on him, and he hates seeing the emotion building back up. Logically, he knows that there’s no way to have this kind of conversation and emotion not be present. Doesn’t mean he has to like it though. “I just….I couldn’t think straight that night, Roman. I just kept reliving every bad thing that’s happened to me but now with the knowledge that it was my own father that was responsible. And I just….I couldn't handle it.”

This is the part he can barely handle. The knowing of the role, a large role, he played in what landed her here. He feels like shit about it and prepares to take ownership when she continues. 

“And I thought….I felt like….I felt like all the progress I had made was now gone and that I’d have to start over, and I just—-I couldn’t fathom going through all that again.” She swallows, tears starting to fall. “I felt like I would just be a burden to you and that….it would just be easier for you if I was dead.”

Gutted. Reading it was one thing, but hearing it is an entirely different experience. To know this is truly how she felt, the thought process that led to her making the decision she made. The most likely reason she didn’t call him.

Because she thought she was a burden.

It kills him.

She drops her head, and he moves his hands back to her face. “Solana, look at me.” When she continues to keep her head down, he repeats himself, voice still low and gentle. “Look at me.” She seems to hesitate but follows through, Roman hating how devastated she looks. “Nothing about my life would be easier without you in it. You are never a burden to me. You never have been, and you never will be. I want to help you. Listen to you. Whatever it is you need, I’ll do. I just need you to tell me.” This time, he’s the one swallowing back unfamiliar and uncomfortable emotions. “I just need you to not leave me, alright?” She seems slightly taken back by his honesty and vulnerability. Truthfully, so is he. It was one thing to be so honest with her while she was unconscious, but it’s another when she sits before him, aware and conscious and hanging onto every word. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your father. I should have—”

“No. Please—please don’t.” She shakes her head, interrupting him with that same small voice. “I’m glad you didn’t.” The ‘shocked’ ball is back in his court as she explains, “I don’t….I don’t think I would have ever wanted to know the truth. It’s….it’s been too hard to have to deal with that.” 

Clearly. He can’t even begin to imagine what that’s like for her. To be stuck with the knowledge that her own flesh and blood could be so cruel, so hateful, so evil as to do what Xavier has done to his own daughter.

“The therapy has….it’s helped.” He believes it. Roman has noticed the sheets of paper that have positive affirmations and what he would guess are coping skills taped to the wall opposite her bed. She cracks a small, sad smile. “It’s….it’s been good for me.”

He believes that, too. He can see that. There’s a stark difference in her appearance, even with her being emotional as she is with the conversation at hand. She doesn’t look as fractured as the last time he saw her.

She looks stronger. Happier, even. It makes his chest swell with yet another unfamiliar sentiment.

Love, perhaps?

Just thinking about it has Roman clearing his throat, needing to focus on something other than that right now. “Have they been treating you okay?” This has been pretty high up, if not the highest, thing on his priority list.

She nods, Roman noticing and grateful that her tears are starting to dry up. “Yes. I….how many Bloodline men do you have here?”

“Enough.” She doesn’t need to know the full extent of just how above and beyond he went to ensure no one on staff at this hospital could be questionable about their intentions towards her. “I’m always gonna look out for you, baby. Always.”

Her eyes shut, not from feeling overwhelmed but something else. Something that seems less heavy and more comforting. 

Solana moves around on top of him, Roman somehow sensing what she’s trying to do, and he has zero hesitations.

He shifts his body, so he’s laying on her bed, his feet dangling off the edge of the bed, but it makes no difference to him as soon as she lays on top of him, her head cradled in his neck, her arms around him.’

“I’ve missed you.” Her arm laid against him, Roman reading to close his eyes when he catches onto something for the first time. He doesn’t know he missed it either, because it stands out. Roman gently takes her arm, turning it over.

On her inner forearm are a set of beautifully drawn butterflies of various sizes and colors, the largest being a dark blue color and the smaller one next to it, different shades of red and pinks. There are three much smaller butterflies under the two larger ones, two of them pink and the smallest also that same dark blue.

She looks up at him, offering a small smile. “It’s something they have us do in group therapy. They call it The Butterfly Project.” She shifts her body to show him her other forearm, revealing additional butterflies before she lays back down as she was. “You draw butterflies that represent the people in your life you care about and every time…you think of wanting to self-harm, you remember that you’re killing the butterflies. It’s like….like a reminder that people care about you.”

It’s an interesting concept, and judging by the emotion in her voice, a concept she resonates with deeply. Roman’s long index finger ghosts over the larger blue one as he asks, “who is this one for?” 

Solana’s smile deepens. “You.” He’s grateful that she continues to explain so he doesn't have to think much about that sentiment very similar to love that comes up at that admission. “And this one,” she gestures to the pink and red one. “--is me. My future self.” 

That doesn’t help the building emotion, so he again goes for distraction, motioning to the remaining three, asking, “and those?”

She swallows, something flashing in her eyes he can’t identify, answering gently, “I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

Her answer confuses him. He doesn’t know what to make of it, but he doesn’t want to push her either. 

“How is Dulce?” She asks suddenly, the sadness in her voice returning.

Roman won’t tell her the way her puppy sometimes sits by the front door around the time she usually gets home from work or the way she whimpers at night every so often, clearly missing her owner. He’ll spare her that, offering only a morsel of the truth. 

“The usual. Sleeping most of the day. You can tell she misses you.” 

Solana frowns. “I miss her too.” She licks her lips, asking almost nervously, “how are Bay—”

Roman is quick to shut that down, a hint of harshness in his voice. “I don’t want to talk about them.”

Truth be told, he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to look or view them the same ever again. It may be a bit irrational and unfair, but it’s how he feels. And truthfully speaking, he’s got ten million other things on his mind and in his heart he’s trying to sort through. 

“Roman…..” Solana sits up a bit, and he’s taken back for a second by how fucking beautiful she is. Even with the sadness in her eyes. “It wasn’t their fa—”

“Not now, Sol.” His tone takes on a gentler tone as he adds on, for good measure, “please. I just want to enjoy you.”

He knows she’ll bring it up again. She cares too much about the two women who Roman will never trust her with again to just let it go permanently. “Okay.” She lays herself back down on top of him, and Roman kisses the top of her head.

“How are you?”

He’s not quite sure why her question surprises him. But, the answer is an automatic, “fine.”

He’s far from fine, but she doesn't need to know that.

Again, Solana sits up, that frown almost deepening. “Are you sleeping?” She reaches over and caresses his beard. “You look tired. H–have you been taking your medicine?”

Roman is truly dumbfounded. She is the one who is currently a legally mandated patient in a psychiatric ward because she was actively suicidal only a week ago, and yet, she’s laying here worried about him. 

Roman has to push back that love feeling that’s returning. 

“I keep telling you not to worry about me,” he reminds, once again wanting and almost needing to stress to her that worrying about him should be the last thing on her plate.. “I just want you to focus on yourself.”

Her retort surprises him, bold and almost uncharacteristic of her. “And I keep telling you that I’m always going to worry about you.”

Roman chuckles, commenting, “you’re becoming more outspoken….”

She gives him a small smile. “I told you the therapy has been helping.”

Roman scoffs. She’s right. Maybe that Gemma woman does know what she’s doing. 

“Do you need anything?”

Solana says nothing, just lays back down against him, her hand moving over his chest, resting on his heart. “Just you.” She must glance at the clock on the wall as she comments, “we only have 40 minutes left….”

He knows she’s referring to the one hour time block allotted for visitors. Something he absolutely couldn't give two shits about. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.“ He’d stay the whole night if that was what she wanted. 

“Roman….” It’s funny how he already knows what she’s going to say. “The rules—”

His interruption is sharp, but it’s not aimed towards her. And she knows that. “I don’t give a fuck about rules when it comes to you.” She sighs into his chest, offering no protest, saying nothing else.

Conversation is intermittent over the next two or so hours, Solana eventually falling asleep on top of him. He doesn’t mind. As much as he enjoys talking to her, having her body on top of his is an easy, acceptable alternative.

He’s missed this. Missed being with and around her. Roman is just now realizing just how much he benefits from having her around. He’s been a complete nightmare for everyone around him outside of Dulce, even more temperamental than his usual default setting.

But the minute he laid eyes on her, saw her innocent smile, had her in his arms, everything suddenly felt so better.

That’s what she does for him. What she is for him. 

Medicine. 

An antidote. Something he never knew he was missing until he met her. It seems like it was almost impossible for him to not fall in love with her. 

Love….

Thinking about it again brings a frown to his handsome face, forcing him to face a reality that’s so easy to escape when he’s with her.

Roman may love Solana, but….he can never act on it. Not really. Can never tell her he loves her. That makes it official. That confirms that he finally has something his enemies can use against him, a distraction, a weakness.

Loving her openly would make him vulnerable, would put her at risk, and he couldn’t do that. Not just for himself but most definitely not to her. 

To be with her like this, open and vulnerable, behind closed doors is one thing. It’s an entirely different ballpark though to make that visible and public, even with just telling her.

Feeling her stir against him, Roman kisses the top of her head, tugging her closer. 

He won’t deny that he loves her. 

But, he can’t act on it either. 

He’s just going to have to find someway to push that down, tuck it away for safekeeping.

It’s just better that way. 

________

Roman stays for about two hours, Solana waking up and reluctantly expressing her okayness with him leaving. It’s not what she wants, definitely not what he wants, but it’s what’s necessary.

If even for the fact that Dulce can’t be left alone for too long.  

Solana holds onto his arm as she walks him out, Bautista not too far behind to escort her back to her room.

But, it’s when he turns to tell her bye, Roman about to ask her when she wants him to come see her again (fuck visting days), she surprises him by reaching behind her back and pulling out a sealed envelope. 

Brows furrowed, Roman is curious just how the hell he missed that when she presses it against his chest. “Promise me you won’t read it until you get home.” 

Now he’s extremely confused. It’s been a while since Solana has written to thim. They’ve progressed way past that, and it does concern him a bit that she didn’t just talk to him about whatever lies between the lines of this letter. 

But, he also knows she’s been working hard in therapy and even in being able to open up to him about what happened that night had to have been a lot for her, so he won’t push it and will respect it.

Accepting the letter, he simply says, “okay.”

She offers a close mouthed smile, a sign of appreciation and moves to hug him once more, mumbling something in Spanish against his chest that he can’t make out. When she pulls back, he doesn’t hesitate to cup her cheek, reiterating, “you need anything, you let me know, alright?” They’d already briefly discussed how she had picked up on the fact that he had his men stationed strategically all over this place, and any of them were able to get a message to him. 

She nods, repeating to him, “okay.” Solana tugs on his shirt and leans up to kiss his cheek, murmuring against his ear, “bye, Roman.”

It seems saying goodbye is difficult for her just as much as it is for him, Roman unable to reciprocate it, only letting his gaze follow her retreating form until Bautista gives him a nod and closes the door behind them. 

He stands there for a good minute or two before actually leaving.

Fuck. Leaving her seems to be getting harder and harder. 

Roman is barely in the SUV, door not even shut when his long fingers are moving with all the determination to open up the envelope. He unfolds the piece of paper, unsurprised to find her neat handwriting. 

Roman,

I need to ask you to do something for me, but I need you to please hear me out before you settle on an answer. And please know I wouldn’t be asking this of you if I didn’t believe it’s something I really need. 

I’m so sorry for putting you through this. I never want to cause you any stress or create any problems for you. 

I wasn’t in a good place, and this experience has made me realize there’s still a lot of parts of me that still need to heal. I still have a lot to work through. 

That’s why I’m asking.

Gail mentioned a treatment facility she runs about an hour away. It’s a 6 week program for women coming out of the hospital like I will be. 

Roman, I think I should go. 

I don’t think I should come home just yet.

I don’t feel ready. I’m not having those thoughts or urges anymore, but there’s still things I think I need to work through. I don’t ever want to put you through something like this again. I don’t ever want to end up back here again, but the only way I can do that is by making sure I’m good before I leave.

And I don’t know if another week can do that. 

I miss you. So much. It’s been hard being away from you and Dulce and everyone else. But, I feel like I have to do this. I need to do this. 

For us. 

But mostly for me. 

I want to get better.

Please let me.

Te quiero mucho,

Solana

BTW, I’m saying ‘I love you very much’ in Spanish. 

Because I do. 

I love you, Ro.

And I don’t need you to say it back or feel the same. With what you’ve been through, I’d never expect or ask that of you.

I just need you. Your continued support. That’s all. That’s enough.

With all my love,

Solana

________

“I’m so sick of your bloody fuckin’ shit, Seth! It’s the same fuckin’ thing over and over again, and I’m done!” 

The cadence, melody, and even tone of his wife’s rant serves as the perfect resources for Seth who is lazily sprawled out across their sofa, beer in one hand, the other hand moving as if conducting an orchestra. 

And he is.

Because this has become a song and dance with his fiery tempered, Irish wife.

Seconds later, she’s practically stomping in the living room, their daughter in hand who is most definitely old enough to remember this little spat. He cackles to himself. How unfortunate.

However, Becky’s enraged gaze is focused on him, disgust plastered all over. “Were you even listenin’ to me?”

He makes a sound, unbothered eyes falling on her, that infamous smile growing. “Of course, dear.”

Becky, however, knows better. Has been with this man long enough to know better. And she’s done. “Ya know, I thought you were getting better, yeah? But then that bloke Breaker comes over here looking for you, and I—” Becky cuts herself off, refusing to start yelling with her daughter in her arms. Her accent is even thicker, as she shares while adjusting the bag on her other shoulder, “I’m gonna go stay with Charlotte til’ I can figure out just what I’m gonna do.”

What she’s not saying is that she’ll stay with her closest American friend until she can find the funds and resources to move back home. 

She’s just done.

Seth, however, seems unconcerned by the fact that she’s leaving with their kid. “Okay, dear.” He snorts, falling into that all too familiar maniacal laugh. The one that typically accompanies the reckless and dangerous behavior that has her packed and ready to go. It was one thing when it was just the two of them, but with a child now, Becky has a responsibility to keep her daughter safe.

And there is nothing safe about her husband rekindling ties with the Nightmare Factory.

Not wanting him to see the pending tears, Becky kisses her daughter’s cheek and heads for the door, not allowing herself to hesitate as she rips it open only for her jaw to drop.

She scoffs. Unbelievable. With even more support for her decision to leave, Becky looks over her shoulder at her husband who climbs to his feet. “First the Nightmare Factory, and now the fuckin’ Bloodline?” She shakes her head. “Yeah, you dig your own fuckin’ grave, Seth.” 

And with that, she moves past the figures, determined to not look back this time.

Meanwhile, a massive smile grows on Seth’s unshaven face, delight dancing in his dark eyes.

This is certainly proving to be such an eventful day. 

He practically stumbles over but manages to stand firm as he takes a swig of his beer, burping loudly and then asking with all of the excitement, evil smile on his face.

“How can I help you?”

[wonustars]

𝘋𝘰 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦 ? (Teaser)

𖦹 pairing: yoon jeonghan x reader 𖦹 wordcount: 15k+ (this teaser: 643 words)

𖦹 genre: enemies to roommates to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut (mdni 18+) (none in this teaser though)

𖦹 summary: your first day at your new university you spill coffee on an unsympathetic asshole. unfortunately for you that unsympathetic asshole becomes your roommate. 𖦹 in other words: you and jeonghan get off on the wrong foot, but through forced proximity and a snow day in due to a storm, you learn that your roommate is more than just the campus playboy.

𖦹 tags: non-idol!au, uni!au, e2l!jeonghanxreader, campusplayboy!jeonghan, roommate!jeonghan, afab!reader, bestfriend!booseoksoon, joshua is jeonghan's accomplice in everything, reader is the only one who knows how to cook, jeonghan is king of the sassy man apocolypse. (more will be added in the full fic) 𖦹 smut tags/warnings will be added in the full post.

𖦹 taglist form. you can also comment or send an ask but the form is preffered! :) thank u

𖦹 note: this jeonghan fic idea has been cooking in my head for a longgggg while now. idk when it'll be out but cosidering i'll have more down time, i'd say by the end of this month? but it really depends so sorry in advance if i take longer than that lol. i've also decided to make a google form for anyone who wants to be added to the tag list (you must be 18+ though, and i will check if your age is in your bio), as well as a permanent one if you'd like! anyways see you all soon! mwah - anna.

Read More Here.

You hate Yoon Jeonghan. The moment you met him, you hated him.

It had taken you about ten seconds to get on his bad side. All it took was a cup of iced coffee and a random bump in the sidewalk. In the blink of an eye, your freshly made latte had become a wet coffee-coloured stain on Jeonghan’s bright white shirt. Mortified, you apologized profusely, not knowing what else to do.

Everything happened so fast, that you didn’t even realize you were tripping and then spilling your drink onto him. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” He spits at you, his eyes cold as ice. 

Your cheeks heat up fast, and you’re stuttering your words all over the place. To say the least, you felt bad, you haven’t even been here for more than 24 hours and you were already fucking up badly. Just a few hours ago you were ready to start fresh, starting a new semester at the University you transferred to from your hometown. 

Looking back up at the man who was currently staring you down, you begin to take napkins out of your bag to wipe his shirt. A yelp escapes your lips once you feel him slap your hand away from his chest. 

“I said what the fuck is your problem?” He repeats himself, the fire in his eyes flaming against the light of the afternoon sun. 

“I’m sorry, I tripped and-” You begin to explain yourself but he cuts you off, not wanting to hear your sorry excuse of an explanation. 

“I don’t care that you tripped, you spilt your drink on me.” He seethes, clenching his jaw as he talks. 

Now you’re equally as pissed as him, you stare at him for a second trying to see if he’s joking because he couldn’t be serious right now. Quickly, you realize that he is indeed not joking, if anything he’s more serious than you were when you told your parents you were moving away. 

“I’m sorry I spilt my drink but it was an honest mistake. It’s a stain, you can wash your shirt.” You scoff at him, unbelievable, you thought. As you roll your eyes, you watch him get red in the face with anger. 

Jeonghan is a lot more frustrated now that you’re giving him attitude, after the fact that you were the one to stain his clothes.  His fists begin to ball at his sides, who does this girl think she is, he asks himself.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve. You can’t just talk to me that way.” It was his turn to scoff at you, this petty fight between the two of you not going anywhere. 

You look him up and down, you could take him in a fight if it came down to it, or at least that's what you like to tell yourself. His body is a lot on the slimmer side, his looks seem to be his only redeeming quality. Long-haired, with long eyelashes, he was a pretty boy, you’ll admit that much. Yet his personality is not in harmony with his looks, and you found it to be quite surprising. How can someone so good-looking be so spiteful? 

“Too bad, I’ve already apologized and tried to make up for my actions. Didn’t Mommy tell you life isn’t always fair?” You mockingly pout up at him as he towers over you. Before Jeonghan could come up with a rebuttal, you walk past him, purposefully knocking your shoulder with his.

“Hey! I wasn’t done with you! You’ll regret this day!” He shouts at your figure as you walk away from the scene. As you walk away you pray to the gods that this is the last you’ll see of the long-haired pretty boy. 

Little did you know, your prayers had done the opposite of what you asked.

© wonustars

𝄒𓏲࣪ . ⩇⩇ 𝄒 𖥻 a/n: my bad all, ik it's another uni au please dont hate me T-T. i promise i'll do something different next time BUTTTT i'm literally only about 1.5k words in but i'm already excited to share it with you all! please look forward to it :)))

[writting-stuff-sometimes]

We should be best friends too Lando X Fem reader

Summary: Y/n is Pietra's best friend, she considers Max to be a nice guy, but who she really can't stand is Max's best friend, Lando. At Max's birthday party, Pietra asks just one thing, an easy, fun night, but with Y/N and Lando in the same room, this is almost impossible.

Warnings: Bad words and alcohol.

Word Count: 15K Notes: I suck at second parts, so I'm taking my time with the pt2 of "Playing with fire". In the meantime, here's something new. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks for all your comments,

__________________________

"He's coming, isn't he?"

"Y/n, it's Max's best friend, please, please, please, no fights tonight"

"He's the one that always started them!"

"And you were amazing at going along instead of being the grownup and letting it go"

"Excuse me, who's your best friend?!"

"You, but please, just tonight, can you be extra patient with Lando?"

"I'll try"

Pietra had been dating Max for a year now, and it took four months for you to hate Lando. Almost every night you were together ended with a fight between you two. _____________________________

"Hey Mate, happy birthday!" You didn't need to turn to look at the door to recognize the voice owner. You sighed in annoyance.

"Friend of yours, I assume?" the guy standing in front of you, and whom you had been flirting with for the last hour, said with a sarcastic smile.

"Best friend" you rolled your eyes.

To keep your promise to Pietra you tried to stay away from Lando as much as possible and focus on the cute guy in front of you.

____________________________

"Let me get you a refill" Your date took the glass from your hand.

"Thanks"

"My pleasure" he winked at you and then leaned in to place a soft, quick peck on your lips. So far, the night seemed to be going better than expected, no interactions with Lando, and sex with a cute guy was coming your way.

"Isn't he a gentleman?!" His mocking voice was even more annoying.

You took a deep breath before turning around to face Lando.

"Fuck you"

"What's with the cursing? I was just making a statement, you seem to have great taste in men"

"Wish I could say the same about your date" You threw a quick glance toward the blond girl who had been all over Lando for the last 45 minutes, she had done nothing to you but you already disliked her and the childlike way she was giggling with her friends, probably talking about him.

"Ouch"

"Just move and stay away from..." you tried to walk past him but your stupid heel got caught on the carpet. Everything happened so fast. The Brit caught you mid-air, his arms around your waist as your hands fell on his torso, his black shirt was unbuttoned at the top, so your hand was against his skin.

"You ok?" You could have sworn you heard concern in his voice.

The tight grip on your waist and the feeling of his warm skin under your hand seemed to be a little too much for your alcohol-intoxicated brain to voice out a response, so you just nodded.

"If you wanted to cup a feel you could've just asked, you know you have a free pass"

And there he was again, the annoying self-centered prick.

"Please, don't flatter yourself, I would choose planking face first on the floor over this, any day." You pushed him hard, trying to shake away the feeling of his touch.

“And hurt that gorgeous face of yours?” His finger softly traced your cheek, down to your chin, but you pulled away “I would never let that happen. Also, I’ve been told my arms are nice and cozy.” He crossed his arms over his chest, making them seem even bigger.

“Too bad they are attached to a huge self-centered piece of shit like you!”

"Wow" Max's voice startled you. You had said that last phrase as the music changed from one song to another, so every person in the room had heard you, including the cute guy, who was now standing a couple steps away, staring at you.

"Y/n" the disappointed look on your best friend's face broke your heart a little.

"I'm sorry, P." You walked past Lando, took your bag, and left the flat.

A couple tears streamed down your face, falling on your cell screen as you searched for an Uber to take you home.

"Fuck!" you mouthed when the No cars Available text appeared on your screen. You closed the app and opened it again, wishing for a miracle. It was almost 2 am on a Tuesday, and getting an Uber in the middle of the suburbs was a nightmare, you walked to the end of the street, praying that from there, it would be easier to get a car, but again, nothing.

You closed your eyes and took deep breaths, trying to ease the tears, but the frustration and embarrassment were too strong.

A couple minutes later a car stopped right in front of you, from the engine sound it was a sports car, and you knew exactly who it belonged to. The driver's door opened, and you heard him walk towards you.

"Y/n" his voice was low.

"Go away" You didn't turn to look at him, your eyes were probably bloodshot from the tears, and you've had enough humiliation for one night. You opened the Uber app again to keep your sight down.

"Y/n, I'll take you home, come on" He walked to the passenger door and opened it.

"I'd rather crawl there" You answered bluntly.

Like a cruel joke, a sudden gust of wind blew against your body, and goosebumps covered your skin, it was unusually cold for July. As you walked to the threshold of the building, searching for some shelter, the bottoms of your feet reminded you of the heels you were wearing, if you dared to walk back home you might have to do it barefoot.

"Unless you're planning on going back inside, or a car has magically appear on the app..."

"How could I walk back inside there?" You cut him off "I just made a complete fool of myself because of you!" You finally turned to see him as a couple of tears threatened to fall from your eyes again. He looked down at the floor, he seemed embarrassed.

"Then please get in the car, I'll take you home...you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to" He offered you his hand.

You stared at him, he seemed honest and embarrassed. You hated yourself, the puppy eyes were actually working?

"Please, P and Max would kill me if I let you go home alone."

You sighed loudly and walked towards the car. You ignored his stretched-out hand, trying to make a statement, that you were doing it against your will.

As you got inside the car his scent hit you hard, you always claimed he used way too much cologne, but now it seemed nice, warm, almost pleasant, maybe finally being out of the cold was playing tricks on your mind.

The sound of his door shutting pulled you back from your thoughts.

When the car didn't move, you turned to look at him to find him staring back at you.

"What?" you asked in a low voice.

"The seatbelt" he answered as if it was obvious.

"Oh" you turned to pull on it as he started the car and drove away.

It was a quiet drive. From time to time, you discretely turned to look at Lando, whom you always thought was one of those annoying guys with sports cars that would find every little chance to show off, but he seemed to be a decent driver.

Your phone vibrated in your bag.

Pietra💗: Are you ok?

Y/n: Yes, I'm on my way home, I'm so sorry P 😔

Pietra 💗: Don't worry about it, Lando picked you up? He said he was going out to look for you.

Y/n: Yes 😒

Pietra 💗: Good, let me know when you get home, please don't kill him, he's truly embarrassed about how he behaved.

Y/n: Can't promise anything

"Pietra?"

"Yes" You answered without taking your eyes off the phone screen.

"Good to know I have witnesses in case I go missing" He looked at you with a mischievous grin as if you were great friends and this was an inside joke.

You turned to look at him, your face anything but friendly. Why was he acting like you were there because you were friends and not because he had been an asshole?

"Oook" He said in a low whisper and kept his attention on the road.

A few minutes later you heard a breathy laugh from the driver.

"What now?" You asked, breaking the silence.

"You look like a chihuahua"

"Excuse me?"

"You're trembling so much. Maybe you should have worn something more clothy" He stared down at your outfit, black shorts, a lacey bralette, and a matching black blazer.

"I was supposed to spend the night inside a flat"

"But you decided to throw a tantrum like a five-year-old and run out"

"It was all your fault! If you had stayed away from me, right now I would've been with..." You cut yourself off.

"With Mr. Charming?" He turned to look at you. "You just met him tonight." His tone was filled with judgment.

"Why do you care?" You turned to look at him with a raised brow. For some reason, the question threw him off balance, it was nice to be on the other end of the jokes and the messing around.

"Do you want me to care?" He turned to look at you when he stopped at a red light, your winning punch was short-lived.

"Pff, please." You were about to turn away when a sudden movement caught your attention. He turned his body towards you and his hand went behind your headrest. He stared at you deeply, and you stared back. What was he doing? He slowly moved towards you, and your breath quickened as you felt your body get warmer, why was he getting closer? Your mind screamed to move away, but your body didn't move an inch.

Your breath got caught in your throat when he was just inches away from your face.

"Here, put this on before you freeze" he whispered lowly, pulling a hoodie from behind your seat, his breath warmly caressing your blushing face. You stared at him confused.

"What?" He asked, a cocky grin on his face.

"Fuck you"

"If only I had a swear jar." He placed the hoodie on your lap and put the car in movement when the light changed to green.

You contemplated throwing the hoodie back to him, but the cold was teeth chattering, so you got it on. The smell of his cologne intensified, and it felt... it felt nice. You hated how much you seemed to like it. Maybe he had changed colognes, usually, you would find it repulsive.

He turned on the radio, that stupid grin still on his face.

You were getting close to your house, a weird feeling in your chest. Was it sadness? Why would you feel sad about getting home?

Suddenly, the car turned towards a Starbucks drive-thru.

"What are you doing?"

"You're still trembling and I'm out of hoodies, maybe coffee will help you get warm"

He got to the speaker and ordered your favorite drink and a hot chocolate for him.

“How did you know?”

“That coffee gets you warm? It’s basic knowledge, I know you think I’m stupid, but I know things, you know?”

“How do you know my coffee order?”

“Oh, umm the weekend you and Pietra stayed at my house in Mónaco I ordered coffee and P told me what you liked”

“It’s been ages since that happened"

“Yeah..." A weird look on his face, as if he had been caught red-handed. He turned to look away as he approached the window to receive the order.

"Here"

You took the warm cup off his hand. Who was this person?

You held the cup close to your body, giving in to the heat.

"Thanks" You smiled back at him.

"No problem" He drove off as you took a sip from the warm, delicious liquid.

"Is it working?"

"It is, it's nice... why are you doing this?"

"I don't want you to get sick"

"Why?"

"Because being sick sucks?"

"Why are you being nice?" You insisted

"I don't get the question"

"You've never been this nice to me. You're usually picking on me and... being annoying"

"I'm not"

"Yes, you are. You're always calling me names, saying I'm spoiled, uptight, a control freak, you also mock the guys I go out with, the music I listen to, the movies I like..."

"Weeeellll, you started with the name calling"

"Me?!"

"Uuh, yes"

“When?!”

“P’s birthday party last year”

“We had only known each other for like a month back then. What could I've done to you? I didn’t even talk to you that day."

“Well, it wasn’t TO me, but it was about me.”

You stared at him confused, and he continued.

“A friend of yours asked if you liked F1 and you said hell naw, they’re just a bunch of nepo babies that only know how to spin a wheel” He tried to mimic your voice. You were about to protest but he was right.

“In my defense, that was a private conversation... and the world does not revolve around you, I wasn't talking about you, I was talking about all the drivers"

“We’ll you were at a public party, and that statement doesn't really help your case"

You stared down at the coffee cup between your hands. This was embarrassing. Was all this feud with him your fault? You could have sworn he had started it, damn! You were a hundred percent sure it was his fault.

“Why do you hate us drivers so much?”

“It’s not you, it’s the sport… my ex was a big fan, and it ended up bad with him so..."

"...the breakup wasn't my fault" you quickly added.

"I didn't think it was" He tried to cover a mocking smile with his chocolate cup.

"Yeah, right" You rolled your eyes as a faint smile sneaked from your lips.

"Well, too bad an idiot made you hate us all"

It was seriously embarrassing, you could've sworn you were over the stupid breakup with Evan, but he seemed to still find ways to ruin your life even in an indirect way.

"I ...I'm sorry"

"That's new" He joked

"Don't make me regret saying that"

"Sorry" His big smile was kind of cute.

"But really, I'm sorry I was mean, I should not have projected my breakup on you"

"Well..." He parked in front of your building and turned off the engine. "I'm sorry I was childish and tried to get you to like me by bullying you, I swear I'm out of my 6-year-old phase"

"You wanted me to like you?"

"Yeah, you're my best mate's girlfriend's best friend, so if we're going to see each other so much, we should be best friends too. Also, you're actually nice, you don't have bad taste in music..."

"And I have a gorgeous face... your words, not mine"

The curly hair bounced as he laughed at your comment, and you could swear you saw him blushing.

"And you have a really, REALLY gorgeous face"

"Thanks" You framed your face with your hands in an exaggerated flirty way. "Sooo, drinking and driving is against the law even if it's nonalcoholic, and your house is far enough for your chocolate to get cold by the time you get there, as a peace offering, do you want to come up and finish our drinks in a warmer place?

"That would be nice" He smiled taking off his seatbelt fast, as if he was already waiting for the invitation.

He opened the car door for you and walked behind you, shielding your body from the cold British air. You had been so focused on hating him that you didn`t realize how polite and funny he was. It was like meeting a completely new person.

The elevator dinged, letting you know you had arrived at your floor. As you were about to walk out Lando grabbed your wrist and pulled you back in, making you clash against his chest, almost dropping your drink. He stared into your eyes, searching for any sign that you were uncomfortable. He must've seen the fire in his eyes reflected on yours, so he leaned in to kiss your lips, and you kissed him back.

The arm that held your cup wrapped around his neck as your free hand went to make a fist with his curls, one of his arms wrapped around your waist, and his free hand went to your neck, his fingers keeping a blood-rushing grip on it.

He broke the kiss and gave a soft bite to your lower lip.

"Sorry, couldn't help it" He sheepishly smiled as his hand moved from your neck to caress your cheek. "The sexual tension was killing me"

The elevator dinged again, and you were back down in the lobby. As the door opened, a young couple got on it. A knowing smile on their faces as they said hello.

You pushed the 7th-floor button again and stepped back against Lando's chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You could see the guy looking at the driver attentively.

"Hi, sorry to bother you, are you Lando Norris?"

"Yes" the Brit answered shyly.

"Damn, big fan, can I take a picture?"

"Sorry mate, I'm with my lady, but I can sign something for you if you want"

"Sure" He took a piece of paper from his wallet as the girl took a pen from her bag. "Thanks so much"

"Sure, mate, thanks for understanding"

The elevator dinged on their floor.

"Don't worry about it, have a good night." The couple exited and you turned to look at Lando as the elevator continued with its journey up.

"Your lady?" You asked with a raised brow.

"It sounds good, doesn't it?" He gave a small peck on your lips.

"I'll have to think about it" The elevator dinged again, and you took his hand, pulling him towards your apartment.

"Wait! Did you do all of this just so you could get inside my pants?" He pulled his shirt together, dramatically covering his chest, as you opened the apartment door.

"You wish." You answered as you pulled him inside.

Tag List: @wtrmlnsgr94, @ricsaigaslec

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

[bio-hazard]

Now I've Found A Real Love (You'll Never Fool Me Again)

Charlie Slimecicle x Reader Fake Dating

ladies and gentlefish it's finally done. i think this is the longest fanfiction i've ever written and i cut a large portion of it out just to be able to get it done before christmas so i hope that you guys enjoy this (please enjoy this. i'll cry.)

15k words, only warnings for implied weed and cheating, drinking and a lot of guilt. i don't know why i gave reader anxiety. SFW with a few suggestive jokes but minors please dni with my work !! happy holidays ppl !!!!

. 🎄 . 🎁 . 🎄 .

Christmas time is supposed to be the “most magical time of the year”, with love and joy spread through the hearts of many. Apparently that wasn’t in the cards for you this year. You were supposed to go home for Christmas week with your boyfriend to introduce him to your family. Everything was going so well and you had been hyping him up for months now, bragging about how he was the perfect boyfriend.

Until he made you eat those words a day before you were supposed to leave, sitting among clothes and general things you would need for the week scattered around your bed when your phone buzzed and lit up to show the lockscreen of you kissing his cheek.

“hey so. i hate to say this but i dont think this is going to work out. i dont want to see you hurt and your a great person but i dont think im ready to meet your family yet. i think i should spend time alone to find myself. its not your fault ml”

Your smile fell as you read over the message again and again.

“merry xmas btw”

After a couple hours of coping very healthily and no emotional outbursts whatsoever, you wiped the last of your tears. Okay. This was fine! It was a single day before you were supposed to drive home and see almost all of your extended family for an entire week, and the man you had made sound like a fairy tale prince just dumped you over text!

If you showed up there, heartbroken and alone, you would never hear the end of it from all sides of the family.

…

You needed a new boyfriend.

Running through the list of people you knew would probably be easier than trying to find a stranger within a day, but you quickly ran into the issue that your family already knew most of your friends, and none would be able to easily pass as a boyfriend for a whole week without blowing it. So you moved on to secondary friends. People you had the number of for classes or your neighbours, people in your study group. Nothing. You fell back against your bed and stared at your contact list hopelessly, scrolling up and down as if that would make some new number magically appear. You had to face the reality of the situation; You were screwed.

The next morning you picked yourself up and got ready, showering and packing the rest of whatever items you hadn’t already shoved into a bag. The idea of cancelling on your study group appealed to you greatly, but some part of your mind reminded you that you had notes that a few of the others needed to copy down, and you wanted to stay in their good graces. So you gathered every inch of mental tape you had and held yourself together until you resembled a stable human being, and locked the door behind you as you left.

Walking into the library, the warmth hugged your face and you let out a quiet sigh as you loosened your scarf, kicked the snow off your boots, and moved deeper into the building to find the usual area everyone gathered in. It was a long table toward the back that a handful of you had claimed weekly for study meets. One of your close friends and a few others who had the same class, and a few who just liked the company and atmosphere. You knew everyone there by name and occasionally after studying you would all go out for food. Of course, you couldn’t stop thinking about your dilemma as you sat down and pulled out your books. You wouldn’t be able to focus on work much, but you could at least pretend you were being productive.

Handing your notes around the table, you took a look at everyone again and weighed your options. Either they didn’t fit what you remember telling your family, or they had met your family in one way or another. You sighed and stared down at the still shut textbook in front of you. None of the material seemed like it was near interesting enough to derail your current train of thought. Sitting up to say something to your friend, the sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention.

“Sorry, hope I’m not late!”

Turning your head the other way, you see a dark green jacket and look up at the man holding the back of the chair next to you. “This seat isn’t taken, is it?”

Your eyes widened. Charlie. Of course. He was a newer addition to the group, invited by a couple others you weren’t too close with. You didn’t know him too well, at most having been left alone at the table with him once or twice, but he was nice and funny and.. Well, you’d be lying to say he wasn’t conventionally attractive. He would match what you had told your parents almost perfectly. You just had to figure out how to ask him such a thing. Nothing you came up with sounded normal, or it just made you seem like some kind of creep trying to lie to their family. He’d mentioned doing a little acting before though, hadn’t he? Maybe you would have to bribe him— Before you knew it, everyone else had left the table, leaving you and Charlie alone in that area of the suddenly far too silent library.

He sighed and put his pencil down, closing his book and starting to pack his things. You panicked, cutting him off as he stood up and opened his mouth to speak.

“Can I ask a favour of you?”

He seemed slightly taken aback at how quickly you had spoken, but nodded slightly regardless.

“Sure.. What’s up?”

You took a deep breath and hoped you weren’t about to make an idiot of yourself.

“It’s.. a huge favour, and if you don’t want to, you can say no and we can pretend like I never asked but-” Pausing from nerves, you peeked up at him but he just seemed amused by your nerves, waiting for you to go on so before you knew it you started spilling your guts. “My boyfriend dumped me last night and tomorrow we were supposed to drive home to spend the week and visit my whole family for Christmas, but now he isn’t coming and I just spent the last few months acting like he was gonna be a big surprise so they don’t know too many details but I can’t go home alone or I’ll be embarrassed until the day I die and-”

Charlie waved his hand with a soft laugh and sat back down to be on your level.

“Hey- Hey. Take a breath.” He smiled patiently and waited for you to take a deep breath. “How can I help?”

“I need you to.. Pretend to be my boyfriend for the week in front of my whole family..?” You shakily asked, knowing how messed up that sounded.

Charlie stared at you with a strange look in his eye, but the same soft smile on his face. After a moment he shrugged and nodded. “Sure, why not?”

You blinked.

“Sorry?”

“Honestly, I didn’t have any plans for the holidays anyways so… A week full of free food and entertainment doesn’t sound half bad.”

You felt like your heart might explode. Charlie laughed softly at your reaction.

“Thank- Oh, god Charlie thank you, you don’t know how much this means to me.”

“What can I say, I'm a simple man. Here, I can give you my number and you can text me in the morning when you’re ready to go. Okay?”

You nodded and handed him your phone, ignoring the flutter in your stomach when his hand encased yours to take it. It’s not like you had feelings for him, he was just a nice guy willing to do you a favour. That’s all this was.

You waved as he excused himself and headed out.

What had you gotten yourself into?

The next morning, at a frankly unreasonable time to be awake, you had shoved all your things into your car and parked where Charlie had said would be the easiest to pick him up. The radio hummed Christmas music on the local station as you looked through the messages between you two so far. One of the first things Charlie had sent was a picture of a knitted christmas sweater that looked like it had seen many holidays and a collared shirt that looked ironed, asking what kind of people your parents were. You had to appreciate the dedication to being the perfect boyfriend, and said whatever he’s most comfortable in - But that you probably had a similar looking sweater waiting for you at home somewhere, to which he responded he couldn’t wait to see.

A knock on the passenger window snapped you out of your thoughts and only then did you realize you were smiling like an idiot. Charlie waved through the window, his face illuminated by what bits of moonlight remained as the sky began to lighten before the sun had fully risen, and motioned to his bags. You popped the trunk and hopped out, opening it and going to help him load it all in.

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” He politely waved you off and lifted it in with ease, and you definitely didn’t stare at the way the fabric of his jacket stretched across his arms as he did. He slammed the trunk shut with a hearty clunk before turning to you with a grin. “Shall we?”

You huffed out a laugh and nodded, getting back in the driver seat. He quickly slid into the seat beside you, stretching.

“It’s a long trip… Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Are you asking if I want to do the drive, or do this for a week?”

“I-”

“Because I do.” He nodded, a little too earnestly. “It’ll be okay, I’ll try not to make you look bad.” Charlie winked and glanced at the radio, then at your phone sitting in the cupholder beside you. “Your car, your rules. Who controls the music?”

The way he seemed so unbothered about the situation seemed to put you at ease for now, and you unlocked your phone and connected it to the car speakers before handing it to him.

“Surprise me, will you?”

“I won’t let you down.”

The two of you quickly took off and grabbed something to eat from a drive-through; Stopping to eat now would risk making you late. The weather seemed to be alright for now, but you were a bit nervous something would kick up before you were in the home stretch of your parents house. Charlie managed to calm your nerves every time with a joke or comment that would distract you from your worries. Eventually you two agreed that you needed a cohesive story to pull this off well, so you started by listing off things you remember having told your family about your ex, and Charlie nodded as he seemed to internalize all those traits, though you doubted he needed to fake most of these traits for your sake. Eventually you moved on to your story. How you met, dates you’d been on, mutual friends, and other various stories to sell that you had been close for the better part of a year rather than having maybe three conversations that weren’t purely about schoolwork and studying. Charlie even shared a bit more about himself for you to build on, and it shocked you a little how much you had in common and how little you really knew about him. Talking with him came so naturally, and he was so effortlessly funny that you wondered how you hadn’t become friends sooner. Part of you wondered if it could stay like this after you got home.

The conversation moved to boundaries. Knowing your family, there would be mistletoe somewhere in the house.

“Well,” Charlie hummed, thinking about it as he glanced out the front windshield. “I’m a pretty physical person, and I'm fine with PDA if that’s what you mean.”

You nodded and chewed the inside of your cheek.

“I just.. It’s all pretend, right? I don’t want to overstep-”

“We’ll probably be pushed together at one point or another anyways.” Charlie cut you off, looking at you. “So I’m fine with anything. Let’s maybe keep any kissing to a minimum though. Try to avoid mistletoe, yeah? Oh, and-” He tapped his bottom lip with his finger, smiling. “- No lips.”

There was a sigh, and you realized you had been holding your breath.

“Yeah, of course.”

He let out a little laugh as his smile grew.

