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pearlessance · 3 months ago

Text

A Dance In The Dark

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Joel has always taken care of you. Always been your kind, attentive protector. And that doesn’t change, even when you read a scene from a dark romance novel and discover your tastes may be a bit more sordid than you once thought. But even in this he wants to grant you your every wish—and when he offers to put on a mask and chase you through the woods, the opportunity is just too wicked to pass up.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content MDNI, feelings of embarrassment and shame, established relationship, Joel ties readers hands with his belt, knife play, BDSM undertones (primal play specifically), sexual aggression, degradation, fingering, p in v, hair pulling, shameless smut this is basically just pure filth

NOTE: this is a cowrite i did with joelmillersgirlfriend! we busted this out in less than two days because i was bound and determined to get this published on the best holiday of the year! please check out her stuff over on AO3 where we have several other cowrites because i love her 🩷

happy halloween my loves 🩷

Read on AO3!

MASTERLIST

You don’t tell him right away. Don’t tell him at all, really.

Joel discovers your peculiar fascination all on his own.

He’s late coming home from work. His dinner sits on a plate in the microwave, leftovers packaged and put in the fridge for his lunch tomorrow. His lack of punctuality is nothing new, but you’ve always been good at filling the time and finding a distraction while you wait for him.

On this particular night, you’ve changed out of your clothes and into one of his T-shirts, nestled into a soft cocoon on his side of the bed, book in hand. The tea in your mug on your nightstand has gone tepid, too lost between the pages to consume anything but the content in a timely manner.

You’d found it in the horror section, a book written by a name you’d never heard of, a story of a young woman’s abduction with overarching themes of perseverance and self-discovery. You find it a bit graphic from time to time, the details of her torment vivid and lifelike. But that’s to be expected in a horror novel and doesn’t surprise you.

The part that does surprise you, however, is the romantic undercurrent between the woman and her captor. He makes declarations of love, fully admitting his obsession with the young woman, claiming to want nothing from her but her own empowerment.

It’s an even bigger surprise when you reach the halfway point and discover that your horror novel is also an erotica. And the text is well-written, pulling you into its depths, and you think it might be the craziest yet best book you’ve ever read if for nothing else than the way it makes your heart race behind your ribcage.

“Is it that good?”

His voice startles you so badly the book falls from your hands and into your lap. “What?”

Joel laughs, a soft sound of amusement. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, toeing off his shoes. He leans over the edge of the bed to press his lips to your forehead, and you find yourself swimming in the subtle affection.

And you know it’s because you’ve been reading smut for the last three hours straight, but the feel of his lips against your skin is heavenly. You abandon the book, tucking the edge of the dust jacket inside the pages to mark your place and discarding it onto the nightstand. It’s second nature as you twist your hands into the soft fabric of his flannel and pull him close.

He smells like pine and sawdust and sweat. His hands are rough and calloused as he cradles your face, lips turning upwards against yours. When you deepen the kiss, sliding your soft tongue against his, Joel laughs again, a little darker this time. He pulls away and the loss makes you whimper because you need him. And the bastard knows it. Because when his gaze roams over your face, lingering on your lips, there’s a heavy undertone of lust behind the playfulness. “S’alright, sweet girl,” he says gently. “None of that whinin’. M’gonna take care of you like I always do. Just wanna know what’s brought this on is all.”

You’re not sure you can admit the truth to him. And even more than that, you don’t have the words to explain that what’s got you so worked up is a scene in your book where the main character is being chased through the woods, her captor wearing a Halloween mask, under the pretense that if he catches her, he’s going to fuck her. Your cheeks warm at just the idea of such an admission, so instead you say, “I just missed you is all.”

Joel doesn’t believe it for a second. He knows you like the back of his hand and sees easily through the lie. And when he glances at your book on the nightstand twice, you know you’ve been caught before he even says a word. “Thought that was one of those scary books you like.”

“It is,” you tell him. Because, technically, it’s the truth.

He narrows his eyes at you, that all-knowing smirk still plastered on his face. “Yeah? Bein’ scared’s what’s got you all squirmy like this?”

As much as you’d like to deny it, to argue his assessment, Joel leans over a little further and his weight on top of you, heavy and sure and safe, makes your breath catch in your lungs. Warmth pools low in your belly and that low, husky tone in his voice only makes matters worse.

“Think whatever’s in that book’s got you all worked up. What’s it about, baby? Hm?” Joel shoves the blanket out of the way and slides his hand between your body and his. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the feeling of his hands on you, the contrast of his roughness against all your softest parts. It’s like the first time every time, and you can feel the steady thump of your heart as it hammers behind your sternum.

Heat rises up your chest when his hand touches your favorite spot, already knowing what he’s going to say. You’re drenched, the insides of your thighs slick with excitement. Joel breathes out a tell-tale hiss at the feeling, pulling back to glance down at you. Humor is suddenly nowhere to be found on his face, no smirks or teasing words. Just dark, hot lust, turning Joel’s eyes black.

“Christ,” Joel groans, continuing to explore between your legs.

You don’t want to tell him what the book’s about, and thankfully he seems to forget he’d asked the question as his long fingers find their place, curling inside of you.

Joel keeps his promise. He takes care of the ache for you like he always does. He makes you finish on his fingers and his tongue and when he finally sinks deep inside you it feels like relief. You warm up leftovers for him afterward, and he doesn’t pressure you about talking about your book. Instead, he tells you about his day while the two of you sit at the kitchen table and the light of his love fills you from the inside out.

You finish the book in less than two days, but its content lives in your head for far longer.

Showering, cooking, running errands - you find yourself thinking about that scene in the woods so often you begin to wonder if it’s altered your brain chemistry.

That weekend you go out for drinks with a couple of girlfriends, letting Joel know you’ll likely be late coming home. He makes you promise to call him if you need a ride and says he’s going to invite Tommy over to watch the game.