“I know, that must be such a disappointment, nobody can resist this.” He sighed, as if this were a recurring issue. You ignored the way your stomach flipped at the thought of kissing him and laughed in response.

At one point you had stopped to refill the tank and Charlie offered to hold the pump while you ran inside to pay and get snacks (but no eggs, despite how many times he asked. You were not making your car smell like whatever gas station eggs must have smelt like.) Grabbing a drink for both of you and a handful of snacks, you plopped them all down on the counter and smiled at the cashier who started scanning the items.

“Is that your boyfriend on pump 2?” She asked, glancing at Charlie, who leaned against the car as he waited for you.

You stopped, and for some reason found yourself unable to answer. You were going to say that no, he was just a friend. …But then again, this was someone you’d probably never see again, and who probably didn’t actually care who he was in relation to you.

“Yeah, why?”

“Let him know that one acts up when it gets cold, he might have to be a little rough to make it work.” She shrugged and typed something into the register. “How much?”

You finished the transaction and walked out with a small bag of items, walking up to Charlie, who looked up from his phone.

“All good?”

“Yeah, she said it gets weird in the cold, be a little rough if you need to.” Charlie laughed a little and bit back a smile, and you felt a slight warmth in your cheeks that wasn’t from the cold.

“I can be rough.”

“Oh my god.” You groaned and shoved his arm as he grabbed the nozzle and pushed it into the car.

You didn’t mention that she called him your boyfriend. You kept it to yourself as you got into the passenger seat when Charlie insisted on driving until the next refuel. You let those words stew in your brain until he got in the driver’s seat and adjusted it to his size, familiarizing himself with your car as you stretched your legs.

After a few more short breaks and another gas station refuel where you took over driving, it’s dark again as you arrive. Charlie is intently watching all the lights on the houses as you drive up and pull into the driveway of your parents house. The whole place was decorated expertly, just as it had been every year for as long as you could remember. The sight was nostalgic.

Movement on the porch caught your eye as your mother and father came out to greet you. You killed the engine and gathered your things inside the car. Charlie was watching you when you looked up to him.

“Last chance.”

His hand slipped into yours with a gentle squeeze.

“I know.”

You look at your hands and smile softly before pulling away and exiting the car with a warm smile for your parents. It’s a moment of you three alone before the passenger door opens and Charlie steps out.

“There he is!” Your mother gasped and put a hand on your shoulder. “I was starting to think you were just making up fairytales.”

You laughed softly and shook your head.

“Mom, Dad, this is Charlie… My boyfriend.” Charlie walked up and wrapped an arm around you, extending a hand to your father, who shook it with a nod. Your mom pulled him in for a hug, and he quickly reciprocated, pulling away with a mirth in his eyes you hadn’t seen before.

“Oh, he’s just as lovely as you said, dear.” Your mother smiled and Charlie shrugged one shoulder as he moved his arm back around you.

“Well, I do my best.” He chuckled. “I gotta say, I'm a huge fan of your work.” Charlie motioned to you, and your mother laughed. “I didn’t believe angels were real until I met this one.”

You flushed and glanced away, which only made your mother laugh more. He instantly fell into rhythm with your family, giving off this perfect charm that made him nearly glow along with the Christmas lights around you all. It felt so genuine, every compliment that fell from his lips and the way he spoke to your parents was nothing short of naturally impressive.

Part of you wondered if it would play out like this if you had genuinely brought him home. If he would have his arm around your shoulders the same, make jokes that enamoured your parents just like he was now. You wondered if he would kiss your cheek and you would be rid of this weight in your chest. This guilt that came with lying to your parents, and soon enough your whole family. Before you could spiral any further into this train of thought, Charlie is nudging your shoulder.

“Oh, sorry- Yeah?”

He smiled down at you reassuringly, squeezing your shoulders as if he could read your mind. You wondered if he could. You wondered if he would leave you if he heard your thoughts now-

“Can you unlock the trunk for me?”

“Yeah, of course.” You reached for your keys and hit the trunk button.

Once again he’s insisting on taking his own luggage, so you grab your bags and bring them inside as your mother talks about the plans she has for the week and your father leads the march inside and up the stairs. You take a moment to admire the house, mostly decorated with little christmas details and festive colours covering every surface. Your parents loved to go all out for the holidays. The bigger decorations were still missing, and you figured they had been waiting for you and your boyfriend to come home and help them with those. Free labour, of course.

Quickly following up the stairs after Charlie, you see him standing in a doorway you immediately recognize. Oh no.

You had entirely forgotten that with extra guests coming over, the guest rooms would be taken up by other family members, leaving you in your old bedroom. Alone with Charlie. With one bed.

That was fine! It was fine, really!

Looking at Charlie’s face, he seemed to have connected the same dots as you.

Your dad left you to unpack and get settled in, saying he would meet you both downstairs and that dinner would be ready soon.

“I’m so sorry, I totally forgot about.. This. I can sleep on the floor if you-”

Charlie cut you off by shaking his head with a flustered laugh. His cheeks were slightly flushed as he looked to you with a hapless smile.

“It’s fine, really. Wouldn’t be the first time I shared a bed with someone. Besides, it's a queen by the look of it. We’ll both fit just fine. Try not to hog the blankets though, I might have to fight you for that.” He moved to the foot of the bed and dropped his bags to the ground, looking around. “So this is your room huh? It’s..” He seemed to bite something back, and it gave you a rush of worry. “It’s nice. I like it.”

You definitely weren’t freaking out right now. You were so normal and were doing fine as he ran his hand over the top of your dresser and looked at all the decorations. Admittedly it was a bit strange to see your room so.. Un-lived in, but it still felt like yours.

“We should probably head down and wash up for dinner.” You ignored the fluttering in your gut as he giddily pointed at a few items he recognized, brushing it off with a smile.

Surprisingly, dinner was rather uneventful. Charlie complimented your mothers cooking and answered a few questions about himself, and the four of you mostly talked about college, what had been going on in the neighbourhood and how the drive here had gone. You told Charlie that you’d help clean up by yourself, but he insisted on helping you clear the table and do the dishes. It felt oddly domestic, especially as you two started flicking water at each other, having to be stopped by your mother scolding you for getting water on her floors.

Your parents retired for the night shortly after that, and you and Charlie figured it would be best to follow suit. Heading upstairs with a quiet conversation, you were faced with a dilemma. You two weren’t about to change in front of each other, and you were not about to just have him cover his eyes and turn around.

“There’s always the bathroom,” Charlie offered, jabbing his thumb back towards the hallway.

“Yeah but- You’re the guest, making you change in the bathroom is a bit rude isn’t it?” He shrugged.

“This is your room, it’s only fair you get to change in here in my opinion.”

You went back and forth a bit more, before Charlie just grabbed his bag and headed to the bathroom anyways. There wasn’t much you could’ve done to convince him anyways, you assumed. A quick change later and there was a soft knock.

“Am I good to come back in?”

“Yeah, come in.”

Sitting on the bed, you went over your options until you had agreed to just bite the bullet and try to sleep on the far sides of the bed to avoid any awkwardness of sleeping with each other. As you stared out the window, the stars glittered, snow fell, and you drifted to sleep trying to guess what was a star and what was a snowflake.

The sun hit your face as you woke up, groaning. You rolled over and threw your arm over your face to shield yourself, only to find yourself now beside something warm. It only took a second to remember it was Charlie, and it took a couple more seconds to pull away and open your eyes to see he was raising an eyebrow at you with a quiet laugh.

“Good morning.”

“... Hi.”

He looked back to his phone in his hand, typing something out before turning it off and putting it down.

“I wasn’t sure when your family got up, I didn’t want to be sitting down there alone.”

“So you sat here and watched me sleep..?”

“No!- No, I didn’t-” Charlie’s eyes widened as he shook his head, only relaxing when he saw you smile and try not to laugh. He sighed, then squinted. “Wait..”

“What?” You sat up to look at him, rubbing your eyes and making yourself a little less dishevelled.

“If you were sleeping… And I was watching you sleep…” He turned to you, doing his best mewing expression. “Who’s watching Foxy..?”

You blinked a few times before dissolving into giggles. Charlie grinned at the praise as you covered your face and groaned. “Wanna go get breakfast now? It’s a little after nine.”

Swallowing down the last bubbles of laughter you nodded and pulled the blanket off of you as you got up. Charlie followed shortly after. Another bout of arguing over who would change where began until he once again moved to the bathroom, and you figured that trying to fight him any more on this would get you nowhere.

Padding down the stairs, you got to looking around the kitchen for something to eat. The only thing you could think of was cereal so you pulled out a box of something plain, and Charlie made a face.

“What?”

“I mean, is there.. Anything else? It’s okay if there isn’t just..”

You look back in the pantry and hummed.

“I don’t see anything. Knock yourself out though.”

Charlie walked over as you moved to your bowl and poured out the cereal. You looked over to see him stuck halfway into the shelves, kicking a foot up before pulling out a colourful box triumphantly. You laughed and recognized it as something you hadn’t gotten to eating before you moved out as he opened it.

“How old is that? When does it expire, even?”

“The bag is still sealed, so it's still fresh right?”

The bag popped open as he pulled it apart and dumped it into his bowl, taking a piece and eating it. “Still crunches.”

You laughed and shook your head, passing him the milk. The two of you sat there, you on the counter and him leaning against it as you two ate and talked quietly as the snow outside reflected warmth and light in the window and made miniature rainbows through the frost and decorations.

Your mother poked her head into the kitchen with a box full of decorations hanging out of it.

“There you are! When you’re done, can I borrow you two for a bit to help me finish getting these decorations up? Your father is out shovelling and handling the front of the house. Lord knows Ashley will have something to say if there’s no wreath on the front door..” She sighed and shook her head.

“Yeah, of course Mom.” You smiled and nodded, and Charlie gave a thumbs up with his mouth being full. She caught a glimpse of the colourful cereal in his bowl and gave it a strange look, but seemed to brush it off as she walked away.

“Ashley?” Charlie looked at you with a raised eyebrow after he swallowed.

“One of my aunts,” You glanced at him, then realized you should probably give him an idea of who he would be dealing with for the rest of the week. Charlie nodded intently as he brought another spoonful to his mouth while listening to you list off family members. “Then of course, there's my Aunt Ashley. She’s… She has high standards.” That was probably the easiest way to describe her eccentricities. “She lives the closest, so she was over a lot with her kids, Bella and Alice. Uh.. Be careful with Alice. She’s a bit of a hopeless romantic.”

Charlie squinted like he was trying to mentally write this all down.

“Don’t worry,” You laughed. “I’ll be sure to refresh you when they show up.”

He nodded, looking incredibly serious before he tilted his head back to drink the rest of the milk in the bowl, and there were a handful of thoughts you couldn’t repeat out loud that went through your mind when he pulled the bowl away and licked the remaining milk off his lips.

“Let’s uh- Let’s go help Mom, yeah?” You swallowed and glanced away, shaking the thoughts from your head. Charlie nodded and the two of you finished up in the kitchen before going through the house to find your mother.

Standing in the den, she was staring intently at the large Christmas tree with her hands on her hips. You knew this stance. She was probably planning out every possible way she could put garland and ribbons onto everything in sight, and would try to execute as many of those plans as possible before settling on one. At least you had Charlie, who was currently staring in awe at what decorations were already out.

“Just wait,” You leaned over and whispered. “It gets better.”

Charlie gave you a wide eyed look.

She quickly got everyone to work, pinning and taping things to the walls, lining each shelf with white stuffing to mimic snow, pulling out box after box of trinkets and little ornaments to set along everything. You wondered how many of these would get broken this year if the younger kids would be running around.

After the den was lathered in Christmas, you moved on to deck every hall and doorway with garland and lights. It would make for a magical walkway at the end, but for now you were watching Charlie struggle to not break a sweat with how much lifting and back and forth your mother had him do. Leave it to her to immediately put people to work when it comes to Christmas.

Taking a short break while she stepped outside to talk with your dad, you and Charlie sat down on the stairs after he finished wrapping the railing with glittering lights and tying bows to every other bannister.

“Where do you guys keep all this stuff year round?” Charlie glanced up to you as you straightened out one of the bows. “I mean it looks great but…”

“Storage containers in the basement. Trust me, getting it all out and decorating is the easy part.” A look of concern flashed across his face, which only made you laugh harder. “Don't worry, we’ll be gone by then.”

Charlie rubbed the back of his neck with a quiet laugh.

“It's nice, though. Like it really adds to the atmosphere and everything. Makes it feel cozy.” He glanced around and flicked at one of the lights gently. “How many people are gonna show up anyways? It’s a big house but I feel like it's gonna get cramped pretty quick.”

You had to think about that for a while. Each side had quite a few people on it, but knowing who would actually be showing up was always a bargain. Humming quietly, you reached into the box of decorations and pulled out a little bell on a string, reaching forward and hanging it on Charlie's ear with a grin.

“I’m not sure. I'll do my best to give you a rundown on everyone before they start talking your ear off though.”

Charlie tilted his head and felt for the foreign object on his ear, giving a confused laugh as he pulled it off and looked at it, then immediately turned back at you with mischief in his eyes.

Your mother walked back in the house to see you two laughing and shouting as you practically wrestled on the stairs to adorn each other with decorations.

She cleared her throat and the two of you quickly stopped to look at her, having been caught. Your mother crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow as she looked between you two and the mess of decorations you'd made.

“Having fun?”

After being made to clean up your mess, the three of you moved all over the house throughout the day decorating and redecorating, only stopping to get a drink or small snack. While looking through the remaining boxes, you held up a handful of mistletoe and looked at your mom.

“Do we really have to put all of this up? It seems a little… Much.”

“Of course we do, hun!” Your mother nodded like it was obvious and grabbed one from your hand, moving over to one of the doorways to hang it up among the garland. “It's tradition. Plus, it's nice! That's how you get all the cute candid pictures of people kissing.”

You sighed and resigned yourself to just trying your best to memorize where all of them were hung to avoid while walking around with Charlie.

“Go hang at least one in the front foyer for me, please?” She motioned to the remaining mistletoe in your hand then waved you towards the front of the house. You sighed and dropped the extra mistletoe back in the box, grabbing the stool she had pulled out a while ago and moved to the front of the house.

“Oh, there you are.” Charlie smiled as he walked up to you, watching you struggle to reach the garland to tie the mistletoe up.

“Yeah- Hey-” Reaching further didn’t seem to help either, the stool being just a bit too short to get up to where you needed. After a couple more moments of struggling, you sighed and turned to Charlie. “Care to lend me a hand?”

What you hadn’t expected was for Charlie to wrap his arms around your thighs from where you stood on the stool and lift you onto his shoulder.

Your mind went blank.

Why was that so easy for him??

“Is that tall enough?” Charlie’s voice was enough to snap you out of your daze and hang the mistletoe, trying your best not to think about how easily he grabbed you or about how you two were technically under mistletoe.

“Uh- Yeah that’s- Good- Great. Yeah, thanks.” You stumbled through the words, bringing your hands down to his shoulders to steady yourself before he set you back down and smiled up at you like he didn’t do anything.

Maybe this was an overreaction. Maybe you just had to calm down and he didn’t realize you meant for him to hang the stupid plant. Surely that was it! He was just taking the easiest path for him and there were no hidden intentions in his actions. Charlie was just an acquaintance doing you a major favour, and honestly you had to think about why he would even do such a thing? Someone like him must’ve had a nice family, or at least someone deserving of his charm to spend the holidays with, rather than spend a week keeping up some silly ruse and oh- Oh, he’s talking and you absolutely aren’t listening.

“Sorry, uh- Pardon?” You shook your head and looked down at him from your place on the stool.

“I asked how much you think is left?” Charlie tilted his head and looked around.

You stepped off the stool, silently praying you didn’t fall on him. That was the last thing you needed.

“Probably not much, Mom could handle the rest.”

The two of you walked around the house, collecting and stacking the empty decoration boxes. Hints of your mother’s work popped up around the house, the two of you almost constantly walking into mistletoe. Maybe keeping up with what doorways had it would be a bit harder than you expected.

Eventually everything was decorated and cleaned up, and you were helping your mother start supper. The radio gently hummed Christmas music through the room as you peeled potatoes and listened to your mother speak about some drama or other you had missed and she hadn’t told you about.

Charlie walked into the kitchen and watched you for a moment before resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Oh- Hi, Charlie.” You glanced at him slightly, to see him softly smiling with his eyes shut. He just hummed warmly in response and moved his hands to your waist. You hardly skipped a beat falling back into conversation with your mother, despite the way you felt your face warm. He didn’t move for a while after that either, only pressing his face into your neck after a while, to which your mother gave a look that you waved off. After a while you had to quietly ask him to move so you could keep helping to prepare the dinner, to which he kissed your shoulder and whispered to you that he was going to take a nap. Your mother teased you when you seemed to short circuit after he pulled away. You finished helping and did your best not to think about the warmth emanating from where he had kissed you, and when the oven timer went off an hour or so later, your mother asked you to go wake him.

“Charlie..? Are you awake?” You gave the door a soft knock. There was the sound of some kind of movement in the bedroom, and then the door opened. Charlie’s hair was messy and his eyes were still tired. “Oh. Uh, dinner is ready..”

“Oh, already? Alright..” He yawned and nodded. You tried to ignore the way his tired voice got to you. He had always woken up some time before you, is that really what he sounded like after an hour of sleep?? “I’ll wash up and be down there soon.”

The conversation at dinner seemed to be entirely around Charlie and his interests and history. You wondered if they were trying to do some kind of weird interrogation or shovel talk, but when he started talking about some of his nerdier interests you saw your mother light up. There it was. You definitely knew what this talk was about.

The day ended with your mother telling you that tomorrow would be full of baking and that the sooner you could get up and help, the more the two of you could get done. Mentally preparing for that, you nodded and wished her goodnight. Charlie stayed up a bit later, waking you slightly when he came to bed, apologizing quietly as he moved the blankets. You don’t exactly remember falling back asleep, but you could’ve sworn you felt something warm press against your forehead.

You woke up before Charlie this time, watching him for a moment as his chest slowly breathed. Slipping out of the bed, you grabbed your clothes and slipped into the bathroom to change before you headed downstairs.

It was mornings like these you really missed. The sun freshly risen, pouring onto the tiled floor through the frosty windows, giving the perfect mix of warmth and chill as you padded into the kitchen and quickly made yourself something for breakfast. The birdsong outside melted into the sound of the radio as you turned it on and lowered the volume to a non-disturbing hum. Rifling through cabinets you pulled out the usual cookbooks and recipes you’d need today and any of the usual baking necessities. Your mother yawned as she walked into the kitchen and smiled at you as you tied an apron around your waist

“Someone’s eager this morning. Did you miss this that much?” She laughed quietly and hugged you before making herself something to eat. The two of you quickly got to work after that, making doughs and mixtures, prepping for any later baking. There were a few things she had already gotten the headstart on earlier that she took out of the fridge to check on.

Charlie walked down a while later, rubbing his eyes. He seemed a little taken aback to see the kitchen already so messy, taking it all in. You stopped to admire his tired look, the way the sun glowed against his skin and lit his hair up, the dust roaming the air making him look like he glittered. He moved his gaze to you and gave a lopsided smile before walking up and gently brushing his thumb across your cheek.

“Wh-?”

“You had flour on your face,” He hummed. His voice was tired like yesterday, and it took all of your power to not melt into his hands right then and there. You almost forgot your mother was in the room.

“I have to help with baking all day, so I’ll have to stay in the kitchen, I’m sorry.” Charlie shook his head.

“I’d love to help, if that’s okay. My mom owns a bakery, so I’m not unfamiliar with baking.”

It reminded you how little you actually knew of him. Sure, you could talk for hours but with such little time in general, there was still a lot you were completely unaware of. The sobering pang of guilt that ran through your nervous system ruined the soft moment between you at the thought of it.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded and you found him another apron to wear, but the only one left that was his size was half of a pair for your parents. Your moms had been stained and discarded a while ago. You tried not to laugh at the awful baking pun on the front, but Charlie seemed to light up as he read the apron. He proceeded to make similar puns throughout the day, and no matter how hard you tried to groan and act like you hated it, you couldn’t fight the smile on your face whenever you heard the pride in his voice while he made one.

Your mother handed baking off to the two of you after the first batch, and you had half a mind to assume it wasn’t because she needed to “do things” like she said, but rather that she was just giving you room to be alone with him. Not that you needed it, you were just two just two friends baking together. ..Though you supposed she didn't know that part.

You sighed as you kneaded the dough in your hands against the counter. You’d been working at it for a couple minutes now and couldn’t figure out what was going wrong or why it wouldn’t come together properly. Charlie walked over from where he was mixing icing and stood next to you to peer at your hands.

“It keeps falling apart, I don’t know what I did wrong...” You glanced at him for a moment before squishing it all together again. Charlie hummed and turned to look for something as you tried to start a proper conversation. “You said your mom owned a bakery? I didn't know that.” He walked back over with something in his hands, and you quickly lost your train of thought as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you to grab the dough, leaning into your ear with a quiet tone.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

You were suddenly very glad he was pressing you against the counter, because you swore your knees would’ve given out from under you right then and there otherwise. Your face felt warm as his chest pressed against your back and his arms flexed on either side of your shoulders. His breath was soft against your ear, and you could almost feel his grin despite how hard you tried to avoid looking at him until you remembered how to breathe and wow, was it warm in here? It was really warm. Maybe you left the oven open? God, it was so warm–

“There. You just needed to add a little moisture. Butter works fine for that.” He slowly pulled away, and it felt like you had freezer burn everywhere he had touched. You peeked at him from the corner of your eye, desperately trying to act normal.

“Yeah.. Thanks.” Your voice cracked as you spoke. Of course it did.

Charlie chuckled and went back over to the icing and checked on it before moving over to where the piping bags sat for now. You took a deep breath and reached for the rolling pin, trying to keep your cool. What the hell was that?? There was nobody but you two in the kitchen right now, right? If that was part of the act, who was it for? Did he see something you hadn’t? Some hopeful part of you piped up with the thought that it wasn’t an act. That he wanted to do that. That he meant it. A much more realistic part of your mind suggested that he simply didn’t realize what that just did to you. From lifting you yesterday to what just happened? Yeah, maybe he was just a little oblivious. You couldn’t see the dramatic irony to this.

After you had finally rolled out the dough and put a few batches into the oven, you moved to help Charlie with the icing. He seemed to be lacking a bit, and it was taking up your cooling racks.

“Need some help over here?” You smiled and glanced around at the cookies.

“Uhh,” He started, squinting as his tongue poked out in focus. “Mm.. Maybe. I thought I'd have more done by now.” Charlie stood up and looked across the eight cookies he had so dutifully iced thus far. His eyebrows furrowed. You grabbed one of the other colours and wiped off the excess that had leaked out with your thumb.

“Don’t worry. Worst case, we just eat the rest of the icing and tell mom we ran out.” You shrugged with a playful grin, bringing the icing on your thumb to your mouth — only for Charlie to grab your hand and steal the icing with his own finger. “Hey–!!”

He shot you a grin as he licked his lips, so you squeezed a little more out. This time he grabbed your wrist and pulled it towards his mouth. You gasped and shoved your hand forwards, smearing it on the corner of his lips and onto his cheek. Five minutes later the two of you were messy and covered in icing, bags now much lighter from smearing it on each other and trying to eat the icing.

You only stopped when there was a knock on the door and your mother walked through the kitchen to reach it, stopping to look at you two with a bewildered gaze for a moment, before continuing on when another knock sounded.

You two looked at each other and tried not to laugh, before you ultimately failed and burst into laughter. It only took one warm cloth and a couple minutes to wipe up most of the mess, meanwhile you heard the door open and the sound of shuffling and muffled talking.

A familiar face poked into the kitchen, breaking out into a grin.

“Ohh, there you are!” Isabella grinned and straightened up, walking in with a bag over her shoulder and her arms out for a hug. You gasped and handed the cloth to Charlie before making your way over to hug her.

“Bella! How are you??” You pulled away and looked her over with a matching smile.

“Not as good as you apparently,” She leaned over to look at Charlie. “Who’s this?”

Her younger sister, Alice, came around the corner and nearly fell over as her socks made her slide to a stop. A shout came from where she had been, likely from her mother scolding her for running in the house.

“Oh my god!!” You quickly felt two arms around your waist as she careened into you for a hug, once again unable to stop short due to her socks. “I missed you so much! It’s been like, forever??” Alice stared up at you with a gasp from where she was bent over to hug you.

“You saw me at Easter, Alice.” You laughed and pulled her up to hug properly, where she quickly gasped again.

“Hello there, handsome-”

“Al, give him a chance to introduce himself before you start with that.” Isabella groaned and pulled her sister back by the shoulder.

You laughed at their usual antics and glanced back at Charlie, who was quickly trying to wipe any leftover flour and icing off himself to look presentable.

“This is Charlie. My boyfriend.” The word came out more confident than when you had said it to your parents, but you tried not to dwell on that.

“Your boyfriend.” Isabella raised her eyebrow suspiciously. “The boyfriend?”

A bit of that guilt came back as a burning sensation in your throat you couldn't quite swallow down. Isabella was always the one to see through your lies no matter how hard you tried. You never quite forgave her for telling your mother you were lying when she found the broken TV as kids.

“Not bad.” She nodded approvingly.

You tried not to make your sigh of relief too obvious.

“Sooo…” Alice started, slipping out of her sister's grasp before looking Charlie up and down. “Got any brothers? Maybe some cute friends..?”

Charlie laughed nervously and pushed his hair out of the way, coming up to your side and leaning against you slightly. Alice could be a bit much at first, so you leaned back against him in what you hoped was read as a reassuring movement.

“I don’t know about that..” He smiled apologetically.

“Alice, come help your father with the bags please?” Your Aunt Ashley’s voice came from somewhere closer out of sight, saving Charlie from this conversation for now. He sighed, but you knew better. She’d be back.

A dinging started behind you signaling that the oven timer was through, causing Charlie to pat your shoulder as he turned to get it. Conversation with Isabella came as easy as ever, only for her to fall silent after a minute. You turned and followed her gaze to see Charlie bent over pulling out a rack of cookies. His hair fell over his face and the apron hugged him rather nicely. Any heat on your face was silently blamed on the open oven.

“Nice.”

You scoffed and shoved her halfheartedly. You weren't disagreeing with her, but she didn't need to say it.

Charlie turned and kicked the oven door shut in one smooth motion, raising the tray with a grin as he moved to the cooling trays.

“Bella, was it? Care for a snack?” He motioned to the pile of undecorated cookies, then glanced at the subtle remains of your icing fight and quickly smudged it away with his hand.

Isabella glanced at you, then at him. She didn't need to say it, there was some snarky comment bouncing around up there loud enough for you to hear it anyways. She had always been like this, since you were kids really. It drove her mother mad, but she managed to worm her way out of any sort of punishment every time. You really wished you knew how she did it.

“Yeah, I'll take a cookie.” She shrugged and raised a hand. Charlie looked at you, then around for your mother, and tossed a cookie toward your cousin.

They quickly got settled in, already having usual places from how often they come over for more than a night, meanwhile you and Charlie finished up what baking was left and tidied up the kitchen.

You moved in such sync that it almost felt natural, like this is what you were meant to be doing with your time. It made you feel warm inside, easily passing things to him and sweeping as he wiped the counters down. By the end, the kitchen looked like it had never been touched and smelled like all sorts of freshly baked treats.

The sun had already begun to set, and you had managed to escape the constant questions of your Aunt for now. You loved her, really! But from the moment she had seen you it was a hug, a kiss on each cheek and nonstop questions ever since. Doing your best to answer didn't seem to help much either because every answer opened up a hundred more questions thrown at you too fast to possibly answer them all. Sure, you felt a little guilty throwing Charlie under the bus here by slipping away when he would surely be the next victim, but he had it handled! … Probably.

The front of the house was shoveled to create a simple salted walkway that you followed to the front of the garage to sit on the hood of your car.

“Oh, hey.”

Your attention was caught by Isabella leaning against your parents car, out of sight of the windows and front door. She had something in her hand that she pressed to her lips and pulled away, turning her head to exhale smoke. Oh. That was how she stood her own mother.

“Hey, Bella.” You walked up and leaned against your car across from her, to which she held the pen out to you.

“Hey. Wanna hit?”

“No, thanks. I'm trying to at least keep it together for the week.” You laughed and shook your head a little, putting your hands in your pockets as you looked out across the street at the glittering snow and colourful lights.

“Ohh, yeah. Trying to keep it together for that so-called boyfriend of yours, right?”

“... So-called?”

“Yeah,” She chuckled and nodded. “There's no way you're actually dating him, right?”

“Look, if you have something against Charlie-”

“No, dumbass. He's fine. I'm talking about you.”

You stared at her, confused. So, she continued. “You guys have something going on, but whatever it is, it isn't dating. Not for as long as you say, at least. So either you've been lying about this guy and only recently started dating, or you aren't dating at all and you're faking it.”

“When did you get so perceptive?” You crossed your arms. Trying to lie to her would get you nowhere. “And what's it matter to you?”

She shrugged and took another puff, blowing it into the wind away from you.

“It's not too hard to see. You might have to step your game up though. If Alice catches on it's over for you.” Isabella joked. “I dunno why, though. It doesn't seem like you to pull this kind of stunt.”

Sighing, you figured hiding it from her would only make things worse.

“I got dumped over text by my actual boyfriend.”

There was a beat, and then Isabella broke out into laughter, covering her mouth.

“Over text??”

You gave her an unimpressed look.

“Oh my god- You aren't gonna let that slide, right? You totally have got to kick his ass for that one.” She shook her head, trying to stifle her giggles. After a couple moments she took a deep breath. “Have you even let yourself come to terms with that? I mean, c’mon. When was it?”

“A couple days ago. Just before we drove out.”

Isabella's eyes bulged.

“And you're just? Okay with that?? Acting like nothing happened? Cuz’ you gotta, like, go kick his ass and then properly cry about that or something. You earned it after it. … Can I see the text?”

Sighing, you pulled your phone out and opened the texts, handing it to her. Isabella nodded as she read over it and hissed.

“What an asshole…” There was a minute of silence as she handed you back your phone and took another hit. “I'm sure your man in there wouldn't do the same, though.”

“Oh shut up-” You shoved her, to which she laughed.

“I’m just saying! He seems like prime boyfriend material. You should get on that. Literally.”

The two of you continued talking a little, and you really had to reckon with that thought. Did you like him that much? Surely you wouldn't be having these feelings about anyone else had they come, right? She pocketed her pen and went inside, leaving you to watch the occasional car drive by and the lights on each house flash and change. Eventually you followed her back in and hung up your coat, grabbing a pair of cookies as you made your way back to the main gathering. Charlie was sat on the couch trying to keep up with the conversation, so you just sat next to him and handed a cookie. He lit up at the sight of you and thanked you as he took it, wrapping an arm around your shoulders when you leaned up against him.

Isabella gave you a playful look, to which you rolled your eyes and slightly moved closer to Charlie.

You found yourself warming up to the thought of this being something you could strive for, something reasonable and within reach. When that guilt started to rise again, Charlie squeezed your shoulders and made a small joke. The warmth of his arm and his tone drove away whatever bad feelings there were in your mind. Right now, everything was okay. You and Charlie were warm and happy and having a good time. That's all that mattered.

Considering you had a much earlier start than usual, you excused yourself to bed and Charlie quickly agreed. Isabella made some comment about you two having fun, and you had to try not to laugh as her mother smacked her arm. You walked up the stairs after Charlie and changed in your respective places. After you finished you fell into the bed and sighed, shutting your eyes. There was a knock and Charlie walked in a moment later, seeing you there.

“Tired?”

You nodded, letting out some sort of groan in response.

“Yeah, me too. I'm whipped.”

You peeked an eye open to see him grinning.

“Charlie.”

“Completely cooked. ” He walked over to his side of the bed.

“That doesn't even make sense.”

“I'm just saying…” Charlie followed your lead and fell onto the bed, smiling at you when you turned to look at him. “We really got that bread.”

“Stop.”

“Hey, at least I wasn't like your cousin. She was baked.”

You groaned loudly and shoved a hand into his face, biting your lip to stop from giving him the reaction he was looking for. Charlie laughed and pulled your hand away, continuing to make awful quips until the two of you fell asleep.

In the early light of Christmas Eve, you slowly blinked to life after a dream that was already melting away like watercolours before realizing there was something warm wrapped around you. In your haze, and the chill of the room around you. This didn’t ring any alarms in your mind at first, instead opting to hold it closer. You entwined your fingers with the ones against your stomach before you stopped. Fingers? Blinking open your eyes, you look down and see what you immediately put together to be Charlie’s arm wrapped around you. The world seems to hold its breath as you do, carefully picking up his arm and moving it back onto his own chest. He groans and stretches, and you quickly avert your gaze as his shirt rides up. Looking through your closet is when you hear him yawn and the bed creaks slightly as he sits up. You poke your head out and smile at him.

“Good morning.”

He rubs his eyes and yawns again, looking over to find you, nodding and smiling softly.

“Good morning. Anything planned for today..?”

You hummed and grabbed your clothes for the day.

“I think it’s just going to be a lot of socializing. The kids are all excited for Christmas tomorrow and most of the adults are here. It uh…” You hesitate and glance away in thought, before looking back to Charlie apologetically. “It might be a bit stuffy today. I’m sure we’re gonna get swarmed with those cliche family questions that they’ve been nice enough to hold off on. Once that wine gets uncorked though, we’re in for it. Ashley is well acquainted with how to pour a new glass of wine…”

Charlie laughed and stretched again, standing up and moving over to his suitcase to grab clothes. The two of you split up to get dressed and walked down the stairs together.

The day was warm and filled with your family running about and chatting, but you knew this was tame compared to what tomorrow would look like. Christmas music filled every silence and there were multiple glasses of eggnog laying around. The tree looked more and more full as new gifts were added to the underside, eventually spilling out and off the tree skirt. Conversations felt like the same interaction over and over again, asking how they were, they asked how you were. You’d give the same generic answers over and over with a little extra here and there for flavour depending on who you were talking to. Sure, it was repetitive and a little boring at times, but it was Christmas, and this was the most you’d talk to some of these people all year. It wasn’t that you were distant, they just had their own busy lives.

Charlie would occasionally pop in and join the conversation, talking about his own life when asked, or about one of your made up stories of your supposed love life. That guilt swirled in your gut again, rising like bile in your throat. Your realization last night wasn't helping either, making this even worse. The way he got along with your family so easily, the way they would make remarks when he wasn't there about how lucky you were to have found him. Honestly, you agreed. You couldn't understand how you'd lucked into getting such a wonderful man to ever agree to such a stupid plan, but here he was, playing the part perfectly.

Stepping into the backyard and out of the general hum of chatter in the house, you took a deep breath. The cold winter air stung in such a sobering way that it calmed you instantly. It was just an act, you reminded yourself. You'll go back to school and act like this never happened. Sure, your relationship with him would have changed by now, but what did that matter? It didn't change that this meant nothing. You were just putting on an act for your family.

Your feelings were different, but how could you possibly bring up the thought of actually dating after this? Sure, nothing had gone too wrong - which you were thankful for - but surely it would be awkward to drive home just to ask him out again, right? Considering he had agreed just for entertainment's sake, you figured he probably didn't share your feelings. Sure, he’d been much more forward than you had expected but maybe that was part of his act.

Wallowing in your wishy-washy thoughts, you almost missed the way the door opened and shut behind you, and Charlie stepped out with his jacket on. He smiled and gave a quiet wave as he walked over and sat on the side of the porch next to you, bumping his shoulder into yours.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

You two didn’t say more than that for a while, sitting there and watching the stars in the sky as snow started to fall. It was hard to see the stars normally at home, so you appreciated every moment you could watch them glitter and shine. The snow was small and light as it fell, flashing little shimmers of light caught from the house behind you. Charlie stayed silent in your peripheral vision, and you let your leg fall against his. Sure, this was all an act, but it felt nice nonetheless. Would it be so bad to allow yourself the guilty pleasure of enjoying this just a little?

A shooting star flashed across the sky, disappearing so quickly you almost weren't sure you’d seen it in the first place. You gasped as you pointed to the sky and turned to Charlie, only to see him staring at you.

“Did you see that? The shooting star??”

“Oh,” He breathed and looked up at the sky. “No, I must've just missed it. Are you gonna make a wish? Make sure you get what you want for Christmas?”

You looked at the sky again too and tilted your head. Sure, you could’ve made a wish. You could have wished for a lot of things. Good grades, a better new year, a new car might be nice, but…

“Honestly? I don’t need to.” You shook your head and turned to face Charlie with a smile. “I already got what I really wanted for Christmas.”

“Really? You haven’t even opened any presents.” Charlie laughed a little, looking at you.

There were snowflakes adorning his hair and eyelashes, his cheeks slightly pink from the cold outside. Each breath he took let out a little puff that circled his head and made him glow under the moonlight.

“I couldn’t ask for anything better than you.”

His face changed, ever so slightly, but you kept talking.

“I mean, honestly, you were the best thing I think I ever could have asked for. You showed up right when I needed help and you didn’t turn me away or call me crazy when I asked you to do this with me. My parents love you, I’m sure my aunts and uncles are going to miss you from every other family gathering I attend, and you get along with my cousins like you’ve always been part of the family. You’re an amazing guy, Charlie. You’re funny and sweet and so, so genuine that I just… I don’t know how to thank you enough for this. You saved me from what would’ve been a week of the same question over and over again, having to tell everyone that my ex wasn’t what I thought he was. Embarrassing myself. Stuff like that doesn’t die in this family, y’know? I mean, Alice still gets it from people about this boy she dated in middle school who embarrassed her. I couldn’t handle that this Christmas.” As you finished your ramble, you looked him in the eyes and felt your heart tighten. He looked.. Upset. It wasn’t anger, probably, but he looked conflicted. Maybe hurt? “Charlie?-”

“I..” His hand twitched in his lap, starting to move before it fell limp against his lap again. He took a deep breath and avoided your gaze. “I think I should go.”

“What? Charlie, wait- Did I say something?-”

Shaking his head, Charlie stood up and brushed the snow off of him before quickly going back inside.

Your stomach writhed with even more guilt as the area around you was silent, save for the whistling of the wind that drove a chill down your back. Did you just ruin something? Did you say too much and let your feelings leak through? Maybe you had made him uncomfortable with such an emotional confession. Tears stung your eyes as a lump gathered in your throat. It was Christmas Eve and you had just fucked up.

Snow continued to fall around you, swirling in the wind as you put your head in your arms, trying not to cry. You weren't sure how long you spent out there, but when you couldn't feel your cheeks anymore, you had figured it was long enough that you should probably go inside and warm up before you got frostbite.

It seemed like all of your family had gone to sleep by now, and the lights were slowly being turned out one by one as your mother made her way around the house. She caught up with you in the den, watching you stare at the lights on the Christmas tree. New presents had appeared since the kids had gone to sleep, labeled that they were from Santa. A set of bikes, newly stuffed stockings, even the milk and cookies had been taken from to keep up the magic. The kids would love it.

“Merry Christmas, honey.” She came up beside you, her smile faltering when she saw your face. “What's wrong?”

“I think I messed up, mom.” You sniffled and the sting of tears made themselves known again. Turning to face her, the Christmas lights lit up the room with soft colour and reflected off her face that made the world seem just a bit less real. You figured it would be best to just admit it. “I.. Charlie isn't actually my boyfriend.”

Your mother raised her eyebrows and nodded, leading you to the dining room to sit at the table. The wood was cool against your skin as you tried your best not to choke up or spiral any further. You had already made a mess, you just had to figure out how to clean it up. When your mother sat down across from you and took your hands in hers, you continued.

“He isn't my boyfriend. My actual boyfriend dumped me a day before we drove out here over text because he.. Wanted to work on himself, I guess? I probably should have listened when my friends told me they thought they saw him with someone else at a party. I thought he was good, Mom. I really thought he was different, like everything I said he was. And then he suddenly ended things and- And I wasn't sure what to do, I couldn't come home without anybody. It would've been salt in the wound to be humiliated in front of everyone after letting myself get hurt like that.

And then I found Charlie, and I asked if he was willing to just.. Come and pretend to be my boyfriend and- Honestly I didn't expect him to agree at all. But he did. He did, and he's so..” You laughed tearfully and shook your head. “He's so perfect. He's everything I thought my actual boyfriend was. It's like it all comes naturally to him, like he doesn't even have to try to be funny and make people comfortable. You saw how well he got along with everyone this week, and you said yourself you love him! But I… It was supposed to be easy. A week of avoiding embarrassment with a guy I only sort of knew, and then we would go back to school and I’d tell everyone we broke up. Make it seem like this whole thing where I threw him out and I was in the right. Not dumped over text.

But I don't think I can do that, Mom. I.. I think I’m in love with him? How could I not? He's been nothing but kind and perfect to me and so sweet and I never want this week to end because I know that it means things will go back to normal and I don't know how to ask anything more of him after this- I don't even know why he agreed to this in the first place!! But I tried to tell him how much I appreciated him outside earlier and he looked so… Upset. Like I had done something wrong, and then he said he had to go and came inside. And-” The world blurred and smeared as tears filled your vision. “I think- I think I might've ruined what little I had with him-”

Your mother nodded, listening to you ramble on with an intent look on her face. She squeezed your hands and brought them to her mouth to kiss. Taking a deep breath, she nodded and looked at you until you silently took a couple of breaths yourself.

“Honey… I don’t think you ruined anything. Charlie seems like a wonderful man, he would tell you if you had truly ruined anything. He didn't seem angry when he came in, I saw your uncle ask if he was heading upstairs and he just seemed a little.. lost with himself.” She shook her head and smiled. “I knew from the stars you two weren't dating.”

“What??” Your eyebrows furrowed. Were you really that obvious?

“You had said things about your boyfriend that didn't quite line up with Charlie. Things you wouldn't have said about him, that I'm sure you had just forgotten you said.”

“Mom I’m sorry-” She cut you off by squeezing your hands again.

“Don't be sorry, dear. I knew you had feelings for him anyways.” You gave her a quizzical look, going to speak before she answered your question. “Mothers always know these kinds of things. I know how you act, and I love you, but honey you're not the best actor in the family… I've been watching you two all week, and I’m surprised you haven't said something sooner. I would've kept it to myself, though, because I think you need to see how this plays out.”

“I don't know how I can fix this though, Mom. I- I don't even know what I did wrong!”

She smiled knowingly.

“I don't think you did anything wrong, dear. But if you keep these feelings to yourself I think you'll find yourself worse off than if you didn't.” Your mother squeezed your hands again before letting go and standing up. “I've seen the way he looks at you, too. When he thinks nobody is looking, or when you aren't paying attention. When he thinks nobody but you and him are there.” Patting your shoulder as she walked towards the stairs, she gave you one last smile. “It’s Christmas after all. Maybe you got another gift you didn't know you asked for.”