It’s nothing out of the ordinary. Joel’s little brother practically lived with the two of you until Maria stepped into the picture, and you pinky swear to call if you need him.

You don’t, though. You spend more time gossiping and laughing and catching up than you do drinking. But it’s dark when you pull into the driveway, and though you don’t see Tommy’s truck you assume Joel might have picked him up and you fully expect to see him standing in your kitchen with a hand in the fridge grabbing another beer.

Tommy’s nowhere to be found, though. And there’s no referee calling shots on the flat screen. There’s no sound at all, in fact. At first, it alarms you. But then you see Joel sprawled out on the couch in sweatpants and a navy blue t-shirt with a book in his hand.

He glances up from the pages only long enough to smile up at you and say, “Hey, sweetheart. Have a good time?”

You hesitate, watching him from where you stand at the doorway. Joel read occasionally, but only if he needed to. If he wanted to learn a new song on guitar, if he had taken on a new car project and had to teach himself how to repair it. He didn’t read for luxury.

“Yeah, it was nice. What about you? Where’s Tommy?” you questioned, tiptoeing over to where Joel was spread out. The book was positioned in a way that didn’t allow you to see its cover, but it most definitely wasn’t one of Joel’s manuals.

Joel turned to grin at you, his eyes scanning your body, stopping to look at the frown on your lips.

“He canceled, ditched me to hang out with Maria,” he huffed, rolling his eyes. Your frown deepened as you moved closer to Joel, still eyeing the book in his hand that was conveniently covered by his large palms.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve come back sooner,” you said, reaching down to run your palm through his gray-streaked hair. You had convinced him to stop touching up his roots, some sick part of you loving how mature he looked.

“I didn’t wanna interrupt. ‘Sides, I wanted to see what got you all worked up the other night,” Joel explained casually, finally exposing the book he was holding. All of the colors left your face as you processed what was happening, that he was more than halfway done with the story. Joel was well into reading the disturbing erotica, but somehow still hadn’t put it down.

“This is some dark stuff. You’re telling me that this is what had you drippin’? Had you clenched around me, legs shaking?” Joel asked, breaking heavy eye contact with you to go back to reading.

“Come on, Joel. Give it back,” you whined, reaching down to pull it out of his hands. The word embarrassed didn’t cover how you truly felt. Mortified was a better fit.

He wrestled around in your hold, turning his back to you and shielding the book with his body. “Not yet, I’m just about to reach the good part. I wanna know what happens when he catches her.”

Maybe not mortified. You were fucking humiliated. Tears threatened to spill as you reached down, pawing at Joel’s arms to grab the book. “Stop it. It’s just a stupid fantasy, I know it’s dumb.”

Joel glanced back to see the wetness filling your eyes, instantly releasing his grip so you could take the book back. His large palm reached up to cradle your face, to comfort you.

“Hey now, I never said it was dumb. I didn’t mean to upset you. I guess I never really knew you were into that kind of stuff. Nothing’s wrong with it.”

His words are sincere and make you feel a little bit better, but you still feel ashamed that Joel had read the book. You know he’d never judge you, but it feels like your closest kept secret has been thrust into the light without your permission. Warmth spreads over your face, down your neck, twisting your stomach into knots. “I know but I…I just didn’t expect you to read it.”

“Then I won’t,” he says quickly, pushing himself up off the couch. He places a warm hand on the side of your neck and says again, “I won’t. I promise. No tears baby, alright?”

You nod and sniffle, trusting him, knowing that his words hold sincerity. Exhaling a long breath, you try to shove the mortification away and focus instead on this man before you who loves you enough to learn everything about you, even the things best kept hidden.

Joel gives you the book and you shove it in the back of your side of the closet, hidden beneath a shoe box. He helps you out of your dress and showers with you, washing your hair while you tell him all about girls’ night and the newest gossip.

After, when you’re both cozy in bed, wrapped up tight in his strong arms, stealing his warmth with your cold feet against his legs, you think maybe you might’ve overreacted about the book. You know Joel would never judge you, not even about this. You think maybe the embarrassment comes from somewhere within, that maybe it’s more like insecurity than shame. And so you say, “I’m sorry about earlier. You can finish the story if you want.”

Joel presses a kiss into your hair. “Not really my type of book, anyhow.”

Even though he says it mostly to comfort you, the words make you laugh. You bury your face into the crook of his neck and can feel the vibration of his amusement as he shares the moment with you.

And when you both settle enough to speak again, his voice is a little quieter as he asks, “You want me to do that to you?”

This time you fight your shame. Wrap it up tight and store it away for something else, something more worthy than a peculiar taste. You think about yourself in place of the main character, running between thick tree trunks with dead leaves crunching beneath your feet.

You think of Joel in place of the woman’s captor, mask over his face, presence dark and looming as he seeks you out. A shiver runs down your spine, so sharp and demanding that your body trembles in his hold.

“S’okay if you do,” he murmurs. You can feel each word through his chest, a delicious tremor against your suddenly too-hot skin. Joel lifts his hand and brushes your hair gently away from your face, thumb tracing the outline of your lips. “Know it did somethin’ to you. Turned you real greedy the other day. Hm?”

Arousal pools low in your belly, and you can hear your heart in your ears. You think he could convince you to do anything when he talks like that, voice low and gravelly. “Maybe,” you say. “I don’t know.”

“Read another part,” he whispers. His thumb travels slowly down your chin, over the curve of your jaw, down the column of your throat. “He’s got that switchblade in his hand. Touches her real nice, all sweet and loving. But he keeps that blade right…” Joel drags his index finger slowly across your neck. “ Here .”