With that, she bid you goodnight and made her way upstairs to her bedroom, leaving you alone in the dining room under the light. The house was near silent aside from the whistling outside of the wind.

You shut the light off and swallowed as you tried to reason through your mothers words. She was a bit of an optimist, so maybe she was just being hopeful, or maybe she was right. Maybe she had seen something you hadn't yet noticed.

The door to your room was left slightly open when you walked up, giving a soft knock as you pushed the door open. Charlie was under the blankets on his far side of the bed. There was no movement other than the steady breathing of his chest. You changed quickly and walked up to the bed, hesitating.

“Charlie..? Are you awake?” Your voice was quiet and dry. There was no answer from Charlie, and he hardly even shifted. Assuming he was asleep, you sighed and resigned yourself to sleeping on your far side of the bed, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. Tomorrow would be the busiest day of all and if you had done something to upset him, you really weren't sure how well this would go. Maybe it would have been all for naught if you went and messed things up on Christmas Eve. Drifting to sleep as you tried to ignore the way the soft sound of his breathing made you feel, one final sigh made your exit from the waking world known.

You were woken in darkness, blinking your eyes open to barely see Charlie in the very same knitted sweater he had shown you at the start of the week.

“Good morning sleepyhead.”

You groaned and rubbed your eyes, yawning.

“It's still dark..?”

“Merry Christmas.” Charlie's voice was little more than a whisper, and you felt yourself smile at the pure warmth of the tone.

“Oh… Merry Christmas..”

“Your little cousins are running from room to room, I figured I would wake you up a little nicer than that.”

“You're too sweet, Charlie..” You hummed and looked up at him. Even in the darkness he looked beautiful, and you blearily wondered if you were still dreaming. Having such a wonderful man wake you in your bed to go downstairs for Christmas morning with your family, not a care in the world, seemed like a dream come true.

“I'll go stand in the hall and let you change, I think if someone doesn't stop Elliot he's gonna tear open every package and parcel he can get his hands on.” Charlie quietly slipped out of the room and you immediately heard him make his presence known to the distant chaos you slowly became aware of as you woke up.

… Okay, there were a few cares in your world. The strangeness of last night came back to you slowly. You had expected him to be cold, maybe. Or mad. At least a little upset! But he spoke to you like you were a literal angel, like waking you any faster than your body wanted to would have broken you. It was attractive, to say the least.

A scream from downstairs broke you of your thoughts and you remembered there were gifts with children's names on them, and they wouldn't wait around for you.

Stepping up to your closet, you fished out the sweater you had told Charlie about, smiling down at it. It was a bit old and a gift from your Grandmother, but it still fit nicely and had softened over the years to be a little less itchy. You wore a shirt underneath just to be safe.

With each step down the stairs you had to take a breath and remind yourself that you had an act to put on with Charlie. If you had messed up, you at least owed it to him to keep your attitude nice for the day. You were both adults, you knew any issues you had could be resolved in due time. Charlie wouldn't just let it fester if you had hurt his feelings or said something wrong, right? You had to hope that was the case, at least.

Right as you step off the last step, your younger cousins come running up to you with excitement, shouting about Santa Claus, the half eaten cookies, and the new gifts. You do your best to wave off the lingering sleep in your mind to match their enthusiasm. When that's enough to satisfy them before they can actually open their gifts, they loudly run off to their next victims – You catch Charlie's eye from across the den.

His eyes crinkle at the sight of you, then flick down to your sweater and he sits up, pointing at his own for a moment with his mouth slightly agape, before patting the seat beside him enthusiastically. It takes you a moment to mentally unstick your feet from the floor and walk over to him. It was Christmas morning in front of your family - if anything was wrong, this was probably your last reprieve before things fully went wrong and you could see the damages. As selfish as it sounded, you felt as though you should take advantage of that.

“So you really do have a matching sweater?” Charlie giggled and pulled you down to sit next to him, wrapping an arm around you. “I'm glad you decided to match with me.”

“And leave you hanging? Just wait until you see whatever Mom has got on this year. It's gonna put both of us to shame.” You leaned in to whisper as early morning chaos still reigned.

“Hey lovebirds, say cheese!” Your aunt had her phone out already, and you perked up just in time to smile as the flash dazzled you and Charlie.

“You ready for a whole day of.. That?” You glanced to Charlie, who chuckled.

“Bring it on.”

Rolling your eyes, you waited for everyone to wake up and join the family in the den. The younger kids instantly started opening gifts and throwing wrapping paper everywhere when they were given the go ahead. Eventually your dad started a garbage bag of scraps and tried his best to rally the kids into one area with their new toys as the adults started opening their much smaller gifts.

It was always amusing watching people open gifts, seeing the way even grown adults would get excited over certain things they wanted, or how they tried to hide their dislike or disappointment over certain other gifts. One of your aunts was given an ornate music box that seemed to be hand-crafted, and it seemed like she was ready to cry as she hugged your uncle, thanking him. Meanwhile one of your uncles got a pair of socks with little reindeer printed on them, and you swore you could see him try to set them on fire with his eyes.

Charlie would lift his arm whenever it was your turn to open something, watching you make a neat little pile at your feet of opened gifts. He seemed content to just sit and watch, making little jokes about certain gifts until your father walked over with a small box. He lifted his arm again, but your dad held the box to him a little more insistently.

“Wh.. For me-?” Charlie pointed at himself and sat up, taking it hesitantly.

“Well… We didn't want you to feel left out, but the stores were a bit scarce so close to the holiday when I went to get you something. So we hope it's okay.” Your dad smiled and nodded, stepping back to his place by the tree.

Charlie looked at you a bit bewildered, and carefully tore open the wrapping paper. It was a couple of Pokémon card packs from the store, and a set of six-sided dice. You almost went to say something about how they just did their best to understand, but Charlie's eyes lit up as he pulled them out of the box, carefully holding the dice as he inspected them. It was a set of black dice with white dots, subtly reflecting the lights on the tree.

“You didn't..” He looked up at your parents and shook his head slowly. “You didn't have to get me anything.” His hand slipped into yours, squeezing so tight it shook a little. Glancing at Charlie, you could tell he was trying so hard to play it cool, but the way his lips twitched and fought off a grin was undermining all of his attempts.

Your mother shook her head.

“What kind of parents in law would we be if we left you out?? We’ll get you something better next year, we promise.” She sent a wink your way, and you knew it was more for you than it was Charlie. You tried to ignore the warmth that crawled up your neck at the implication there. Next year. Did she really have that much faith in you to fix things? Did she have so much confidence in her ability to see what you can't that she believed Charlie would come home with you next year?

The next gift was picked, and Charlie turned to you with wide, excited eyes as he held up the card packs. It snapped you out of your thoughts and you smiled at him. You hadn't expected it would make him so happy, but the way he glowed was so much better than you could've imagined.

“I take it you're happy then?” You whispered, and he nodded, flipping through the handful of packs.

“I didn't- They didn't need to get me anything! I didn't expect to get anything..”

“Well,” You shrugged and leaned against him, sighing. “If you're part of the family, they're gonna get you something. I'm just glad I didn't tell them what he would've wanted, in case they got something you would've hated.”

Charlie shook his head as he chose one of the packs, setting the others down in his lap gently.

“I wasn't expecting anything, though. I would've enjoyed just watching you open things.” He fiddled with the wrapping of the pack and you looked down at it, then up at him.

“Well.. Go on.”

“What?”

“Open the pack. I wanna see what you got.”

He smiles and you set your head on his shoulder, watching as he opens the pack and flicks through the cards. He explains each card to you, explaining the differences on each of them, and you were more than happy to let him quietly ramble on as he grabbed the next pack.

“Do you wanna open this one?”

“Nah. All yours.”

Charlie nods, peeling open the next pack. It was impressive how quickly he put you at ease, and you couldn't find it in yourself to worry about what may come later, so long as you could stay in the moment of him explaining the rarity of certain cards. It was cute.

The rest of the day went by in a blur as people showed up and left, some family friends popping in for the day just to visit, a few neighbours showing up to gift some treats that you watched your younger cousins sneak into just a little too early. Your mother walked around at one point with her phone facetiming your grandmother, who insisted on having an entire conversation about you wearing the sweater, to which you just had to drag Charlie into frame to show that you were matching. This started a whole new slough of questions about your relationship, and the two of you had to explain repeatedly that you weren't ready for marriage, let alone kids.

Christmas music played loudly and the sound of far too many conversations loudly filled the air during the afternoon, and after being pulled between so many, you found your head was spinning too fast to keep up with, so you snuck out to the front foyer for a bit of space. Charlie seemed to have the same idea as he stumbled out of the kitchen, followed by the sound of your uncles laughing.

“They aren't getting to you in there, are they? Do I need to go tell them to lay off?” You teased lightly, leaning against the doorway as you took a deep breath.

“Pshh, No..” Charlie shook his head and walked up to you with a warm smile, though you noticed his cheeks were slightly pink. “Just got a little warm in there. Your family is really, uh..”

“Nosy?”

“Thorough.”

You laughed loudly and shook your head as you straightened up. Your gaze drifts up and your face falls slightly.

Mistletoe.

Charlie's gaze follows yours and he freezes. The buzz of the house seems to fade away as you focus on it, as if you found yourself locked in this little bubble with Charlie, and suddenly every guilty feeling writhed under your skin all at once.

“Oh.”

“I'm- I’m sorry,” You start, shaking your head as you turn to step to the side. You had been doing so well acting normal, of course you'd find yourself under the very same mistletoe he helped you hang. “We can move-”

“Wait.”

Charlie's arm stops you, and you look at his face to see him flushed, with the same expression from when you started talking last night.

“I..” He shifts, and you move back to standing under the mistletoe with him, looking at him intently. “I know that when you asked me to help you with this, you were a bit desperate and just looking for somebody to help you, and I’m sure I wasn't your first choice considering how little time we had spent together, but… This week has been the best week of my life I think, and I don't ever want it to end if it means we have to go back to the way things were. I don't want to go another day without hearing your voice, or watching you try not to laugh at my jokes - which I know you think are funny. I know this was mostly to save face in front of your family and that we haven't gotten much of a chance to genuinely get to know each other, but I would love to get to know you better, if I can.” His eyes soften and the confliction on his face fades into something much more vulnerable. Charlie's hands move up to your shoulders, and that feeling of freezer burn starts radiating under his touch again. “I want more of this, if you're okay with that. More of you.”

Charlie's eyes flicker between your own, carefully watching as you stand there, stunned.

“And.. Stop me, if I’ve taken this wrong. If my attempts to get your attention this week have been unwarranted. Stop me if this isn't what you want.” His hand moves to your cheek. “Please.”

You don't stop him, shaking your head and leaning into his hand.

“I won't.”

Charlie smiles as he pulls your face to his, gently kissing you for just a moment. He pulls away, just enough to breathe. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and quickly pull him into a deeper kiss.

The sound of cheers and whoops fill the hall and you pull away to see a handful of family members standing in the hallway, watching you two. Your mom gives you a knowing smile before you stare and silently wave them all off. Isabella is the last one to leave, holding her phone up with a mischievous grin and a thumbs up.

Charlie chuckled lowly and kissed your cheek, and when you were sure your little audience had dispersed, you two smiled at each other and kissed again.

“I told you I’d surprise you.”

“You didn't let me down.”

The rest of the night was full of playful gazes and quick kisses when nobody's looking. Quiet whispers of private conversation passed back and forth with no room for anyone to eavesdrop. Gentle touches and subtle movements, with something a little more genuine behind them – you find that not much changes in these little acts from the rest of the week, as if they've always had the same intent behind them just with more hesitation.

Dinner goes about as well as you'd expect, with one of your uncles trying to stir up some trouble and having to be talked down as a big scene was made. Usually you'd be much more upset about this sort of thing, but whenever you sighed or tensed up, Charlie's hand squeezed yours from under the table, and everything was okay again. You stayed up and drank a little after with the rest of the adults in the family, the conversations around the house a little more soft spoken, albeit a little more loose lipped as well. Those who were either already planning on staying, or had drank more than they meant to, trickled off one by one to their rooms, and slowly the unused lights were turned off until it was you and Charlie alone in the den with the glittering lights of the tree.

Sure, you were a few drinks in, but so was he as the two of you hummed and danced along to the Christmas music emanating from the radio. His arms wrapped around you and it was like there was nothing else in the world you could possibly bring yourself to think about other than the smell of Charlie and the sound of his low hums as he swayed you two back and forth.

You knew there would have to be a proper conversation about what you two were going to do now, about what this meant for your relationship and how it would affect the people around you, but for now, you were content with what you had, which was Charlie in your arms, smiling warmly at you.

The song changed to something more upbeat, and he grinned, laughing a little as he pulled away and spun you to the tune. The two of you kept up with singing along, even if you wavered a little as Charlie pulled you along. It was fun and it was carefree and you were very dizzy by the end, where Charlie leaned you into a dip and smiled down at you.

“Merry Christmas, Charlie.”

“Merry Christmas, Angel.”

He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, and you chase him as he leans up to press another kiss to his lips. After a couple more chaste kisses, he pulls away and glances towards the stairs then back at you with an unspoken question, and you find yourself quickly pulled up the stairs, giggling and shushing each other all the way to your room.

[wondeurwall]

AUTHOR'S NOTE. here's the other preview for the rafayel fic that i said i would post. tysm for the notes on all my previous ones!! i appreciate it 🥺💕💕 no particular warnings for this, so it's fine to interact with. but, i still do want to make the reminder that the fic will eventually be nsfw 🔞

currently 15k with it... definitely a slow burn. i'm a little worried that it might not be all that interesting because of how long it's getting to be, which is totally fine too. i don't expect it to be for some. feel good experience for me then 😆 💕 i'll make another poll about posting other previews over the week!

WARNINGS. none for this part. unless... mutual feelings? kiss?

“Then, how about I call you… sweetheart?” Rafayel gently takes your face into his hands, rubs his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks. He leans in little by little, gives the anticipation something worthwhile for, and until his breath is long drawn-out above yours, you hold it in absently. You feel his warmth once, then again. Soft, tender kisses. “Is that better?” 

You breathe out, humming in approval. 

“Baby?”

He kisses the tip of your nose, and then brushes his own against yours. Back and forth, back and forth. He takes his time with it. Thoughtful and loving.

“Cutie?”

His lips find the bridge of your nose. A gentle peck between your brows. He’s moving over to your left eye, and you flutter both closed, smiling, waiting to feel his sign of affection. One kiss, then another on your right. The sensation tickles, makes you feel a bit intoxicated too. Giddy and light-headed, an out-of-body experience, it’s almost as if you’re on top of cotton candy clouds. The flavor is sweeter than honey. You wish you could somehow gather it, save it by pouring it inside a bottle and get drunk off of it every night. 

The happiness on your face and the laughing whispers, they make Rafayel’s heart swell.

“Beautiful?” 

Beautiful. Absolutely, unequivocally beautiful. How are you even possible?

As his thumb swipes your lower lip, your mouth parts in nervous excitement. He’s so close now; you can taste the air, how desire fills it completely, standing just an inch away. A single step forward, and it’ll be yours, yours, yours.

“Can I?”

Rafayel. Rafayel. Everything is Rafayel and you begin to shake. God only knows just how badly you need to close this distance. You want it gone. You want him.

You murmur, “Kiss me. Please.”

It feels risky, feels scary even to ask him. But, you’re all in, here and now, and when his lips finally meet yours, sweet and slow, the little thing in your chest beats once. 

It stops moving. 

Then, it restarts. 

Blood pumping in the opposite direction, you suddenly know what it feels like to be alive. You can’t explain it – you’ve reached a time and space no one else has brought you before. Except for him. You know this. It resembles home. It is home. It’s painful. It’s liberation. You’ve been wanting this for so long and it’s only now that you realize you’ve been deprived of it, of you and him like this. 

You’re dying. You’re reviving. The desperation is heavy in your bones, heavy in your mind, and it doesn’t seem like it’s a coincidence everything about this moment fits together, as if it belonged here in the first place. 

Just as Rafayel pulls back, a reluctance washes over you. A staggering intensity like no other. Fire in your chest, it spreads aggressively. It burns, it burns, and you burn up – lungs are filling with smoke, and you need the air from him again. You need more. The thought drifts in your head, though your body is moving before you can say anything. Your hand reaches for his, guiding him back into your direction as you tip forward, chasing after his lips.

You plead, “Don’t–” 

You hear him gasp, then he’s breathing a bit harder, trembling inhales and exhales, at your desperation. There’s a brief wonder if he should give into his personal desires now. He thinks it wouldn’t hurt to; can’t find any reason that tells him otherwise, so it shouldn’t hurt. It shouldn’t hurt, he repeats, not when you’re looking at him as if he holds the secret of the universe somewhere in his eyes. 

“Don’t stop yet, please.” 

Not when you sound like that. 

He’s not forcing you, he has to remind himself. You want this. It’s so obvious. Painfully obvious. He’s in over his head by the turn of events and, truthfully, it brings a bit of fear in him, but he refuses to leave you feeling unwanted if he doesn’t make up his mind at this moment. How can he do that? Make you feel unwanted?

“Is that what you want?” he asks. The extra affirmation is a need. Will not go until you can crush that seed of doubt. 

“Yes, yes, yes, Raf–” you bite your lower lip, frustration clawing at your throat. The knot of emotions inside there spills out in waves, currents wild and twisting in a way that mimics a hurricane over the ocean. It’s too hard to speak, to catch your breath. “I want it. Please, don’t leave me like this, Rafayel.” 

You don’t know it – not yet, or perhaps, never – but you have unimaginable power over him. Anyone would be scared. Not Rafayel. He can never deny you because doing that would mean pushing you further away than you already are. Close, so close, yet so far. Command him because you want him and no one else. Take everything that he has because you won’t settle for anything less. You can have it all – please, please, just say it. 

He’s desperate to know that you need him just as much as he needs you. 

You beg, “Rafayel.”

“Shh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispers. He will never leave you.

Rafayel kisses you again, deeply, with a love so fierce. The fire is urgent and all-consuming, will never get enough until smoke clouds the air and the world is bled dry, until you and him are left to give your hearts to each other without fear. And, even then, his love will remain boundless and insatiable. 

He has his hands buried into your hair, fists full so you can’t escape. He is all that you have. Mouth crushing down onto yours, he does this with the hope to sear himself into your memory permanently. Maybe, with this, you won’t forget him. His lips are hard-pressed, but they melt, turn a bit softer, then deeper, so much deeper. Breathe his soul and know that this kiss isn’t just a kiss. Taste his addiction, his devotion; his feelings that will never know what it’s like to abandon. His vow to you. 

Every year that’s gone by has been a year worth waiting. 

When you gasp into his mouth, your voice echoes into his ears; it makes Rafayel sensitive, an induced high that forces his body to ache and shudder. Face flushed, eyes hazy, he’s becoming feverish. He’s pulling away again, only barely, as the sensitivity peels his voice raw. What he tells you comes so faintly, slips by you fast and low by mistake: “You’re everything.” 

He leans in one more time, lets his lips stay a little longer.

© 2024 wondeurwall ☆ all rights reserved. please don't repost as your own, modify or translate on here and on other platforms. reblogs & likes are appreciated! ♡

[thewritingrowlet]

The White Swan, ft. tripleS Ji Seoyeon

tags: first time (with a small twist), creampie, friends-to-lovers (kinda), (a lot of) pet names

word count: 15k+ words

author's note: here it is, The White Swan fic that I've mentioned before. I know that it's a long one and I should probably write shorter fics but I just couldn't help it. Lmk what you think. Thanks for reading <3

-

Ballet [noun; ba-ley, bal-ey]

“A classical dance form demanding grace and precision and employing formalized steps and gestures set in intricate, flowing patterns to create expression through movement.”

“Yeah, so what is that exactly?”, you wonder to yourself after looking up the word’s definition in the dictionary on your phone. “Grace and precision, huh? Interesting”, you continue. You put your phone in your pocket and promise yourself you’ll look up videos of people performing ballet when you get home as you keep walking past the lit-but-empty classrooms—it’s past 7 pm; most undergrads are at home, allowing the time and space for postgrads to do their stuff. You, a 3rd-year student, just finished tutoring Business Mathematics II on the 2nd floor of the F building to a bunch of sophomores and are now on your way home.

At least that was the plan, until you hear music coming out of one of the classrooms on the first floor. The music itself piques your curiosity, as you stop in front of the door of said classroom and look through the tinted glass door. You see that the chairs have been moved to the sides, creating a big empty space for the girl in the middle of the classroom; “wait, a girl?”, you think to yourself as you move your face closer to the glass. You keep your eyes on the girl wearing a long-sleeve T-shirt and grey training pants who’s dancing in that empty space; “that looks graceful and precise”, you mutter under your breath.

If someone were to see what you’re doing right now, they would most likely think you were a creep. You can’t even begin to describe how captivating and supple and charming the girl’s movements are. You also can’t help but keep your eyes on the girl the whole time—that is until the music ends, and she makes eye contact with you and starts walking to the door. It doesn't quite help you that she has a serious face on as she’s turning the door handle. “Hi, can I help you?”, she says. You don’t want her to think that you were stalking her, so you muster up your courage and get ready to apologize for peeking at her through the glass door like that. You start by bowing slightly before opening your mouth, “I was walking down from the 2nd floor and heard music coming out of this classroom, so I decided to see what was going on and ended up looking like a creep—which I’m not, just so we’re clear. I apologize for being so rude”.

You dare not look into her eyes and decide to look at your shoes instead while bracing for pain in case she slaps you in the face—let’s be real; it would be understandable on her part and deserving on yours. To your absolute surprise, she laughs instead; “oh, it’s fine”, she says, “you know, I’m kinda honored that someone decided to stop what they were doing and were fascinated by my routine”. You look up and see that she’s holding out a hand, probably looking to shake yours; “my name is Ji Seoyeon, but some call me Jiyeon to avoid confusion with someone else—you probably know who I’m talking about”, she says.

You nod at her words—she’s referring to Yoon Seoyeon, a fellow 3rd-year and the current president of the student council who also happens to be on the dean’s list; the girl does it all and boy does she do it well. You shyly take her hand for a handshake, and she surprises you one more time; “wait, aren’t you one of Professor Kim’s teaching assistants? I’ve been to one of your classes before. I think it was Business Mathematics II”, she reveals to you. “Funny you should say that”, you chuckle, “I just finished tutoring BM II and you weren’t there—for obvious reasons”. Her big eyes get even bigger due to her shock hearing your words and she runs to check her phone; “oh my goodness, it is Tuesday! I should’ve gone to your class!”, she exclaims and covers her face with her hands in embarrassment, “I’m so sorry, sunbaenim. I forgot that it was Tuesday thus I missed your class”. You shake your head and tell her that it’s not a big deal since TA’s classes aren’t mandatory.

“So, what now? Are you going to practice again?”, you ask. Jiyeon opens her mouth but before the words can come out, her stomach answers for her with a growl. “Oh, you must be hungry. Haven’t eaten yet?”, you are as surprised as she is. “I wanted to get dinner after practicing b-but you got to me first”, she turns her face away to hide her embarrassment. “I know I’m overstepping here but can I treat you to dinner?”, you offer her, hoping that she won’t take it as anything else other than a gesture of kindness and apology. Jiyeon looks down at her shoes before answering, “um, yes, please. Let me wipe myself first, though; I’m very sweaty”.

-

You find yourself walking towards the campus gate with Jiyeon, and you see your friend Suyeon in front of it, presumably waiting for someone or something. You walk up to her and tap her shoulder, “yo, waiting for someone?”. She turns to your direction and gives you a fist bump, “yeah, waiting for my Uber. What about you?”. You tell her your plan to get dinner before going home. “Sounds nice, can I come along?”, as soon as Suyeon says that, she makes eye contact with Jiyeon, “oh, you already have company. I would hate to third wheel”. You take a step back so that the two girls can face each other, “Suyeon-ah, this is Ji Seoyeon—also known as Jiyeon. Jiyeon-ah, this is my friend, Suyeon”. Suyeon shakes Jiyeon’s hand and asks, “Seoyeon? Like the president?”. Jiyeon answers timidly, “exactly like the president, sunbaenim. Please call me Jiyeon”. Before Suyeon starts assuming things, you jump to clarify, “I, uh, was spying on her like a weirdo when she was practicing in an empty classroom so now, I want to treat her to dinner as an apology”. “I didn’t ask”, Suyeon says before laughing, “nice to meet you, Jiyeon-ah. Tell me if he tries anything and I will whoop his ass for you”. You roll your eyes, “I might be single but I’m not a degenerate, Kim Suyeon”. “True, you’re actually nice and respectful—now get out of here, she must be starving already”, Suyeon gives you another fist bump and sends you on your way.

“So, any idea what to get?”, you ask Jiyeon as you two leave the campus area. “I kinda want something warm—something with broth or soup”, she says. “I don’t usually eat that sort of food, so I have no idea, sorry”, you admit your cluelessness. “That’s okay, we can go to my favorite spot if you don’t mind”, she says. “I sure don’t; lead the way”, you tell her. “Can we get an Uber? It’s like 5 kilometers away from here—I’ll pay, don’t worry”, she suggests. Walking for 5 kilometers is not only tiring, but also time consuming, so you agree with her suggestion; “yeah, we can get an Uber. I’ll pay for it, it’s okay—I’m not accepting counter arguments, by the way”.

You two stop in your tracks and wait for Jiyeon to call an Uber. Lucky for you, the app shows her that the car is 3 minutes away from your location, so you try to make small talk as you wait; “so what were you practicing? Your moves looked delicate, for a lack of better words”. You see a light of excitement in her eyes as she answers you, “that was ballet”. “Ballet, huh?”, you say internally. “There’s a ballet competition coming up in like 3 weeks or so and I’ve been preparing for that since last week”, she adds. “Do you think I can go and watch you perform?”, you ask her with as genuine a voice as possible. “You probably can”, she fiddles with her phone, presumably to ask someone about your question, “I’m gonna ask the contact person and find out exactly”. You see the car pulling up to you, so you save the rest of the conversation for later.

-

You’re now standing in front of a noodle soup restaurant and Jiyeon leads you into it. She walks straight to the register and tells the person attending it her order. She asks you what you want to eat but since you’re not familiar with the place, you ask her to order for you. After ordering, she leads you to her favorite table and takes a seat in front of you. “Oppa”, she says while looking at her phone, “the person said you can watch but you’ll need a ticket. How many do you want?”. Your heart flutters when you hear her call you that, but you quickly compose yourself and answer her question, “I’ll just take one, I don’t know if any of my friends would be interested in watching ballet. Can you ask them if there’s a better seat, by the way? I don’t mind paying extra as long as I get better view to see you perform”.

It is when Jiyeon gets off her phone does she realize what she just called you, “I’m sorry, sunbaenim”. You have an idea as to what she’s apologizing, but it doesn't hurt to make sure; “for what?”, you ask back. “I called you ‘oppa’ earlier, but I don’t know if I can call you that”, she says, apologetic. You wave off her concern, “it’s fine, there’s no need to act so formal with me”. You can feel that things are getting awkward, as shown by how Jiyeon speaks way less compared to earlier. Lucky for you, a waiter stops at your table and drops off your orders. Lucky for you again, Jiyeon seems to be excited seeing the bowl of warm noodle soup in front of her; “thank you for the meal!”, she says with excitement in her voice.

-

“Thank you for buying me dinner, sunbaenim”, she says while the two of you stand outside the restaurant. “The pleasure is mine, Jiyeon-ah.Any update about the ticket?”, you say to her. “Oh, right”, she fishes her phone from her pocket again and checks her messages, “okay so, the VIP ticket costs ₩8.000 and ₩10.000 for VVIP. VVIP is guaranteed to be on the first two rows while VIP is 3-5”. It’s a no-brainer for you, really; “I’ll take the 10k one, I need to make sure I’ll be able to see you”, you tell her. You pretend to not see her blush, but it’s kind of hard to do so you look away for a second as her fingers pace around on her phone screen restlessly. “Oppa”, you’re really starting to think that she’s become more comfortable with you, “the person said they need 1 or 2 days to process your purchase. In the meantime, can-can I, uh, have your number?”. You tell her your number digit by digit and manage to peek at the name she gives you; “BM TA-oppa”, how cute. After saving your contact information, she calls your number so that you can save hers on your phone. Your dullness leads you to naming her “Ji Seoyeon”, just like how you name everyone else on your phone aside from your parents.

“May I ask what your plan is after this?”, you ask Jiyeon. “I’m gonna walk home, I think; I don’t live far from here, somewhere in that direction”, she points vaguely to her left. You offer to walk with her to her apartment, and she says yes right away—she most likely heard what Suyeon said about you at the gate and thought that you wouldn’t try anything stupid with her, which is absolutely correct. You also offer to help her carry her tote bag and start walking in the direction she pointed at.

As you’re walking side by side with Jiyeon, your brain suggests asking her about ballet; “what is ballet to you, Jiyeon-ah?”. She stays silent for a few seconds before taking a deep breath, “ballet is a lot of things, oppa”. You’re not quite sure what she means, so you ask her to explain further. “First of all, ballet has taught me self-control and discipline; you can’t be good at ballet if you lack those two things—how can you convey grace and emotions, which is the whole point of ballet, to the audience if you can’t control yourself and be disciplined?”, she explains to you. You can tell that she has quite the experience and wisdom under her belt judging by her answer; “may I ask how long you’ve been into ballet? Your answer sounds like that from someone with experience”, you say to her. She scratches her temple, “Since I was 8 or 9, I think?”.

You finally arrive at her building after about 5 minutes of walking, so you hand her tote bag back to Jiyeon. She waves at you with a smile before entering her building, so you wave back before walking away. You’re only a dozen steps away from her building when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn around and see that it’s Jiyeon; “can I help you?”, you ask her. “Um, yes, you can; can you help me find empty classrooms to practice in?”. You do have that sort of reach as a teaching assistant, so you tell her that you indeed can, “when are you looking to practice?”. She pulls out her phone again and looks at her schedules, “Friday evening this week, Wednesday and Friday evening the following week, and finally Tuesday and Wednesday the week after that—each session will be like 2 hours long, by the way. I will miss another class of yours in that 3rd week, so I apologize in advance”. You pull out your phone and write down her practice schedules on the notes app, “I can secure a classroom for you this Friday but I’ll need to talk to some people for the other schedules”, you say to her. “Thank you, oppa. See you on Friday!”, she waves at you again before running back to her building.

-

Friday comes sooner than you anticipated, which means that you’ll be seeing Jiyeon after this tutoring session. You wrap up your class after the 55 minutes are up and send the freshmen on their way while urging them to be quick, stating that you have an important meeting after this—Jiyeon is important to you, so you’re not exactly lying to them. Once the class is clear of people, you send a text to Jiyeon, “I’m in Classroom 2-4 on the F building, it’s clear here”. She replies right away and says that she’s on her way to you, so you start moving the chairs to the side and make some room for Jiyeon.

Her timing couldn’t be more perfect, as you hear a knock on the door as soon as you’re done clearing the room. You tell her to come in and see that she’s in a different practice outfit from a few days ago. “Hiiii”, she says as she closes the door behind her. “Hello, Jiyeon-ah. How are you today?”, you greet the ballerina. “A couple of questions before we start”, she says, “number one; can I actually call you ‘oppa’? Number two; how did you manage to find an empty classroom for me seemingly so easily?”. You sit down on the teacher’s chair, “number one: yes, you can. Number two: did you forget that I’m a TA? I can do these sort of things, you know—Professor Kim gave me this freedom when I became her TA”. Jiyeon nods to your answers, “very cool”. You take your backpack and head to the door. “Oppa, where are you going?”, she asks. You’re caught off guard by her question, “Oh, I don’t know; I just thought I should leave and give you some privacy”. She rushes to you and grabs your wrist, “do you not want to watch me practice? I can give you an exclusive preview for the competition”. That sounds like a fun time as much as it is a spoiler, so you concur and take a seat at the teacher’s desk.

“Start the music on my signal, please”, she hands you her phone and takes the center spot. She mouths the countdown, and you press play right after she finishes it. The same music from a few days ago starts playing, and Jiyeon starts her routine right away. You are immediately fascinated by her movements, and you can’t help but be silent and wholeheartedly pay attention. You find every movement she’s making to be charming and moving but can’t string the words together to describe it; “this must be what a pro looks like”, you think to yourself.

You’re completely entranced by the sight in front of you that you don’t realize that the performance is complete. Only when she sighs do you come back to your senses and feel the tears that are falling out of your eyes and onto your cheeks. “That was not as good as I wanted, I’m sorry”, she says. She hears your subtle sniffle and looks at you perplexedly, “are you okay, oppa? Why are you crying?”. You sniffle before answering her, “wha-what do you mean that wasn’t good? Like-like… what?”. You wipe your eyes with your hands before continuing your speech, “that was… sooo beautiful and charming and captivating and flawless and-and-and—oh, God, I’ve never seen anything like that before in my life”. Jiyeon walks up to you and lifts your chin with a smile on her face, “you’re so sweet, oppa; Suyeon-sunbaenim was right”. She then wipes your tears softly with her thumbs, “thank you for the kind words, oppa. They mean a lot to me, you know”.

You take a few deep breaths to compose yourself before sighing, “I swear I’ll cry like a damn baby if I see you perform this at the competition”. She walks back to her spot and assumes a perfect standing posture, “I’m sorry, I should’ve started with something lighter—I’ll do it now, actually. Here, play the 24th song”. You’re surprised to hear the number, “you have 24 routines, dear?”. She blushes and covers her face when she hears the pet name, “ki-kind of—aaaaaah don’t call me that, oppaaaaa”. You lightly slap your mouth, “I’m so sorry; force of habit from my parents”. Jiyeon exhales and focuses again, “press play now, the song doesn’t start until after a few seconds”.

She stands by and waits for the song to start, which takes about 5 seconds after you pressed play. You’re totally bewitched again and brought back to a trance like earlier, as you sit with your mouth open like a dumbass. “Whoa”, you mutter under your breath, “this girl is crazy good”. You wish you were able to come up with a sentence—or a paragraph—that can describe the way she’s moving right now. It just so happens that your brain is too busy trying to comprehend what you are looking at. At some point, your brain decides to give up and tells your eyes to shed more tears. Unlike earlier, however, you can feel your tears rush down your face; “so this is ballet, huh?”, you say to yourself.

Her routine ends with her looking straight at you, so you cover your eyes to hide the flowing tears. Judging by her pants, she seems to be tired—if you’re doing something that passionately the way she is now, you’re guaranteed to be tired after. You turn away from her and wipe your eyes before saying anything. “I’m so sorry, you must think I’m some sort of a loser for crying so much”, you admit your defeat despite feeling embarrassed. “No, I don’t”, she says, “you have a good heart and that’s always a great sight to see”. She walks to her stuff and grabs a bottle of water, “would you like some water?”. You decline her offer by shaking your head, “with the way I’m crying right now, I’ll just drink my tears”.

She laughs before taking a gulp herself, “you know, I’ve never had someone cry when they watch me practice before, and I’ve practiced in front of people many times”. You look down in shame, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what has gotten into me”. “Thank you, oppa”, she utters. You turn to face her, “huh? For what?”. She exhales deeply before replying, “for showing genuine interest in my craft”. To your surprise, she decides to give you a peck in the cheek, thus forcing you to blush. “I’m just being myself, Jiyeon-ah”, you say. “That’s not my name, is it?”, she giggles cutely, “where did the pet name go? Did a cat steal it, oppa?”. You feel your cheeks get hotter, “are you sure I can call you that? I mean, the first one was an accident”. She shrugs, “I don’t see why not. Accidents aren’t always bad, oppa; they can lead you to great things too, you know”.

-

You stayed with her until the end of her practice, which took about 2 hours in total. With every routine she did, you laid a brick to build up some resemblance of mental toughness to not bawl your eyes out the whole time—you’re slightly worried that you’ll eventually be desensitized by the gracefulness that she’s showing you through ballet, but that’s a problem for another time. “Dear”, you call out to Jiyeon, who is now lying on her stomach while fiddling with her phone, to get her attention, “can I treat you to dinner again after this?”. She rolls onto her back to look at you, “Sure, what are we getting?”. You open your notes app scroll through the list of good restaurants nearby, “tteokbokkiand popcorn chicken? Malatang? Noodle soup like last time, maybe?”. “The first option sounds good. Can we get that?”, Jiyeon says. “We sure can, we’ll take my car and drive there”, you stand up from your seat and help her get on her feet. “Wait outside, dear; I wanna change clothes first”, she says. You rush to exit the room to make sure Jiyeon doesn’t see the blush and shock on your face.

You wait outside as she asked, and it didn’t take long until you feel a tap on your shoulder. “Let’s go, oppa”, she says. “Man, I would love to hear the pet name again”, you silently wish, “yeah, let’s go. My car is in the parking lot”. “I didn’t know you had a car”, she comments as the two of you start walking. “And I didn’t know you were a ballet prodigy—surprise, surprise”, you joke. She laughs enthusiastically at your small joke and suggests a brilliant idea; one you’ve been waiting for her to say, “we should get to know each other better soon, oppa. I like surprises and all that but not when I’m looking for a boyfriend”. You pretend to not hear what she just said and keep walking until you reach your car.

You unlock the doors and get in with Jiyeon. “Why is your car so clean, oppa?”, she looks around the interior and even opens the glovebox—you’re surprised to see her do that but thankfully you barely keep stuff in it so she doesn’t find anything that might raise suspicion. You know you got caught, so you admit to her that you had your car all cleaned up yesterday to prepare for the dinner “date” tonight. “Ah, good job thinking ahead”, she praises you. You head to the exit and call out to your phone to find the quickest route to get to your destination; “8 minutes to destination”, it says. As much as you want to act like you were that famous racer Scott Chegg and beat the estimated time, you have an important passenger next to you right now, so you suppress your intrusive thoughts and drive like a sane person.

-

“Alright, let’s park here and walk. The restaurant is in that alleyway to your left—stay in the car for a sec, please”, you say to her after parking your car and killing its engine. Jiyeon does as you say, and it gives you enough time to rush to the other side of the car and open the door for her; “my lady”, you say, offering her your hand to help her get out of the car. “Aww, so cute”, she takes your hand and gets out of the car. Jiyeon decides that it’s now okay to have more physical contacts with you, as she leans her head against your shoulder while wrapping an arm around yours. As much as you enjoy it, you don’t want to let your horses run out of the barn just yet; there’ll be plenty of opportunities to do so in the future (hopefully). You point to the restaurant that has a bright yellow and blue sign and lead her to it.

“Good evening, welcome to Terrific Tteokbokki. What can I get you today?”, the staff greets you. You’re familiar with this place, so it’s your turn today to order for the two of you, “hi, good evening. Can we get one large bowl of Terrific Combo and two drinks?”. “Absolutely”, the staff’s finger scurries around the computer screen in front of him, “that would be ₩9000 with the drinks”. You see Jiyeon pull out her wallet as you do yours, so you hold her hand back and insist on paying for tonight’s dinner. The staff then hands you two large empty cups for the bottomless drink that comes with the combo. You hand Jiyeon a cup and walk over to the drink machine with her. You fill your cup with iced lemon tea while she fills hers with zero-sugar soda. “You like soda, Jiyeon-ah?”, you ask her. “Only if it’s zero-sugar, otherwise it’s too much sugar—paying attention to what you eat and drink is important, oppa. I suggest doing so if you haven’t already”, she says. You then tell her that you only pay attention to how much you eat and how much you exercise in a day but not to the actual nutritional contents of your food.

You both find a table to sit at and wait for your food to be delivered. Jiyeon follows up on the conversation from a few minutes ago; “can I ask what your exercise is like?”, she asks. “I play basketball for at least an hour on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday and lift weights on Monday and Thursday. On the weekend I usually get on the treadmill to get my steps in”, you explain to her. “You play basketball, oppa?”, she looks at you in disbelief. You’re not quite sure why or how she finds that to be surprising considering your height—anyone who sees your height usually assume that you play either basketball or volleyball, “yeah, I was a role player playing off the bench as a freshman when Yoon Seoyeon’s boyfriend was the captain and I won the national championship with him. I left the team in my sophomore year after he graduated—he got summa cum laude, by the way. My man instantly got a job after graduating at a tech startup after that. He was always the big brain both on the court and in the classroom”, you tell her. “But why did you leave the team? You could’ve taken over as the captain”, she presses on. You sigh at the cheerless memory, “the captain left some gigantic shoes to fill, and no one could fit in them, including myself—no one could replicate what he was as a leader and a player. Team morale started sinking to the bottom of the Mariana Trench as we started crashing out of tournaments as favorites, so I decided to dip and became a TA instead”. You see a bright lightbulb float over her head as she suggests an idea, “can we have a little basketball date one day, oppa? I would love to learn basketball from you”. “We sure can, dear. Just tell me when”, you smile at her.

“Thank you for the meal!”, Jiyeon says with an excited face after a waiter drops off the food on your table. “That is so good, oppa. Do you come here often?”, she says. You swallow your mouthful before replying, “yeah, the captain used to take us here on the weekends. He was such a good guy, no wonder Seoyeon loves him so much”. She tilts her head in curiosity, “you speak so highly of this captain, oppa. Can I ask what sort of relationship you have with him?”. Recounting the cheerful memory helps draw a smile on your face, “he was the true leader for us; his presence alone could lift the spirit of every player around him. Not to mention that he was such a great scorer and facilitator for the team. We all relied on him every time he was on the floor”.

In the corner of your eyes, you see a tall guy start walking up to you and Jiyeon from the cashier area. “Yo, yo”, the guy says, so you look over and see that it’s the captain that you were talking about. “Hyung!”, you drop your jaw in shock, “what are you doing here?”. He gives you a fist bump, “I’m getting some food for me and Seoyeon. What are you doing here?”. You wipe your mouth before answering him, “I’m treating my friend here for dinner. It’s so nice to meet you, hyung. How are you?”. You see that gentle smile that you always liked on his face, “I’m doing very well, man. Would you mind introducing me to this friend of yours?”. You turn to Jiyeon, “hyung, this is my friend Ji Seoyeon—yes, the same first name as your girlfriend—Jiyeon-ah, this is my captain”. Jiyeon stands up and greets him, “hello, sunbaenim. Nice to meet you”. “Oh, there’s always room for more sweet girls named Seoyeon in this world. Please, have a seat”, he says, “tell me something, Jiyeon-ah: is he treating you well? I’ll kick his ass to the ground for you if he ever tries anything dumb with you”. Jiyeon laughs shyly, “he’s actually very kind and sweet, sunbaenim. He even helped me find an empty classroom so that I can practice ballet”. Captain-hyung nods in approval, “Ballet, huh? That’s great to hear; I could tell that he was a good person when he first joined us for practice. I sometimes wish we could utilize him more during that run”. His words make you shy, “oh, c’mon, hyung; you know I was always happy with my role, right?”. “Oh, I know”, he pats you on the back, “we couldn’t have done it without you”.

You hear the staff call out his name, which means that his order is ready to be picked up and it’s time for him to leave. “I tried paying for your food, but I was told that you already paid so your next visit here is on me, you can buy whatever you want and I’ll pay”, he waves goodbye before walking out the door, “I’ll see you soon, okay?”. You don’t realize that you still have a smile on your face until Jiyeon tells you about it, “you like him that much, huh?”. You turn your focus back to Jiyeon and the food in front of you, “I love him”. Jiyeon smiles hearing you say that, “but do you love me?”. Your eyes nearly jump out of their sockets due to the surprise, “o-oh, um, I-I do, honestly—I hope that’s not too presumptuous of me”. Jiyeon looks down at the table to hide her pink hue, “I love you too, dear”.

-

“Oppa”, she says, standing outside the restaurant, “can you take me home, please?”. “Absolutely, dear”, you get in the car with Jiyeon and start it so you can take her home. “Can I play some music, oppa? There’s this group that I’ve been obsessed with”, she says. You give her your approval, so she connects her phone with your car’s speakers over Bluetooth. “This song is called Girls Never Die, oppa”, she says as the song starts playing. You listen and pay attention to the song that’s playing over the speakers as you keep driving. You find the lyrics to be moving and meaningful while the beat is uplifting; “this is a great song”, you think. “What do you think, oppa?”, she asks. “I think it’s a great song”, you offer her your take, “I really like how they say ‘even if I fall, I stand back up’ and ‘I’m going until the end and not giving up. I think such messages are very uplifting and relatable, especially coming from a girl group. Combine that message with the beat that it’s delivered with, and it’s just an amazing song. The title itself is great, by the way. What group is this?”. She smiles in approval of your opinion, “they’re called tripleS and they have 24 members, oppa. I’ve been listening to their songs a lot recently for the messages that each one delivers”. You squint your eyes, “isn’t 24 too many?”. Jiyeon chuckles, “apparently not, no”.

-

“We’re here, dear”, you announce to Jiyeon, who happened to fall asleep during the ride. She slowly wakes up from her peaceful nap, “we are? That’s unfortunate”. You look at her with a confused face, “what do you mean?”. She stretches her arms and yawns, “I would love to spend more time with you”. Your horses start getting excited, but you hold them for now, “we can do that in the future. You should rest, you must be tired from practicing”. She twiddles her finger, showing you some aegyo, “can you open my door like before?”. You get out of the car with a smile on your face and open the passenger door for her, “may I, sweetie?”. “Aaaah, oppaaa”, she takes your hand while her cheeks are on fire—with how often she’s blushing tonight, you might as well start calling her tomato cheeks. You walk her to the door of her building and say your farewell. Instead of walking into her building, she decides to walk closer to you. “Can I help you, dear?”, you ask, unsure of her intentions. “Lean forward, please”, she says. You lean forward as requested and your new height allows her to give you a peck on the lips while being on her tippy toes. “I love you”, she confesses. You get to her eye level and reciprocate her confession while looking straight into her big eyes, “I love you too, baby”. “That’s new”, she giggles before sighing, “I was going to ask you to come up with me but I’m super tired. I’m sorry, oppa”. You pet her head softly, “we’ll get more chances in the future, trust me. I’ll see you for your next practice, okay?”

-

Today is Tuesday in the third week of her schedule. It's been two weeks since Jiyeon kissed you (well, pecked you on the lips) in front of her building. You helped her secure one of the big classrooms on the 3rd floor last week so that she could have more space to practice. She even asked you to record her practices because she wanted to monitor herself after. Just like week one, you brought her to dinner and took her home after each session, all that while getting to know each other better with every conversation and every bit of skinship.

Today’s practice session has just ended, too. “Oppa, I’m going straight home. You don’t have to buy me dinner”, she says while sitting on the floor and leaning against a wall—“she’s not as high-spirited as usual”, you say in your head. “Can I take you home?”, you offer her as you grab your keys. Jiyeon rejects your offer by shaking her head, “I’ll take the bus and walk after that. Thank you for the offer, though”. You come up to Jiyeon and kneel in front of her to get to her eye level, “are you okay?”. You see on her face that she has a lot of things in mind; “honestly, I’m not. Today was rough”, her deep sigh sends a pang of sadness to your heart, “I don’t feel like talking about it right now, sorry”. She signs to you that she wants to be helped onto her feet, so you stand up and help her up. “We can walk together to the gate, though”, she says.

Jiyeon has been silent the whole way to the gate, and it has become very obvious to you that she’s not feeling well at all—depressing sight, really. It’s a shame that you don’t know who she usually hangs out with because otherwise you’d be able to ask what she likes and get it for her as a small gift next time you see her. “Thank you, oppa. I’ll walk to the bus station, get on a bus, and then continue walking to my building”, she says when you two arrive at the gate. You nod, “I hope you feel better soon. Tell me if I can help you in any way, okay?”. You two exchange goodbyes and go in different directions after.

-

You just arrive at your apartment and walk straight to the bathroom after dropping your stuff at the door. You stand in the shower wondering what you can do to help Jiyeon feel better. After exploring potential options, you eventually come up with an idea to buy her some chocolate and chips when you see her tomorrow for her last practice before the competition. You hear a chime from your phone as you’re getting out of the shower. When you go check it, it’s a bunch of text messages from Jiyeon.

[Ji Seoyeon❤️| 21:24]

Oppa

I just finished showering, in bed rn

I’m so sorry for being a bitch to you earlier

I’ll see you tomorrow for my last practice

Thank you for being so kind to me all the time <3

You rub your eyes in disbelief—there’s no way she just called herself a bitch. You then form your replies and send it to her.

[You | 21:25]

Hi sweetie

No, you weren’t being a bitch

Don’t call yourself that ever again

It’s okay to not feel well sometimes

I can tell that you’re tired and possibly frustrated

Lmk if I can help

I’ll see you tomorrow, dear <3

Jiyeon sees the text that you sent her; “oh, he can tell I’m not feeling well; was it too obvious?”, she says to herself. “Oppa”, she sighs, “what would I do without you?”. Jiyeon tries to come up with another reply, wanting to express her gratitude and love for you, but then decides against it and chooses to say it to you directly tomorrow. She lies in her bed and feels tears flowing out; “if only you know how grateful I am for you, oppa”, she wipes the tears on her cheeks with her hand, “I will make you mine, oppa; no one else deserves you more than me”.

-

Every day you wake up and feel a rush of excitement in your heart at the prospect of seeing Jiyeon. You are, however, a bit sad and concerned as this Wednesday is the last day of practice and you’re not sure if she’ll be down to seeing you again after the competition. You have secured the same classroom as yesterday for her to practice in tonight, so at least you have that going for you. You put your worries to the side and promise yourself that you’ll accept whatever outcome you might get today.

You get in the car after showering and putting on an old jersey and shorts, ready to go to the supermarket to get some groceries since you plan on inviting Jiyeon over for dinner, aside from the fact that you’re running out of some items as well. You sincerely hope she doesn’t see this gesture as an attempt to get in her pants, because it really isn’t; you just want to show off your cooking (read: “pasta boiling and cheese grating”) skills to Jiyeon.

Once you get there, you pull out your phone and start getting one item after the other from different aisles of the supermarket. It doesn't take too long to get everything since you’ve categorized the items into the aisles that they’re in. You stop near the meat and fish section and look at your list again to make sure you’re not forgetting anything: dried macaroni and fettucine noodles, unsweetened milk, zero-sugar soda, smoked paprika powder, instant noodles, bok choys, carrots, boneless chicken thighs, mozzare—someone’s tapping your shoulder from behind; “can I help you?”, you say as you turn around to see who it is.

You see that it’s Jiyeon who was trying to get your attention. “Hiiiiiii”, she says excitedly, visibly feeling much better than when you last saw her. You tuck a stray strand of hair on her face behind her ear, “hi, sweetie. What are you doing here?”. She tickles your waist with both hands, “you stole my line, oppaaaa”. “Ahahaha okay, okay, you win—how did you know I’m tickly there?”, you hold Jiyeon by the wrists to stop her from tickling you. “I didn’t, I was just guessing. Glad to know you’re tickly there, though”, she tries freeing her wrists from your hands, so you let her go with no resistance. “No, but seriously, what are you doing here?”, you ask again. She points to her basket that she left near the soap rack, “I am getting some soap, shampoo, and skincare stuff”.

Jiyeon moves in front of you and looks at your trolley; “quite the stuff you have here, oppa”, she comments as she picks up a bag of macaroni from it, “inviting someone over for a meal?”. You’ve been caught for the second time in 3 weeks, all thanks to how sharp of a perception Jiyeon has; “I, um, was actually planning on inviting you over for dinner one day”, you say, scratching the back of your head and feeling embarrassed. “Awww, so sweet”, she puts the bag of macaroni down and continues, “what are we having tonight?”.  “I-I’ve been obsessed with mac and cheese, and I wanted to make some for you, as you can tell by the milk and macaroni and mozzarella—oh, I also have some zero-sugar soda for you”, you show her said items you have in your trolley. She nods in approval when she sees the items you’re showing her, “great timing, seriously. I’ve been craving mac and cheese myself. With the way we think alike, we must be meant for each other, oppa”. You turn your head to the right to hide your blush, and you see the assortment of meat in front of you; “oh, hey, I was going to get this”, you pick up a pack of thinly sliced beef before putting it into your trolley, “500 grams a pack, huh? Sounds good”.

You head to the cashier with Jiyeon and pay for your stuff and hers. “I see that you didn’t buy alcohol. Do you not drink, oppa?”, she says. You furrow your eyebrows and shake your head, “I hate the idea of being drunk and possibly not having control of my actions—like what if I did something criminal while being drunk? That would be disastrous for everyone. I know people say ‘well, you can drink responsibly’ but not drinking to begin with is my way of being responsible”, you explain to her. She nods in agreement, “that’s a good approach to it, I think. Come on, let’s get out of here”. You chuckle as the splitting doors of the supermarket close behind you, “and go where, my cute ballerina?”. The realization stops Jiyeon in her tracks—where can you two go together after an impromptu meeting? It’s not lunch time yet, either. Thankfully for Jiyeon, she thinks fast and can come up with plans in an instant; “can I come over, oppa? I would love it if I could chill there until class starts”. “So, I guess we’ll go to your place first to get some stuff? That way you can go to your class from my apartment; it’s closer to campus than yours anyway”, you complete her idea with your own.

You put your stuff in the trunk and start driving to Jiyeon’s apartment. She told you to not come up with her so you wait in your car on the side of the street until she comes out. You scroll through social media for what feels like a few minutes, and that’s when she opens the passenger door and jumps back in. You notice that she only has a small laptop bag, so you make a comment referring to it, “not too busy of a day, I see”. “Mm-hmm”, she says, “two classes, 3 credits each. There’s a reason I’ve been practicing on Wednesdays, you see. Start driving, oppa; I want to chill in your apartment right meow”.

-

“Welcome to my apartment. Please make yourself at home”, you say as you open the door for her. She walks straight in after taking off her shoes but not her socks; “oi, oi, not so fast”, you call out to her, “socks off, please—you can wear these sandals”. She timidly jogs back to where you are and grabs the sandals from your hands, “sorry, I got too excited”. “Excited for what? There are barely things here”, you ask her. She pouts cutely and points at the sofa in front of the TV, “that thing looks soooooo soft, oppa. Can I lie down on it, pleaaaaase?”. You pet her head softly to encourage her, “go on, dear. I’ll get you a blanket”. “Yay!”, she enthusiastically runs to the sofa and lies down on it, “my God, this is sooo comfortable”. You return to her with a spare blanket and cover her with it, “it gets pretty cold in this apartment, so I’ll cover you with this so that you don’t freeze—I imagine a frozen ballerina wouldn’t be able to perform well on stage”. She accepts your gesture with a smile, and only now do you realize how sweet Jiyeon’s smile is; “I will do everything I can to protect that smile, sweetie”, you promise to yourself.

You take a seat on the armchair next to the sofa and pull out your phone, “what time is your class? Would you like to eat something now?”. She sighs as she turns to lie on her side, “1 pm, oppa. I would love to eat something but I’m also sleepy so please let me sleep here for a few hours and wake me up at 12:15”. She closes her eyes immediately after saying that, so you make your way to your bedroom and chill there until 12:15. You decide to get some extra sleep after setting an alarm at 12:10 and 12:15 to make sure Jiyeon won’t be late to her class.

In your sleep, you feel like a weight has been put on top of your body thus making it hard for you to breathe. As an attempt to keep your goofy ass alive, your brain shakes you awake. “Huh?”, you mumble softly with only half of your consciousness in your body. “Oh, it’s Jiyeon”, your brain says as it closes your eyes to go back to sleep—“WAIT, IT’S JIYEON!”, the discovery sends shock to your body. You don’t want to disturb her peace, though, so you calm your breathing and stay still. You dare wrap your arms around her body, and she lets out a soft hum in response; “I hope she won’t kick me in the balls when she wakes up”, you quietly pray to whatever heavenly being is looking down on the both of you.

You slowly unwrap your arm and grab your phone to look at the time; 12:02, it says. As soon as you return your arm to its previous position, Jiyeon wakes up from her slumber and looks at you with heavy eyes. “Hi, darling”, you greet the girl on top of you. “Why did you leave me, oppa?”, she rests her head on your chest again. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I just wanted to lie on the bed until 12:15”, you pet her head to apologize. She looks at you and pinches your cheek playfully, “well, you should’ve carried me to bed with you. It was cold on the sofa, you know?”. A pang of guilt strikes you—your mom would kill you 3 times over for leaving a girl in the cold like that; “I’m so sorry, dear, but I wouldn’t do such thing without your consent”. “It’s okay, I trust you even in my sleep”, she says before sighing, “what time is this?”. You look at your phone one more time, “um, 12:03—no, 12:04”.

She lifts her torso off your body and pulls you into a sitting position with her still on your lap, “please keep me warm, oppa”. You take her hand and notice that she is indeed cold, so you hug her tighter to keep her warm. “Oppa”, she pokes you in the cheek, “you’re not angry that I suddenly jumped on your body like that, are you? Please don’t be angry, I’m sorry”. “No, I’m not angry at all”, you clarify, “I should be the one apologizing for leaving you in the cold”. She pulls away from the hug and gives you a fleeting kiss, “promise me that you won’t leave me again, ever”. You take her pinky in yours, “I promise, sweetie”.

-

“Oppa, do you not have classes today?”, she says as she puts on her shoes. “I don’t but I’m meeting some of Professor’s Kim students at 5 pm. One of them texted me yesterday asking me to help them with a project”, you walk to the door where she is, “do you want to walk, or do you want me to drive you there?”. “5 pm is still a few hours away so you should just stay here, I’ll walk”, she waves at you, “I’ll see you for tonight’s practice?”. You nod and she walks out of the door right away. You chase her and grab her wrist, “you forgot something”. She turns to you in confusion, “what?”. “This”, you lean forward and kiss her, “you forgot my kiss”. “Oh my God, I hate you so much”, she blushes and starts running away, “I’ll see you later!”.

-

The little meeting with Professor’s Kim students is done, which leaves you one last thing to do tonight: watch Jiyeon’s last practice. “Same place as yesterday, dear”, you send a text to her, and she sends you a thumbs-up emoji as a reply. You continue scrolling through social media until you hear the door swing open. Jiyeon is wearing a black tank top and grey training pants, and you can’t help but drop your jaw; “respectfully, you look so attractive right now”, you comment. She smirks, “that was the plan, glad it works”. Your eyes widen in shock, “pardon?”. “You didn’t hear anything”, she says, “let’s practice, shall we?”. She hands you her phone and tells you to play whatever song because “being predictable is boring” (her words, not yours) so you do as she asks and pick a random song.

It takes her one second to recognize the song and start her routine. It starts with a clap of hands, which makes you jump in your seat a little due to the suddenness. Her moves, combined with how she’s dressed, show you all the details of her curves, but you’re trying to not have a boner right now. As you keep watching, however, you start getting more emotional than horny—you managed to not cry during the previous sessions but it’s very hard not to today for some reason. You lock in and pay attention with every cell of your brain, until you see her make a specific move with her hand and tears instantly drop onto your cheeks like the first time you watched her—unlike last time, however, you’re not shy to cry in front of her. You decide to savor the emotions and cry your heart out until you have no tears left. “My God, I’m such a loser”, you say to yourself.

You’re too busy crying that you don’t notice that the song has ended. “Crying again, oppa?”, she approaches you to check on you. “Ye-yeah, sorry”, you wipe your tears so that you can see her clearly. She pulls you to your feet and hugs you, “I was starting to think that you didn’t like me enough to cry”, she says. You take a deep breath to compose yourself, “you’re out of your mind; there’s no way I can stop liking you”. You feel her pat your back to help you calm yourself, “I like you too, oppa”.

The tears finally stop flowing after a few seconds, so you ask her to let go of the hug. You sit your ass back down while she walks to her stuff. “Here, oppa: your VVIP ticket”, she hands you a ticket with your name and seat number on it, “don’t lose this, please. I’ll never talk to you again if you do”. You sniffle before talking back, “thank you, sweetie. I’ll make sure I arrive early”. She walks away from you and tells you to play another song, so you close your eyes and pick randomly again. “Aaaaah, that’s the same song, oppa. Play a different one without closing your eyes this time”, she says with a pout. “Oh, sorry”, you scroll quickly to the bottom of the playlist and choose whatever. “There we go; now watch me”, she says as she starts another routine.

-

Jiyeon immediately collapses on the floor after that last routine. Sensing that something is wrong, you run to her and see that her eyes are closed but her mouth is open. “Baby, baby? Are you okay? Say something, love—holy shit, what is happening right now?”, pet names fly out of your lips as you panic. You carry her in your arms and run out of the classroom to find help. As you do, you hear her mumble something weakly; “oppa, oppa”. You start running faster after hearing a sign of life from Jiyeon; “hold on, baby; I’m getting some help for you”. You then hear a giggle from her, “oppa, I’m okay. I was just messing with you”. You drop to your knees right away, “oh my fucking—that wasn’t funny, you know? I thought you passed out from exhaustion or something”. She frees herself from your arms and pecks you on the cheek, “I mean I was exhausted, but I’m fine. I’m glad that you were quick to take action, who knows when I might need that”. You get on your feet and pull her up after, “you’re lucky I exercise often, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to carry you and run that fast at the same time like that”. She giggles, “yeah I had a sneak peek at how fit you are thanks to that jersey you wore at the supermarket—very attractive, I must say”.

“Fuck, that was scary—so what now?”, you ask her with heavy pants. “Let’s get our stuff and get out of here. I want to go home and get as much rest as I can”, she says. “Sure, I’ll wait for you in the car”, you walk in the other direction to get to the parking lot.

You get a bottle of water from the trunk and finish it right away to cope with the exhaustion and panic caused by Jiyeon’s little act. “That’s the fastest I’ve seen someone drink out of a bottle”, Jiyeon remarks as she approaches you, “I’m sorry, oppa. I didn’t mean to make you panic like that”. You wave her off, “it’s okay, sweetie. I’m glad that you’re okay because I would’ve lost my shit otherwise. Let’s get you home now, alright?”. You get in the car followed by Jiyeon and start driving to take her home.

-

“Oppa, we probably won’t see each other until after the competition is finished”, she says when you two are standing outside her building. You pet her head, “it’s okay, sweetie. You know where I sit so look at me if you can, okay?”. She gets on her tippy toes, and the height difference makes you laugh. “Aaaaaah, kiss me alreadyyyyyy”, she complains cutely. You grab her chin and pull her closer to you before kissing her passionately. “I love you, baby. See you on Saturday, okay?”. She seems to be satisfied with the kiss, as seen by how she’s blushing, “I love you too, oppa. See you on Saturday”.

-

Saturday has finally come and there’s only one thing in your mind right now: watch Jiyeon perform at the competition. You grab your phone as soon as you wake up and text her right away.

[You | 08:03]

Good luck, baby

I’m rooting for you

If it wasn’t obvious already

<3

She replies to your messages as soon as you send them.

[Ji Seoyeon❤️| 08:03]

I’m nervous, oppa

Pray for your baby girl

Love you too

You smack your forehead at the realization that you forgot to say “I love you” but you know—or hope, rather—that she knows that already. You jump off the bed and get ready to get a shower, and that’s when you hear another notification.

[Ji Seoyeon❤️| 08:03]

You owe me dinner btw

[You | 08:03]

I know

I hope you like mac and cheese

-

You have about 10 hours to kill before you need to leave to watch Jiyeon, so you decide to clean your apartment first. You make sure to that everything is spotless because you plan on inviting Jiyeon over for dinner tonight, and should everything go smoothly, formally confess your love to her, in case it hasn’t been made clear multiple times.

After cleaning everything, you decide to hop on your laptop and catch up with the outside world. Email from Professor Kim about your payment as TA; answered, email from a sophomore apologizing for missing your class; answered, email from Professor Min thanking you for helping her students; answered. You scroll through your inbox and see that none is left unanswered, so you decide to play some video games—you want to rank up on TFT but haven’t got the time to play that much recently.

You eventually got sick of playing after 3 games, so you decide to get some nap since you have plenty of time left in the day. In your sleep, you’re shown a dream where Jiyeon is running to you with a trophy in hand before jumping into your arms for a hug. “Oppa, we did it! We won!”, she says, and you can’t help but bawl your eyes out—such pleasant dream, isn’t it? You hope that it’s a good sign for what’s coming today.

-

You arrive at the venue at 18:06 and head straight in. A staff greets you at the entrance of the hall and asks you to show him your ticket. You do as he asks and he then escorts you to your seat—“must be VVIP treatment”, you think as you’re led to your seat. You take a seat that he points at and pull out your phone; less than an hour left until the show starts, your phone tells you. Your phone also tells you that you have some incoming texts from Jiyeon.

[Ji Seoyeon❤️| 18:10]

I see a pretty boy in a suit sitting in the front row

He’s soooo cuteeeee

Very tall too, my God

No one else has arrived yet so you know that she’s referring to you, but you can’t see her anywhere so you give up trying to spot her instantly. You smile at your phone while reading her texts and she follows up with some more.

[Ji Seoyeon❤️| 18:10]

Look at him, he’s smiling!!!!

Omg I love him so damn much <3 <3 <3

His bae is a lucky girl for sure

You cover your mouth with a hand to muffle an excited squeal. You finally manage to form some replies of your own after calming yourself down.

[You | 18:11]

I can’t with you

You’re driving me insane

[Ji Seoyeon❤️| 18:11]

Oh, it’s you!!!!

Thank you for coming!!!! <3

You shake your head and shove your phone back in your pocket because one more exchange will surely send your heart to overdrive. You need to lock in soon so that you can wholeheartedly and wholebrainedly—that’s not a word, is it—pay attention to her performance later.

-

15 minutes before the performances start and the venue is now packed with people. You hear from the MC that Jiyeon will be the last one performing; “favorites go last all the time”, you say to yourself. Before you forget, you pull out a handkerchief from your suit jacket and set it on your lap because it’s guaranteed that you’re going to weep while watching her.

One by one contestant performs and now it’s Jiyeon’s turn to take the stage and make everyone weep (yes, you are that confident of her skills). Your jaw drops the instant she walks out; she’s wearing a white tutu and matching pointe shoes—a literal embodiment of a swan. She makes eye contact with you for a second before turning her gaze to the rest of the crowd, and that’s when the cheering erupts; “oh, she’s famous, huh?”, you hear your brain say. She then moves to the side and waits until the song starts; “I’m so fucking cooked”, you think to yourself.

The truth cannot be any further right now, as you feel tears gather in your eyes as soon as she starts her routine. She’s barely making expressions, but you really feel the emotions that she’s conveying through every small movement. As you keep paying attention, you’re promptly reminded of how hard she’s worked for these sorts of moments, not only in the past few weeks, but also in her entire life. Combine that with the way she’s moving on stage, you can’t help but open the dam and let the tears flow. She’s not making eye contact with you because she wants to stay concentrated, and that’s helpful for you because you’re not presentable at all right now.

You wish you weren’t such a crybaby because you otherwise would be able to enjoy her performance, but you’re also glad that you’re able to feel these emotions and savor every second of it. You wipe your eyes with your handkerchief before looking back at her and murmuring to yourself, “I’m so proud of you, my little swan. Thank you for being in my life and thank you for showing me such gracefulness that very few can see with their own eyes”. You ball up your fists to cheer for her, but your brain manages to bridle your body in time before you can start shouting, thus saving you from embarrassment; “this ain’t basketball, you fucking idiot”, it yells at you.

Her performance ends with her getting on her knees while bending back, and the crowd instantly erupts behind you. You feel a surge of emotions in your heart, and you decide to let all the tears go into the handkerchief; “what is this feeling and who am I to be so lucky?”, you say. You feel the elderly man next to you put a hand on your shoulder and pat you on the back, “I wondered the same thing when I was your age, son, and I still don’t have an answer to this day”. You sniffle before saying anything back, “I can’t describe what I’m feeling right now, sir”. He pulls you to him and makes you rest your head on his shoulder, “There’s no need for that, son. Just enjoy it as much as you can, for we are a lucky bunch”. You’ve never heard such wisdom from someone before, so you ask him who he is. “I’m no one important, boy—definitely not as important as that girl on stage to you”, he says. “I love her, sir”, you reveal to him. He rubs you on the back with his palm several times as he laughs, “I know, son. I know”.

You look up and see that Jiyeon is looking back at you, so you do your best to give her the sincerest smile you’ve ever shown to anyone; “I’m so proud of you”, you mouth to her. She returns your smile twice as splendidly before heading backstage. The MC comes back out and announces that we’ll be taking a 10-minute break before announcing the winners, so you take this opportunity to leave your seat and head to the bathroom to freshen up after weeping your heart out.

You were a bit late to return and see that all the contestants are now standing next to each other on stage, so you rush to your seat and tune back in. “We will now be announcing the 3rd place, 2nd place, and the 1st place winners”, the MC says. You close your eyes and pray to whatever sacred being that might be listening to you right now. “Coming in the third place”, she pauses, “Miss Noh Yunah!”. You sigh in relief, “oh God, okay, top 2, baby. Let’s go”. The MC suggests an idea to announce the 2nd and 1st place; “would the attendants prefer to hear the 1st place winner before the 2nd?”, she says, and the crowd seems to agree with that idea.

“Right, so here’s what we’re going to do, Miss Ji Seoyeon and Miss Choi Jihyun: I’m going to say the name of the first-place winner and whoever doesn’t hear her name is the second-place winner”, she explains, and the two girls nod in acknowledgment. “The winner of the competition is”, she fucking pauses again, “Miss”—for the love of God, do it already—“Ji Seoyeon!”. You open your eyes and see that Jiyeon has dropped onto her knees while crying, and you have no choice but to cry again with her. “Congratulations, son”, the elderly man says as he shakes your hand, “treat the miss to dinner after this, okay?”. Your brain can’t come up with words to say, so you just nod while shaking his hand emotionally.

-

The contestants went backstage a few minutes ago, and some people in the crowd are now talking among themselves while some others opt to leave. You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, so you pull it out and see that Jiyeon has sent you some texts.

[Ji Seoyeon❤️| 20:24]

Oppa

I’m glad I could win it for you

Can I come over after this?

Pretty please?

[Ji Seoyeon❤️| 20:24]

Congratulations, love

I’m glad I got to watch you perform

You slayed btw

I’ll wait for you in the car, bby

You turn to the man next to you and bid your farewell, “thank you so much for tonight, sir. I will be taking my leave now”. “Thank you to you as well, son. May I offer you some advice?”, he says, and you nod in response, “try not to obscure your feelings; embrace them, savor them, share them with those you love. Believe me when I say that you won’t regret it—emotions are the colors of life, you see”. In your heart, you envy and yearn for such wisdom, but you realize that it takes a lifetime to be that wise. “Thank you, sir. I will keep that in mind. Have a good night”.

You stand up from your seat and start making your way to the parking lot after talking to the man. When you get to the parking lot, you see that Jiyeon is already waiting for you. She drops her stuff on the ground and hugs you; “oppa, I love you. I love you so fucking much, oppa”, she confesses in case it wasn’t clear already. You take the man’s advice to heart and embrace the emotions you’re feeling right now, “I love you so much as well, baby. I’m so proud of you”. She presser her head against your chest and conveys her request, “take me to your place, oppa. I want to spend the night in your embrace. Let’s leave now, oppa—please, I’m begging you”. You peck her forehead and pull away from the hug, “alright, sweetie. Let’s go now”.

-

You enter your apartment with Jiyeon and swap your shoes for the indoor sandals. She pulls your hand, forcing you to turn to her direction before kissing you. Jiyeon goes further and fight your tongue with hers. You find her passion to be overwhelming, so you break the kiss to take a breather. “Oppa, why did you pull away? You didn’t like it?”, she asks. “I did like it, but I first need to know how far we’re going tonight”, you tell her. You can’t tell what the smile on her face means when she says that you two are going all the way.

“Can I take you to the bedroom?”, you ask her, and she nods to your question. You carry her bridal style like that time she “passed out” after practice. You set her down on the bed and that’s when she makes another confession; “this is my first time, oppa”, she tells you. “Are you sure that you want to give your first to me?”, you ask her. “Only if you promise to never leave me again”, she says. You tell her your promise and start kissing her lustfully, as it’s now your tongue that’s fighting hers. She takes your hand and guides it to her crotch; thus, you feel her wetness through her jogger pants. You pull away from the kiss once more and ask her, “on a scale of 1 to 10, how ready do you think you are?”. “24”, she says, “now please take care of me”. You’re not sure why she picks such particular number, but you roll with it anyway.

You grab the waistband of her pants and pull down after getting her consent, and you’re met with her bare pussy. “No panties, hm? No wonder I could feel how wet you were through your pants”, you ask her. She shrugs, “I figured it would be faster this way, and it is. Continue, please”. You then move your hands to the hem of her white sleeveless T-shirt and roll it over her head, exposing her covered tits to the bedroom air. “It would be even faster if you weren’t wearing bras as well”, you tease her. She pouts cutely, “and what if someone saw? Do you really want your girl to run around while being exposed like that?”.

You pull her into a hug and unclasp her bras before letting go, and you’re shown her perfectly perky bare tits. “They’re yours, oppa”, she says as she guides your hands to her tits. You start fondling her tits in your hands and it causes her to start moaning softly. Seeing that she’s enjoying it, you latch your mouth onto one of them and start sucking without letting up the stimulation on the other one. “Oppa, you like them—AHHHH, OPPA”, she screams when you not-so-lightly tug her nipple. “Can’t let the other one go forgotten”, you say as you move your mouth to the other breast. She holds the back of your head with both hands and press your head against her tits; “that’s-that’s—ahh, ngh”, her words are cut short by a moan.

She finally pushes your head away from her tits after letting you play with them for a few minutes. “You-you’re not fair, oppa”, she says, panting, “why aren’t you naked like me?”. You look down on yourself and see that you still have all your clothes on. “Apologies, my love. I got carried away”, you get off the bed and take your sweet time to take one item off at a time, unveiling your muscular body little by little for the girl in your bed. You’re finally done taking everything off but the boxers, “would you like to do the honors, princess?”, you ask Jiyeon. “Uh, umm, I-I think you should take them off yourself”, the antsy girl says before biting her lips. You do as she says and take off your boxers in one smooth motion, and Jiyeon immediately turns her gaze to look at the big, erect parcel between your legs. She looks away to get your cock out of her sight and asks you to make another promise, “pro-promise me you won’t hurt me, oppa”. You rub the back of her hand to soothe her, “I promise, love. We will do this on your pace, okay? Make yourself comfortable, please”.

She lies flat on her back and opens her arms, “come here, oppa”. You enter her warm embrace and pepper her face with pecks. “Aaaaah, oppa, stoooop”, she tries to halt your barrage of pecks. You hover your face above hers and offer her some sweet words, “I love you, baby. My baby. My white swan”. She blushes as she puts her hands on your cheeks, “I love you too, oppa. I love you with my life”. “Baby, I want to tell you something”, you make a confession of your own, “I have never done this before—I didn’t speak accordingly because I wanted to help you not be nervous. I apologize for pretending and I also apologize should my naïveté shows”. “Awww”, she coos, “we’re each other’s first, aren’t we? That makes this even more special, oppa”.

Since the confessions are now out of the way, you dive into another kiss—a kiss so heavenly and heartfelt to tell Jiyeon how much you love her. She smiles warmly after pulling away and breaking the kiss, “I love you, oppa, and I know you love me too. Now please take care of me”. You move a strand of hair from her face, “I’m so sorry but I don’t have a condom, love; I’m a virgin just like you”. She runs her thumb back and forth on your cheek, “We won’t need that;you’re my only one, oppa—my first and my last. Just promise me that you’ll be gentle; make me yours and I’ll stay by your side until the end of time”. You feel a stray tear on your cheek and wipe it right away, “I’m sorry, cutie. Your words are just so sweet—you are so sweet”. She smiles gently hearing your words, “we’re about to find out what having sex with the person you truly love is like, oppa. I’m excited but also nervous to give you my first”.

You peck her forehead before straightening your back to get ready for the action. “Do you consent, precious?”, you ask as you line up your cock with her untouched entrance. “I do” is response, nice and concise. You start moving forward into her pussy, and as soon as your cock is 1/3 of the way in, Jiyeon screams from the top of her lungs. “Oppa, oppa—ngh, fu—hold me, please—hug me, oppa”, she says to you with troubled breathing. You lay on top of Jiyeon and hug her tightly, “I’m here, baby; I’m here for you. I’ll stop moving so let’s relax a bit, okay?”.

After taking a few seconds to catch her breath, she signals to you to start moving again. You move your pelvis forward until you feel the entirety of your cock lodged in her pussy, as you take her virginity and give her yours in return. “Ngh, ngh—op-oppa, you’re so big—oh my God, you’re tearing me in half”, she says. You peck her temple as you start pumping her, “you’re so tight, baby; you’re literally squeezing me”. She yelps when your cock hits her deepest end, “I th-ink that’s my cervix, oppa—ahh, fuck—how are you so fucking deep, oppa?”. You’d be lying if you said her words didn’t inflate your ego, but you just want to keep fucking her right now and this position doesn’t really allow that. Jiyeon panics when you try to pull away from the hug; “no, no, no—oh, mmh—keep me in your arms, oppa. I’m begging you—fuck—plea-please”, she says.

You latch your mouth onto her neck and start sucking and nibbling as you maintain the pace and depth of your thrusts, earning moans from Jiyeon that sound like a melody from the heavens. “Op-pa—aah, hng—some-something is coming. I-I can feel it”, she says after taking a lot (like, a lot) of pumps from you. You unlatch your mouth for a second so that you can answer her; “yes, baby. I feel it too, I think”.

“AH, OPPA, I’M-I’M GOING TO EXPLODE!”, she shrieks with all her might as her pussy puts you in such a chokehold (or cockhold, rather) that it’s almost painful to you. You remove your mouth from her neck and see that Jiyeon’s entire body is shaking and trembling as she keeps screaming her lungs out. She finally stops screaming after her high has subsided; “hah, hah—wha-what was that? I-I felt like I was on cloud nine and then I’m back in your arms”, she says, her breaths mixed with pants. You chuckle at her description of what just happened, “is it better to be on cloud nine or in my arms?”. She pulls you down for a kiss before giving you an answer, “I like being in my boyfriend’s arm much, much better”. “Boyfriend, hm?”, you smile at her, “I love the way you say that; it makes me feel loved, you know”. “That is because I truly love you, oppa, and nothing can sway me from loving you”, she says.

“Jiyeon, my baby”, you say to her, “I’m sorry, but can we continue? I think I’m pretty close as well”. “We can, oppa, but first”, she holds your head and looks at you in the eyes, “I want you to start calling me Seoyeon from now on; it’s not like you’ll mistake me for Yoon Seoyeon-sunbaenim, is it?”. “No, there’s no way I’ll ever mistake you for Yoon Seoyeon. My heart is yours, not Yoon Seoyeon’s”, you say before resuming your rhythmic thrusting. Jiyeon—or Seoyeon, rather—starts moaning again and it serves as fuel for you to keep going and chase your own orgasm.

“Seoyeon, my swan—fuck, so tight—do you want me to pull out when I cum?”, you ask her. “If you pull out, I will cut your penis off and feed it to a cat”, Seoyeon threatens you. “Oh, fuck, please don’t. We wouldn’t be able to do this again if you did”, you say, intimidated by her words. “Good, now don’t—OH MY GOD, THAT IS SO FUCKING HOT”, her words are cut off by your cock’s abrupt explosion and the sudden flood of semen in her pussy. “My God, I just came in her pussy”, you think to yourself as you pant from the high that your orgasm is giving you. “Oppa­-oppa, was that—whoa, fuck—was that your orgasm?”, Seoyeon wonders. In your exhausted and high state, you just nod to her question; “you gave me your first ever orgasm, oppa? You’ve never watched porn and had an orgasm before, have you? Please say no”, Seoyeon says. You shake your head, “I have—hah, fuck—I have never watched porn ever in my life. What the fuck kind of question is that? Sure-surely you don’t think that low of me—oh my goodness, I’m tired”. “Sorry, please don’t be mad”, she rubs your cheek, “it was a genuine question, oppa. I’m-I’m glad that you’ve never watched porn—”. You cut her off by placing a finger on her lips, “please, let’s not talk about that right now”.

You pull away from her embrace and straighten your back to look at your work; “wait, there’s supposed to be blood, isn’t there?”, you ask yourself as you look at your cock and her leaking pussy. “Oppa, I know what you’re thinking”, Seoyeon says with a tiny voice, “you must be wondering about the lack of blood considering that it’s my first time”. You turn your gaze to her without saying anything, which makes Seoyeon nervous; “I-I can explain, oppa, but I need you to trust me because I am not lying at all”, she says. You take a moment to calm your pants before talking back, “of course, darling. Fire away”. “Where do I start—ah, fuck it, I’ll just tell you the end bit”, she says, “I lost my hymen in an accident, oppa. Please, please believe me when I say that you’re my first, because you really are”.

You stay quiet and take a second to process the news that she just delivered, and that’s when she starts shedding tears. “You-you don’t believe me, do you? You’re disappointed because it’s your first, aren’t you? It-It’s okay if you don’t believe me and want to leave me, oppa; heaven knows I’m being honest”, she says as tears are freely flowing out of her eyes. The instant surge of guilt in your heart leads you to jump and take her into your arms again. “I believe you, my love—I really do. I just wanted some time to process your words; I’m sorry for not saying anything right away”, you say right to her ear. Her crying makes it hard for her to speak but she pushes through anyway, “please, please don’t leave me, oppa. I-I don’t know what I would do with-out you. Please, oppa, I’m begging you to stay with me”. You hug her tighter and give her your promise, “I will not leave you, baby; not now, not tomorrow, not next week, never. I need you as much as you need me, precious. Trust me, please. Let’s calm down, okay? I’m here for you, honey”.

-

It took a while for Seoyeon to finally calm down and stop crying. It was really painful for you to see Seoyeon cry from such a close distance, but it didn’t stop you from giving her the assurance and comfort that she needed. “Baby”, you call out to Seoyeon after noticing that her sobs have died down, “feeling better?”. She hums in response, “feeling hungry, too—wait, you promised me you’d make mac and cheese for me. Can we have mac and cheese now, oppa? Pleaaaaaase?”. “There she is, back to who she really is”, you say in your head. “We can, baby. Let’s get dressed first and then I’ll make some for us, okay?”, you pull her off the bed and onto her feet before heading to the wardrobe to get some clothes. You hand Seoyeon an old set of jersey and shorts as you’re reminded of her underwear situation, “I know you didn’t wear panties earlier but surely you brought them with you, right?”. Seoyeon chuckles in response, “of course I did, oppa; it’s in my bag. I’m not that naughty, you know?”. “Right”, you scratch the back of your head in awkwardness, “I’ll, uh, start cooking now”.

You head to the fridge and take all the ingredients necessary: milk, cheese, sausage, and broc—wait, not broccoli; mac and cheese isn’t supposed to be healthy. You take the scale out of the cupboard and weigh 100 grams of macaroni (taken from the cupboard as well), 50 grams of grated cheddar, and 50 grams of cubed mozzarella. You hear Seoyeon’s sandals approaching, so you call out to her, “baby, there’s zero-sugar soda in the fridge for you”. “I’ll save that for later, oppa. I’ll just get some water right now”, she says as she walks to the dispenser and refills her bottle. “Can I help with anything?”, she asks after taking a gulp of water. You point to the milk and ask her to pour out exactly 250 ml into a measuring cup. As Seoyeon does that, you pour some water into a pot and wait for it to boil.

“Love, go have a seat. I’ll take care of this”, you tell Seoyeon who’s still hovering near the stove area. “Promise me you won’t burn this place down”, she jumps and pecks you on the cheek before sitting at the table. “You’re making me make a lot of promises today, love”, you tease her. “Aaaaaah, but they’re for our own good, oppaaaaa”, she whines and crosses her arms, “I hate you so much, hmph”. Seeing that you’re not responding to her stunt, Seoyeon walks up to you from behind and tickles you. “Baby, I’m cooking—ahahaha, okay, okay; you win, I’m sorry. Now please get back to your seat”. Seoyeon does as you ask and sits down at the table again.

The water is now boiling, so you throw the macaroni into it and start a timer on your phone for 8 minutes. Since you have some time to kill, you decide to kiss Seoyeon and do more skinship with her and talk about some stuff until the timer runs out. Before you know it (because you’re so absorbed in the moment), you hear your phone ring, and you rush to turn the timer off and drain the macaroni.

You throw a tablespoon of butter into the pot and let it melt before adding in a tablespoon of flour. You then quickly but gradually add milk into the mix before it sticks to the pot. You turn your gaze to the counter and notice that the cheese is missing. “Seoyeon, darling, do you know where the cheese is?”, you ask your swan. “Oh, I brought it with me to the table, sorry. Here, oppa”, she hands you the two cups of cheese and you throw them into the pot and stir rapidly until it’s nice and smooth. “Here go the mac and sausage”, you announce to yourself, earning a chuckle from Seoyeon. Once everything is mixed together, you turn off the stove and mix in a tablespoon of salt, pepper, smoked paprika, and chili powder. You then take two bowls and split the mac and cheese into two as equally as you can and bring it to the table.