The sound that escapes you is more than need, it’s something else entirely; more like desperation. You didn’t think it was possible to want him any more than you already do but this Joel who strikes just the right amount of fear in you? He makes your mouth water, makes you tremble and shake with just the caress of a single touch.

He grips the back of your thigh with his free hand, pulling you close, pressing you tight against the growing erection behind the cotton fabric of his boxers. Joel’s always been insatiable for you, sometimes getting worked up just from staring at you too long. But you begin to wonder if this is something he wants, too. “Should take you out someplace real nice,” he mutters. “Get all dressed up. You can wear that pretty pink sundress I like. Take you out to a nice dinner, treat you so fuckin’ good…an’ when the sun sets, I’d drive you someplace real dark. Let you loose.”

Even though he’s barely touching you, thumb stroking the skin of your hip gently, your clit pulses between your legs, hips shifting against him of their own accord. Your breath comes fast and labored and you think you’ve never been this fucking wet before—never wanted him so bad . It feels like you can’t think, can’t breathe without it, without Joel .

“Give you a head start,” he continues. “Long enough for me to put a mask on. Wouldn’t even let you see it ‘til I catch you…An’ I will catch you, sweet girl…but you’d have no way of knowin’ who it was. Could be me. Could be anyone.”

The idea is filthy and disgusting but your body doesn’t seem to mind. Your spine arches, breasts pressing up against his chest. Joel lays there stone still, holding you, letting you rut against him like a woman starved. “ Please ,” is all you manage to choke out. He hardly acknowledges the word, but you can feel the smirk form on his lips against the shell of your ear.

“I’d fuck the good girl right out of you,” he says. “Fuck you ‘til you’re nothin’ but a dumb little slut.”

“Jesus— Joel .” He's degraded you before, but it’s never been like this, never felt like this. You reach between your bodies and palm his cock in your hand, and a dark laugh leaves him as he helps you.

In a few quick movements, he pulls himself out of his boxers, shoves your panties to the side, and sinks his cock inside of you, filling you so full it hurts . But you don’t care, because there’s nothing more you need than this, and thankfully he understands. Like he always does .

Joel fucks you right then and there, whispering filthy things all the while, and you think he’s always understood you. Maybe even more than you’re able to understand yourself. Older and wiser and gracious—always giving you exactly what you need, exactly what you want.

Before you fall asleep that night, he kisses you softly and asks, “Do you want me to tell you before it happens? To warn you?”

You’re not sure how to answer at first. Because the concept as a whole terrifies you; it’s new and foreign and dangerous. And you think you might need the warning to calm yourself enough to enjoy it.

But you trust Joel. More than anyone else in the world, you know he’ll always keep you safe. You know he’d never do anything to hurt you.

And so, you pull the blankets tighter around your shoulders and say, “No. I want it to be a surprise.”

That night, you dream about a man chasing you through darkness whose hands feel more familiar than your own. You think about it for the next week. Daydreaming at work, while you’re making dinner, while you’re driving to run errands. It’s all you can think about, the only thing that fills the gaps of silence in your day-to-day life.

You wait. And wait. And wait .

Joel tells you Friday night that he’ll have to work overtime this weekend to make up for a lost part shipment. Nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary. Saturday morning he encourages you to sleep in, kisses your forehead before he leaves, tells you he loves you. And despite no inclination from him, you have a feeling that today is the day.

When you wake up a little while later, the sun casts shadows through the blinds, and you notice that Joel’s placed that pink sundress on his side of the bed. Laid it out for you.

You shower and groom yourself, mentally preparing for the moment it finally happens. It has to be today. And if Joel is lucky and planned it out right, he’d find out that you opted out of wearing panties underneath the sundress. He’d find you slick, shaved, aching in anticipation.

He notices your nervous excitement when he comes home from work, late and covered in sweat from a long day. You’re practically bouncing on your heels, having spent the entire day filling the time, waiting for his arrival. The sun had already started to set in the distance - you probably only had about an hour left of the day.

Please, God, let it be today .

“Sorry I’m late, sweetheart. Had an electrician cancel last minute, left me scramblin’ to get the project covered. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting,” he muttered into your lips as he greeted you. His arms wrapped around you, his body warm and hot against the thin fabric of your dress.

“That’s okay,” you say. “Everything go to plan other than that?”

“Sure did. Finally finished up that warehouse over on Cherry Street. Figured I’d go out and celebrate.”

You find yourself deflating at the words. Because, usually, Joel celebrating the end of a big project means the involvement of Tommy, too. And if Tommy’s there, then tonight is decidedly not the night.

Joel seems to notice the change in your demeanor. He places his hand on the side of your face and drags his thumb down your jutting bottom lip, releasing it with a wet pop . “Wouldn’t be a celebration unless I had a pretty little girl to buy a drink, now would it?”

Either way, even if it’s not tonight, you know you’ll enjoy the time with him like you always do. So you shelve your disappointment and timidly ask, “Will it be…just the two of us? Did you want to invite anyone else?”

He shakes his head, a playful spark glinting in his warm eyes. “Nah. Just wanna take my baby out. Give me a minute to change and we’ll head out. Sound good?”

You know your nod of approval probably looks too hopeful, too excited, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not with this golden excitement fills you to the brim, the anticipation making your hands tingle.

It only takes Joel ten minutes to change out of his work clothes and into a nice pair of jeans and a flannel, but it feels like forever. He asks you about your day while he drives to your favorite restaurant, and listens intently even though you have nothing interesting to say other than the fact that you’ve changed the curtain on the window above the dining room table.

He opens the car door for you and holds your hand as he directs you through the crowd at the restaurant, and orders for you when the waiter comes over. Even though you get the same thing every time, the gesture makes you feel small and safe and cared for.

You drink a glass of wine, and he tries out some sort of hoppy beer. Joel tells you about a song he heard on the radio that he wants to learn on guitar, but while you try to listen all you can think about is what comes after this.

A million thoughts run rampant through your head. He hasn’t said anything about it, hasn’t given you any hints besides laying the sundress out for you, but the rush of it all weighs heavy on your chest. Paired with the lowered inhibitions from the wine and you interrupt him to say, “Joel. Can you just…can you tell me? I changed my mind. I want to know so bad.”

That playfulness returns to his eyes. He tilts his head the smallest bit and leans over the table to hear your whispered words. “Tell you what?”

“You know ,” you insist. “Don’t make me say it here.” Despite the embarrassment that climbs your cheeks as you listen to the chatter around you, you can’t wipe the grin from your face. You try to hide it behind your hand instead.

“Can’t say I know what you’re gettin’ at here, girl,” he says. But that knowing smirk says otherwise. You can see the challenge in his eyes, the push for you to ask the question you’ve been swallowing down all night.

Folding your arms on the edge of the table, you lean in as close as you can and ask so softly, “Are you taking me to the woods tonight?”

He smiles—a big, toothy show of enjoyment, and leans back in the booth. Joel’s big, you’ve always known it…but seeing him now, shoulders broad and rugged, arms straining beneath the cotton sleeves of his flannel… God , he makes you weak. You can feel yourself flush beneath his scrutinization. Can feel the familiar stickiness of your arousal begin to gather between your legs, too. “An’ why would I do that, sweetheart? Ain’t nothin’ out there for a little thing like you.”

The wine is sweet on your tongue as you take the last sip and shrug casually, pretending as if your hands don’t tremble with anticipation. You try to put on a show of confidence. “Never know,” you say. “Could be a big, bad wolf out there that needs hunting down.”

Joel laughs at that, but he’s waving down the next waiter he sees for the check.

When you leave the restaurant, you realize now the sun has fully set and the darkness has descended. The moon hands high in the sky, the only illumination granted apart from the headlight of Joel’s truck. He helps you into the passenger side and buckles you in, hands gentle and caring, always taking care of you.

Pressing a kiss to your shoulder, he asks a single-word question. One you know is likely equally for his comfort as it is yours. “Okay?”

You are. Despite the fear that begins to rise in your chest, knowing the impending events likely to unfold, despite the shadows and the traversing of the unknown, you know that you’ll always be safe with Joel. “I’m good,” you promise.

He drives for far longer than you expect. Past every stoplight, outside of the city limits, weaving through the backroads until you’re well and truly lost. Every time you pass a wooded area you think he’ll slow to a stop, but he doesn’t. And every moment fuels the adrenaline coursing through you, ratcheting both your panic and excitement to immeasurable heights.

When he does finally stop, pulling off to the side of a road you swear you’ve never been down before, your heart is beating so fast you can hear it in your ears.

He pulls the key from the ignition and the lights cut out, wrapping the both of you in complete darkness. You can make him out just enough, though. Enough to see the predatory look on his face, enough to sense the danger you’ve placed yourself in.

Your mouth goes dry and your brain goes fuzzy as you watch Joel reach into his pants pocket, pulling out a switchblade that glimmers in the moonlight. The small knife makes a snapping noise when it opens, gleaming, taunting you. Excitement buzzed through your body, a nagging voice in the back of your head screaming to run.

“Better get a move on,” Joel whispers, his face shadowed and lips pressed into a grim line. The energy had shifted so quickly that you were uncertain what to do. Even if you did try to run, you doubted that your shaking body would make it very far.

A brooding intensity surrounded Joel, and even though he barely moved to reach back and grab something out of the back seat, the air still felt tense with a silent warning. In his free hand was a gas mask, worn and frayed. The round, glass eye lenses were clouded, displaying its years of disuse. He reached up with one hand to slip the mask down his face, leaving only his eyes revealed.

The white-hot heat that was burning through your veins somehow ignited even further when he finally locked eyes with you. Joel’s eyes were narrowed, carrying a different energy behind them; one that was full of mischief and lust. The moment lasted for a couple of beats…

One, two, three…

And then Joel’s hand snapped out, reaching rapidly to lock around your wrist. Thinking, breathing; none of it mattered. The only thing on your mind was running, some animalistic survival instinct that you didn’t know still existed within you taking over. Your wrist easily slipped out of his grip as you flung open the car door, escaping Joel and running into the dark forest.

There was a chill in the air that made your breath fan out in front of you while you ran, your heavy footsteps practically echoing through the woods. Every couple of moments you would stop and glance around, attempting to see through the endless rows of trees. You didn’t see anything and only heard the sound of your own breathing.

Joel could be scary when he wanted to. Like that one time, a couple weeks into knowing him. Some asshole had followed you around the grocery store late one evening, trailing behind aisle after aisle until your hands were shaking in fear. Joel was one of the only people you had befriended in town since you were new to the area.

He’d showed up five minutes after you’d called him, despite the fact that you knew he lived over ten minutes away. Joel approached the man, and you were grateful that you weren’t the one he was speaking to. Despite not hearing his words from where you were standing, you could see the dark anger on his face, a look that made your blood run cold.

The guy who was following you left immediately after, scurrying off with his tail between his legs. Joel followed you home in his truck even though your apartment was on the other side of town. He’d never been scary to you .

Until now.

Joel’s body came out of nowhere, grabbing you and yanking you against him. The switchblade pressed onto your throat, your heartbeat pounding against the cold metal. You couldn’t see Joel since his vice-grip had your back pushed on his chest.

“You call that running?” he asked, letting his fingers skate down the skin of your thigh, just under the low cut of your sundress. His calloused fingertips caught against your soft skin, raising higher and higher.

“I think you wanted me to catch you. Here you are, lettin’ me rub on you like the little slut I knew you were. I haven’t even properly touched you yet, but you’re already spreading your legs for me.”