“This looks good, oppa”, Seoyeon says as she takes a spoonful of mac and cheese and shoves it into her mouth, “oooh, very nice. Not as salty as when I made it myself that one time”. You follow her and put a spoonful into your mouth. The taste makes you let out a satisfied moan, and it triggers a comment from Seoyeon, “we’re eating, oppa, not having sex—do you want to have sex again, by any chance?”. As tempting as it sounds, you choose to ignore her comment for now, “this is nice, no? I love it”. You miss a glare that Seoyeon sends you because you’re too busy eating, but that’s a problem for later.

-

“Thank you for the meal, oppa. Can I borrow a toothbrush now?”, Seoyeon says. You tell her that you keep spare toothbrushes in the bathroom cabinet and that she can get one from there. She heads to the bathroom to brush her teeth while you wash the dishes.

As soon as you’re done, you hear Seoyeon call out to you from the bathroom, so you knock on the door, and she opens it for you. “What is it, baby?”, you ask her. She says nothing and shoves you backwards until you’re seated on the toilet. “Really, oppa? I offered you to do round 2 and you just ignored me? Is that how we will do things from now on, oppa?”, Seoyeon interrogates you and you can’t help but feel like a criminal. A short “I’m sorry” is all you can come up with, and Seoyeon is visibly not satisfied with your apology. “Take off your shorts and boxers, now”, she says. You never thought a girl so cute could be so intimidating, but here you are. You do as she commands and take them off, revealing your cock to her for the second time tonight.

“Please don’t ignore me like that again, oppa; it makes me sad, you know”, she says as she gets on her knees and holds your cock in one hand. “Can you get hard again, please? I want to make you orgasm again”, she strokes your cock with both hands to compensate with the girth. “Baby, what are you planning to do?”, you say with a sigh at the end. “This”, she says as she takes you in her mouth, her jaws are as wide open as they can be. You thought that this sight couldn’t get better until Seoyeon looks at you in the eyes as your cock is in her mouth. “Seoyeon-ah, you’re so good”, you forgot to say the pet name so she bites your cock slightly to express her dissatisfaction. “Oh, fuck, fuck. I’m so sorry, love. Please don’t kill me”, you say.

She gives you a wink and starts bobbing her head up and down your shaft, making you throw your head back and moan in bliss. She gets impatient as she goes down too deep and chokes on your cock. The little accident doesn’t seem to deter her, though, as she keeps going up and down a little bit more carefully this time. “You’re doing so good, dear—my fucking God, that’s so nice”, you praise her efforts, and she gives you a thumbs-up in return.

“Can I ask you to go faster, baby?”, you ask Seoyeon, whose mouth is full of your cock. She gives you a subtle nod and starts moving faster and gagging occasionally. You hold the back of her head when she tries to pull away and start fucking her mouth—not too hard, though. You don’t want to take things too far just yet. “God, baby; your mouth feels so good—oh, I’m getting so close again”, you tell her. You feel her repeatedly tap your thighs, so you pull out of her mouth in response. “Are you okay, sweetie?”, you ask the panting girl as you pet her head. “That was too much, oppa. Let me do it at my own pace, please”, Seoyeon says as she wipes her mouth.

You agree to let her do as she pleases and sit back. Seoyeon pecks the tip for your cock—which sensation makes you gasp in surprise—and goes down on your cock again. You lean back against the backrest of the toilet and close your eyes to fully savor the sensation that her mouth is giving you. You can tell that she’s focused and determined to make you cum for the second time tonight, and you don’t miss your chance to praise her efforts. “Love, you’re so good; such a good girl, aren’t you?”, you stroke her head before letting out a groan.

“Oh, God—baby, I think I’m gonna blow again”, you warn her. At your warning, she removes you from her mouth and strokes your cock. “Give it to me again, oppa”, she says to you. You moan loudly as the second load of the night jets out of the tip of your cock. Seoyeon collects as much of it as she can with her hands; “how do you still have so much, oppa? How much do you have in there?”, she says, fascination and curiosity woven in her voice. “I think that’s all I have today”, you tell her, “thank you so much, baby. I really enjoyed that”. She dips a finger in the pool of cum in her hands and puts it in her mouth, “it tastes weird. I’m not putting this in my mouth, sorry”. You weakly point to the sink, “you don’t need to; go wash your hands, honey”.

-

You carry Seoyeon back to bed after the little bonus session in the bathroom. She’s now lying limb on top of you like that afternoon when she jumped on you. “Oppa”, she begins, “I love you. Don’t leave me ever, please”. You weave your pinky with hers and say your pledge, “I will never leave you, my beautiful swan. I love you”. “Oh, yeah, about that”, Seoyeon lifts her head off your chest, “why swan, oppa?”. You hold her chin in your hand, “the way you were moving so gracefully and elegantly, combined with how you were dressed, made me think of a white swan that’s pacing peacefully around a calm lake”. Seoyeon rests her head on your chest again, “I like that idea, oppa. Thank you”. You shake your head in disagreement, “no, love; thank you. Thank you for letting me enter your life and love you like this—I’m so grateful for us, baby”. You feel a tear drop from her cheeks and onto your T-shirt, “I’m so grateful for us as well, oppa. My world is bleak without you next to me”.

[sweetblossomsss]

Without You || CHOI SAN

Synopsis: Life without you was empty. Life after I left was unbearable. But now that I'm back, I will never let us go through that again.

WARNINGS: Please read "I'll be back" first to understand bc this is in San's point of view, fluff, suggestive, San is an assassin, fights, blood, cuts, death, gory-ish, angst(MY FAV), stabbing, guns, argument between Y/N and San, son is used as a term of endearment, "baby" is used for Y/N, I know I am missing, just lmk :)

Word Count: 15K Started: Dec 2, 2024 Finished: Feb 9, 2025

Blossom's Note: Happy New Years my petals. May this year bring you love and protection. Now this story had me feeling all types of things, definitely a whirlwind of emotions. Shoutout to the Anonymous Petal who gave me this idea. Title was inspired by Infinite H's Without U ft Zion T (Chef's kiss song) I truly hope it lives up to your standards. Now without further ado, grab a drink and popcorn and enjoy!

—

FIRST ENCOUNTER

"Understood." San says into the burner flip phone, nodding his head once. "Yes, sir. I'll get it done." And with that he presses the hang up button and breaks it in half as he starts walking, throwing the broken phone away in a nearby trash can.

He shoved his hands in the coat’s pockets as he takes precise, steady movements trailing behind his target. He squints his eyes at the sudden gush of wind, letting out a sigh. He repeats in his head no distractions like a mantra, just wanting to finish this and go home.

He sticks within the shadows he finds in the broad day light, such as building’s walls, when his target makes sudden stops along the way. It’s almost as if San is able to bled in with the bustling crowd—easy to slip and slide, getting closer to the target.

Within his coat was a deadly syringe filled with a lethal chemical, all ready to use as he plays the game of patience—waiting for the perfect opening. San moves closer, taking out a pair of black leather gloves and hastily puts them on. Just as the distance gets shorter and shorter he reaches into his coat and suddenly—

BAM!

Everyone in the crowd jolts from the sudden noise of construction. San follows the noise with his eyes as he turns to the side, seeing a construction worker using a jack hammer to break up concrete. He shakes his head and sighs in frustration, returning to his target—but just when he was about to look away, he spots you.

“Oh my god.” He whispered in disbelief, eyes slightly widening. It’s all like a movie right now—time fucking stopped when he spotted you across the street, walking in slow motion as you ran a hand through your hair while the wind blew.

You had to be one of the most beautiful woman San has ever seen. He couldn’t even control his body as he took steps forward as if in a trance while people moved around him—not caring if he was being shoved by some. San was mesmerized by your beauty. The way your presence commanded space, as the buzzing crowd moves around you.

Everything just seems to fade away—people and noise—and it felt like he had the perfect view of you. If his eyes were able to form those cartoon heart eyes, they would be in that shape right now. How can he describe this foreign feeling? Is this what they call love at first sight?

Soon enough, San was able to snap out of his day dreaming when a passing car honked at him causing him to jump back. He gasped in shock, “Shit!” He said looking at the car with widen eyes, chest heaving. Reality hits him as he looks to the side and watched his target move further away, and then he looks at you, also getting further away. “Fuck.” He whispers to himself as he walks to the direction of his target.

So much for distractions, right?

San sucked the front of his teeth as he shook his head, rushing to his target. He’ll come back to you. As he finally catches up, he realizes that the way everything was set up for perfect for San. The streets were alive with the random street vendors, crowd moving in different directions, people chattering and shouting that mixed with the traffic noise—all that’s needed to making this a smooth kill.

He watched as the target froze in his steps right in the center of the bustling crowd as he yelled into the phone causing some dirty looks at him for both blocking the pathway and screaming so loud as they moved around him.

San reached into his coat and popped the cover off the needle and took it out as he slithered through the crowd like a snake. He kept his head low, only looking up when he heard the roaring of the man’s loud voice. “No– Shut up, shut up!” The man argued with the person on the phone, “You listen to me–“

And in one swift motion, San had brushed past him with his hand barely grazing the man’s neck. “Hey,” he calls to San who froze in his steps and turned to him, “watch where you’re going.” He scoffs at him and then returns to the person on the phone. San smirked at him and turns away from, leaving before the madness.

And just in a matter of seconds, the man suddenly shot his hand to his neck, gripping it as he stumbles back a bit—his vision started to get disoriented as panic and confused surged through the man’s body. He couldn’t feel his limbs causing for him to drop his phone and then his body. Foam started forming at his mouth as he lied there with his eyes open.

A woman’s terrified scream can be heard causing people to look at the direction of the scream. “Someone call an ambulance!” A bystander said as people gathered around the body. People covered their eyes and mouth’s in shock of the sight.

San looked over his shoulder as he watched the circle of people. He throws away the syringe in a trash can and takes off his gloves, securing them in his coat as he picks up the pace. Now he can focus on you.

—

Returning back to the scene of when he first saw you, he wasted no time in trying to search for you. To say he looked like a mad man would be an understatement. He went into every single store in the proximity in hopes that you were there but you were nowhere to be found.

He lets out a groan of frustration when he leaves a little book store. He sighs in disappointment as he tucked his hands in his coat, a pout forming on his lips. But then, by a fucking miracle, he sees you coming out of a store with a huge smile on your face as you examine the things you bought in the bag that clings on your arm.

He swears he can see stars at the sight. In that moment he decides to just follow you. He tells himself that he going to be quiet and keep his distance—but as someone who is trained to be silent, quick minded, and able to kill people, even with the most ruthless methods— he was anything but the sort. He doesn’t know how but you had him so nervous and clumsy and he doesn’t even know who you are.

The first time you looked over your shoulder, just to glance back at some of mannequins that were dressed in pretty shirts, San had frozen in steps and cleared his throat as he adjusted his coat. He looked out into the distance as he sniffed, making it seem as if he totally wasn’t following you.

He slowly peaks to the side as he sees you continuing on your path to which he followed. But the second time you had stop to turn around San was thrown off guard which caused him to trip over his own feet, catching himself before his face eats the floor. He played it off while doing this horrible, awkward hop dance to play it off but—hold on, he could’ve sworn he saw you chuckling as you faced forward to keep walking.

—

It had gotten to the point where you already knew you were being followed by him so you just froze in your steps and turned around, crossing your arms as you pushed your hip to the side. He gasped as he rushed to hide behind a light post, unconsciously wrapping his arms around it.

He is mentally face palming himself right now as he stares at the large lake in front of him, wishing he could drown in it right now. When he peaks, he sees you staring at him as you raised an eyebrow at him to which he sighed because he was caught red handed. Great, I look like a stalker when in reality I was just scared to approach her.

He removes himself as he tried to find enough courage while approaching you. His heart was beating so hard against his chest, his palms were all sweaty as he wiped his hands on his pants. “Hey–Uh–I–“

He fumbled with his words as he saw how gorgeous you were up close. His eyes slightly widen as you tilted your head in confusion with a raised eyebrow, “May I help you?” You asked with curiosity and amusement in your tone.

He blinked, all flustered as he cleared his throat. “You like to–uh,” he scratched the back of his head. “I–I just think that you’re pretty.” He rushed out the last few words. Wow, real fucking smooth you idiot, he thought to himself.

You kept the eyebrow raised as you wondered if you should laugh or start backing the fuck away from this man, which made San internally panic at your silence. Soon a smirk starts to form on your lips as you eyed him up and down, “Oh,” your tone was filled with amusement, “I know you.”

His heart skips a beat, “What?” He said in a shock, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes widened.

You kept that smirk on your lips as tilted your head slightly to the side. “Yeah, you’re that guy who almost got run over from the car earlier? Or when you tripped over your feet and did that dance?” Your eyes carried mischief in them. “So far you hiding behind the light post as if your shoulders weren’t going to give you away has been my favorite.”

San turned red, completely flushed in a deep red of embarrassment. She saw all of that? Trying to save himself, he inhaled and turned to the side trying to look mysterious, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He squeaks out causing you to laugh at his reaction.

Seeing how he won’t win this, he let out a defeated sigh. “Okay,” he closed his eyes as he threw his head back in embarrassment, “Yes, unfortunately that was me.” He looks down to the floor, unable to look at your face. “I’m not as smooth as I thought I was.” A small pour forms on his lips.

You just laughed at his reaction, the smile reaching up to your eyes. You eyed him up and down once more before extending your hand out, “I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself.

His head shoots up at the introduction. He looks between your hand and face, that still held a smile. Shake it, idiot. “Oh,” he says taking your hand and shaking it. “I’m San. Choi San.” He scratched the back of head, “I promise I’m not normally like this.” He lets out sheepish smile and chuckle.

You nodded. “I figured.” You said with a playful tone.

There was a moment of silence before you cleared your throat, removing your hand from his grasp as you crossed your arms, “So,” you started off, “Is there a reason why you followed me or do I have call the cops?”

San jumped in his spot, “No!” He blurted out as he puts his hands up, feeling his heart racing. “I mean–no, please.” He lets out a nervous laugh. He then takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, “It’s just that–Well, when I saw you I just thought that you were beautiful and I couldn’t find you so I tried looking for you and I was scared to approach you so I just followed–“

He cuts off his own rambling thinking he sounds like an absolute stalker, but to his surprise you had an amuse look on your face. He cleared his throat, speaking clear, “I wanted to ask you out on a date.” He said boldly before falling back into his nervous, stammering self, “Only if–if you wanted to. If you were interested.”

A playful glint was in your eyes before you nodded your head. “Sure,” you said, “I’ll go on a date with you.”

Maybe he misheard, “What? Wait, really?” He asked and you nodded at him with a smile. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You laughed at him. You kept a mischievous smile on your face, before crossing your arms. “Just so you know, I expect a good dinner. I do have expensive taste—You think you can keep up with that?” You asked him playfully as you reached to your back pocket and unlocked it so, handing it to him.

He smirks as he nodded. “I’ll keep up with whatever you throw at me.” He grabs your phone and inputs his number, writing San on the contact name. “Okay, there you go.” He hands the phone back to you.

You sent him a text and he got it immediately. “There, now you have mine.” You tell him. And with that, you two exchanged your goodbyes. He watched as you started to walk away but stopped at a distance turning to him, “Also, no tripping to the floor or getting run over by cars on the date.” You yelled at him, teasing him as you waved goodbye before walking away.

He chuckles, looking down feeling a bit flushed of redness on his cheeks. He swears he is high on life right now as he walks through the park—it’s as if nothing can ruin this moment. Suddenly, his personal phone starts ringing and too much in a euphoric feeling, he didn’t even bother looking at who was calling him as picked up in a dazed out tone, “Yes~?”

“San!” The rough voice yelled sternly. “It has been hours. You have yet to call. Did you complete the task or no?” It was his boss, Lee.

In a snap, he stands up straight wiping that goofy smile off his face as reality hits him. Oh shit, he thinks to himself. “Yes sir. The task is completed.” He cleared his throat, “I’ll report when I arrive.”

—

The first date was something that was huge for San. First and foremost, it was his first date, ever. He wanted everything to be perfect for you so he did some "research" by watching romantic movies and searching up date ideas. He felt so overwhelmed at the amount of ideas so he just decided to go with what his heart said.

He wanted a picnic at the very same park where he asked you out. He didn't want to go to the movies or do anything too crazy because he just wanted to get to know you, from what your favorite color was to what your ambitions are for life. He even cooked all the food, yes some parts were burnt but you told him it was the best part—it was extra flavor.

You smiled at the way he eased his shoulders. When he looked to the side, you gulped a good amount of water, trying to get rid of the taste. Honestly, you aren't fan of burnt food but today you will inhale anything that is burnt. You would eat a whole burnt piece of meat to prove how much you appreciate the time and dedication San took to make this date comfortable and wonderful.

You have never had anyone do the things San has done for you in just a span of a few hours. Something about him captivated you and honestly you feel lucky to have met him. Since that day on, you two were inseparable. Throughout the following weeks the feels for one another grew and grew and it was only a matter of time before San would ask you out.

Tonight was movie night—San’s favorite night. It always ended up with the most cringe worthy movies with you lying on top of him as he runs his fingers through your hair—which is exactly what’s happening. But instead of him watching the movie, he’s watching you. He chuckles over your reactions when you laugh at something stupid or when you face palm at the second hand embarrassment.

He stares at you with eyes of memorization. He has fallen so deeply for you. He can’t believe he got so lucky to experience such a rare emotion—love—in his life. He didn’t know someone could bring it out of him, but he was more than happy that it was you.

Which is all the reason why he has decided to quit and leave this horrid life he has known since little and start anew. For you and for him—for this future he desperately wants to have with you. And tonight, he was going to get out no matter what.

“You know you don’t have to go.” Your soft voice that had a hint of playfulness in it rang in his ears as you looked up at him and placed your chin on his chest to look up at him. “It’s late,” you smiled mischievously as you moved up, closing the distance, hovering over his lips, “might as well stay the night.”

The ending credits were rolling with a slow ending song in the background that fits the mood. San groans lightly as his hand makes way to your hair, caressing it, “You know I can’t, beautiful.” He whispered to you. San has made it very clear he wants to respect you and your boundaries until you two are official. Plus, he doesn’t want anything official until he is done with his other life.

He doesn’t want to risk someone knowing about you. Plus, this is the first time he is ever experiencing this and he wants to take it slow, let things form naturally.

But you on the other, make it very difficult for him to stay sane. The way you look at him makes him come undone almost instantly, but he fights the urge. You love that he is respect of you, but shit, you just want to pounce on him sometimes—like tonight.

You sighed and got up, letting out a sigh of annoyance as you crossed your arms. “Why not?” You asked, close to stomping like a spoiled child who is getting told no.

He lets out a chuckle at your reaction as he stands up and walks up to you, putting his finger under your chin as he places a kiss on your lips. “You know why, baby.” He tells you.

You bit down your lip to stop yourself from smiling like an idiot as you look away, all annoyed but in reality you didn’t want him to see you blushing. You roll your eyes and look back at him, “Tell me,” you say, “Who is she?”

San was taken aback, furrowing his eyebrows as he tilts his head to the side, “Who’s who?” Asking you while looking at you as if you were crazy.

“Is there someone else?” You asked him and you placed your hand on your hips, trying to stop the smile that’s forming on your lips.

“What?! No!” He exclaimed with widen eyes. “You know it’s not like that, Y/N. There is no one else, I prom–“

He stops his rambling when he sees you starting to laugh. You throw your arms over his shoulders, “Sannie, I know. I’m just joking. Just trying to keep you on your toes.” You tell him through your giggles, kissing his cheeks.

He gives you a deadpan look, “You stress me out.” He tells you playfully, wrapping his arms around you. “Did you know that?” He smirks at you.

“Oh,” you tilt your head to the side smirking, “Do I?” You asked as you removed yourself from his hold, brushing past him as you sat on the sofa, letting out a sigh. “You can leave then–“

“Y/N, come on. Don’t be like that baby–“

“I’ll just be here.” You cut him off as you stare into his eyes, reaching your jacket’s zipper at the top, “all alone,” you say seductively as you watched him gulp, pulling down the zipper to reveal the exposing tight tank top underneath, “missing you.”

San stayed silent for a moment before he shook his head and looked away, covering his eyes with his hand, “Woman, my virgin eyes. We mustn’t.” He said sounding all innocent.

“Oh, please San! Virgin eyes?!” You laugh at him getting a stern like with you as you throw him pillow from your sofa.

He then looks at you and starts to walk to you, which got you all excited because you think that you finally broke this man—but no. “I know what you’re doing.” He said in a low voice, placing a hot kiss underneath your ear. “And it’s not going to work.” His lips trail to your lips as he zipped up your jacket, pecking your lips once.

You opened your eyes, panting as the realization hit you. He smirked as he stood up, “Two can play that game.” He tells you. Feeling the frustration within you build up, you went hit him with another pillow but he moved fast enough as he let out a too slow laugh.

“Choi San!” You yelled at him as you watched him walk to the door. You glared at him as he extending his arms out to the sides, waiting for a hug to which you huffed and looked away. After a few seconds, you looked back and saw him in the same position with a goofy smile on his face.

You pursed your lips as you got up, stomping with attitude in each step. You opened your arms out and looked to the side causing him to quickly pull you into his embrace. “You’re impossible you know that?” He mumbled to you.

You let out a small smile as you wrapped your arms around him and looked into his eyes, “Yeah, but you still like me, don’t you?” You say softly.

He throws his head back and lets out a sigh of satisfaction then looks back to you and smile. “More than you know.” He whispers to you and placed a sweet, long kiss on your lips. “I’ll see you soon?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yeah.” You whispered back. With one last kiss he left and you gently closed the door. You leaned your back on it as you stomped your foot feeling so frustrated at his actions.

You walked to the sofa with slumped shoulders as you dived into it, face planting into the pillow—letting out a small scream. “This man is going to be the death of me.” You say to yourself as you have flashbacks to how he kissed you.

_

The elevator dinged open, revealing a dimly lit bar with low hums of conversations scattered among the place—clinking of glasses filled the air as San stepped in to the place, noting how the men all along the walls looked at him before returning their gazes. If there was one place San knew like the back of his hand, it was here. A sanctuary—a home— that oozed with danger.

San’s eyes scanned the room until it stopped on a familiar face. He watched as the older man swirled his drink before taking a sip, who in the moment spotted San. He gives a small wave and a smile, “San!” The older man chuckles at him, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked him as he approaches him. “Come, come. Sit with me.”

The older man takes a chair for him and pats it for him. He raised his forefinger to the bartender, gesturing for one cup. San felt his chest tighten as he gulped watching the bartender a cup down on the table. He watches his boss Lee, grab the cup and started to pour. “Boss,” his voice was low—a slight pause with his words, “I–,” He takes in a deep breath. “I want out.” He said firmly.

Lee froze mid-pour. “Out.” He repeated with furrowed eyebrows. He lifted his eyes to San and then back down to the drink, giving him a small laugh. He sighs out as he places the cup down, “I’ve always known this day would come. I just did not think it would be so soon.” He gives a small smile to San.

He raises his glass with a raised eyebrow prompting San to grab his, clinking glasses together. After a moment of silence Mr. Lee spoke out, “So, you want to leave.” He says, slightly sadden by the news.

San places his drink down, wiping his hands on his pants as he sits up straight. He nods his head once, “Yes, sir.”

Lee nods once, processing this. “Why the sudden change?” He tilts his head, swirling the drink in his hand, maintaining his eye contact with San.

“It’s not sudden, sir.” San begins. “First and foremost I just want to say that I am beyond grateful that you took me in and gave me the life I have. Without you, I don’t know where I would be. Truly. But, I just think… it’s time for me to move on.” San said, lowering his gaze feeling a bit nervous and worried.

Lee just stays silent, eyeing San up and down—almost as if he’s studying him. “Hmm,” he hummed at him, taking a sip before slamming his cup down. “It’s a girl, isn’t it?” He smirked at San.

San just stayed silent as he looked into his eyes. Lee’s eyes narrowed slightly, smirk growing wider as if he was amused. The man claps his hands and his laughter echoed throughout causing for his men to shift their attention to him for a second. “I knew it, I knew it~” He does a little shoulder dance as he leans in closer to taunt San. “Of course it is. Who would’ve thought your cold heart would be melted, huh? You’re in love.”

San groans in embarrassment, shoulders slumped as he facepalms. “Boss,” it comes out muffled, “please.” He pleaded with him.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” He asked him, with a teasing smile and a raised eyebrow.

San peaked through his fingers, a small pause. “Yes.” He squeaks out, trying to him his composure—trying to stop himself from swinging his legs under the table like a school girl as he blushes hard.

“Ou!” His boss shoved him as he fan girled with him. Would you believe the sight of two of the most toughest, deadliest men in the world are acting like two school girls as they gossip over San’s love life?

After a moment though, unfortunately, the seriousness climbs back in—killing all happiness in the air. “San,” his boss leans on the table and he intertwined his fingers, “You know how this works. You know you can’t just simply leave.” Of course, San knew, but for you he was willing to do anything.

He watches as Lee pours another drink for himself. “I have a job for you.” He said simply. “A job that only that you can do.”

“Anything.” San said, body all stiffened up as he paid close attention.

Lee leans slightly in, “There are men—powerful men— who have gotten away with the most vile, inhumane things. They all think that with the money, status, even influence they have, that they can hide behind it. Almost as if they are untouchable—but you, San, are going to change that.”

Internally, San is feeling his heart racing—unsure of what is to unfold in this conversation. Externally, he remains his calm demeanor, “What are you trying to tell me?”

“What I’m telling you is that if you want out, then this is what you must do. You will take all of them down—permanently.” His voice got stern. Lee leans back in his chair, “Think of it as cleansing to the world. Do this for me and you are free.”

He grabs a folder that was lying next to him, sliding it to San—it’s like as if he knew this interaction was going to happen. “Names, locations, habits, crimes—everything you need is in there.”

San grabs the folder and opens it. His heart started racing as his eyes scanned the different pages, his eyes widening. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do? This is impossible.” San looked at him as he leaned back in his chair, all in disbelief. They are politicians, CEOs—all different important figures.

“I’m asking you—No—Demanding you to do this job.” Lee said with a slight raise in his voice. But he can’t help to let out a sigh as he places a comforting hand on San’s shoulder. “San, I care about you very much, like a son, hence why I am giving you a chance out. But you are the only one who I trust with this type of job.”

Lee leans back in his chair, raising the glass to his lips. “And if you want to be with Y/N,” San’s eyes quickly shoot to him, feeling his face drain color, “then this is what you must do.” He takes a sip of his drink.

If looks could kill, Mr. Lee would’ve been dead as soon as your name came out of his mouth. Lee has never seen such a murderous look on San’s face before and, trust him, that says a lot. He laughs at his reaction, “Relax.” He tells him as he waves him off. “You know I had to make sure. She’s a good one. I can see why you want to leave all of this for her.”

San should’ve fucking known. Of course, Lee would know—he knows everything. Now San is left with this blessing and curse of approval. Lee stands up, grabbing his coat and placing it on as he signaled his men that it’s time to go. “Think it over.” He tells San as he adjusts his coat and walks past him, patting his shoulder.

Think it over? There was nothing to think over. San is a man who knows what he wants and what he wants is you. He would find the ends of the Earth just for you. San stands up, the chair rusting against the floor. “I’ll do it.” He shouts to his boss.

Lee grabs his hat off the rack and enters the elevator, his men all trailing behind him. He smirks at San, “I knew you would.” And with that the elevator door closes, leaving San to figure his next strategy as he sits back down ordering a drink.

_

It was a beautiful, dark night. The stars twinkling and gleaming from afar as the moonlight casts over the city. Up in the roof San was crouched low, carefully assembling his sniper rifle piece by piece. You could say he was a bit nervous, but not from the mission—no, no—it was from your soft voice in his ear Bluetooth.

“I miss you.” Your voice ringed so sweet in his ears, it had him biting on his lower lip as he formed a smile. “When are you coming over again?” You asked, turning to lay on your stomach on the bed as you slowly kicked your legs up and down.

“I’ll come over soon baby.” He murmured in a low and steady voice. You let out a silent scream at his voice and sweet name as you covered your mouth, kicking your feet like a school girl. But in all honesty, San didn’t know when he would be going to see you—given the task at hand.

You regained your composure, clearing your throat bringing the phone closer to you. “Soon is what you said last time.” You spoke with a pout on your lips. You sat up on the bed and let out a sigh. “Are you avoiding me?” You crossed your arms.

San chuckled softly at your slight attitude, his hand tightened up the last piece of the rifle’s scope into place. His eyes flickered to the building across from him, seeing his target’s silhouette visible through the window. “Avoiding you? Why would I ever do something stupid. You’re all I think about.”

You bit down on your finger to stop yourself from squealing, feeling your heart swarm with warmness from his words. “You think about me?” You asked while playing with the ends of your hair. “When, huh?” You smirk as you bit your lip.

He smirks as he looks through the scope, his eyes following the shadow. “All day, everyday. When I wake up to when I go to sleep. Every second, every minute, every hour.” His voice sounding so sweet.

You let out a very dramatic, exaggerated sigh as you fall on your back bouncing a bit from impact. “You’re luck you’re cute. Otherwise I would be very angry right now.”

San remained the smirk on his face as he adjusted the rifle and settled into position. “Oh, so you think I’m cute?” The cold metal pressed against his cheek as he peered once more through the scope. The target was all alone in his office, all clear in the view, oblivious on what’s about to happen. “I’m flattered.” He teased at you, voice was light as he tracked his target’s movements.

“Pfft,” you let out as you playfully rolled your eyes. “Don’t let it get it your head.” You tried replying with a serious tone but he can hear the smile in your voice. “So, what are you doing right now?” You asked him.

San hesitated for a split second as he looks around. “Just… working.” He said vaguely, his tone softening as his thumb gently adjusted the scope’s zoom.

“Hmm,” you mused. “Well, don’t work too hard now. You better be taking care of yourself, okay?”

San’s smile faltered for a moment, guilt creeping in. “Don’t worry. I am.” He says. He realized he can’t do this if you’re on the phone, distracting him. "Listen, beautiful, I have to go—Boss is coming in." He lies to you.

“Okay.” You sighed out the word as you sat up, shoulders slumped as you gnawed on your lip. “How about if I call you tonight?” He asked you, hated hearing your sad tone. You quickly perked up, “Okay! Perfect.” You gleamed. “I’ll be waiting for you then, bye!” He laughed at your switch up reaction when you hung up quickly—as if time will go faster.

Through the scope, he saw that his target stood up, walking to the window. San adjusted himself in position, his breathing slowed down as his finger hovered over the trigger. All the noise went silent as he exhaled steadily, aiming at the man’s chest.

With practice precision, he tightened the trigger. The sound of the shot radiated through the night. Instantly, the man collapsed to the floor, blood oozing out of his chest. San kept his eyes on the body, making sure the job was completed. He exhaled slowly as he stood, hand already disassembling the rifle. He felt all the tension just leaving his body.

He places everything back in its spot in the case, packing up. He stands up, stretching his neck and staring in the far distance as the night breeze blows, running a hand through his hair. He grabs the case and disappears into the shadow of the night. This was just the beginning but he was going to get it all done—for you.

-

The following missions were a blur of danger and exhaustion. Every single target pushed San to his breaking point both physically and mental limit—testing his resolve in ways he could have never imagined. One night he was in hand to hand fight in a warehouse, barely avoiding a knife to his ribs to another night infiltrating a high security party, he smoothing past through the guards and tight knit surveillance to drop a pill in his target’s drink.

The elevator doors open revealing a different atmosphere in the bar tonight. He turns to the side and spots Lee at the center, nursing the same drink as always with a cigar in his other hand. Hearing the elevator door close, Lee turns and gives a smile when he spots San.

San approached him. “Boss.” He says firmly, standing in the position of attention, hands behind his back.

“There he is!” Lee exclaimed as he stands up and grabs San’s face with a huge smile on his face. “The man who did the impossible.” Lee turns to the bartender, “One more glass.”

“Come sit, sit,” he waves San over and taps the stool next to him. “Always so stiff.” Lee mumbled to himself as he raised the glass to his lips and takes a sip.

San was hesitant, but he eventually slid into the stool, dragging it closer inward. He watches as his boss poured him a glass with a smile on his face—almost as if he was a proud father.

“So,” Lee began, placing the bottle down as he leaned back in chair studying San with a sadden gaze. “How does it feel, mm? You’re finally free.”

San chuckles softly as he grabs the glass and takes a sip, the burn of the alcohol makes his face scrunch up slightly. “It feels… foreign. But,” he looks at Lee, “I’m ready.”

Lee chuckles and pats his arm. “I know you are.” He sighs as he swirled the liquid in his glass, “You’ve grown, so much. You deserve this new life, San. I mean it. Love it to the fullest.” He turned to face him and raised his glass for a toast. “To a new chapter”

They clinked glasses, the sound echoing softly in the quiet bar. For the first time in years, San felt the weight on his shoulders begin to lift. He was finally free. After a while of talking, San decided it was time to go home—you.

But Lee stops him. “San,” he calls to him. San stops in his steps, turning around to face him. “Yes, sir?”

Lee chuckles softly at the name. “You know that if you need anything—anything at all—I will always be here for you.”

San smiles, nodding. “Thank you, sir.” And with that he leaves rushing to go see you.

That same night he went to your apartment and official asked you to be his and this time he stayed with you.

_

DURING THE RELATIONSHIP

The early stages of your relationship with San were of course, the sweetest. You both loved falling in love with each other and discovering new things or habits from one another. You loved the balance you both had in the relationship.

From the random, sleep deprived 2am conversations such as asking if you were a fly would he still be your boyfriend to which he replied saying, “Why would you be a fly to begin with?” Which prompt you sit up in your bed, clutching onto the phone saying, “Answer the question!”

“I mean–I guess, right?” He shrugged. “Are you serious? You guess?! I would take care of you, make sure you were fed on whatever fly eats…” You started rambling which San groan lightly as he rub his face, this is going to be a long night, he thought to himself.

To making core memories in the rain, trying to replicate like those dramatic kissing scenes in movies only for you two to scream in fear when thunder radiated throughout the night as you two ran for shelter, catching your breaths only to look at each and laugh, “We’re so stupid.” You say through your laughs, panting.

Or his favorite moments is when you would come by his new job at the tire shop unexpectedly and would have lunch with him. “Hey,” you greeted him on the phone as you leaned your back on your car, “I got the stuff.”

He sneered at your comment as you hung up the phone. He went and washed his hands, stepping outside as he dried his hands with a paper towel. He spots you outside your car, doing a little beckoning dance with both sandwiches in each hand to which he chuckled as he got close.

“Thank you for the food.” He whispers to you, placing a gentle kiss on your lips as he takes the food from your hand. You smiled at him, “Of course.” You two then headed to a bench where you threw one leg over his and started catching him up on your work’s fresh gossip.

“And then she was like, “I’m not putting up with your shit.” Can you believe she said that?” You tell San as you take a bite out of your food.

“No way she said that to her boss. She’s crazy for doing that.” San said trying to give his input but in reality he could give a shit, but seeing you all passionate in your story made him smile.

You looked at him with widen eyes, covering your food filled mouth, “That’s what I said! She’s crazy.” Your words came out muffled as you shook your head.

Or when he notices your car needs gas so he goes with you and does everything for you so you don’t have to worry about a thing. He gets an idea, smirking as he taps on your passenger window, asking you to put it down. “Never seen a beautiful girl like you here before.” He leans on the car, getting a good view.

You give him a stank face as you dropped your phone, crossing your arms. “I have a boyfriend.” Scoffing at him.

“Oh, do you?” He tilts his head to the side, “Where is he?” He asked, hands leaning in the car.

“Please, you would be scared of him. He can beat your ass. Now, shoo shoo, please.” You waved him off, raising the window. San scoffed and took out the keys and unlocked the door, opening it as you gasped in shock, “My boyfriend–“

“Won’t do anything.” He cuts you off and kisses you, causing you to smile into it. He breaks the kiss and pouts, “You would let the man kiss you that easily?” You rolled your eyes and kissed his pout.

Or the serious moments you two had with one another in the car when he was dropping you off or when you were in your house, sitting closely together. You two would ask each other deep questions like what you want from this relationship, do you want marriage, kids, are you happy with the jobs you have, is there more you want from life helping you two bring out new perspectives and experiences in these conversations.

Or when making huge decisions, such as moving in together. San has decided to ask you a little into the two years of your relationship, wanting to take it to the next level. It was an exciting time when you both went apartment hunting and finally found one that spoke to you both.

You both had taken your time in being organize for the move, checking what is to throw away or donate, labeling the boxes, getting caught up in tape at times. When the moving truck came, San had taken the heavy boxes while you dragged some and some of the movers helped you pick it up.

When it was time, San closed the truck and you two followed them to your new apartment. It was a sight to see San getting a frustrated when he was struggling to set up the new sofa, rereading the instructions for the 20th time. Meanwhile you were organizing and taking things out the boxes, trying to not make it obvious that you were laughing.

You cleared your throat when a laugh erupted deep from your throat causing him to give you a look, “You think this is funny?” He asks you all frustrated as he drops the stupid paper of instructions.

You sighed a smile as you walked to him. You know he’s just exhausted and frustrated from the move, he’s not trying to take it out on you. You extend your hand to him and helped him up, “Baby, I know you’re frustrated. It’s okay.” Your hands roam his back.

You then take both of his hands and walked backwards, guiding him to the bedroom. “The bed is made, right? Why don’t we double check that it’s secure?” You smiled at him which made him bit his lower lips, smirking, as he closed the door behind him.

Don’t worry, the bed was secure and the sofa was soon built.

—

Like many other relationship, there were the hard times—Arguments which were just the worst. Take tonight for example when you coworkers had invite you and San to this new sports bar and they just so happen to invite one of their friends, who was very friendly to San—who by the way was blinded by her actions.

“No way, so you work at a tire shop?” Jina said she leaned closer to San, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I think that’s so cool. I’ve always wanted to learn how to change a tire, maybe you can help me?” She flirtatiously blinks her eyes twice, looking up at him.

Ugh, you think to yourself as you angrily chewed off a piece of celery you dipped in ranch. You rolled your eyes as you look to side, but everyone was too caught in their respective conversations to notice. “Surprisingly it’s not that hard.” He smiled at her, “I’m sure you can do it.”

You are certainly amazed at how strong the cup is because your tight ass grip feels like it can shatter it at any moment. You take a sip of your beer, trying to calm down when she placed her hand on his bicep. “You’re so sweet,” she chuckles at him as she flicks her hair back, “But I definitely need some guidance.”

He just smiles at her, taking a sip of his drink. She looks at you, “Oh, Y/N, you’re very lucky,” she gives you a smile as she looks back at him. “He’s such a sweetheart.”

You flash her a sarcastic smile, mocking her head tilt and toke of voice, “Mm, yes, I am the luckiest. He’s the best.” Bitch.

—

Throughout the entire night Jina continued with her flirtatious ways. Every time San would make joke, she laughed a little too hard as she playfully slapped his arm, covering her mouth. Or when she would excuse herself to the restroom, she would use that moment to brush up against him, using his shoulders for support as some people walked past her. Or when she would scoot her chair closer to San.

   At this point, saying your patience was wearing thin was an understatement. You knew San wasn’t letting her do this, he was oblivious to everything and tried remaining polite because he did not want to disrespect your coworkers or ruin the night. 

—

   You stepped into the apartment, angrily removing your shoes, using the wall for support. You shook off your coat and hung it with attitude on the rack as you started walking to the bedroom.

   San eyed you up and down, trying to figure out why you’re acting like this. “Are you okay?” He raised an eyebrow as he took off his coat.

   “Yeah.” You say dryly as you walked to the room. He throws his head back and sighs in frustration, “Baby, talk to me.” He shouts to you but you just ignore him.

  He walks into the room, seeing that you changed into an oversized tee shirt. Dumping your dirty clothes in the hamper, you walked to the bathroom. “Baby, what’s going on?” He asked you softly, following you.

   You stopped your actions and gave him a look, “Why don’t you ask Jina?” You say spitting out her name like poison as you kept walking to the bathroom.

  He stands there all confused, “Jina? Why would I ask her?” He asked you genuinely confused which only fueled your frustration even more.

  You scoffed as you bend down, grabbing your makeup remover from underneath. “Are you serious San?” You turned to him, “Jina was basically throwing herself on you the entire night.” 

  You opened your cleansing balm, scooping some and angrily rubbed your face. “Y/N, she was just being nice. That’s it.” He tells you as he crossed his arms.

   You let out a humorless laugh, “Oh please San, nice?” You tell him as you put water on your face and took off the balm. “Oh, you work on cars? Let me just laugh hard at all your jokes, place my hand on you, brush up against you and disrespect your girlfriend in her face.” You mocked her tone of voice. “She was all over you tonight.” 

  He sighed, “Baby, she wasn’t—“ San started but stopped in his words when you stopped drying your face to give him a pissed off look, “Okay, maybe she was being too friendly. But I wasn’t paying attention to her like that at all.” 

  You scoffed out, shaking your head. “No, I can definitely tell by the way you just kept letting her.” You turned off the bathroom lights and brushed past him, standing by the dresser as you take off your earrings. “You didn’t even bother to notice the way she kept touching you, or the way she was moving closer to you—“ You shook your head, trying to stop your tears, “How do you think that made me feel?” Your voice trembled.

  His heart breaks at the tone of your voice. He walks up to you and cups your face, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Baby, I wasn’t trying to upset you. I only spoke to her because it was your coworker’s friend, that’s it.” He whispers to you, looking deep into your eyes. “You know that you’re the only one for me. The only one I care about.” 

  You removed yourself from his grasp, turning around and pinching your nose bridge as the hot tears formed. “It didn’t feel like it tonight.” 

  San looks at you with sad eyes. He hates it when he is the reason as to why you’re hurt. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.” He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close to him. “I never meant to make you upset or uncomfortable. I promise you that this won’t happen ever again.” 

  “You promise?” You asked him once more and he turns you around, smiling at you as he wipes your tears with his thumbs, “I promise.” He tells you, nodding.

  He leans in to kiss you and you stop him with your forefinger, “Um, just cause this argument is over doesn’t mean I’m over it. ” You tell him sassily and he laughs, planting a kiss on your cheek.

   “Well, can I show you another way on how sorry I am?” He raised an eyebrow as he got on his knees, keeping the eye contact with you. His hands roam the back of your legs as you threw your head back in frustration, you have no restraint. 

-

Throughout the past five years you two have grown and changed so much in your relationship and in your own personal lives. You are so happy that San is in your life and vice versa. He truly couldn’t believe how drastically his life has changed. But he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The sound of the sizzling meat filled the cozy silence in the room while the aroma filled up your senses. San stood by the stove in a black tank top with a rag draped over his shoulder with a concentrated look on his face as he grabbed the handle of the pan, tilting it to scoop up the melted butter and oil mixture with a spoon to drench the meat with practiced ease.