Your face warmed at his degrading words. He was right. The excitement of the story wasn’t only the anticipation, but it was the thrill of the hunt. As much as you wanted Joel to touch you, to make your vision blur just from using his fingers, you knew you couldn’t give in so easily.

With all of your strength, you push away both of his hands, ripping out of his grip. He reached down to grab you but you snatched his shirt instead, pulling at it fiercely in an attempt to dodge under him. You heard the fabric rip, but you were too afraid to really acknowledge it.

You took it as an opportunity to escape, dodging Joel’s grasp. You wasted no time in steadying yourself before sprinting away, only sparing a quick glance back to see Joel. His shirt was half ripped, the gas mask blocking any form of expression on his face.

“Damn, baby,” Joel spoke. He stood, shrugging off his flannel before using the switchblade to finish ripping the fabric of his shirt. “If you wanted me to get naked, you should’ve just said so.”

As much as you wanted to watch the way Joel’s chest flexed in the moonlight, you couldn’t handle any distractions. You had to run.

And you did run for what felt like hours. By the time you stopped for a moment, your heartbeat was in your throat and you could feel a slick mess building between your thighs. Your legs were speckled with dirt and pieces of leaves from the way you were kneeling on the ground, searching for Joel.

You didn’t see anything extraordinary through the branches of the forest, but you heard something. A snap.

It was enough to get you back on your feet in an attempt to flee.

You couldn’t see him, but you could feel him. Though your eyes betrayed you, you could sense his closeness, could sense the space between you lessening with each passing moment. Sweat beads at your hairline and your panting echoes between the trees.

The cracking sound of wood beneath his heavy work boots cuts through the deafening silence, and you turn abruptly and throw yourself in the opposite direction. But Joel’s fast, too fast .

He catches up to you in a second, and you know you won’t get lucky twice, yet still you try. You push your legs as hard as you can, running as fast as you can, trying to navigate the uneven terrain.

Joel’s fingertips grasp your shoulder, and you pull away from him so violently you lose your balance, scraping your knees against the rough forest floor.

You quickly turn onto your back, kicking yourself away from him, trying to see through the thick fog of terror in your mind. His slow breaths sound mechanical through the gas mask’s respirator. He looms over you menacingly, looking every bit the wicked man you know he can be.

His shoulders rise and fall slowly, his breaths even while you struggle to catch yours. He tilts his head, a predator indulging in the chase.

And you know right then that you’ve been caught. Stuck in the spider’s web with no hope of extraction. Your voice shakes when you speak. “Joel?”

There’s no softness in him now. None of that gentle ease he always has with you. He lowers himself to the ground, knees on either side of your hips, and grabs for your hands.

You struggle against his hold, even knowing it’s useless. He wraps a calloused palm around your wrists and squeezes tight, and when you buck your hips up against him, trying to wiggle out from beneath his heavy weight, it serves no purpose but to further diminish the little energy remaining in your weary limbs.

Joel raises your arms above your head, pushing your too-sensitive skin deep into the earth, trapping you in place. You can hear the clicking of his tongue behind the mask. “Stupid little girl,” he says. “Never had a chance. Did you?”

His voice is muffled, deeper. You know it’s Joel. Behind the fear, behind the adrenaline, you know it’s him. But it doesn’t sound like him, not in the way you’re so accustomed to, and it sends a chill down your spine.

He adjusts his position, sliding down your legs just enough to grip the bottom of your dirt-stained sundress and rip it upwards. The air feels like ice against your center, slick with your arousal. You clit pulses with need, despite the way you still fight him, struggling nonsensically in his tight hold. “Look at how fuckin’ wet you are, baby,” he says. “Haven’t even touched you yet an’ that pretty pussy’s just fuckin’ crying for it, ain’t she?”

Your spine bends, arching off the ground. The sounds that leave your mouth are animalistic, a desperate whimpering, a wanton need.

And then suddenly his hand is tangled in your hair, pulling hard at the roots, holding your head up just enough to witness your exposure. “I said look ,” Joel grits out. “Want you to watch just how fuckin’ selfish she is. You listenin’ to me?”

“Yes— yes, ” you choke out. The muscles in your neck strain to keep your head held high enough to see the moment he lets go of your hair. But you heard him loud and clear, and you do just as he says.

His hand slips between your legs, and you fight the urge to let squeeze your eyes shut as his fingers slide over your clit. He circles it roughly and you can feel yourself clench around nothing, your body begging to be filled, begging for Joel . He uses the perfect amount of pressure, deft fingers moving fast, and it takes less than a minute before that familiar warmth begins to trickle in.

But you want more, you always want more, and so you find yourself lifting your hips upwards, trying to shift his hand lower, trying to let him know right where you need him most.

Joel laughs. A sick, maniacal sound that sends a cold flood of terror through you. “See? What’d I say? Fuckin’ greedy ,” he says. You know it’s meant to be an insult, but there’s a strange fondness as he says it. An undertone of worship.

You sigh out his name, unable to form another word, forgetting all else that came before this moment, disregarding all things that may come after. All that matters is this, all that matters is him .

“She wants it so bad,” he murmurs. “An’ I’m gonna give it to her.” His movements are cruel and almost painful as he turns you over, pulling your hips out from under him. Joel shifts your wrists to his other hand and sets them against the small of your back, using his free hand to force your head down. The earthy smell of decaying leaves greets you, and you greedily suck in cold breaths of air, trying to will your heart to slow its racing.

You can’t see his movements but you can feel him shift behind you, and a second later can hear the familiar clink of his belt buckle and the swish as he rips it from the loops of his jeans. The bite of leather is harsh as he winds it around your wrists, tightening it in a familiar, practiced way.