You were sat upon the counter with one leg propped up as you leaned your chin on your knee, scrolling through your phone. You slightly chuckled at some funny videos on your feed, calling San's attention to show him. Everything seemed completely normal, nothing out of the ordinary.

San lived for these peaceful moments with you. He went back to focusing on his cooking but from the corner of his eye he saw his phone lighting up, slightly moving from the vibration. He glanced at the screen, expecting it to be a coworker calling to cover their shift but he felt his body go cold when he saw the number flashing across the screen.

Lee.

He felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand up. Five years. It's been five years since he last spoke to him—since he last saw him. He felt a ringing coming into his ears. "Babe?" You looked up from your phone when you noticed his sudden stillness, "Everything okay?"

The ringing fades as he clears his throat. "Yeah, baby." He lies as he forced a quick smile, turning off the stove. He grabbed the phone and turned to you, giving you a kiss which causes you to smile. "It's just one of the guys from work. I'll be back." He smiles at you as he heads to the bedroom, "Can you set up the table, please?"

You playfully groan as you hopped of the counter. "I have to do everything myself." You sarcastically say as you opened the cabinet and grabbed two plates. "Of course I can." You smirked at him.

"Thank you for your sacrifice." He winks at you. His expression turns serious as he turns around and picks up the pace, stepping into the bedroom. He gently shuts the door and looks down to his phone, seeing that Lee is calling again. He gulps as he picks up, raising the phone to his ear. "Lee?" He whispers.

"San." The familiar deep voice makes a shiver run down San's spine as San gulps down the nerves. On the opposite side of the phone, Lee stood in-front of his ceiling to floor windows in his office, looking out into the night. "It's been a while."

San takes a few steps to the center of the room, eyes roaming around as his breath hitched. "Five years." His throat tightened. "Why-Why are you calling me?"

Lee lets out a sigh, looking down to the floor feeling remorse. "People are looking for you, San." He answers him. San eyes widened at his words, feeling the whole world stop. "They are looking for revenge."

A million thoughts were rushing in his head. He lets out a disbelief scoff as he walks to the bed and sits down, feeling his head spinning. "Revenge?" He whispered in wariness. "What do you mean? I don't understand." One moment he is cooking and wanting to have a nice dinner with you to the next, getting told people are out to kill him.

"San, the men I ordered you to kill—" He cuts himself off with a sigh as he closes his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows in regret. "Their people are looking for you. Someone tipped me off and San— it's serious. You need to disappear. Now."

San looks at the phone as if Lee would see his face of-are-you-insane. He shakes his head and lets out a scoff. "What? I can't just-"

"You don't have a choice, San." Lee interrupted him, raising his tone. "They are coming for you, do you understand what I'm saying?" Lee looks behind him, making sure no one in the room. "They will come for her." He whispered into the phone.

San head shoots up to the door and stares at it. Just on the other side you are setting up the table, oblivious to everything that is happening. He wants to fucking scream at the top of his lungs and punch the wall. "San," Lee's voice takes him out of his thoughts of these people hurting you. “This is something worst than anything we have ever dealt with. I'll be giving you two weeks to get everything sorted out. You know what you have to do.”

The line went dead.

San felt the world falling and crushing his soul. He dropped his arm, causing his phone to drop on the floor as he spaced out. This can't be happening, he thinks to himself. Everything he worked so hard for was just ripped from him in a heartbeat.

A knock on the door caused him to look up. "Is everything okay? What did work want?" You asked him as you walked to him, cupping his face to make him look up at you. "The table is set. Just waiting for the chef to serve the food." You smirked as you straddled him.

He smirks at you as he wraps his arms around your waist. "My apologizes, madam. We are a little backed up today. Can you forgive me?" He jokes with you. As he stares into your eyes, he feels everything falling around him knowing that he soon won't have these moments with you.

"Yes, I forgive you." You kissed his lips, chuckling lightly. You caressed his head as you looked into his eyes, "All good with work?" You asked once more.

He nods. "Yeah. It was just my boss calling to see if I can pick some extra shifts. Some of my coworkers have called out so I'm the only option."

You pouted as you slouched a bit. "I'm sorry. I know how much it frustrates you when you have to take more shifts." You peck his lips. He wished that was the actual reason.

He shakes his head. "It's okay." He smiles. He then stands up with you still in his hold causing you to wrap your legs around him. "I'm starving. I heard the chef was super handsome and an excellent cook."

You giggled. "Must've heard the opposite." You teased him. He gives you a deadpan look as he stopped in his steps. "Remind me why I'm feeding you?" He askes you with a glare. You then placed a loving kiss on his cheek. Now, he remembers why.

Later that night, you two were in bed. You had long fallen asleep all cuddled up on his chest as San stares into the ceiling. He turns to the side and looks down at your face, taking in your light snores as he gently places a kiss on your forehead. He knows what he has to do.

—

DURING THE FIVE YEARS

The following day, San entered his job with his hands tucked into his front pockets as he gave a small smile and nod to his passing coworkers as he headed to his boss's office. The scent of rubber and motor oil entered his nostrils as he knocked on the door.

A muffled come in was heard and San let out a breath as he twisted the knob, entering the office. His boss looked up from the paper work in his hand and gives him a smile as he takes off his glasses, "San!" He beamed as he stood up. "How are you, son? You don't work today, right?"

San closes the door, the sounds of the shop fades away. He gives him a sad smile, hands behind his back as he stands up straight. "I just, um," San clears his throat. "I need to talk to you."

His boss nods as he gestures to the chair in-front of his desk, "Of course. Please, sit and tell me." His boss tells him, scooting in his own chair and intertwining his hands.

He watched as San sits down and looks at him, firmly saying, “I’m quitting.”

His boss shakes his head both taken aback and sadden at the news. "What? Why? Did someone say something to you? Did something happen?" He bombarded him with questions, feeling whiplashed.

San stays quiet, contemplating if he should tell him or not. “I have to go somewhere for a while and I have a favor to ask of you.“ his voice was low. His boss nods, listening intently, "People are going to come in here and ask of me, you will tell them that you do not know who I am. If Y/N comes in, you will tell her the same thing. Understood?”

His boss was taken aback, nervously chuckling thinking it's a joke San is trying to pull. "You’re worrying me San,” he scratched the back of his head. But San remains serious causing his boss to lean forward, “You’re–You’re being serious? San, what is going on?”

San reached into his jacket, taking out an orange envelope and placed it in-front of his boss. His boss looks unsure until San nods at him causing him to hesitatingly pick up the envelope, opening it and widens his eyes at the stack of cash.

He looks between the cash and San’s serious expression with widen eyes. “That is for your troubles.” San said to him.

“Just promise me that you will do what I ask of you. Especially for Y/N. Remove me from photos, throw anything of mine away—nothing must stay. Please tell this to the rest of the guys.” San tells him.

His boss slowly nods in shock as he watches San stand up and walk to the door. He drops the money and quickly gets in front of him, holding onto his arms, “San, are you in trouble? Are you going to be okay?” His boss asked him.

“I will be okay, but for everyone’s safety it’s best if no one knows. Forgive me for putting you through all of this.” He gives him a sad smile and opens the door but looks back at his boss one last time, “I know you won’t understand but thank you. Thank you for being a great boss and for giving me a sense of normalcy.”

And with that San heads out the door ignoring his boss calling out to him. His boss sighs in defeat as he watched him disappeared. He truly admired him like a son of his own so this good bye pains him.

He cleaned his throat as he claps his hands getting everyone’s attention. “Everyone, team meeting! Gather around.” He wants to help San but knows that he can’t so he will do his part here until San returns.

—

Every night that lead up to the finale night with you killed him inside. It was hard to him to keep his composure when he was around you. When it was time, he just wanted to run away with you and live the life he envisions with you—but no, not yet. Just once more he has to go back to who he was and pray you will forgive him when he comes back.

As he walked down the apartments hallway, he just shook his head of his emotions. And just like that, he was back into the killer he was. He gently closed the apartment door, sighing heavy as he stood there for a moment. His hand runs down the door as he mentally says goodbye to everything he had.

He then heads downstairs, pushing the complex’s front doors revealing Lee. He stood outside the sleek black car while to of his men stood beside him. He slowly approached him, both of them not uttering a single word before Lee broke the tension and pulled him into a hug.

“San,” he whispered into his ear. San slowly wrap his arms around him and pats his back, still silent. “I’m so sorry.” Lee tells him and released the embrace, holding on his arms, “Come on. Let’s talk.” He nods to the car.

San watched as one of his men opened the door for him but took one last glance at the apartment window. I’m so sorry, he thought to himself. He sighed and headed inside the car.

—

During the drive, San looked out the window and watched the city he knew fade as they drove further away. Lee snaps his fingers which prompted the man in the passenger seat to give him a stack of folders. “San.” Lee calls to him.

When San sees the amount of folders, it’s takes all within him to not stomp like a child. He sneakily rolls his eyes as he grabs the folders from his hands. "These are all the people who are looking for you." Lee says. "Names, locations—everything you need to know is all in there."

Familiar words that put him here in the first place.

San’s stomach churned as he flips through the pages. These people weren’t just any petty criminals—no, these were some next level powerful criminals disguised as people in power. “You aren’t alone in this. We will get through this.” Lee reassured San as he lights up a cigar.

San just ignored Lee, not really wanting to talk about this right now. He clenched his jaw, “I need a favor,” he tells Lee who raised an eyebrow at him. “I need you to clear off my name in the system. No records, no loose ends—I need to disappear completely."

Lee studied him for a moment before nodding. “Consider it done.”

—

San didn’t get a wink of sleep, seeing the room slowly get brightened up by the sun through the small window. Lee had put him in a safe house in an abandoned corner of the city. As the light peers in, his heart crushes at the thought that it’s morning and you are about to find out.

He took advantage of the night and plastered the photos of his targets all over the walls. Their faces were lined up next to one another with their profile and description of crimes scribbled on them with red ink as sticky tabs surrounded them. The table was in a chaos of folders, maps that had markings of last known locations, more photos, hide outs, and extra information on sticky notes.

Meanwhile San was on the floor, shirtless as the sweat on his body glistened as his chest heavies while doing push ups. He lets out groans and grunts in sharp breaths, ignoring the burning sensation in his muscles.

“You reach out to her, you put her in danger.” Lee’s voice popped up in his head when he thought about you. His arms trembling from exhaustion, but he didn’t care—he had to get stronger for you. The haunting of Lee’s words pushed him harder.

Feeling as if it wasn’t enough, he stands up and wasted no time in jumping up to grip the bar that was bolted to the ceiling. He controlled his breathing as he did his pulls ups, staring directly to his first targets eyes.

Once he was satisfied, he walked to the worn out punching bag that was hung in the corner. He closed his eyes as he rolled his shoulders, opening them as he went straight into punching the bag. With each punch, he pictured the lowlife’s face giving quick and brutal combinations.

The bag jerked around with every hit that released all the anger and frustration as he screamed out loud. The hits become harder and faster—his skin all raw and broken around the knuckles. Sweat flying everywhere, some from his brow dripping down to his chest.

Lee’s voice came back to him, sharper now. “She’ll be dragged into this if you’re not careful.” San froze for a second, his fist resting against the bag, his breath heavy. He could see you so clearly in his mind, your smile and laughter when you tilt your head back.

He then pictured someone taking that away from him which just caused him to punch the bag with all his force, causing the bag to split open as the sand poured out like waterfall to the floor.

He stood over it as he watched it fall out, chest heaving. No. He can’t let himself think of that, he can’t fall into that weakness. He wipes his face with his forearm as he turned around and sat on the chair next to the table.

He leaned back as he hissed in pain when he tried closing his hands. He looks down and saw how bloody and irritated his knuckles were. He groans as he throws his head back and tries catching his breath.

After a moment, he controls his breathing and turns his head to the table then to the wall. He sits up and darkened his dark eyes to his first target—his expression hard as stone. He’s going to kill them all, every single one of them.

—

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and months turned into years since he began—since he last saw you. Little by little he’s completing his job but he can’t help but to feel so fucking upset at how long it has taken. But no matter how exhausted he is, you were his motivation to keep going.

There are countless nights when he lies in bed and skims through his photo gallery. He misses the way your smile reached your eyes, he missed the playful banter you two had with one another, misses your habits—everything. He would sad smile at the photos you were pissed off with him making a goofy smile because he most likely did something to annoy you.

Throughout the years, he would try convincing himself that you were okay. But when he went to check your socials, you were no where to be found. You were gone. Every account deactivated, every trace of you wiped clean from the digital world. It was like you’d vanished.

It killed him inside but he was feeling selfish because he did this to you but far worst. He spent days fighting the urge to just go and see you and when he found the courage, Lee would pop into his head.

But today, he cannot hold himself back. Fuck Lee right now. He drove with anxiety coursing in his body. He wondered how you are? Are you dating? Do you have a boyfriend? He gripped the steering wheel at the thought of you with another man. Are you happy? Are you still working at the same place?

But honestly, nothing could prepare him for what was to come of you. He sees you walking out of your job and you just looked absolutely miserable. The light in your eyes, gone. The smile he adored, nonexistent. You looked so broken and exhausted—his heart felt like it was ripped out and stabbed as he felt tears coming in. It was all his fault.

He turns off the car and heads out, tears streaming as he shoves through people saying sorry as he looks at your walking figure. Just when he is about to reach out, he freezes in his steps. He can’t. The people engulf around him as he watches you walk further. You sensed someone looking at you and turned around but no one. Meanwhile San hide behind a building, catching his breath as he slides down the wall crying.

He just wanted to run up to you and hold you and explain everything to you. Since that day, he always kept an eye on you. There were days when you all cooped up in the apartment with curtains closed or stayed at work until closing.

Whenever he would see you coming out the complex, he had to do everything to calm down. His heart would twist painfully when he saw the emptiness in the way you moved—just going through the motions of life and every time he would hate himself more and more.

—

One afternoon, when he went to go see you he felt the world stopping around him. The sight of a moving truck parked outside makes his stomach drop. His mouth parted when he saw you coming out the building, using your back to open the door as you held a box in your hands.

You were leaving.

He feels like he’s losing you all over again. He watches as you hand the box to the mover with a tight smile and head back inside. He soon remembers when you two moved in now fading into this memory—something beautiful to something broken.

He can’t help it but to stay. Once you were done, he watched you hand the key to the building representative—the same one who welcomed you both the first day—and hugged her. When the truck pulls out, he stays behind them in a safe distance.

San slapped his hand on the steering wheel as he starts crying. All he wanted—dreamt of— was a normal life with you and now everything is being taken away from him again. He can’t stop himself—he can’t let you go not when you are slipping further and further from him.

When you arrived to your new building, he looks as you unpacked the truck. In that moment he decided that he will leave you alone and come back stronger and better for you. He will complete this for you.

—

It had a been a whole year since he last saw you. He was determined to finish this already. Just one more and that was it.

It was nighttime and San was in a deep sleep in bed—until he felt his phone vibrate underneath his pillow causing him to stir to the side and go back to sleep. But then the person called again causing him to groan as he turns around and grab his phone.

He squints and looks away, the brightness burning his eyes. He then blinks a few times and looks at the screen again, seeing that Lee was calling him.

He sighs as he falls back on his back, placing his free arm over his eyes as he picks up the phone, “Hell–“

“They know about her.” Lee cuts off San, panting. On the other side, Lee was rushing to his office as he pointed to his men where to go and what to do. San sat up as he processed his words, his voice caught in his throat. “San,” Lee stops in his tracks, “they will kill her.”

San stayed quiet, his eyes roaming around in the darkness. They found you. They know of you. It’s only a matter of time before they get you. San felt so overwhelmed in his emotions—everything he tried to suppress just dissolved into raw, unrelenting anger that he didn’t know to react.

He just went blank.

“San? Are you ther–“ he hangs up the phone causing Lee to let out a scream of frustration as he calls him again but it went straight to voicemail. San removed his blanket, adrenaline shooting in his veins as he storms to the back of the safe house.

His breathing was starting to get uneven as he grabbed a sledgehammer that was leaning against the wall. And with one heavy swing, he shattered the concrete floor—fragments fly out with each stroke that got harder and angrier than the previous one.

Soon enough, a hidden compartment was revealed. He kneeled on the floor, removing the rubble with his hand as he puts in a code to which the box unlocks revealing a variety of weapons—firearms, knives, ammunition.

His fingers traced over the weapons with precision as he selected the ones he needed. He walked back and forth as he gently placed each weapon on the floor on top of a rag in the center of the room.

He throughly cleaned each gun and ensured each were working in order. He moved with swiftness as he tested the mechanics—sharpening the knives, moving them in his hand to make sure they are comfortable in his grip. He loaded the magazines with ease, wanting to make sure everything was perfect for tonight.

This was the most terrifying state San has been. His mind was blank, no expression on his face, emotions were just gone. All he can focus on was one singular thing—every one of them must die. He wasn’t going to wait any longer, he will take them by surprise tonight.

Once everything was prepared, he got dressed in all black, adjusting the straps of his tactical gear, checking each weapon holstered at his side. He sling the bag that carried the guns and started to leave but not before he spotted an extra knife on the table.

He grabs it and looks up at the photo of the man who he was going to kill tonight. In one swift throw, aiming it between the eyes, it landed right where he wanted it. He was out for blood.

—

San had stormed into the abandoned factory that served as their hideout. Under the cover of the night he moved like a ghost through the shadows. He was like a predator who was silent and deadly with nothing to lose. The dagger in his hand gleamed in the dim light as he gripped it tightly, his gun holstered on his hip.

The first man never saw it coming—San approached him from behind, quickly covering the man’s mouth he jabbed the knife into his throat. He slowly and gently laid the body down without any noise, removing the knife as moved to his next location with precision with sharp eyes scanning every corner.

San hid as he counted the amount of men standing around. But soon enough he heard the commotion of voices yelling that someone intruded the warehouse which made the standing men on guard as they looked around, spotting San. “Over there!”

Gunfire erupted as they all pointed in the direction of San, but he didn’t flinch at the sounds instead he returned the fire with accuracy—watching the bodies drop one by one. His adrenaline was so high he didn’t even feel the bullet that grazed his arm.

Finally, one man left and unfortunately for him, he was all out of bullets. But fortunate for San as he grabs him and pins him against the wall, the man quickly surrendering as he lifts his trembling hands in fear. “Where is he?” San growled at the man with a gun to his forehead.

The just let out incoherent whimpers in fear as he shook his head. San didn’t have time to deal with this so he just knocked the guy out with the end of the gun and let him drop to the floor as he moved on. The further he moved in the building, the more the bodies piled up. Not once did he hesitate nor falter in his actions.

San was blinded by anger—he saw red in everything. With every face, San raised his weapon against it. It wasn’t until every single one of the men were either knocked out or dead. Finally, he reached the main office at the end of a hall to which he kicked open the door with such force that it almost came off its hinges.

Inside, cowering behind the desk, was the leader of the operation-His last target. He yelled in fright at the sound of the door slamming against the wall. He peaks over the table and lets out a shaky breath as he slowly stands up, raising his hands in surrender.

San slowly steps inside, eyes trained on the man, blood soaked into his clothes dripping on his hands as he grips the knife. The flickering bulb in the room made him appear even more terrifying, few cuts on his face-light casting shadows on his face with each movement towards the man.

The man lets out a nervous chuckle, hands still raised. "San," he gives him a nervous smile, “P-please,” the man stammered, his voice shaking. “We didn’t mean— I mean, I didn’t—”

He falls to his knees and bows as tears fall to the floor when San walks around the table and stands in front of him. The man looks up to san and collapsed his hands together, pleading to him. “P-please, San… I-I didn’t mean it! I never touched her! It—it was just leverage! Just words!”

San stayed silent as his sharp eyes bore into the crying man. He grabs his knife and slowly turns it in his hand making it catch the faint glint of the light. He crouches down to the man's level, lifting his chin up with the tip of the knife. “I spent the last five years making sure she was protected,” San spoke lowly, “Yet you still tried to make her part of your sick game. Thinking of her to begin with was your first mistake.”

San feels something within him come undone as he grabs a fistful of hair and aggressively forces the man up, causing him to scream out in pain and fear. San shoved him to the chair behind him and stabs the knife into his thigh, “You know what happens to men like you?” He whispered taunting him, leaning close to his face.

The man lets out a blood curdling scream, lips quivered as he stammered out, “I—please, I’ll leave the country! I’ll disappear! I’ll—”

San lets out a manic laugh as he stood up, "You'll disappear?" He mocked the man. "You're right. You will disappear and I will make sure of it." San said emotionless.

He slides out another knife from behind and stabs through the man's hand and wooden chair rest making him scream. “You think you can threaten her and walk away breathing?” San grabs the man by the side of his face and shoved his head to the side and repeatedly slams his head against the desk.

He lets him go and watched the man lean back in the chair catching his breath. San grabs him by the shirt and the man starts to sob out, “It wasn’t me! It—it was the others! I swear!”

San tilts his head to the side slightly, giving him a faint humorless smile. "The others are dead." His voice low, "All that is left is just you."

He lets him go and takes out his gun, "You know, you talk so much shit yet," San looks at him, "you're nothing but a coward. Threatening to harm the woman I love just to get to me? Pathetic." He spat out.

The man starts screaming out in agony and fright when he sees San preparing the gun and cocking it back—his scream echoed the empty halls. He circled around the man like a predator stalking its prey. “You don’t understand, please!” The man shouted as he gasped for air from the overwhelming pain he’s in. “I didn’t mean it! I was never going to hurt her or kill her! I promise you!”

"You think I give a fuck about what you meant?" He spat at him. “You wanted to hurt her,” San said, his tone dropping dangerously low. “And I’ll make sure no one will ever speaks of her name again.”

He extends his are out and the cold metal touched the forehead of the man, his finger resting lightly on trigger. The man widens his eyes, desperation flickers behind them a he shakes his head, “Please I–“

The sound of the gunshot resonated throughout the room and then—silence. San stumbles back in exhaustion and lets out a sigh of relief. He is free. He feels the weight coming off his shoulders. He can come home to you.

—

San staggers out the building, feeling his adrenaline leaving as he limps side to side. Holding onto his arm, feeling the pain of the graze and his body screaming in aching pain. His breaths were short and sharp as he tried keeping his vision clear.

The faint roaring of engines from the distance reached his ears making him look up. He squints at the bright headlights coming close. Soon black trucks speed to the scene, tires screeching as they come to a sudden stop, doors sliding open as men poured out the cars in suits and weapons attached to their bodies rushed past him and into the building.

San didn't even have to look to know who it was. He was just focused on making sure his legs don’t give up on him as his vision started blurring from exhaustion. A sleek black car skidded to a halt in front of him causing him to stop in steps. Lee then emerges out the car with a worried look on his face as he rushed to San.

“San!” Lee’s voice was sharp but softened as he reached him. Lee quickly removed his coat and draped it over San and without hesitation, pulled him into his embrace. Feeling safe now, San's legs give out, both of them sinking to the ground as Lee held him tightly. "It's over, son," Lee said softly in his ear, voice filled with relief that he was okay. "It's over."

San didn't respond immediately, his head resting against Lee's shoulder as he closed his eyes and let out a sigh through his shallow breaths, "It's over." San said hoarsely, a single tear fell down his cheek, cutting through the blood and slightly stinging the small cuts.

Everything was blur as San started to close his eyes of exhaustion. Lee's men shouting and rushing to secure the scene before the police came. Lee yelling for medical treatment for San and soon enough they draped his arms over their shoulders and helped him up and into the car.

Finally, he can go back to you.

—

HE RETURNS

It's been a week since everything has finally ended. San stands outside in his car, staring at what use to be his home for the past five years-the safe house. He nods, thinking to himself that it is time to go. He gets into car and drives off—leaving this part of his life for good.

The welcome sign of your city gets him both nervous and excited. He puts on the turning signal as he pulled into the parking lot of a small, cozy hotel and checks in. He places his bags down on the floor and unlocks the door, taking in the room. He breaths in and breaths out, happy to be back in somewhat of normalcy.

He grabs his bags and placed them on the small sofa near the window. He wasted no time in unpacking and making the room feel settled in. After he was done, he grabbed a white envelope and checks inside before tucking it in his jacket. There is something important he needs to take care of.

—

The bells chimed softly as San stepped inside the jewelry shop. He takes in the smell of of the shop as he scans the variety of cases that display beautiful shimmering gems and jewels of every color you can imagine.

"May I help you, sir?" A sweet lady comes up to him with a warm smile and hands behind her back.

San takes off his glasses and looks at her, returning a smile. "Yes," he cleared his throat. Despite the nerve wrecking feeling in his chest, her grandmotherly presence help put him at ease a bit. "I'm looking for an engagement ring. But it needs to be elegant, unique, or—no—special. Something special." His voice softened as he rambled a bit, scratching the back of his head.

The woman covered her lips with her hand as she chuckled lightly. "No need to worry," Her eyes twinkled with understand as he reassured him. She beckoned him to follow her to a display case, "Come. Let's see what we can find for you."

_

It must've been hours at this point and San has never been more confused over raindrop shape or pear shape, square or cushion. It felt like smoke was coming out of his ears, feeling stressed over wanting to get the perfect ring for you as the woman carefully laid out a selection of rings, explains the cuts, the settings, and the stones.

But throughout this whole process, his eyes kept drifting to a particular ring—a large square shape with two small ones on each side with a platinum band with smaller diamonds that twinkled like stars on it.

"That one." he said pointing to it. "That's the one for her." He felt the ring calling to him.

The woman's eyes followed his finger and smiled when she spotted the one he was talking about. She smiled as she went to unlock the case and grabbed the ring, placing it in front of him. “This is our timeless, exquisite piece. Made and crafted for someone special.”

He grabs the ring and brings it up the light. He loves the way it gleams like your eyes. This is the one for you. "She is. She's... my everything." He tells her as he placed the ring back down.

The woman reaches over and patted his arm gently, “She’ll love it.” Her expression softened.

_

"Good luck, my dear." She cleaned the ring and placed it securely into the velvet box with gloves. "I can tell she's going to say yes." She said as she hands it to him.

He places his sunglasses back on and pockets the velvet box, giving her a smile. "Thank you." He slides her a while envelope, "This is for you by the way." He tells her.

"Oh?" She tilts her head to the side slightly. She looks down and opens it, eyes widening at the amount of money inside, "Sir, I–" She stops in her words when she scans the room, but he is nowhere to be found.

—

It was a few days later and San stood in the distance as he blend in with the parents who were waiting for the school's dismissal. Soon enough the bell echoed throughout the school as kids bursted out with squeals of excitement and parents calling out their kid's name.

San immediately spots you as you opened your classroom door with a bright smile—the same one that captivate him years ago. He watched as you knelt down slightly as you said goodbye to each child with a smile and high five, some with hugs. He couldn't help but to also smile as he saw you in your element, watching you wave to a little girl who ran off giggling.

Your laugh was a melodic sound that he has missed for so long. Slowly the crowd starts to disperse, but he stays rooted in his spot. Finally, after some time, you step out of your classroom, locking it up. He felt time stopping as he watched you let down your hair, running a hand through it as you walked. His breath hitched—you're so beautiful.

It’s like the first day he saw you all over again causing him to be all lovestruck but then—your movements stilled as your eyes narrowed at him direction. He felt his pulse quickening when he saw that you had noticed him.

If it wasn't from the blinding sun and the silver fence that wrapped around the school that was obscuring your view, it would've been game over. His mind was screaming at him to run, to which he did as panic took over him. He got into his car and slammed the door shut, hands on the steering well and he exhaled sharply. “Fuck, that was close.”

—

He knows he shouldn't be doing this, but he can't help it. Although, his job is completed, he can't help but to still act in secret. He sneaked into your apartment, wanting to waste no more time and to confess everything to you. His movements were quiet and calculated as he slipped inside, gently closing the door, hearing a soft click.

The moonlight casted into the dark living room, illuminating some spots. Everything he saw was a reflection of you and it made his chest ache. He lifts his head when he hears the sound of water running—she must be showering.

He lets out a slow breath and moved deeper around the apartment with cautious steps. As he turned towards the kitchen, his foot ended up being caught at the corner of the rug making him stumble slightly causing the floor to creak underneath him. He froze, noticing that the shower had stopped.

He then moves to the kitchen, floor creaking with another step causing him to freeze again. His breath hitched in throat as the silence fills up the air. He can hear his heart thudding in his ears when the door of the bathroom creaks open, seeing the light shining in the hallway.

He then heard the faint sounds of your footsteps slowly walking down the hallway. His heart sinks when he sees the gun in your hands—lightly trembling as you stopped in the middle of the entrance.

He watches as your hands move frantically with every shadow you think you see in the room. He feels heartbroken knowing that he is the reason you have a gun—the reason you are like this-he just wants to explain everything to you and hopes that you understand why he did all that he did.

He slowly takes a step back causing the floor to creak once more. He mentally cursed at himself when he saw you pointing the gun to the kitchen, voice full of anger. “Show yourself.”

Slowly, he emerged from the shadows with his hands up. He felt nervous and terrified of the outcome. The way your voice slightly trembled when you asked him who he was, broke him. He closed his eyes and exhaled light, taking one step forward.

“S-San?”

THE END

[melancholy-of-nadia]

heart on the window #3 (m) | ksj

title: heart on the window (m) pairing: ksj x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; roommates au / streamer/cam boy au / office worker au, childhood rivals to awkward roommates to lovers? au summary: With secrets now revealed in the open, you and Seokjin cross a boundary you two never thought would happen ever before. After this night, you are now trying to figure out how to move forward in this new development in your friendship with him. However this leads to you having more questions about him, his secret lifestyle, and past relationships/hookups. Then, one casually suggestive joke by this man reawakens your competitive nature and rivalry with this man. note: apologies for the delay in getting this chapter out since i've been really busy with my new job. this chapter was 15k words long, and the editing of this was ROUGH. I had come to the conclusion to split it up in half, also so it wouldn't be overwhelming on yall. i tried to avoid this as I wanted this fic to be 5 chapters long, but I couldn't help but want to flesh out the interactions reader has with Seokjin so it became longer than I thought. warnings: mild language, roommate! seokjin, camboy! seokjin deserves its own warning because the vibes are different!, f*ngering, mast*rbation, voyeurism, org*sm, protected s*x, doggy style, s*x toys, fluffy moments, emotional vulnerability, dirty talk, implied adult content streaming (camming), pet names, brat! reader, brat tamer! seokjin drop date: January 20th, 2024, 11:00am pst word count: 8.5k crossposted on ao3 here <- chapter 2 | chapter 4 -> - -

"Then help me, already."

Those words hang in the air, charged and heavy. Jin's eyes widen, his breath hitching.

The flush on his cheeks deepens, spreading down to his neck, and he shifts slightly, as though trying to adjust something—something that's undeniably hardening beneath his loose pajama bottoms.

"O-Okay, fine! I’ll help you," he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "But I need you to do something for me first."

You blink at him, heat rushing to your face. "What is it?" you ask cautiously, already dreading whatever is going to come out of his mouth.

He hesitates for only a moment before blurting out, "Play with yourself."

Your jaw drops. "What?"

"You heard me," he says, his voice lower now, more serious. "Use the toy you got there and make yourself come and show it all to me."

Your mind is spinning. "The toy?! S-Seokjin, you’re not being reasonable right now!" you protest, your voice filled with shock and frustration. Teasing you like this feels like the cruelest kind of torture, especially after the spiral of emotions you’ve been through tonight. And for some reason, it feels more embarrassing to use the toy in front of him than your own fingers.

But there’s something about the way he’s looking at you, eyes hooded and lips slightly parted, that sends a thrill through you despite your indignation. This is the Seokjin you know—playful, maddening, and completely impossible.

Someone truly deserving of the title of “childhood rival”.

He leans closer, his voice dipping into that sultry tone you’ve only ever heard on his streams. "You want my help, right? Then show me how badly you need me. I want to see you lose yourself completely. Can you do that for me?"

You swallow hard, your pulse thundering in your ears. You know he’s testing you, pushing you to your limit, and somehow, you can’t bring yourself to back down.

Your breath catches as Seokjin's words settle over you, heavy and weighted with meaning. The challenge in his tone ignites something in you—a mix of defiance and anticipation.

“Fine. But i’ll use my fingers,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. You shift back against the pillows, your heart hammering in your chest. Your hands feel like lead as you tug your shirt up over your stomach, exposing bare skin to the cool air. The fabric gathers just below your breasts, leaving you vulnerable under his gaze.

Seokjin sits at the edge of the bed, his eyes locked onto you with an intensity that makes your pulse race. His lips part slightly, his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. Yet, his hands rest tensely on his thighs, his fingers digging into the fabric of his pants.

“You’re really making me do this,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re the one who asked for help,” he replies smoothly, his voice like velvet. “I’m just... motivating you.”

Your fingers move hesitantly at first, brushing the waistband of your shorts before slipping beneath. The heat between your legs is unmistakable, your arousal heightened by his stare. A quiet gasp escapes your lips as your fingers graze over your slick folds.

Seokjin shifts, leaning back just enough for his hand to graze over his own growing arousal. His movements are subtle, but you catch the way his palm presses against himself, his lips twitching at the corner.

"Don’t stop," he murmurs, his voice rougher now. "I want to see everything."

You shudder, your other hand moving up to tug your shirt higher, finally exposing your breasts to the air. Your fingers pinch gently at a nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. The combined sensations of your hands working in tandem leave you trembling, your soft moans filling the room.

Your hand falters slightly, and he notices immediately.

“You’re hesitating,” he says, his tone light but teasing. “Do you need me to guide you, Princess?”

Princess?!

You look at him sharply, your pride flaring. “I don’t need your saving yet.”

He smirks, leaning back slightly. “Oh? Then prove it.”

That’s all the encouragement you need. You close your eyes, shutting out the sight of him, and focus entirely on the building pressure within you with the goal of coming undone. Your movements become more confident and more deliberate. 

His gaze doesn’t leave you, his eyes tracing every movement, every shift of your body. His hand grips himself through his pants now, a soft exhale slipping past his lips. 

Your fingers dip lower, pressing more firmly against your aching core. A whimper escapes you as you circle your clit, your hips bucking into the motion. The pressure builds quickly, spurred on by his intense scrutiny and the quiet groan he lets out as he palms himself.

"That’s it," he says hoarsely, his voice thick with desire. "Don’t hold back. Let me hear how good it feels."

His words spur you on, your movements growing bolder, more deliberate. 

“A-Ah..!”

The pleasure surges, consuming you, until you’re trembling, your release crashing over you with a cry that leaves you gasping.

Three minutes is all it took.

Is it embarrassing it took that short to orgasm? Well, it has been a while since you’ve done this…

For a moment, the room is silent, save for the sound of your heavy breathing. Your body relaxes, sinking into the mattress, and you’re acutely aware of the way Seokjin’s chest heaves, the way his hand still rests over the bulge in his pants, with a slightly darker spot now appearing. His eyes meet yours, filled with admiration and unspoken desire.

You glance at Seokjin, still sitting at the edge of the bed, his dark eyes unwavering as they drink you in.

He hasn’t moved, hasn’t spoken—just watches. Lost in thought. His gaze is molten, his chest rising and falling in measured rhythm. For a fleeting moment, you think he might say something playful, something to break the tension.

You’re about to say something, your voice shaky and uncertain. “S-So what are you—”

Before the words can fully escape, Jin’s gaze flickers briefly to your laptop screen. His eyes widen, and without a word, he gets up suddenly, leaving the room in a hurry. The abruptness of his departure sends a wave of confusion and frustration washing over you.

“H-Hey!” you call after him, your voice tinged with disbelief and hurt. “Why are you leaving?”

Once again, the silence that follows feels deafening, each passing second amplifying the sting of rejection. Your chest tightens as your emotions spiral, the vulnerability of the moment leaving you feeling exposed and betrayed. Did you misread everything? Had you gone too far?

Your mind races, heart pounding as you sit frozen in place, but before you can drown in your thoughts, Jin quickly reappears in the doorway. His chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, his expression now calm yet resolute.

“I’m ending the stream,” he says simply, his voice carrying a quiet determination.

You blink, your breath catching in your throat. “W-What?”

He steps further into the room, his hands curling into fists at his sides as he speaks, each word deliberate. “I forgot I left the stream on pause, so I’m just ending it completely for tonight. No excuses, no coming back later tonight. Because right now, I want enough time to fuck you.”

Your eyes widen as his words sink in, the intensity of his gaze locking you in place. “Holy shit, Jin…”

His lips curve into a soft, almost shy smile, but his eyes remain dark with promise. “You asked for my help, right?” He leans down slightly, his fingers grazing your cheek as his voice lowers to a sultry whisper. “Then let me give you all my attention.”

Oh.

God, why is your heart going crazy over this? It must be the dopamine rush from orgasm or something making you feel this way. Don’t get distracted and waver so easily, Y/N!

“Okay,” You respond shyly as Jin scurries back to his room on the other side of the apartment.

He nearly trips over his own feet as he rushes to his room and towards his desk. His heart is pounding, and not just from the physical effort. The guilt gnaws at him as he pulls up the live stream, his audience still active and buzzing in the chat. The mic clicks on, and he leans into it, his voice soft but apologetic.

“Hey, everyone,” he begins, his usual confident tone replaced with something more subdued. “I’m so sorry to cut this short, but I have important matters to attend to. I really appreciate you all being here tonight, and I promise I’ll make it up to you in the next stream. Thanks for understanding. Take care, okay?”

The disappointment in the chat is instant, messages flooding in:

“Wait, already?!”“Is everything okay, BigTunaMan??”“Hope you’re okay! Take care!”

Jin ends the stream with a quick, guilty glance at the messages still scrolling. He’ll make it up to them later, he decides, but right now, there’s only one thing on his mind.

He bolts back to your room pushing the door open with a soft urgency. You’re now sitting where he left you, still flushed and disheveled, your expression a mixture of confusion and trepidation.

“Did you actually end the live...?” you begin, but the words trail off as he shuts the door behind him and leans against it, chest heaving.

“Yeah, I ended it,” he says simply, his lips quirking into a sheepish smile. “They’re probably going to riot in the comments of the channel, but it’s fine. I told them I had ‘matters to attend to.’”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile. “Matters to attend to? That’s your excuse?”

Jin shrugs, pushing off the door and crossing the room toward you. “What else was I supposed to say? ‘Sorry, everyone, gotta go take care of my horny roommate who’s been watching my streams and needs some help to reach an orgasm’?”

Your cheeks burn, and you groan, burying your face in your hands. “Please don’t remind me how embarrassing this situation is!”

His laughter is soft and warm as he sinks onto the edge of the bed beside you. “It’s not embarrassing,” he says, nudging your shoulder lightly. “Okay, well, maybe a little embarrassing. But only because you’re making it a big deal.”

You peek at him from between your fingers, catching the playful glint in his eyes. “Says the guy who just abandoned his fans mid-stream.”

“Abandoned is a strong word,” he counters, grinning. “I prefer ‘temporarily postponed for the sake of something—or someone—way more important.’”

Again, there it goes. Your heart skipping a beat at the way his gaze softens and the words that come out, the teasing fading into something gentler.

“You’re really just going to leave them hanging for me?” you ask, your voice tinged with incredulity, though the vulnerability in your tone betrays you.

Jin chuckles softly, his fingers brushing yours as he sits closer. “If it means making sure you’re getting your sexual health needs met, I’d even do it again in a heartbeat.”

You stare at him, caught between disbelief and the warmth blooming in your chest. “You’re ridiculous,” you mumble, though there’s no bite to your words.

“And you’re deflecting,” he counters smoothly, his grin softening into something more earnest. “Seriously, are you going to let me help, or do I need to sweet-talk you some more?”

Your breath catches at the way he’s looking at you, the weight of his gaze making it impossible to hide the heat rising in your cheeks. “Help doing what, exactly?” you murmur, your voice quieter now. You know what you want, but damn, it’s hard to say this to this man you’ve known since both of you were kids.

His lips curl into a slow, lopsided smile. “With whatever you need,” he says, his voice dipping into a tone that sends a shiver down your spine. “But you’ll have to tell me where to start.”

The charged silence that follows is nearly suffocating, your mind spinning with everything unsaid. When you finally meet his eyes, the sincerity you find there is enough to make the last of your hesitation crumble.

You groan, now avoiding his intense gaze as your eyes dart around the room. If you look at him for too long, you’re sure you’ll lose control and jump him right here and now.

Taking a shaky breath, you lift your shirt, exposing your breasts to the cool air, and then shimmy out of your shorts and panties, kicking them to the floor. You spread your legs slightly, the pale glow of moonlight streaming through the blinds casting soft shadows over your skin.

“Two options!” you say, your voice trembling but steady enough to convey your intent. You gesture first to your chest, then lower, where his attention seems naturally drawn. “Here or… here. You pick what you’re in the mood for.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, a wave of disbelief crashes over you. How the hell are you being this bold? You were never this bold with Mingi. Where is your shame? Your self-control? Your sanity?

Gone. Completely out the window. 

Potentially down the drain.

Like your life right now.

Jin’s jaw tightens, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. His eyes flicker between your chest and the apex of your thighs, lingering longer than you expect. “You’re full of surprises tonight,” he murmurs, his voice rough, tinged with amusement, and maybe even hunger.

He takes a step closer, his movements unhurried but deliberate, and the air grows heavier with anticipation. His fingers twitch at his sides, as though he’s restraining himself.

“Here’s the thing,” he says, his lips curling into a wicked smile. “I’m in the mood for both.”

Your breath catches as he kneels on the bed, his hands resting on either side of your thighs, caging you in. His gaze burns into yours, dark and smoldering, before he leans in closer, his breath warm against your neck.

“But if you’re going to let me pick,” he continues, his lips ghosting over your skin, “I think I’ll start…here.”

His hands glide up your sides, thumbs grazing the underside of your breasts, as his lips finally find their mark on the curve of your neck. The sensation is electric, a soft moan slipping past your lips as his mouth works its way lower, his tongue tracing patterns over your collarbone.

“Are you sure you can handle this?” he teases, his voice low, vibrating against your skin.

The words stir something in you, and your hands instinctively reach for him, tangling in his hair and pulling him closer. “Just shut up and keep going,” you manage to whisper, your voice shaky but resolute.

Jin chuckles, the sound vibrating against your chest as he presses a kiss to the swell of your breast. “You’re going to regret saying that,” he murmurs, his tone playful yet dripping with promise, before he takes you exactly where you want to go.

Jin’s lips hover above your breast, his breath warm against your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine. His eyes flick up to yours, holding your gaze for a moment that feels like an eternity. The intensity in his expression makes your heart race, and your chest rises and falls with uneven breaths.

“You’re trembling already,” he murmurs, his voice deep and velvety, washing over you like a caress. “Is this what you’ve been thinking about? All those nights when you couldn’t look me in the eye?”