“Joel,” you breathe out. It sounds like a plea in your ears, and maybe it is. Because everything is too much, too intense . You need all of him, you think. Need the wickedness, that dark thing he’s been hiding all this time. But you need your Joel, too. The one who buckles you in, who kisses your forehead before he leaves for work in the morning. The one you know will always keep you safe, even when he defiles you. “ Joel ,” you say again.

His hands freeze on your hips, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his skin as he leans over and presses his cheek to yours. He waits for you to speak, giving you as long as you need to sort through the heightened emotions.

Your brain feels like mush and you struggle to form a coherent thought that’s more than one or two words strung together. You know you’re terrified. But you know, too, that you don’t want him to stop. And so all you manage to say is a barely audible, “I love you.”

He cradles your head in his hand, thumb stroking gently over your temple. And then he runs his nose over the curve of your jaw, and though he doesn’t say it, doesn’t break the spell he’s so carefully created in order to indulge your wildest fantasies, you know that no one has ever loved anyone the way that Joel Miller loves you.

But just as quickly as that gentleness appeared, it vanishes into nothing like the fog of your breath in the cold air.

“Gonna show you what happens when little girls roam into the woods,” he says. You can feel his erection as he presses it against you, heavier and harder than you think it’s ever been before. “Can try an’ hunt down the big bad wolf all you want. But if he catches you …”

You’re a trembling mess in his strong hands. His words are the only beacon keeping you grounded, you’re certain of it.

The metal teeth of his zipper grate as he pulls it down and undoes the button of his jeans, pulling his cock out. He slides the head through your arousal, coating himself in your slick. “Just know, whatever he decides to do with you is gonna hurt .”

And then he’s pushing his length into you in one smooth movement, leaving you no time to adjust to the size of him. The stretch is painful and foreboding, every muscle in your body tensing up at the impact. “ Fuck— oh my God —”

“Can pray all you want, but there’s no one out here to save you,” he spits. Joel doesn’t give you a single second to breathe before he’s rocking his hips into you, setting a punishing pace. You can feel his cock throb inside you, can feel that he’s enjoying this just as much as you are.

You grit your teeth against the pain of it, fingers flexing in his grip. “ Joel —I can’t—!”

“Yes, you can, baby,” he says, voice low and echoing. “I know you can. So shut up and fuckin’ take it.” He leans over you, pressing the side of your face into the ground. You can taste moss and earth but with each thrust, the pain is quickly subsiding, replaced instead with a blinding pleasure.

That warmth builds again, coiling around your spine. Pressure builds quickly and you can feel yourself dripping around him, making a mess of the coarse hair above his cock. “Joel— fuck .”

He reaches on hand around your hip, easily finding your clit and strumming it with swift, practiced movements. You clench around him and he lets out a deep groan in response. When he leans forward and tells you, “Open your mouth,” you do so immediately, brain fuzzy and overstimulated, unwilling to do anything unless he tells you to.

Joel slides two of his fingers into your mouth and shoves them so far down you nearly choke. It’s instinctual when you close your swollen lips around him and suck.

You can hear the smile in his words as he speaks. “There you go,” he mutters. “Told you how this would go, didn’t I? Told you what would happen. Nothin’ but a dumb little slut for me now, baby, hm? Yeah?”

All you can do is nod, unable to form a single coherent thought. Your orgasm hits hard and fast, almost unexpected. It washes through you, electricity dancing beneath your prickling skin. Your moans reverberate through the trees, and you’re suddenly glad he’s driven you so far out so no one can hear you.

“Oh, she likes that ,” Joel says, talking you through it, circling your clit and fucking into you a little harder. “Likes the way it feels to be all full’a me, hm? Yeah, there you go. Gonna give this pretty pussy just what she needs.”

His rhythm falters, staggering just the smallest bit. And while he’s just given you the best orgasm of your fucking life, there’s something about this that makes you feel finally satisfied, full in a way you’ve never been before.

The moment he bottoms out inside of you, Joel turns you on your back and pulls the mask off of his face. His cheeks are flushed and rosy, but there’s a sense of completion in his eyes that you’re sure is mirrored in your own. He kisses your cheeks, your forehead, the bridge of your nose.

And all you can say is, “Oh my God.”

Joel laughs. It’s one of those full, good-natured belly laughs. Your favorite kind. “Well? Was I better than your book?”

You cover your face with your hands, muffling your giggles between your fingers. “Much better.”

#joel miller #pearlessance #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #ao3 fanfic #joel tlou #joel the last of us #ao3 writer #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #smut #halloween

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randombush3 · 10 days ago

Text

the winner takes it all

alexia putellas x reader

summary: an unexpected invitation throws your world off-kilter

words: 6276

content warnings: it's a bit unfaithful

notes: in this universe real madrid is a proper opponent and rival to barcelona, in the sense that funding and history is relatively equal (so it's basically more like the men's rivalry)

idk where this came from tbh

Amb gran alegria,

Alexia i Olga

T’invitem a celebrar la nostra unió matrimonial.

10 d’agost de 2025

Gran Hotel Mas d’en Bruno

You haven’t read Catalan in years. You squint at the details.

You wish you had forgotten it.

Only Alexia would do this to you, twisting the knife as though it’s a favour, a compliment. Make it seem psychotic for not wanting to go, make it seem like it’s not a big deal.

The invitation isn’t personalised. You are not special in her eyes. You have been allowed onto the guest list, you have no mark in her life. Surely Olga would have objected if she’d known, if she’d been told. Maybe Alexia doesn’t talk about it. Maybe she has heard your name on match reports and team sheets, announcements for captaincy, interviews with Las 16 who called you traidora then and call you traidora now.

As if she knew it was coming, your phone begins to light up with messages from Alba. Apologies, perhaps, in her own Alba way. Stuff like ‘are you coming’ and ‘you don’t have to’ and then more buzzing, vibrating the shitstorm into a phone call.