“Jin…” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but it’s enough to spur him on.

He smirks faintly, his lips brushing the curve of your breast before his tongue flicks out to tease your nipple. The sensation makes you gasp, your back arching slightly off the bed. His hand cups your other breast, his thumb circling the sensitive peak with painstaking precision.

“Have you ever been treated gently like this before?” he asks, his voice a murmur against your skin. His words are a mix of curiosity and something more, something deeper that sends heat coursing through your veins.

“No…” you admit, your voice hesitant to speak. It’s true—this kind of tenderness, this deliberate worship of your body, is something you’ve never experienced.

His expression softens, though the fire in his eyes remains. “Good,” he says, his tone firm yet gentle. “Then let me show you how it’s supposed to feel.”

He shifts slightly, bringing his other hand to cradle your breast as his plush soft lips close around your nipple. His tongue moves in slow, deliberate circles, drawing sensations from you that make your toes curl. His free hand trails down your side, his touch featherlight, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

You can’t suppress the soft whimper that escapes your lips, and his gaze flicks up to meet yours again, his eyes dark and filled with satisfaction. He sucks lightly, his teeth grazing ever so gently, and the combination of sensations makes your head spin.

“F-Fuck,” you manage to gasp, your hands instinctively gripping the sheets beneath you.

His lips leave your skin momentarily, and he smirks, his voice a husky whisper. “You’re so sensitive…so responsive. It’s beautiful.”

He moves to your other breast, lavishing the same attention, his hand kneading gently while his mouth works its magic. Each movement feels intentional, as if he’s savoring every reaction he draws from you.

Your body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending alight with sensation. The slow, deliberate way he’s touching you leaves you breathless, and you find yourself sinking deeper into the mattress, utterly at his mercy.

"You’re doing so good," he murmurs against your skin, his voice barely audible but filled with conviction. "Just like a princess."

Your cheeks burn at the pet name, and you stammer, "I-I'm no princess!"

Jin pulls back slightly, his lips curling into a teasing smile, his breath warm against your chest. "Well, you’re about to get fully treated like one."

Before you can even process his words, his hands slide down your sides, gripping your thighs firmly. He spreads them wider, his gaze locked on your center with an intensity that makes your heart pound.

"Huh? A-Ah—"

Your words dissolve into a gasp as Jin lowers himself, pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh before moving closer to your core. The warmth of his breath against you makes you shudder, anticipation building with every passing second.

And then he dives in, his tongue tracing deliberate, languid strokes that make your back arch and a cry escape your lips.

"Jin!" you gasp, your hands flying to grip the sheets as your body reacts to the overwhelming sensation. “W-Wait…”

He hums in response, the vibration sending sparks through your already sensitive nerves. His hands grip your thighs tighter, holding you in place as his tongue works against you with precision, alternating between broad strokes and focused, teasing flicks.

"You taste even better than I imagined," he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and filled with satisfaction.

You can barely form a coherent thought, let alone a reply. All you can do is surrender to the waves of pleasure coursing through you, your body trembling under his touch. His movements are deliberate, almost reverent, as if he’s worshipping every inch of you.

"Jin, I’m going to—" You choke on your words as he sucks gently, his tongue circling your most sensitive spot. The heat pooling low in your belly tightens, and your hands instinctively reach for him, threading through his hair.

"That's it," he whispers against you, his voice laced with encouragement. "Let go for me, princess. Show me how good I make you feel."

The nickname, once teasing, now feels like a brand, sending you hurtling toward the edge. Your body tightens, and with one final, deliberate stroke of his tongue, you cry out, shattering beneath him.

Jin doesn’t stop immediately, guiding you through the waves of your release, his touch gentle yet insistent. When you finally come down, your body limp and trembling, he presses one last kiss to your thigh before looking up at you.

His lips glisten, his expression a mix of pride and tenderness as he climbs back up to meet your gaze. "See?" he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Told you I’d treat you like a princess."

"You’re so evil! How the fuck are you so good at this?!" you gasp breathlessly, your chest rising and falling with every rapid inhale. "Is it the streams you do? Research? Experience? Are you addicted to porn?"

Jin smirks, brushing his hair back casually. "Research and some experience," he replies smoothly, leaning closer until his lips are near your ear, "but ask questions later. For now, I'll give you the final course."

Your breath hitches as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his pajama bottoms, pushing them down in one fluid motion. Your eyes widen as you finally see him—his big cock, fully hard and even more impressive than you’d imagined from his streams.

"Holy—" The words slip out before you can stop them, your mouth falling open in a mix of shock and awe.

Jin chuckles, a low, deep sound that reverberates through the room. "Is it bigger than you thought?" he teases, his voice dripping with confidence.

You swallow hard, the heat rushing to your cheeks. Despite the overwhelming sight in front of you, you manage to respond stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest like you’re unaffected. "I-It’s not that big, but–," you say, though the slight quiver in your voice betrays you.

"Oh, really?" he interrupts, raising a brow, his grin widening. He leans in closer, the tip brushing lightly against your thigh, and you feel the heat radiating from him. "Guess I’ll just have to show you exactly how wrong you are."

Jin’s words hang in the air, thick with some unspoken promise. Before you can say anything, the sound of foil tearing fills the quiet room as he opens a condom he brought from his room early. His eyes are all on you, indulging in your presence.

His intensity is magnetic, and you’re completely captivated as he rolls the condom down over his length, every motion precise and deliberate.

“You’re nervous,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “Don’t be. I’ll take care of you.”

You nod, heart hammering in your chest as he moves closer, his warm hands finding your thighs and guiding them apart gently. The weight of his gaze on you is intoxicating, his thumbs stroking soft circles against your skin as he positions himself at your entrance.

"Relax for me," Jin whispers, his lips brushing the curve of your jaw before trailing down to your neck. The tenderness in his voice melts your tension, and you exhale shakily as he presses forward.

The stretch is startling at first, your body adjusting to his size as he sinks into you slowly, inch by inch. Your hands instinctively clutch at his biceps, your nails digging into his skin as he fills you completely.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmurs, his lips grazing your temple. His voice is filled with awe, like he’s savoring every moment. “Just like that, princess. So perfect.”

You shiver at his words, the nickname making your breath hitch. The sensation is overwhelming but quickly gives way to pleasure as Jin begins to move. His hips roll with a steady rhythm, his body pressed flush against yours.

“Jin,” you gasp, your hands gripping his arms tightly. “It feels… incredible.”

He smiles, his lips curving into a mix of pride and affection. Leaning down, he captures your lips in a kiss that’s deep and consuming, his hips never faltering. Each thrust is deliberate, sending jolts of pleasure through your body, leaving you breathless.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he breathes against your lips, his hands sliding down to cradle your waist, angling you slightly to deepen his strokes. “Taking me so well.”

You arch into him, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his as his pace quickens. The tension in your core tightens with every thrust, the heat between you building to an almost unbearable level.

Suddenly, he pulls back, his movements careful as he withdraws from within you. “Turn over for me,” Jin says, his voice rough with desire.

You hesitate moving,  as you’re comfortable where you are. But you move anyways, your body trembling with anticipation as you roll onto your stomach, then push yourself up onto your hands and knees. The cool air brushes your skin as you glance back at him nervously.

“Like this?” you ask softly, your voice trembling.

“Exactly like that,” he replies, his large hands trailing over the curve of your hips. He grips them firmly, steadying you as he lines himself up again. “You’re breathtaking.”

The first thrust steals your breath, the angle deeper than before, making your fingers claw at the sheets. Jin groans behind you, his voice husky and raw as he sets a steady pace.

“You feel so good,” he rasps, his hands sliding up your sides before one presses between your shoulder blades, encouraging you to arch your back further. “So tight, so perfect. My perfect princess.”

His words send a jolt through you, a mix of pleasure and emotion. You let out a cry, your body responding to every precise movement. Jin’s grip on your hips tightens as his pace increases, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.

“Jin, I’m so close,” you manage to gasp, your voice shaking as the tension coils tightly in your core.

“Let go for me,” he commands, his voice deep and velvety, full of conviction. “I’ve got you, princess. Let me feel it.”

His words are your undoing. You cry out, your body shuddering as your release washes over you in waves. The pleasure is blinding, leaving you trembling as you collapse onto the mattress, your legs weak and your breathing uneven.

Jin follows moments later, his grip on your hips firm as he thrusts into you one final time, groaning as his own climax overtakes him. He pulls out carefully, disposing of the condom before lying down beside you.

Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. His lips press soft kisses to your forehead, his voice a soothing balm in the quiet room. “You really are a princess,” he murmurs, his tone warm and affectionate. “And you do deserve to be treated like one.”

A forehead kiss and pillow talk?! Woah, woah, woah.

Is this some kind of post-nut clarity affecting him? 

You’re caught off guard by it completely. It feels a little too intimate. Too personal. Well, maybe you can’t say much because he literally just fucked you missionary and doggy style.

But you’ve never seen Jin be this affectionate before—it’s a bit jarring. 

Maybe he’s like this in his past relationships? Or situationships? Well you don’t know much or anything about that. You haven’t seen him since you were like 10 or 11.

You don’t know if you like this or not, but you’re scared to find out. He's a professional sweet-talker by now, thanks to camming and appealing to his audience, so maybe this is just part of his act while helping you. You try to brush it off and play along. Be the princess to his Mario or whatever.

You lean into his warmth despite your swirling doubts. The exhaustion from the emotional rollercoaster of the night begins to take hold, and your eyes grow heavy. Just as you’re on the verge of slipping into sleep, a thought nags at you.

“Why did you come into my room in the first place?” you mumble groggily.

Jin’s chest rumbles with a soft laugh. “Oh, right. It was to fix a Mario figure I have…”

Your brow furrows as a vague memory stirs. You recall seeing it on his desk in passing, that same little Super Mario figurine you had gifted him during Secret Santa in elementary school.

Back then, you’d been disappointed when you drew his name out of the hat. He was always difficult to please, never straightforward about his feelings. Even when he opened the gift, his silly and stubborn demeanor left you unsure if he liked it at all.

But now, knowing that he’s kept it all this time—and was worried enough about it breaking to interrupt his stream—it strikes a chord in you. It’s endearing, even sweet.

A small smile tugs at your lips, and before sleep fully claims you, you whisper, “You’re such a dork, Jin.”

He chuckles softly, adjusting the blanket around you with gentle care. “Yeah, but just know I’m the best dork you’ll ever meet,” he replies, his voice filled with warmth. His gaze lingers on you for a moment before he adds, “So, was I able to help you?”

You peek up at him through tired eyes, the corner of your lips quirking up despite yourself. “I guess you were able to do the job,” you tease, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

The sunlight filters softly through your blinds, stirring you from a surprisingly deep sleep. You stretch languidly, letting out a small yawn as your mind catches up to the events of the previous night. Your hand instinctively reaches out to the other side of the bed, but all you’re met with is empty sheets.

You sit up, confused, until a rich, buttery aroma wafts into your room. Pancakes?

Curiosity tugs you from the warmth of your blankets, and you pad out of your room toward the kitchen. The sight awaiting you stops you in your tracks: Jin, dressed in a loose white t-shirt and blue plaid pajama bottoms, flipping pancakes in a pan with an almost childlike enthusiasm.

“Good morning!” he greets you brightly, turning his head to flash you an impossibly wide smile. The sight of him so animated and cheerful is almost jarring compared to his usual composed, teasing demeanor.

You blink, trying to reconcile this sunny disposition with the Jin you know. “Uh… good morning?” you reply cautiously, stepping further into the kitchen.

Jin places a perfectly golden pancake onto a growing stack, humming a tune under his breath. “I figured after intruding on you last night, I owed you a proper breakfast,” he says casually, though the playful glint in his eye betrays him.

“Oh, why, thank you…” You cross your arms, leaning against the counter as you watch him work. “You’re surprisingly in a good mood though,” you remark, your tone more curious than accusatory. “What’s with the pep in your step?”

He shrugs, pouring more batter into the pan. “Can’t a guy just be happy?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You? Happy first thing in the morning? That’s new.”

Jin chuckles, setting the spatula down for a moment to turn and face you fully. “What can I say? Last night was… enlightening to say the least,” he says, his voice dipping ever so slightly. “Plus, I like taking care of people I care about.”

Your cheeks warm at his words, and you shift your weight, pretending to focus on the stack of pancakes. But instead of letting the moment pass, a question burns on your tongue, one you’ve been dying to ask since last night.

“Is it fine if I ask you a question?” you venture, glancing up at him hesitantly.

Jin doesn’t miss a beat, flipping the last pancake with practiced ease. “Go for it.”

You take a breath, crossing your arms as if to brace yourself. “How did you... start doing this camboy thing?”

His hands still for a moment, and he sets the spatula down carefully before turning to face you. “You really want to know?”

“Well, yeah!” you reply quickly, gesturing vaguely. “I mean, I would have never expected you to do and be into this kind of thing... let alone be good at, you know, sex.” The last words come out as an embarrassed mumble, and you immediately wish you could take them back.

Jin’s ears turn a deep shade of red, his confident demeanor faltering slightly. “You think I’m good at sex?” he teases, though his voice cracks just a little, betraying his flustered state.

You groan, covering your face with both hands. “That’s not the point! Answer the question, Seokjin.”

He laughs softly, the sound warm and genuine, and it helps ease some of your own tension. “Alright, alright,” he says, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. “It started as a joke, actually. Do you remember Yoongi Min? He was another Korean kid from the class next door in grade school.”

The name doesn’t really ring a bell, but you do recall a face of a boy who has cat-like features and would talk to him occasionally, being silly and all. “I honestly don’t remember.”

“Well, even after I moved away, I managed to stay friends with him and we ended up going to the same college.”

“I see,” you murmur.

“And a few months back, I invited him over and we got drunk. He knows about my gaming streams, but he told me, ‘You know the groans you make while playing rage bait games sound like moans? People would pay a lot of money for that. You should do porn.’”

“That’s insane!?” you exclaim, your eyes wide in disbelief.

Jin chuckles at your reaction. “Yeah, it’s crazy. But somehow, he convinced me to start doing camboy streams. I thought it’d be funny, so I did. But then... people started watching. Like, a lot of people.”

You lower your hands slightly, peeking at him as he talks. “So, it just... snowballed from there?”

He nods, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Pretty much. At first, it was all a joke, but then I realized there was a real market for... well, more intimate stuff. I did my research, figured out what people liked, and I guess I just got good at it.”

You tilt your head, studying him. “Did it ever feel weird? Or wrong?”

Jin’s expression softens, and he shakes his head. “Not really. I mean, I don’t do anything I’m not comfortable with and my face is hidden. It’s given me a lot of confidence too, honestly. Knowing people like what I put out there? It’s kind of empowering.”

You chew on your bottom lip, processing his words. “I guess that makes sense,” you say quietly. “I just... it’s still so surreal, knowing you of all people do this.”

He smirks, reaching over to ruffle your hair. “Life’s full of surprises, princess. Besides, you can’t say you didn’t enjoy the results of my ‘research.’”

Your face burns, and you swat his hand away. “Don’t push your luck, Seokjin.”

He laughs, returning to the stove to plate the pancakes. “Fair enough. Now sit down before your breakfast gets cold.”

You and Jin sit across from each other at the small dining table, the smell of freshly made pancakes still lingering in the air. You’re halfway through your second one, drizzling extra syrup onto the fluffy stack as Jin sips his coffee. His cheerful demeanor this morning is infectious, and you find yourself smiling more than you’d expected. The conversation drifts to other trivial topics—memories from high school, your shared disdain for the overly competitive campus trivia nights, and even a brief debate over the best Mario Kart track. It’s light, easy, and comfortable, and for a moment, you almost forget the weight of everything that happened between you two last night.

Jin leans back against the counter, finishing the last of his coffee before setting the mug in the sink. “Anyway, I should head out. I’m meeting Yoongi at the cafe to get some work done.”

You nod, masking the flicker of disappointment that he’s leaving. “Oh, right. You said he works at a music label?”

“Yeah, he’s a producer there. He’s been helping me figure out some... creative stuff on the side,” Jin says vaguely, grabbing his bag. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.”

“Very funny,” you mutter, rolling your eyes as he heads toward the door. “Tell this Yoongi I said hi, even if I don’t remember him.”

Jin smirks. “Will do, princess.” With that, he’s gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

The afternoon stretches before you, and you attempt to focus on applying for jobs, but your mind betrays you. Every time you start to type out a cover letter or tweak your resume, your memories wander back to last night.

The way Jin’s hands felt, the way he touched you like you were something precious—it’s impossible to shake. You keep replaying it in your head, trying to lock the details into your memory as if freezing the moment will keep it from fading.

It was the best sex you’ve ever had, and you can’t deny it. Mingi, your ex, couldn’t hold a candle to whatever magical touch Jin seems to possess. And yet, doubt nags at you.

This was a one-time thing, you tell yourself, even as a pang of longing blooms in your chest. He probably only did it out of pity—he saw how lonely you were, how desperate. There’s no way it meant anything to him. Not when he does this as part of his side job.

The thought twists uncomfortably in your stomach. Jin’s side gig as a camboy, while surprising, also raises questions you can’t ignore. Does he...ever do this with other people? You've seen posts on Twitter from OnlyFans creators teasing "special guests" in their content. Is Jin the type to collaborate?

Your curiosity itches at you, relentless and demanding. You open your laptop and navigate to the site he uses. His page is easy enough to find again, but as you scroll, your questions only multiply. There are videos locked behind a subscription paywall, tantalizing thumbnails blurred just enough to leave you guessing.

You hesitate, biting your lip. Spending money you don’t have to satisfy your curiosity feels reckless, but the mystery gnaws at you. Does he do this with others? Was last night just practice for his real work?

But you can’t bring yourself to click. Not yet, at least. With a frustrated sigh, you slam your laptop shut and bury your face in your hands.

Why do you even care? Last night was just a one night type of thing. You don’t see yourself with Seokjin anyways.

And yet…

Overthinking is what got in the way of your last relationship until it all came crashing down.

Early in the evening, Jin returns from his outing and sees you folding your laundry in the living room. The smell of Korean soybean paste soup fills the room, making his expression soften when he notices your prepared meal.

“You made dinner?” he asks, surprised.

He sets his bag down by the couch and moves to join you.

You shrug, trying to act casual as you fold another shirt. “Thought it’d be a nice way to say thanks. You know...for everything.” 

You don’t know how to make many Korean foods, but this one is one you learned how to make from Yunjin in college. 

His lips twitch into a small smile. “Well, thanks. It smells amazing.”

You glance at him as he ladles a bowl of soup, taking a seat and diving in eagerly. “How was your meet-up with Yoongi?”

“Not bad,” he says between bites. “I told him that you found out my secret.”

You freeze, your eyes widening. “Y-You what?”

“N-Not how I found you flicking your bean and how we had sex!” he adds hastily, waving his spoon.

Your shoulders slump in relief, but something about his nonchalant tone makes your cheeks burn all over again.

Still, this feels like the perfect opening for what’s been nagging at your thoughts all afternoon. You clear your throat, hesitating only briefly before asking, “Wait, Jin, there’s something I’m curious about.”

“Go for it.”

You hesitate, your hands pausing mid-fold. “Since you do solo cam work...I was wondering if you’ve ever done collaborations with other people before. Like, working with camgirls, by any chance?”

Jin raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Why? Are you curious to know about my sex life?”

“H-Hey! It’s not that at all!” you stammer, quickly looking away. “It’s just...” How do you say this without sounding weird—or jealous? You fumble for words, finally settling on, “You’re so good at what you do, so I was wondering...where you got your experience from.”

A flicker of something crosses Jin’s face—amusement, maybe, or pride. He sets his spoon down, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Well, I actually was dating someone a few months before I started my gaming streaming.”

“You were?”

“Yeah,” he says, his tone softening. “I met her at my first job, working at an entertainment agency. We dated for a few years, but we ended it mutually. It wasn’t anything dramatic—just... one of those things, you know?”

You nod slowly, absorbing this new information. “So...did she teach you some of this stuff?”

He chuckles, a low, warm sound. “Some of it. But a lot of what I know now came after we broke up. Research, self-practice...some trial and error. I guess it just stuck.”

Your cheeks flush, your mind inadvertently wandering back to last night. You still can’t quite wrap your head around how someone can be that good. “I see.”

Jin’s gaze lingers on you for a moment before he speaks up again, clearly sensing your lingering curiosity.

“So, your answer to the question about you doing collaborations with camgirls is...?” you press, your voice tinged with both curiosity and hesitation.

He leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “I haven’t.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah,” he says with a casual shrug. “I mean, I’m a pretty confident guy, and I think I’m handsome, but doing collabs with random or established camgirls or OnlyFans girls makes me nervous.”

You blink at his admission, letting out a small breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It almost feels like a sigh of relief. Wait—why are you relieved?

Jin notices, his lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Why did you ask? Did you want to appear in a collab with me on Chaturbate?”

“Huh?” Your face heats up instantly. 

Woah, woah, woah. Wait, where is this coming from?!

“You’re not a camgirl by any means,” he continues, his tone softer now. “But after last night, it got me...thinking.” His voice dips into something shyer, almost uncertain, as he rubs the back of his neck.

Your stomach flips at his words, though you can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or something else entirely. “Thinking about what?” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jin hesitates, clearly bracing himself. “Thinking about how good we were together. And...maybe how it’d feel to do that again. With you.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re both silent. In his head, he’s already convinced you’re going to shut this out and call him a pervert, but you don’t.

“So you want to have sex…or do acts in front of the camera… for your BigTunaMan channel and your fans?” you ask, your voice slower, more deliberate, letting the question hang heavily in the air.

If you were any other girl, you’d probably be storming out of the room right now, completely scandalized. But instead, there’s a strange buzz low in your stomach, a heat you don’t entirely want to admit. Why are you into this?

Your heart pounds in your chest as you search Jin’s face for his reaction. He’s caught off guard, sure, but there’s a flicker in his expression—something unsure, something vulnerable, but undeniably intrigued.

The thought rolls over in your mind: What if you did this? What if you let yourself step into his world? There’s an allure to it, a kind of rebellious excitement. The risk, the intimacy, the sheer wildness of the idea—it pulls at you, even if you don’t fully understand why. And then there’s Jin. If this is an excuse to relive last night’s intensity, to feel his touch again, to share that connection—hell, maybe you’d risk more than you should.

The words leave your mouth before you can second-guess them. “Do I get paid?”

“Huh?!” Jin’s voice cracks, his shock palpable as he straightens, staring at you like you’ve grown a second head.

You tilt your head, feigning nonchalance, even as your pulse thunders in your ears. “If I help you with your little channel,” you say slowly, almost teasingly, “will you pay me? I mean, it’d be an easy job in the meantime until I find an actual one and it’ll provide some money for me. And as long as I’m not showing my face, there’s no real risk, right?”

His face flushes deep red, and he stammers, “H-Hold on! I wasn’t actually serious about it, I was just—” He pauses, his hands gesturing aimlessly as if trying to find the right words. “Why are you agreeing to this so quickly?!”

You shrug, leaning back against the chair  with a smirk you’re barely holding back. “I mean, for starters, it sounds kinda fun.”

“Fun?!” he repeats, incredulous.

“Yeah,” you say simply, watching the color climb his neck. “I’ll get paid—maybe—still waiting for you to confirm that,” you add, arching a brow. “And…I’ll also finally forget about my loser ex-boyfriend.”

His jaw drops slightly, and he stares at you like you’ve just flipped his world upside down. You don’t miss the way his eyes narrow briefly, processing your words. Something shifts in his expression—a flicker of something darker, hungrier.

“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice quieter now, but with a sharp edge of disbelief.

You hold his gaze, trying not to let the tension unravel you. “Depends,” you say softly, almost a challenge. “Are you?”

The silence between you crackles with electricity. You swear you can hear your heartbeat in the quiet. Jin’s lips part, and his tongue darts out briefly to wet them, a nervous tell that makes your stomach flip.

“I mean,” he finally starts, his voice almost hesitant, “I was half-joking, but now you’re making this sound real.”

You let out a soft laugh, though your voice trembles slightly. “Well, if it did become real, at least you know I’m down.”

His mouth opens slightly, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know where to start. The vulnerability on his face makes your heart skip a beat. Jin, usually so smooth, so confident, looks completely caught off guard.

“You’re not just doing this to distract yourself from your ex, are you?” he asks after a moment, his voice softer, more serious.

You pause, the weight of his question settling between you. “Maybe a little,” you admit honestly. “But also…because I trust you, Jin.”

His gaze softens further, his brows knitting together like he’s trying to make sense of you.

“And,” you continue, your voice dropping, “if last night was any indication, I know we’d kill it together. I will also not catch feelings for my own rival.”

His breath catches, and you don’t miss the way his fingers curl slightly against his thighs, as if restraining himself.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he sighs finally, his voice low and rough.

You smirk, leaning forward slightly, closing the space between you. “Only when I want to be.”

Jin shakes his head, a soft, disbelieving laugh escaping him. 

You feel like you’ve won in this teasing war, until suddenly, his expression changes.

His eyes narrow slightly, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. It’s a familiar look, one that pulls at an old, buried memory—one of him standing across from you in the schoolyard, arms crossed, with that same cocky grin plastered on his face. Back then, he was always looking for ways to one-up you, always trying to prove he was better, faster, smarter. Jin loved a challenge, and you were his favorite target.

But now? Now, that grin feels different. It feels heavier, laced with something sharper, something more daring.

“Then let’s do it,” he says, his voice low and filled with conviction.

Your stomach flips, a mix of excitement and nerves tumbling inside you. You search his face, trying to gauge if he’s joking or if he’s actually serious this time. The intensity in his gaze tells you everything you need to know.

“Wait, you’re not messing with me?” you ask, your voice coming out a little smaller than you’d like.

Jin leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, closing the distance between you. His smirk softens into something more genuine, but his eyes—dark and steady—don’t waver. “You think I’d back down from a challenge? Come on, you should know me better than that by now.”

Your breath hitches. The air between you is thick, charged with a tension that feels impossible to ignore.

“You’re really serious about this,” you say softly, more a statement than a question.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he counters smoothly, tilting his head slightly. “You threw it out there, and I’m not one to half-ass things. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

The confidence in his tone sends a shiver down your spine. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry.

“Okay,” you say, trying to match his energy, though your voice wavers just slightly. “But just so we’re clear—this is strictly business. No funny business.”

You refuse to catch feelings for him, so putting it out there now that this is just a fun sex work type of job with an old friend is the boundary you’re making.

Jin lets out a sharp laugh, leaning back against the couch. “Funny business? Do you even hear yourself?” He grins, his teeth flashing. “You’re the one who just volunteered to do this. If anything, I should be worried about you crossing the line.”

Excuse you?!

“Me?!” you sputter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’re the professional here!”

“Exactly,” he says, his voice dripping with smugness. “Which means I know how to keep it professional. You, on the other hand…” He trails off, his grin widening as your blush deepens. 

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Fine. Whatever. Just tell me when we’re starting so I can be prepared.”

Jin leans forward again, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “Tomorrow night,” he says simply.

“Tomorrow night?!”

“What? You said you wanted to do this. No point in waiting.”

You can’t argue with that. He clocked you right there.

Your head spins at the thought, but the look in Jin’s eyes grounds you. This is happening. Whether you’re ready or not, you’ve officially entered his world. Oh, fuck.

-

-

-

a/n: it's been a month since i updated the series with chapter 2... once again, totally apologize for the delay. i really thought i'd have more time, which during christmas time, i kind of did (which is why i wrote ch3 all throughout that time). But once the new year started, my manager had me like a pack mule and completing random heavy loaded tasks, so the process of revising and editing the 15k words i original wrote for the chapter became... impossible. i tend to hate splitting chapters unless things feel to jarring of a transition within one chapter that it would make sense for it to become a whole other chapter. But now considering the many shitty tasks I may get in the near future as well as to not overload you with a load of shit going on in one chapter... it made sense to just split it off. Ch 4 (which is the 2nd half of this chapter) will be release in 2 weeks confirmed! i'll finish doing some edits for that and i'll also start on ch 5. This series will end with chapter 6 for sure! i would like to move on from this fic and get some of my other ones ready and cooked up!

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ check out my masterlist for other fics I have made

[divaofmads]

MOB WIFE | JOEL MILLER

☠️It is inspired by an Italian mafia who turns into a mafia boss when a woman enters his life while he was a physics teacher.☠️

I'm not someone who has a mafia fetish, but I definitely have a fetish for imagining Joel Miller as a mafia or a teacher. ^^

☠️WARNINGS: ‼️18+ only‼️, Age Gap (early 20s/ late 30s), oral for male and female, bdsm, punishment, No Y/N, Betraying, Daddy Kink, Some Getting Harm, female reader, Joel turns very Creepy and Dark, Rough Sex, lovers to enimies, Sexual Violence, Crime, Blood, Murder, No Orgasm for you, Slang!, Language!!!

Note: I am an amateur for all these and apologize for any mistakes I made as English is not my native language.

Word: 15k+

~ Don't get inspired, just read and enjoy ~

Before becoming a mafia member, Joel was an academic in the thermodynamic department. He had a peaceful life. The only problem was the difficulty of the course he taught. Most of the time he would write questions on the board and no one would understand them. And those who thought they understood topics could not perform well in the exams. Luckily, you were there. You had an insatiable interest in chemistry and physics since high school. It was only natural that you would shine in this course, which was a mixture of the two subjects. For the past forty minutes, you would discuss topics one-on-one as if it were just the two of you in the class. You would go to his office after class and even though he had a lot of work to do, he would always make time for you. Sometimes, while discussing the effect of entropy on life, you learned details from your own lives, which brought you closer. Joel looked into your eyes like no one else had ever looked in. His eyes contained love, compassion, and happiness. As you realized his interest in you, regret, sadness and love appeared in your eyes. Because you hid your family. Everyone thought your last name was completely coincidental. You were a big liar and the consequences for that lie would be disaster for both of you.

After class ended, if your departure times were the same, you went to the front of the building where his office was located and waited for him. Although he was surprised to see you at first, after he got used to it, he would walk out the door with a smile. He had his laptop bag in one hand, his jacket draped over the finger of his other hand and placed it over his shoulder, your engineering books between your body and your arms, you were walking slowly down the tree-lined path. Even though you were brave, you were too shy to talk. He would say the first word to start a conversation. Sometimes, you got nervous when it came to your family. You had to lie. Your mother was a housewife, your father was a taxi driver. Since your financial situation was below average, you worked a part-time job. You couldn't leave your family. Despite everything, you had a happy family. While all these lies were coming out of your lips, the fact that your father killed your mother was harassing you. You felt trapped between all these lies and truths. Your face was down, emotions showing on your face. Joel, misunderstanding the reason for your discomfort, wrapped his arm around your shoulder and made suggestions to you.

But now you've changed a lot. You were not interested in the lesson anymore. Even though you seemed to be watching the board with your elbows on the table and your head supported by your hand, you were startled when Joel asked you a question.

It was another day when you weren't paying attention to class. Because there was a boy on your mind. He was obsessed with you and he knew who you were. He knew who you were in love with. If you didn't go out with him, he would tell everyone who you really were. All your lies would come out and Joel would hate you. Your friends would stop seeing you or anyone who wanted to take advantage of your power would become your friend. In fact, the boy's father was using him. They were rich and wanted to strengthen their company by taking support of you which is the member of respectable mafia family.

You frowned as you looked at the second law of thermodynamics written on the board, thinking about what the boy had told you. Entropy is the thermal energy term that best describes life and death. While this topic should interest you, your gaze is actually proof that you are not in class, and your flinching and stuttering whenever he asks you a question was really getting on Joel's nerves. He was aware that your capacity was not ordinary like others. He was also aware that if he worked on you at this young age, you could be one of the good scientists of the future. What happened to you? He had to find out.

"I want you to leave the classroom." Joel said while writing a question on the board. At first, no one understood. Everyone was looking at him with blank stares. The chatty student in the class asked him who he was talking about. Pedro turned his body towards the students and looked at you. The others followed the lecturer's eyes. You were ashamed. You didn't deserve what Joel did to you. You could have defended yourself, but you didn't. Besides, you had more important things on your mind than thinking about these things. You were angry with him, you were hurt. You unzipped your bag and stuffed everything on the table inside. Your movements were loud. You were stepping on your heels hard as you left the classroom.

Joel called you. “Come to my office after class!”

Everyone was surprised at how the topic had come to be and how it had trapped you in its center.

You wanted to get out of the building and run as far as you could. There were plenty of places on campus where you could hide. You had gotten tired of crying over time. You were wiping your eyes with the backs of your fingers when you saw a beautiful cat watching you. You sniffed and looked at the cat. Had the goddess Bastet come? This nobility inspired you. You picked up your bag and took out your little sketchbook. You hadn’t picked up a pen in a long time to express your art. Your creative spirit had finally come out of the cell it had been locked up in for a stupid young man. The cat had long gone from you, but who cared? You had seen that cat with your mind, not with your eyes. The cat with black and cinnamon fur looking at you haughtily, was dancing in your notebook, searching for happiness in the thorny arms of gloom.

"Painting is another way of keeping a journal." He said. You knew who the voice belonged to.

So you responded without looking up. "Pablo Picasso."

When you saw him sit next to you, you compromised your comfortable position and show respect to your lecturer, despite what he did to you.

He asked without looking at your face. "Why didn't you come to me after class?"

"If I had go to office of someone who wronged me early, I might have said things I would regret later." you replied.

Joel was amazed by your sincere response. You had brought up the subject that bothered you without breaking the barrier of respect. It was a sensible, intelligent response for a twenty-one year old girl.

"Is it unfair that I am angry because you no longer pay attention to class, ignore the lessons, and lower your grades?"

You replied with a sad look. "I'm not special to you anymore, am I? I'm not different."

Joel looked at you. “Do you think I feel that way about you?”

He took the sketchbook from your hand and waved it in the air. "Who else could do this besides you?And I haven't seen that notebook on your desk in months."

He didn't answer your question. He really kept an eye on you all the time. While you were chatting with your friends in the cafeteria, while you were doing research in the library.

You pressed your lips together shyly and looked down. “I haven’t felt this cared for in a long time. Thank you, Mr. Miller.” It was your first smile after class.

"You don't have to date a guy like Bill in order to love yourself. Don't be fooled by his popularity. He's nothing. And neither are those who follow him."

You were very surprised. He had misunderstood your closeness with Bill, but he knew about you.

"I wish I could make you aware of yourself," he said with meaningful looks. "Then you would understand who you really belong to." You didn't know why, but you felt strange.

You stammered, "Thank you for this nice conversation, Mr. Miller," and stood up. "See you on Wednesday."

You felt his eyes still on you as you walked away. You couldn't see, but you knew. It was exciting. Maybe it was just the typical young woman erotomania you had in mind.

He gave you strength and you no longer cared about what Bill told you. Joel cared about you. Of course, as a mature man, he would see through the lies you told and support you.

You were as active as ever in Mr. Miller's classes. You asked questions and talked about the subject you had researched the day before. While you usually avoided classes, you now listened to the lesson alone, ignoring Bill.

By the time Joel put a question mark at the end of the equation he wrote on the board, you had already solved it and were shouting the answer with excitement. He turned to you and smiled with satisfaction,

"Not bad at all, well done," he said, making you proud among the other students.

But your disregard for him was starting to get on Bill's nerves. He wanted to have fun with you and make love. To satisfy his sexual desires. You were the most attractive girl in school and he had already made you his own. You were the chosen one for him. You should have been grateful to him and done everything he said as if you wanted to please your king.

One day Joel was sitting in his office checking the exams. He wasn't happy with any of them. The highest grade was DD and when he saw that he was about to cry with happiness(!) Of course your paper was at the top of the list. Although he was hoping for an A+, he was also very happy that you got a B+. It really gave him hope that you were starting to get back to your old self. But not everyone thought like him. He heard shouting from the window. A girl and a boy were getting into a verbal fight. And the girl's voice was familiar. He got up from his chair and went to the window. How upset he was to see you fighting with Bill! That young dude was in a relationship she didn't deserve.

The more you tried to fix things with Bill, the more he scolded you, thinking he was the worst. He was practically forcing you to do something. You were begging him, but he wasn't listening. If you didn't do what he said, it would be bad for you. The other students around were looking at you with question marks and astonishment. Joel couldn't stand the injustice you were doing to yourself, so he clenched his teeth and fists. He could go downstairs and make him regret the day he was born after taking him away from you. He should have spent the day in the hospital corridors because he upset you. If you were together, he would have a nice meal with you after school to celebrate your success. However, you were ignorant because of your age. A mature man knows how to treat a woman in front of him, and would satisfy a woman's desire for a relationship to the fullest. He wanted to make you experience this, but he also respected that he wouldn't want to spend his life with an old man.

Joel wanted to put all this 'blind love' nonsense aside. It was time for the woman he loved to open her eyes. He looked at you again from the window of his office and called out, his tone hardening.

"Come to my office right now!"

The students around you were also watching you curiously.

You looked up reluctantly and turned your head from side to side to show that you didn't want this. It would be best to surrender yourself to loneliness and get depressed. But Joel's angry gaze was more than enough to break your stubbornness.

You puffed out your cheeks and whined like a little girl.

Joel was pacing back and forth while waiting in the office. He was too anxious and nervous to wait. The moment the door opened and he saw you in front of him, he released his anger.

"What are you doing! Do you realize you're ruining your youth for someone like him!"

You were sobbing. "No matter what I do I can't stop him, I've done everything he wants but he wants more!"

Joel got angry. You heard how his tone got harsher. "I told you! I warned you! Why are you with that son of a bitch and not someone who loves you!"

The curse you heard from your teacher had stopped your crying, turning your sadness into confusion. Since it was lunch break, there was no one on the office floor, thank God.

No matter how much you were aware of the hatred in the man's eyes, the pain he was hiding inside had settled in your heart. You didn't know what to say. Should you tell him everything?

"Why does my life concern you!" You tried to ask for an explanation, but it was more of curiosity. You wanted to know the reason. If you knew, if he had told you the truth while looking into your eyes... Were you ready for a single word that came out of his lips?

Your question frustrated Joel. He kept his eyes fixed on the wall behind you, thinking. He muttered to himself.

"You're right. It's my fault," he said and motioned you to the door. You turned back to Joel, looking guilty and slowly walking towards the door. Before you walked out the door, you looked at him again and whispered.

"We don't have the relationship you think. There's a lot you don't know about me."

He frowned, finding it strange. “What do you mean?”

You were about to leave the office without answering when Joel grabbed your arm and pulled you to him, hugging you tightly. He was kissing your hair. “What’s wrong with you?” then he took your face in his hands. His gaze was stern. “I’m here for you, do you hear me? Tell me everything, no matter what.”

"I am that person," you said. Joel looked into your eyes as he stroked your hair, urging you to continue. "My last name is. I am the daughter of a famous mobster. Bill. Bill knows that, and his family is using me to get close to my family. He's threatening me with you. He's threatening to ruin your life and complain to my father. He knows how much I love you."

Joel pulled away from you in shock. “This can’t be happening, you…”

You were crying.

Joel grabbed your arm and pulled you back into his office, closing the door behind him. “Those stories you told, were they all lies?”

You wrapped your arms around your chest. You couldn’t look at him; your eyes were fixed on a spot on the floor. The corners of your eyes were red and swollen from crying. “Yes, but I wanted to hide from the sins of my family for once. I wanted people to look at me normally, Joel. I wanted them to meet me and spend time with me with neutral feelings. It wasn’t my choice to be born into this family. I’m so sorry.” Tears flowed down your cheeks, creating an image resembling roads.

Joel didn’t know what to do or say. All he knew was that he didn’t want you to cry in front of him. He wanted you to be strong. You shouldn’t have to answer to anyone. His fingers gripped your chin roughly and tilted your head up. He wanted to change the fear in your eyes. He suddenly brought his face closer to yours and brought his lips to yours. His tongue was exploring the inside of your mouth. His fingers on your jaw were now caressing your cheeks.

He pulled his head back and hugged you tightly. “Maybe you should have sought heaven in the arms of a man who desires you. Not by hiding behind lies.”

It was hard to talk while crying. "I couldn't drag you into the dark pit of my life, but I can't take it anymore. I had to tell everything to someone I trusted."

You were the woman Mr. Miller called 'my weakness'. Of course, it was impossible for him to resist you when you were talking to him like that. He looked at her with displeasure. His attitude was strict. "Don't worry about anything that bothers you. Just know that I am here for you and will always be here for you."

Without waiting for you to respond, Joel moved towards your lips, wanting all that waiting to end. He was kissing you so hard that he held you tightly by the waist, feeling that you couldn’t keep your balance. His fingers touched your cheek and squeezed your lips between them, making them part. This way, his tongue could easily find its place in your mouth. You felt ticklish as the papillaes rubbed against yours. His saliva was flowing from the tip of his tongue to yours; it was warm. Almost equal to his body temperature. Then he took his tongue out and tasted the outside of your lips. In the meantime, one of his hands was in your hair, pressing you against him. Your hair was under his fingers. He suddenly grabbed them and tilted your head back.

"Am I really the one you want to have your first with? Are you sure about that?" he asked with his passionate gaze.

"I've never been so sure," you responded. You liked his tough attitude.

He released your hair and took a step back, ordering you to take off your shirt. You started to undress at the same time. After throwing your clothes aside, Joel quickly moved towards your lips. This time he didn't intend to hold you back. You shivered when you felt his weight and strength all over your body. You stumbled back and your body fell into the soft fabric of the couch. Joel fell right on top of you. A small groan came out of your mouth in surprise. Then you both started laughing. But you couldn't help but make love. This man knew how to touch you. Joel buried his head in your neck and sniffed.

"Why can't I get enough of your scent?"

The scent of your skin made him hungry; its color decorated your skin like a maraschino cherry on top of a dessert. "If you only knew how hard I tried to smell that every time you passed me." His tongue traveled from where your pulse beat to her throat and then down to your collarbones. His hardening penis between your legs was slowly starting to put pressure on your outer lips. Your eyes widened in surprise. You didn't think he could be this hard. You moaned raggedly.

He put his elbow on the seat and supported it. He wanted to watch your surprise before he was about to go down to your breasts. His face was right above you now. He was looking down with pleasure.

"How do you feel? Do you like it? Don't you want more?"

Your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. You bit your lower lip, showing how much pleasure you were getting.

Joel straightened up, pulled the waistband of your shorts and pulled them off along with your panties. He looked at the hairs that had just started to grow on your outer lips. Even though you apologized shyly, Joel really liked it. He leaned over you again. Your head was between his arms, supported by his elbows. His face got even closer to yours. He hugged you. You felt like you were in prison. Orgasm prison! His lips were on your cheek, his hot breath hitting your skin as he rubbed his penis against your inner lips. He released one hand and unbuttoned his pants, trying not to get off of you.