You don’t speak often. Why would you? But you answer it, listless, really, and unsure what the correct approach to this even is.

“Hola, traidorita,” she says with a nervous giggle, reclaiming your nickname in Barcelona but reminding you of how you are perceived nevertheless. “I don’t know why you are on the guest list.”

Alba is like this: straight to the point, unafraid of her sister and unafraid to tell you what she thinks. They are very different, which is why she is the only one who has your current number in her contacts.

“You told her where I live,” you respond. Your shock makes no room for manners. “Because no one there has my Madrid address, Albi.”

“No one here has it, yeah. But she asked around. Well, Olga did.” She laughs again. Her nervousness is high-pitched and easily detected. “Told Ale that she has to have her childhood best friend at her wedding.”

“Childhood best friend?”

“Estranged childhood best friend?” she tries, and you can hear the smile and the teasing fucking smugness in it. You wonder if anyone else knows you have been invited. Alba because your address was squeezed out of her, sure, but… “And my mother thought it was a good idea too, before you try to murder a woman you have never met.”

“I’ve met Olga before,” you say without thinking, because that’s far easier to focus on than the idea of Eli getting involved in this completely undesired reunion that is about two centuries too early. “When I was going out with, eh, I don’t remember her name. A model. You know what they’re like. Olga’s the one who works for… thingie.”

There’s a sigh from the other end. “So many models yet not one name has been retained. Do you even ask them?”

“We’re not usually doing much talking.”

“Zorra.”

“Coming from you…” You smirk at the thought of all the little secrets Alba’s had you keep, a tradition that started young and became increasingly frequent when you removed yourself from everyone else’s lives. It’s like a journal, only you judge her. “You’re doing a good job of distracting me until I agree to go.”

She hesitates, then. You’re not an idiot and you know why she called. Alba is supportive but she has her own agenda most of the time, and no one else knows the exact time you get back from training aside from your fellow teammates. Even then, most are too intimidated to contact you in general, let alone to ask about being invited to Alexia Putellas’ fucking wedding.

Alba is also very manipulative, a professional puppeteer. And she knows exactly what to say. “It’s been fifteen years. Are you going to let her win?” It’s an infuriating provocation but it hits its target with ease.

…

The first step of preparing for this wedding takes place in the form of the Euros: you’re going to win it and be happy enough to ignore the impending doom hanging over your off-season plans. Going into the competition with heavy medals round your necks makes cockiness the slippiest of slopes, and it is safe to say that most of your teammates are prepared to cruise through at least the group stages.

An unexpected injury rips Jenni’s opportunity to play from her grasp (an echo of her ex-girlfriend, you briefly think), and she is flying back to Mexico before the tournament begins. Montse is a captain down – of course only this kind of disaster could happen to her – and before Patri can even open her mouth to volunteer for the role, you are dragged into a leadership meeting.

You’ve worn the armband before, though it seared and burned and blistered until you threw it in Jorge’s face and demanded someone else absorb the hatred it brought. He went ballistic as you’d said it, you remember, his face going red in the soft glow of your hotel room the night before the World Cup final. He’d leaned forwards, fist clenched, knuckles white and wanting to choke the life out of you.

“You have no respect!” he’d roared, voice splitting like thunder against the thin walls of your hotel room. “Not for me, not for your country, not for anything!” His breath was coming out in sharp ragged gasps. He spat. You’d wiped it off your body. “I thought you had scraped all the Catalan out of you, but here it is!” he’d screamed, loud enough to be heard but so comfortable in his power that it did not seem to frighten him. “Selfish and arrogant. You should have made it Seventeen.”

He’d left in his rage, slamming his door.

You regretted smiling in pictures with him, shaking his hand, kissing his cheek. You regretted the press conferences and interviews, the shaky defence you had constructed, the words of faith and trust you had professed and tried to believe. It had changed you, just a little bit, that incident. Made you think about who you are, where you come from. Made you remember someone you’d tried to forget.

But Irene and Alexia, staring at you with both contempt and confusion as you take a seat at the conference table, don’t know any of this. Why would they? To them, this is the traidora.

“Y/n is going to take Jenni’s place as third captain,” says Montse firmly, if she even knows how to do that. Irene and Alexia share a glance. Their roles have been restored for this competition and they are not prepared for an intruder to take that from them, although Irene will later remind Alexia that it is not your fault Jenni got injured. “I trust you three will come up with a suitable management plan. If you need me, you know where to find me.”

None of you really do know where she lurks, but she is walking off before you can clarify.

“We already have a strategy.” And she says it in Catalan, looking falsely apologetic when she is kicked underneath the table.

“Good job, Alexia,” you tell her, so nauseatingly saccharine that you almost think of the nearest route to a toilet. She’s surprised you’ve granted her a reply though, which is satisfying enough. About to spit out another remark to divide yourselves further, you shift in your chair, stretching out your legs underneath the table.

It is then that her ring catches your eye.

It’s delicate, shiny. A neatly cut diamond set in platinum with slight details that tell you someone thought about Alexia when they had this made and got it all wrong. Or maybe this is what she likes now. It’s not what you’d have given her.

She sees your eyes fall to her fingers, watching carefully as your gaze heats the metal and makes it almost too hot for her to keep on. You don’t really want her to know that you’ve seen it but you’ve made it bleeding obvious and so the predicament spirals and Irene wants, desperately, to leave you two alone – she knows shouldn’t, she’s aware of the health and safety risk.

There is something about the way Alexia clenches her jaw, posture stiffening as she allows herself one flicker from your face to the ring, that tells you she is bracing herself for a bullet. She always did have an uncanny ability to read you, however unwanted it was.