He placed his penis between your inner lips and began to rub it from your clitoris to the entrance of vagina. Joel's lips parted. His eyes squeezed shut. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "How can you be so hot and wet? We've only just begun. Did you desire me that much?"

You moaned every time Joel’s penis tip slid over your clit. “Oh, you moan so well. Perfect!” he said.

You heard the office door suddenly open and close. Shit! Someone had seen you. Joel got up quickly, fixed his clothes, and ran to the door and out. A few students in the hallway looked at him but didn’t understand what had happened. When he looked back at you in the office, you were startled by what he had said. “It was Bill.”

From that day on, Bill didn't use what he saw against you. It was as if he had forgotten what he saw. Even though Bill's family and your family were getting closer day by day, there were still things that weren't right. Still, the relationship between you and Joel was getting better day by day. You were bonding. You would meet secretly in his office during meal times, lock the door and have sex.

***

If there was one thing that was bad about hot summer days, it was the rain for Joel. The raindrops increased the humidity, making the air even more oppressive.

Her linen blouse was soaked and uncomfortable. He put the book down next to him, took off his T-shirt in one move, and threw it on the chair across from him. His now wheat-colored skin, shiny with sweat, looked quite inviting.

While looking at the heat transfer questions in the book in his hand, he was shaking the ash from the end of her cigarette into the beer residue in the glass on the coffee table next to him, and at the same time trying to solve a question about the heat exchanger unit of the tubular evaporator in his mind. As if his eyes were swearing loyalty to the page, he took the cigarette between his two fingers and squeezed it between his lips when he heard a notification on his phone. The light on the screen distracted him and made him look in that direction. It was on the coffee table. At first, he thought it was one of his friends who had written it and ignored it. He found the answer and turned the next page. But his eyes were on the phone. Perhaps the department head had announced that there would be a meeting early tomorrow. He liked to choose such inconvenient hours. After school, when you feel free, work doesn't leave you alone.

He took another sip from his cigarette. Then he threw it in the glass. It made sizzling sounds with appetite, as if the beer was waiting for it to do the same.

Joel used his index finger as a bookmark, placing it between the pages he was on, and leaned over to unlock his phone.

The message was from you. Since he didn't have such habits, he got excited and sped up his movements. He put the book where it was before and stood up. His eyebrows were furrowed with curiosity.

- Help

When Joel saw your message, he called you in a panic. You didn’t answer. He called again. The phone rang for a long time but you didn’t answer. Joel was about to go crazy. He was walking in the living room with harsh steps. He was muttering and cursing to himself. “What the fuck is going on!” While he was thinking about what to do, his phone rang. Anger, fear and curiosity made his hands shake. When he saw your name on the screen, he hurriedly answered it, afraid that you would hang up.

“What’s going on honey, talk to me!”

Although you answered him, Joel could only hear you sobbing, then screaming. Joel shouted insults at you to get you to come to.

“Tell me where you are now, I’ll come!”

You said, your voice trembling, that you were at Bill’s house. “I did something terrible, Joel. Please help me!” You shouted.

Joel muttered to himself, "My God, what did you do?" Then he tried to calm you down. He was telling you that everything would be okay. Everything would be okay. They would overcome all their problems together.

"Now calm down honey so I can figure everything out. Okay? If you calm down everything will be perfect."

"Do you believe everything will be okay?" you asked emotionlessly.

There was hope in Joel’s voice. He acted as if he was happy despite everything, but his expression was the opposite.

“Of course, honey. You should believe too. Send me your location now."

The house you were in was in the suburbs.

When he arrived home by car, an hour had passed. He was now in front of the door. He looked around first, then checked if there was any noise coming from inside. He knocked on the door. After waiting for a while, the door slowly started to open. You were standing in front of him like a dead woman. Your skin was pale, your under eyes were dark. Your eyes were red from crying. When Joel looked at your condition, he pushed you away in fear and entered. He saw blood stains on the floor from the door that opened into the living room. When he entered there, Bill's lifeless body was lying on the floor.

He whispered, "Jesus fuckin' Christ! What have you done!"

You were sobbing while trying to explain the incident. "He made a plan, he made me come here. He said he saw us and he would kill you. He would do worse things to me than killing. His father betrayed us and he worked with the enemy family to appear as my father's friend. He attacked me to possess me. After torturing me tonight, he was going to kill me. I had no other choice." It didn't seem like you were explaining the events to Joel, it was like you were begging God for forgiveness.

It was his first night of crime. You had killed someone and Joel witnessed everything that happened to you that night. He gathered you and your things, pulled you by the arm and you got in the car and drove away. You were not well. You were in no condition to talk. All you felt was nausea. Things were going to get messy between the two families. It was unclear where Joel would fit into this story. He got involved in this without meaning to. He took you to a motel, took your clothes off, took a shower, then laid you on the bed and thought about what to do.

He sat down for a while and closed his eyes, trying to calm down with your phone in his hand. And now, the move that changed everything was finally made. After Joel calmed down, he called your father on his phone. He needed to tell him everything, so they had to meet.

Your father was talking to Joel in his office in your mansion. He was a manipulative man with high psychoanalysis skills. A beautiful talent for defeating his enemies. He understood Joel's character from his first sentences. He was too proud to betray the person he promised to. Moreover, he was madly in love with his daughter. He was ready to do anything for you. Maybe he could test Joel to decide whether or not to take him in.

In the end of the night, Joel sacrificed himself for your love and wanted to take the blame. Of course, the person who guided him was secretly your father.

Joel went to prison. Of course, Bill's father was in cahoots with the enemy family and their men were there too. They gave Joel hell in prison by order. Psychological violence, beatings, starvation, cuts on his face and body and tortures that I don't want to say. Joel went through personal mutations for every bad day he spent in prison. But no matter what, Joel didn't give you away.

On the day you were supposed to meet him, he was in such bad shape that he couldn't even appear before you. Although the guard had initially told you that he didn't want to meet you because he didn't want to, a small amount of money had been enough to make him tell the truth. Now you wanted to see him even more. Two officers had taken his arm to get him to come into the room. His face was bruised and one of his legs was broken.

You cried as soon as you saw him. Even though you said it was all your fault, Joel didn't think so. It was a price to pay for love. You kissed him on the lips.

"Oh Joel, things are so bad out there. I spend every day in fear and worry. My father said it would be better if you stayed here for a while longer. He promised to help you."

Joel understood everything. What he had experienced during his time in prison and what your father had told him made him look at life differently. He realized how much of a spoilsport and hypocrite he was.

Your father didn't help Joel. It seemed that way at first. But his only goal was to get Joel on his side and make him his assistant. He did everything for this purpose. He made your father experience situations that would prove his loyalty from prison. When the time came, Joel also told big lies, slandered people. He smuggled banned substances and equipment into prison. Your father and Joel were talking with secret messages, giving your father strategic ideas in the face of the events.

Joel eventually learned to survive in this rat hole, and there was no trace of his academic identity left.

Eventually the situation with Bill's family came to an end, but the feud with the Fontana family remained. Joel was released from prison after four years thanks to a corrupt prosecutor's decision.

Joel wasn't the only one who changed during those four years. After Bill's death, you too became closer to your father and his business. While your family life felt foreign to you, you began to manage your father's business step by step, while hiding your wealth and how it came to be. No one called you by your name anymore. You were Mrs. Castello. Even though you were a feared woman, you still felt the old you deep down. It was calling out to you from the black well you had imprisoned. But you had long since passed the point of no return. Whenever you visited Joel, you both saw the changes in you, but you didn’t talk about it. Otherwise, you were as afraid of feeling guilty as Joel was of hating you.

After Joel got out of prison, his only home was your mansion. That was his life. He wanted to be a promising professor but he had to be a slave to the mafia boss, however he had a plan.

You were in your father’s office, wearing a black jacket with a sable collar. A pencil skirt that was just above the knees and black stockings. You were sitting on the arm of your father’s chair, examining the documents in his hand. The red soles of your Louboutins were shining because you had your legs crossed.

Your maid excused herself and came in to announce that Mr. Miller had arrived. While your father had a pleased expression on his face, you swallowed nervously.

Joel made eye contact with you when he walked in. It was so long that your father looked at you and started talking.

“We’ve been waiting so long for this day to come.” he stood up and walked over to Joel, hugging him tightly. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you, Don Castello.” he said, but his eyes were still on you, a look you couldn’t understand.

You got married in a lavish wedding. Joel was now the son-in-law of the respected mafia boss, his right-hand man. He was the key to their fight against the Fontana family. Don Castello never left him. His decisions were never wrong. In fact, he had convinced them that he had infiltrated the Fontana family and betrayed you. He would leak information that they thought would be useful to them. In return, he would receive a large amount of money, property and men. Of course, he would never tell you what he had obtained. But there was one detail your father missed. Joel was never loyal to you. He was learning the secret files of two enemy families and using them for himself, and no one understood.

One day, you noticed the secret room of the house you lived in with Joel. It was a day when Joel went out of town. You were alone at home and unknown enemies opened fire on your house. You were caught in the middle of the conflict while they attacked your house with powerful weapons. While you were trying to escape, a rococo painting from the ceiling to the floor was shattered by bullets. After that bad night, you discovered the door leading to the secret room. You had to be good at software to solve the code, but luckily, you were an engineer. You knew software work well anyway. You worked until Joel got the news of what you had experienced and returned home, and finally you unlocked the door. The interior surprised you. At first, you couldn't even understand why there was such a room. There were many photos of people from the community hanging on the walls, notes, and maps drawn with pencils. There were many files and documents on the table and in the cabinets in the room. It was prepared to use even the smallest information about the mafia families. And you were taking the leading role. As you looked through the notes and documents, you saw that Joel had been aiming to cause a rebellion by manipulating everyone who worked under your father's command all this time. He had plans not only for you, but also for the Fontana family, and he was succeeding step by step.

Your breathing quickened. You had no idea your husband could be so dangerous. You should have been afraid of him, Joel was no longer the lecturer you met at university. He was a menace and he was betraying you to become a Godfather!

You heard his voice as you looked at the plan paper in your hand.

"So you finally learned everything, my dear."

"You...I don't understand why. Joel, you betrayed us. You betrayed me, the woman you loved!"

"A small price to pay for what was stolen from me, my love."

You frowned in disappointment. You waved the paper in your hand. "Was all of this more important than our love?"

Joel approached you. He grabbed your shoulders and caressed them. Although his expression said he was in love, the arrogance and ambition in his eyes scared you.

"No one can harm you, my love. I'll put an end to all this family nonsense. I'll take over and you'll be my queen. Not the Castell family, not the Fontana family... We'll rule the city together."

You looked calmly into Joel's eyes. You placed your hand on his cheek. "The man I love, where is he?"

“I’m still the man you love. It’s just that all this has shown me the dark side of life.” Your lips were trembling. “You were never that man, Joel. You just waited for the right time after you found out I was Castello, right?”

Joel gritted his teeth. "This isn't true."

Your face was expressionless as tears rolled down your cheeks. "When I started college, the reason I wanted to hide who I am was to protect myself from bastards who thought they could use me to gain power. Like Bill. But I see that I had already given that person my own hand."

Joel felt conflicting emotions at their most intense. Hate and love, sadness and anger, regret and satisfaction. "You know all that stuff isn't true."

You took two steps closer. Your bodies were a few centimeters away from each other. With a stern look, you said, "Everyone has chosen their side. I am now one of your worst enemies, watch your step, love of my life," and left the place.

You left the house without even taking your phone. You were able to cry after getting into the car your father had given you for the wedding and setting off. You were sobbing. Even if you tried to escape the curse of your last name, you would get caught sooner or later.

Your father was waiting for you in his office. When he saw you crying, he hadn't thought of Joel. After you told him everything, he started shouting with saliva coming out of his mouth and vowing revenge. You were your father's right-hand man now. Even though Don Castello was a powerful man, you knew Joel's weaknesses and weak points just as Joel knew you. It was time to trust your own intelligence and take control of the game. Who else could be more hostile than two people in love?

The battle between you was getting more and more personal. Just like chess, as you made moves, one side lost pieces, but neither side gave up.

Not only you but also your friends supported Don Castello. There were still a few families that remained your friends. They would help you at the cost of their lives.

The news was busy with the aftermath of the war between you and Joel. Every day, people were dying because of you. Bombs were going off, hostages were being taken, and there were clashes. The police should have intervened, but justice didn't work in this city, force did. The strange thing was that the more you fought, the more you fell in love with each other. The more aggressive you became as your love and passion intensified. Joel wanted you by his side more than ever. He wanted to touch you, smell your skin again. But now you were sins to each other. He couldn't stomach this. He wanted revenge on everything. Every second he was separated from you, forced to fight you, the seeds of revenge were growing in his heart.

One day he realized that all this had to end. It was a never-ending fight. Every moment he thought he was going to win, you were making a counter-move and ruining his plans. The best thing was to confront him.

He sent a message to the mansion. He would arrive there with his men on Friday. Everything would end and someone would win. You would sit in Don Castello’s office and make your decision instead of him. You turned to your father, who was sitting in the chair in front of the desk. “Father, I know you understand the decision I am going to make,” you said. Don Castello nodded and you continued. “Have them take you to our secret base outside the city. And don’t leave until this fight is over."

Don Castello looked at his daughter with a firm expression. "No, I did not become Don Castello by running away."

"I can handle him, but Joel won't stop until he kills you! You have to run!"

The man reached out to his hand on the table and shook it. "I'd like to say I'm sorry for everything I've put you through, but I'm a man whose emotions were taken away from him when he was a child. All I can say is that I have complete confidence in you. You'll be just as good as me in this community."

The real war would soon be fought in front of your house. That's why preparations were made, all possibilities were considered. Until that day came...

You and your father stood on the steps of the mansion. Your men surrounded you to protect you. Joel came with his men. You saw the men you used to work for. Your father had helped them, given them work when they were about to starve. But now they were with Joel.

Before they could begin, Joel stepped forward and glared at the woman he loved.

"Do you really want this, my love? Do you want our love to end in such an epic way? You still have a choice. Come to me and everything will be over."

You shouted. "The man I loved died years ago. I have no choice to make anymore!" then your voice got lower. "It will all end tonight."

Joel looked at you without answering. Every moment from the first day you met until today flashed before his eyes. He really didn't want this. He had such beautiful dreams with you. He swallowed. Then he looked at your father. He knew that everything was his fault. His eyes were as dark as before now. He gave the order to start. Neither Joel nor you were holding back. You both had weapons. You were fighting each other to death in the fight. You took cover behind one of the Greek columns at the entrance of the mansion and targeted Joel, who was hiding behind his car, and continued shooting. When you hid, Joel started shooting and running towards you. In the meantime, his men were protecting him.

You called out to your most trusted man to take care of Joel so that he would be distracted and you could shoot him easily.

You tried to get close to Joel by coming out from behind the pillar, by protecting yourself from the bullets and shooting at the others.

Joel was struggling with two people at the same time. You were caught in the middle of the fight, unafraid of death. Then there was an explosion. Immediately afterwards, the maid screamed loudly. "Don Castello!"

You turned around and looked. One of Joel's men had shot your father. His body was lying there on the ground. The man who betrayed you had killed your father had once trusted the most. You ran towards your father, screaming, but that man wanted to kill you too. This time he pointed the gun at you and fired. But Joel jumped on you, preventing the bullet from hitting. He shouted at his men to retreat.

You were in Joel's arms, screaming that you hated him. "Let me go! I wish I never met you!"

You hit his head with your gun to escape. You did it. As you ran towards your father's lifeless body, Joel called out.

"I'll let you mourn your father. We're leaving."

Joel got what he wanted, your father was dead. It made a big splash in the entire criminal community. The news that your father was dead. The city's police department was in shock. While everyone was arguing about who would be the new owner of the city, Joel had already declared himself the new The Boss of all Bosses . Even though you were separated, he remained married to you, a loyal and loving husband.

Of course, this was different for you. Yes, Joel was treating you like the man you fell in love with; you still loved him as before. However, you also wanted to avenge your father. That's why you made a deal with the famous detective of the police department. In the end, you managed to put him in jail. And for a very small matter. Tax evasion. With the pride of this, you lived happily ever after in your mansion. For a while, you were the queen of the mafia world all by yourself.

I imagined and designed Y/N as a godmother.

You were in the courtroom among the audience. Of course, you were sitting in the front row because you were Joel Miller's wife. But you were worried. Joel kept his eyes on you while his lawyer spoke and gave his defense. He knew very well that he went to prison because of you and today was the day of his acquittal. When you looked into his eyes, it was obvious that he was thinking about what he was going to do to you. You were so close to being together(!) So, were these your last moments of peace? Yes. The woman he loved had betrayed him. Moreover, he had a reputation as the most brutal mafia boss in your community. Who knows what kind of monster the betrayal of the woman he loved would turn him into!

You looked away from him, but you didn’t change your upright posture as if you were trying to convince him that you weren’t afraid of him. But you were praying inwardly that the judge would find an excuse to put him back inside. Unfortunately, it didn’t turn out the way you wanted. The jury and the evidence were in his favor. You were beginning to wonder how much the judge had been sold for. When the verdict was given and Joel was released, there was a loud applause in the courtroom. You turned around in shock. The public, who knew him from the news channels and interviews, hadn’t neglected to come to the hearing. He had a lot of fans. It was scary. From the outside, most of them looked like the children of good families.

When the court was finally over and they started to go out, you were the first to stand up and walk quickly. Joel was smiling meaningfully at you as you got up from the chair. He knew you couldn’t escape him. No matter what you did, go underground; he would still find you. Knowing this, you started walking down the hallway with shaking legs and a sullen expression in your eyes. Your father's friend and assistant Mr. Montana was waiting for you outside, by the car. Both doors of the car were open. You got in without wasting any time and started walking. Two big guys were standing behind the car. When you got to the main road, another car appeared to protect you. Everyone knew very well that Joel was looking forward to this day. He had to be faster. You were yelling for him to be faster! They were probably after you right now. When you lost your track and entered a deserted road, you would change cars, easily lose your track and get out of town. When you arrived target, you could breathe for passport procedures.

When you got to the suburbs, you looked around. There were no cars in front of you or behind you on the road. You leaned back in your seat, thanking God. With a heavy heart, you said,

"This is great! I won't see him forever!"

A pained expression was on his face. When you met him years ago, you thought he was the love of your life. Now he was your enemy. Your enemy whom you still loved like crazy!

"Finally," Mr. Montana said. "My queen, we finally saw the vehicle that was going to pick you up!"

A black van was waiting for you. Mr. Montana had chosen to stay while you got out of the car. Miller's men could have come in the meantime and opened fire on you. But you wanted to get in the car as soon as possible and leave without attracting attention. You turned to Montana as you greeted the driver of the van and drove off.

"You'd better go now. We shouldn't attract attention. It's safe from now on."

Mr. Montana asked with a worried look. "Are you sure, m'am?"

You looked at him firmly. "Of course. Go ahead!"

If you wanted to change vehicles, it wouldn't make sense to have a bunch of guys following you, stopping and waiting. So you wanted them all to leave. The driver and the two guys in the car would be on the alert in case there was trouble.

You got in the car as soon as possible. Contrary to what you thought, the car was empty. Only the driver in front greeted you from the rearview mirror.

"Welcome m'am. If you wish, we can set off immediately."

Although the man's gaze bothered you, being accustomed to your father's men did not leave any room for doubt.

"Yes, please."

The driver started the car and you set off. You were still looking around paranoidly. There was no one in the back that would make you think they were Joel's men.

You caught the driver's eye from the rearview mirror. He smiled.

"If you wish, I can close the screen. You will have a comfortable journey."

You pressed your lips together and gave your answer with a shy look. "That would be great, thank you."

After the automatic door closed, you relaxed your formal sitting position. You were looking outside. The sense of anxiety that had emerged inside you was clouding your mind. It was impossible for you to escape from Joel so easily.

You took the wrong turn. The man had missed the road. You leaned forward, frowning. You tapped the screen.

"You took the wrong turn! Hey!" He didn't seem to hear you. You raised your voice. You started tapping the screen harder. "I'm telling you! Stop the car right now, right now! Or you'll pay dearly!"

This wasn't the person you agreed with. You took the wrong car. It was one of Joel's men. They had killed the original driver who was supposed to take you to the airport, cut him up into pieces and put him in the back of the trunk. The car waiting was the right one; except for the driver.

You started screaming and banging on the windows. You lifted your legs up and started banging your heels against the window. You took deep breaths and gathered your strength, using your legs hard. But what could you do against the unbreakable glass?

Your screams echoed throughout the car. "You'll pay dearly for this, you son of a bitch!"

Soon, a hissing sound was heard and the room began to fill with knockout gas. Even if you tried to cover your face with your shirt and held your breath, it was impossible not to be exposed to the gas. You could neither open a window nor was the density of the gas decreasing. Finally, you let yourself go. Your body was relaxing, convincing you to let sleep take over.

When you opened your eyes, you could swear that the world had turned upside down. Maybe the world wasn't the problem. You were hanging upside down from the ceiling. You were completely naked, your arms were tied to your waist with a burgundy rope. Your lower leg was tied to your upper leg, the rope was stretched and tied to the other rope that tied your arm.

The light of the candles burning in the room with tiled walls was reflecting on the surface of the tiles. The musty smell of the pipes passing through the ceiling, covered in mud and filth and covered in moss, filled your lungs and made you feel nauseous. Even though it was uncertain what would happen to you, you were aware of the pain you would soon suffer. You were struggling as if you could break free from the ropes. Your hair follicles swelled as the coldness of the environment penetrated your cells, but the adrenaline spread by the fear surrounding your body prevented you from realizing the coldness of the environment.

Even though your voice was muffled by the gag, you continued to cry, and finally the moment had come. When the heavy door began to creak open, the sound echoed off the walls in a piercing way. You stopped crying and focused on the door. Although you couldn’t see it clearly because it was so dark, you could see enough to understand that Joel had come in. The way he was dressed, his anatomy, the way he was walking down the stairs…

Your muscles were tense. Your hands and feet were shaking. You were trying to say something. If you hadn't had the gag in your mouth, you wouldn't have been able to apologize to him. No matter how scared you were, no matter how much you regretted what you had done because of the pain you would go through, you wouldn't let him use your weakness as ammunition.

Joel began to descend the stairs, looking at your naked body in front of you. The candlelight, just like the tiles, was reflecting on your sweat-soaked skin. The orange color of the candle flame mixed into the palette that made up his skin tone. The damp look was so seductive that it brought to mind eroticism, a wet vulva, and how writhed as he caressed you.But you betrayed him. You betrayed him as the woman he loved and trusted, you wanted to get rid of him. That's why he could have killed you - by making you writhe in pain. But you were the only thing he valued in this life. He should have punished, but his love set his limits.

The thud of the shoe heel was starting to threaten you more deeply as it got closer.

Joel spoke his first words with a half-mocking, half-angry tone.

"So you thought you could escape me, my love? You thought you could get away from this man who is so head over heels in love with you." He was standing right in front of you now. His lips were right in front of your eyes. Every word he said was passionate as it came out. "What a shame, what a shame, my dear." He put his hand on your forehead. After wiping the drops of sweat from your forehead with his fingertips, his hand went to your hair that was tied into a ponytail this time and gently pulled your head closer to his, pressing his lips to your forehead; he smelled your skin and kissed you passionately.

" Oh, it's been a long time since I did that!"

Then he placed both hands on your cheeks. You were used to his roughness. Even during his academic days, he liked to treat you rough in bed. He squeezed your cheeks and reached for your lips. You thought he was going to kiss you, but he didn't. He stuck out his tongue and licked your lips as if he wanted to grasp their shape. His tongue covered your lips many times and slid up and down. He must have been unable to slow down, so he left your lips and started to adorn your chin with bites. Of course, his tongue was not restless. He continued to lick from your chin to your cheekbones and then to your eyes. Your face was filled with his saliva, your skin came alive with his moist touches. You groaned as your body spasmed with the unexpected slap. It hurt.

He shouted as hatred gushed from his eyes. "Why! Tell me why you did it! You knew what would happen to you!" When he grabbed your hair hard and lifted your head up, your head was spinning from being upside down. "Did you think you could escape me, huh? Do you think I'd leave you alone?" Suddenly calming down, he answered his own questions in a whisper. The mocking attitude on his face was frightening. "No, my beauty, there's no way you can escape me. Not possible while my soul, which has drifted away from God, is bathed in your holiness." After kissing her cheek awkwardly, he whispered in her ear as if he had something to hide. "You're the reason I'm alive. Even if you go seven floors below hell, I'll find you and bring you out, do you understand me?"

Your breath was shaking with fear. But when he looked into your eyes, there was no trace of fear.

Joel suddenly shouted, knowing that this was a challenge. "I said, do you understand!" Your eyebrows were furrowed in fear, and you blinked. Joel laughed with pride at revealing the role you had played. He breathed deeply and caressed your bare breasts in a harassing manner. He sighed at the sharpness of the tips and the pink color.

"You have no idea how much pleasure it gives me to see you afraid of me, my dear! It's more erotic than the nights I spent fucking you for hours; I'm sure of it."

He released you. He took a step back and opened the corner of his jacket, taking out his knife from a hidden pocket. High carbon stainless steel. Its sharp tip and razor-sharp edges and brilliance.

All kinds of torture came to your mind. The one you feared the most was that he could rip your eyes out. Your father had tried this on an assassin who was trying to kill him. You started to struggle and struggle as if you could escape the ropes. You were trying to shout, to scream. Your eyebrows were furrowed in fear. You were crying. Joel approached you again, showing you the knife, and held the sharp end in front of you, making eye contact.

"Shh... My love, don't worry, I won't hurt you. I just need to take the gag out of your mouth. I think we should solve our problems by talking as husband and wife," he said. He looked very calm and cute, but his expressions were never sincere. When you didn't stop crying, he suddenly pressed the sharp end of the knife against your throat. Although it hurt, it didn't even leave a mark on your skin. His angry gaze was back again. "First, stop crying! The helpless behavior of a strong woman like you gets on my nerves." he stopped and thought. Then he kissed your cheek. Insincere innocence appeared on your face again. "At least for now." Joel dragged the edge of the knife along your skin without pulling it out... From your neck to your jawbone, from there to your cheek and the binding part of the gag; it stopped there. He inserted it between your skin and the binding and started cutting the fabric. At the same time, he held you respobsible, as if he was muttering to himself. While one hand was holding the knife, the other hand was holding your waist with a force that hurt.

You began to cry and beg Joel to release you. But the words Joel used while demanding an explanation were enough to make you angry. He slapped you again. He shouted as if his throat was tearing. His skin turned bright red. "Tell me, was it worth it! Did you think you would avenge your father when you told that son of a bitch commissioner everything!"

"Enough, stop! I'm sorry."

He had calmed down. He took a step back, looked you up and down and started to walk around you with heavy steps. He was thinking about how and to what extent he would apply the evil ideas in his mind to you. Not being able to see what he was doing when he was standing behind you fed your fear. You heard his footsteps again. He was walking away from you. It must have been the loyalty he felt to his love if you died painlessly with a single bullet. You started to hear rattling. The sound of metal hitting the tiles, a banging sound resembling a cupboard door. You couldn't catch your breath.

Joel took the black leather whip in his hand and hit it in the palm of his hand, wanting the sound to bother you. If it was this hard even when he hit his own palm, the pain you would feel on your skin would be unbearable.

Joel approached you. A shiver ran through your entire body as he placed the tip of the whip on your spine and rubbed it all over. "Don't worry, my beauty, I won't treat you like I treat the other informants, but that doesn't mean I won't punish you." As soon as he finished his words, he hit the tip of the whip against your hip with all his might. The muscles in your body tensed, a weak "ah" sound escaped your lips.

"Did it hurt, huh?"

You stuttered. "Yes!"

"Good, I'll hurt you more."

This wasn't a whip used for fantasy. It was a leather whip used in horse riding to provoke animals. And it hurt more with each stroke. Your screams grew louder, eventually turning into pleas. Your skin was bright red, spreading to other areas that were white. The places he hit were slowly starting to go numb. Joel understood this from the calmness of your screams. A moment ago, you were screaming and struggling to get free of the ropes. Now it had been replaced by moans and small screams. It was time to stop. He threw the whip down and stood in front of you. He pulled your hair hard and hurt you. He looked into your eyes with greed.

"You'll be mine again, do you hear me! You'll fall in love with me all over again, whether you want it or not! Because you have no other choice!" He kissed your lips. His tongue had pushed your lips as if it was crushing them, meeting the inside of your mouth. The moisture on his tongue was intense. Your thirsty lips were wet with his saliva. It was disgusting, but it was as seductive as it sounded. You felt like you were one with the man you desired. He was sucking and biting your tongue on one hand. His hands were not idle, however. He was lifting it up, reaching your belly and caressing it down to your breasts. You wanted to scream when he suddenly squeezed your tips while stimulating them, but his merciless kiss prevented you.

Joel moved away from you again. He moved behind you, where he had just gone, and started turning the handle mounted on the wall. You could hear the sound of two metals rubbing together and you were slowly starting to lower. When Joel thought it was enough, he stopped. When he came back to you and stood in front of you, he saw how the inner lips of your vulva were glistening with your juices.

"Oh no, look at you," he pressed his fingers to your clitoris and moved all the way to the entrance of your vagina. "You're soaked, darling. Wasn't today supposed to be your punishment?" he said mockingly. Then, he brought his fingers together and raised his hand into the air and slapped your vulva. You flinched at the scream that escaped your lips.

"Joel, you don't know what you're doing! Please stop!" you said in a tearful tone.

He only responded to this with mockery. "Honey, I don't know whether to listen to your words or act on what I see." He slapped your vulva over and over again. Even though it hurt, the shocking flicks you felt on your clit were making your pupils dilate in pleasure. Your moans of pleasure were mixed with your cries of pain.

Joel couldn't take it anymore. He buried his head in your vulva. It was a betrayal! It was already your biggest betrayal when you left home. He was willing to go to jail again for you, but right now he just wanted to fuck you like an animal. To get inside you, to feel you from the inside! To fuck your vagina hard and take all his revenge on your burning pussy! The liquid flowing from your vagina was the honeydew in the hive for him. He was licking all the liquid greedily, smearing it on his lips. Your vulva was now burning. His slapping had turned the pinkness on the skin into redness, and this was whet Joel's appetite even more.

He moved one hand to the fabric of his pants as he continued. He clumsily tried to undo his belt buckle. Even that was hard to do when he was focused on your sweet peach. He undid the buckle without removing the leather belt from its slots and his fingers met the zipper. You thought the bulge that appeared in front of your eyes as you pulled it down would hit your face in a moment. His hardened penis was straining the fabric.

After his penis was out of his pants, Joel took it in his hand and pulled his mouth away from your pussy lips to look at where he would place his cock. You didn’t want to perform oral on him in this position. There had been many times when he wanted you to hang your head off the bed. He would use your mouth as a vagina. But you were gagging and gasping for breath. That was why you never adjusted the position that way. But right now, he didn’t care about that at all. You had to take your punishment.

Joel was in ecstasy with the pleasure you were giving him. He continued to suck your vulva while moaning, but after a while he couldn't resist and lifted his head from your buried womanhood. He put his hand on the inside of your thigh, spanked it and squeezed it with almost all his strength. You were sucking it so well that your groin cramped up until you couldn't orgasm.

His voice was shaking, "You know how to drive me crazy," he said and laughed with pleasure. He reached down to your breasts and slapped them every time he made them cum, caressing them painfully.

Moans interspersed with each sentence. "Yes, my love! Make your husband happy! It'll be a bargaining chip for the punishments I'll give you in the coming days, huh? What do you say, my beauty?" He squeezed your nipples so hard that you stopped sucking his cock and tried to scream in pain. Joel laughed. "I can only come when I watch you moan in agony," he said and crushed your nipples between his fingers once more.

Even though your body was shaken by the pain, the interruption of your vaginal pleasure was more annoying than the action itself. You put the oral sex aside and gently brushed your teeth against Joel’s flesh, trying to get him to take his cock out of your mouth. In response, he winced and took his big cock out of his mouth.

He got down on one knee and brought his face level with yours. He grabbed your hair and pulled. "What do you think you're doing!"

You grinned cheekily, calmly and confidently. "What about me? I'm dying to squirt all over your face."

"First you'll fill me up. Then it'll be your turn." he said and suddenly he let go of your hair and stood up, putting his cock back in your mouth and thinking that he was fucking your glistening vagina in front of him, he continued to fuck your mouth with back and forth movements. At this time, he put his index and middle fingers together and pushed them into your vagina. His cock was fucking your mouth, his fingers were fucking your womanhood. As your pleasure increased, your oral performance also increased and finally Joel slapped your vulva repeatedly and ejaculated. His sperm overflowed from your lips and the salty taste spread all over your mouth. The hot, slippery and thick fluid would have long since slipped down your throat if you hadn't been upside down. When Joel pulled his cock out of your mouth, he felt exhausted. He was tired. Breathlessly, he kissed her inner thighs with calm touches. "You must be a sex goddess. You have a divine talent and I worship it."

He took a few steps back and moved away from you, adjusting his fabric pants. In the meantime, you were watching him, while at the same time, you were grazing the semen flowing from his lips with your tongue. Even though your stomach was queasy as you stood upside down, you had already lost your way in the hot deserts of lust. Your expectations were high. You wanted to find an oasis in the middle of the hot desert.

You asked Joel while he was fastening his belt. "When will it be my turn?"

When he was ready, he stood in front of you again and leaned down, leaving a passionate kiss on your forehead. "You will come whenever I want, and that's not right now, my dear wife!"

You were surprised. Your groin ached, your vulva was on fire, your clitoris was pulsing. You shouted with the anger of being left unfinished. "You can't do this! I hate you, do you hear me!"

It was such a pleasure to disappoint you that he stood up, grinning evilly. "Honey, these are better days. Enjoy them," he said, and stood up and turned around. While you were hurling insults at him, he was walking towards the door. The evil man smile we are used to from movies covered his face. Without compromising his indifferent attitude, he acted as if you were not there, opened the door and left you there alone. Until his servants came and untied you.

[ooffmlsorry]

Bringing Law Home for a Family Holiday

Readers' Note: Reader has a large and generally good but overbearing family. Only happy things in this, little to no angst!

A/N: Every holiday I get struck with the desire to write my latest blorbo coming home with their s/o for the holidays. I don't have time to crack out 10-15k words so this is probs gonna be more stream of consciousness but it'll get the point across.

I've been imagining how tense the travel to Law's s/o's house is because God forbid y'all be late because Law wants to make a good impression no matter how many times you explain it's a very loose 4 p.m. arrival time.

You've been dating for long enough that you think it's reasonable for him to meet your family (that was enough to make Law's heart flutter and then start hammering...could it be you're just as serious about him as he is about you?)

"My aunt showed up at noon and my cousin's probably not going to be here until after dark, really it's fine!" You'd insist. "Besides, the people that show up on time are the ones that end up having to go back out because someone forgot something!"

And of course Law would say "that's fine." With a such a stubborn and determined tone. Being on time or a few minutes early is better than being late! Suddenly your man is a rule follower! 🤭Suddenly you can picture Law as he was a kid studious and button-ed up in his little doctor's uniform. It's almost kind of cute if he wasn't so nervous.

The closest thing to family Law has is Bepo, Shachi and Penguin. Not since the Donquixote family has Law had anything to do with that word and he's so nervous he feels sick. For Law this translate to acting like he has the world's biggest cactus shoved up his ass, and you know that so you try not to take his coolness personally.

Holding his hand helps a little though. You ignore how shaky and sweaty it is.

He's feeling a lot of big feelings right now, poor guy.

He insisted on you giving him a "family tree" when he realized how big your family is and a list of things not to accidentally mention or do. He's been studying it for days, re-reading it over and over obsessively.

The fact that he's a pirate is fine, which takes a lot of pressure off. You come from a family full of pirates, so you swear Law will fit right in. Although you warn him your grandfather's probably going to start reminiscing about how he knew Gol D. Roger as a kid (which no one knows if that's actually true) and ranting about the young pirates these days.

You'd walk up to your family home high on a hill over looking the sea. From several yards away you can already hear music. You realize as you get closer it's more like you're dragging Law more than he's walking with you.

It's subconscious lol. I promise you he's not doing it on purpose. As soon as you notice it he speaks, "I'm fine."

Poor Traffy is so pale!

His tone dares you to question him, almost as if to actually say "I'm fine, if I wasn't I wouldn't be here Y/N. Please trust me to be honest with you about how I'm feeling." But that's a lot of words for someone who's mouth is cotton dry. He's trying his best, so you give him a quick kiss on the cheek for courage and walk up to the house together.

The first thing your family comments on when you open the door is how early you are despite the fact that it's three minutes to 4:00.

"We weren't expecting Y/N for another hour!" Your aunt winks at Law and nudges him, no introduction, no nothing, and says "you must really be something special if you can get them here to early!"

Despite Law's best efforts, having one of your family members immediately point out his supposed specialness to you makes blush and stutter.

It doesn't matter how awkward his no response of blinking at your aunt was because she's already gone flitting around with an arm full of what your family calls "the good plates."

You pull Law down to whisper in his ear, "told you we'd be early," you giggle.

It's not the nicest house, but it is big, and warm, and festive. Just standing in the doorway taking it in Law's struck with the remembrance of home. He tries to only focus on the present, not Swallow Island, Spider Miles, or even Flevance, your home is good..for today. But tomorrow he'll back at his home: the Polar Tang.

You introduce him to what little family is already there. Your heart squeezes at the way Law awkwardly waves at the baby your cousin's bouncing on his lap and the surprise that quickly turns into a soft smile that spreads across his lips when the baby coos back.

He meets your grandpa, who appraises him very officially. You swear to God Law's holding his breath as the stout man with a peg leg circles him with his arms behind his back. "Trafalgar Law, hmm..." he says very seriously. "You know back in my day pirates didn't all these tattoos to prove they were tough."

"I heard your day was quite a long time ago," Law says almost automatically. In for a penny, in for a pound, he doubles down, adding "sir" at the end.

That would be your boyfriend hehe. Too sharp for his own good.

Of course that's what your grandfather likes. He shakes Law's hand and pulls him into a crushing hug. Your grandpa promises later he's got words for him (ie. the shovel talk). It's a little disturbing how comfortable Law feels knowing he'll be threatened with an unspeakably awful death later. That's the most familiar thing that has happened all day. lol

But he knows the person he needs to impart the best impression on is your grandmother. You don't think you've ever seen Law so perfectly polite in your life....which makes your grandmother howl with laughter! "My ass whooping days are over, boy! Relax!" Her frail hands clutch her stomach as she laughs. She wipes a tear from her eyes, "I thought you said he was a pirate?!" She pats Law on the cheek like he's a sweet little boy (because at her old age 26 is a little boy) and gives it a squeeze. And because it's your grandma, he lets her.

You have to hide your laughter behind your hand.

"He's a sweet boy, Y/N," she says to you. "And so handsome! Where were all the good-looking men like him when I was at sea?"

"I killed 'em all!" Your grandpa yells across the house.

And just like that, Law's in your grandmother's good graces. Of course you knew he would be.

True to your word earlier, you get sent in to town to pick up a short list of last minute things. It's a nice moment to breathe. As soon as you're far enough from the house you wrap your arms around him and kiss him deeply.

"I'm so happy they like you," you say quietly once you come up for air. You don't tease him about how strange it is to see him hoping for someone's approval like you would in most circumstances. Instead you feel yourself melt, "I knew they would, but now you believe me?"

"They like me for now," he says because god forbid he go easy on himself.

"You're not as hard to love as you think you are, Law." You press another kiss to his lips.

(A/N: ooh chile lemme tell you, for saying that right there that man is going to romantically rail you within an inch of your life when y'all get back to the ship. That is the only way I can convey to you how much you saying that means to him. He's speechless.)

By time y'all get back there are a lot more people here and it's a lot louder. Your brother asks Law about a rash on elbow (at the dinner table no less, but hey these are pirates!) and he actually gives him advice.

Law meets your little cousins, who ask him a million questions including but not limited to:

"Why do you wears that funny looking hat?"

"Are you actually a surgeon?"

"Does getting a tattoo hurt?"

"Can you give me a tattoo?"

"How many Marines have you killed?"

"Are the Straw Hat Pirates really that strong?"

"Do you really have a polar bear on your ship?"

"Are you and Y/N ever gonna have a baby?"

To which Law responds:

"Who said it was funny looking?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know. I don't feel pain." you thought this man would take their questions seriously?

"Surgeons aren't allowed to do that. My hands will fall off if I do."

"Definitely more than you."

"As strong as they are stupid."

"Yeah, he's our navigator."

".........I think I heard someone calling you from the kitchen."

Your little cousins think "he's weird funny." He does "surgery" on the dolls your cousins offer up to him and thoroughly enjoy the weird monstrosities he creates. And Your moody teenage nephew deems Law "cool."

Your mom insists Law's too skinny for his own good and piles more food on his plate. "If you're going to survive out there you need some meat on your bones! I wanna see you here next year, Trafalgar."

Law almost chokes. Your mom already wants him back next year. He was expecting to have to get her approval somehow too, but she's accepted him immediately. "All I needed to know is if you make my little Y/N happy!" Your mom explains while hugging you, "And look how happy they are!"

And your old man, a pirate captain in his own right, several beers deep, slings his arm over Law's shoulder. "You're the one that's got that big ol' bounty, huh?" Before Law can fully answer, he continues on drunkenly, "that means you probably looted enough to cover your own wedding, right? Cause I'm sure's shit not." God bless Law for taking it with a grain of salt and taking him over to a couch. "That means you can marry 'em if ya want, as'long as I don' havta pay none. But if you break their heart I'll turn ya in myself...goddamn Marines...making me a traitor..." he says until his words turn into drunk muttering.

"That's your blessing in case you were wondering," your mom sighs. "I know you didn't ask but that was it. That man is fine with anything as long as he doesn't have to pay for it."

"You get my blessing because you helped clean up!" Your grandma pipes in. "Nothing more valuable than a man that knows how clean up after himself!"

I don't know how many times Law is rendered speechless for a moment. Was it that easy or was your family truly that accepting? In a handful of hours he's been completely welcomed and they want him to come back next year, to marry you? It's dizzying, but in a...hopeful way? Because...he wants it to happen too...if he's lucky enough to come back next year as your husband.

At the end of the night, you and Law are sent on your way with tons of food to bring back to Heart Pirates, and whether he likes it or not your mom and your grandma each press a kiss to Law's cheek.

You walk back down the hill together.

"It was good to see them again," you say. "Was that too much?"

"No," Law says. "I'm happy."

A/N: so yeah, I just had that bumbling around in my head today. I hope it was fluffy enough for ya! 😘