You lean back in your chair, aware of how the bystander is holding her breath, and decide to swallow the words burning on your tongue. You’ve accepted her invitation, and bitter manners are still manners. “Congratulations,” you say, words clipped and brittle, each syllable more venomous than the last.

The chair makes a screeching sound as you stand. Irene flinches but Alexia does not move. She refuses to watch as you walk out of the room.

…

Three hours later, Alexia is off the phone with Olga and knocking on Irene’s door with an embarrassed suppression of urgency. Shoulders hunched and lips downturned, the sight is enough for her to be ushered inside with only the quiet flap of Irene’s arms to beckon her forwards. With this part of the training camp being not quite tunnel-vision yet, Irene’s room is littered with toys and toddler stuff. Usually Alexia would be looking at them in quiet excitement. Right now, she is not so sure.

“Second thoughts?” Irene asks, and Alexia half-jumps backwards in shock, about to furiously shake her head and profess her love for Olga– “I think the plan is good. I don’t think we need to worry about Y/n in the centre, seeing how she’s been playing there this season.”

It slowly dawns on Alexia that Irene has assumed this is pre-tournament nerves, and that she is being shown such a vulnerable side of her co-captain because, well, who else can be? No one wants to see their commander gulp at the sight of the battlefield.

“She still favours her left,” Alexia gets out. “She might drift, leaving a big gap for you to cover.”

“She’s got offers from PSG, Chelsea, and Washington Spirit. It’s in her interest not to drift.”

“She’s good at drifting.”

Irene doesn’t respond to that.

“Since when did you wear your ring to training?” is what she chooses to say instead, asking the question with a healthy fear of getting her head bitten off, taking a small step backwards to put her at a safer distance.

Alexia doesn’t reply immediately, her fingers grazing the ring as she thinks. The weight of it seems heavier now, almost suffocating in the sterile air of the hotel room, as though this is everything she’s been trying to avoid. Her heart thuds against her ribcage. It feels like everyone is starting to notice.

“I didn’t think it was an issue.” Her voice is tight, defensive, but with a subtle, betraying crack. She pulls her hand back from the air, letting it fall to her side. “We hardly did much more than pass the ball today so I kept it on.”

It’s a poor excuse. It comes off for the cameras, not the contact of the game. Irene knows that. But, to her credit, she doesn’t push. She just watches Alexia, eyes narrowed slightly in an unreadable expression. “I just thought you guys were keeping it a bit more… private.”

Alexia turns her gaze to the floor, staring at the scattered toys and items around the room. The simplicity of it all, the domestic innocence, makes her feel even more tangled. She feels an urge to lie, to say that Olga asked her to, worried that you’d misinterpret its absence, but Olga doesn’t even know she has reason to lose sleep. She hasn’t found the courage to explain. She hasn’t felt the need to.

And, really, the truth is right here, echoing between them. Irene would have pieced together the story, as many of Alexia’s teammates have, hearing drunken retellings on nights out from whoever has known the two of you the longest that time. Maybe Alba has spoken to her, revealing everything after a round of tequila shots, as she tends to do. There are a few suggestions the older woman could make to her teammate, wounds she could open and then nurse, but she doesn’t and so she waits.

Until, finally, Alexia admits, “it’s complicated. She has caught me off-guard.” It could mean many things, but it is either your captaincy or the acceptance of her wedding invitation that has done Alexia in. She wonders whether this feeling of dread and uncertainty is the game – or the life waiting for her after she comes back from Switzerland. “Look,” she says abruptly, “I’m not here for advice, Irene.”

“Then why are you in my room?” She doesn’t have an answer for that. Irene sweeps her outside, gently but firmly. “I’m not going to tell you what to do,” she treads lightly, “but when was the last time you had a conversation with her?”

…

The training pitch in Switzerland is unseasonably hot, the kind of heat that clings to the air and makes tempers run shorter than usual. It’s almost a cure to homesickness but then the team look at each other and are back to hating every minute of this. There’s an undeniable divide. Montse either does not care or has not caught on.

It’s about your twentieth rondo this session, the ball zipping across the wilting grass as it touches Barça foot to Barça foot, the girls obviously enjoying this. You’re only holding back because too much investment will lead to another injury, and you are getting somewhat tired of being called a traitor. The players surround you with a ruthless efficiency that is starting to fray your nerves, and you make a note to talk to your coach about training, knowing that it will be easy to manipulate her into following something akin to what the girls at Madrid are more accustomed to.

Alexia is one of your taunters. Of course she is.

“Just three more interceptions,” she calls out, false strain, false support, false encouragement.

You bite back a retort, instead standing still as Aitana rolls a ball right past you. You wipe the sweat from your brow, feigning exhaustion, but the pretense is only that in name. Everyone knows you are one of the best defenders, the Barça girls especially, with their insane pride for La Masia.

“Lazy,” Alexia mutters.

You don’t respond, focusing instead on the fire in your chest as you forcibly break the circle and march towards Montse. She looks up from her clipboard as you approach.

“We should split training.” She pauses and then nods. “Attack and defence, at least. And don’t let the press hear this, but, my god, Montse, I do not like how they’re all back.”

“We’re a stronger team,” she says, but she’s smiling and you are definitely her favourite. Another deep breath and she is calling a water break.

The girls retreat to the sidelines for ice and hydration, and you reunite with the people you like. Your club teammates prefer you at national camp, because there is something less reclusive about you. It’s as though you’re trying to prove that you get on.

Olga hands you a water bottle, the contents of which you guzzle down in one go. She begins to comment on the absurdity of Alexia’s mandated rondos (“why do they have to keep reminding themselves how to pass a ball?”) and while you agree, your attention is diverted. Alexia is standing a few meters away with Mariona Caldentey. She’s listening to something the forward is telling her, face focused, finger twisting her ring around in circles.

That fucking ring.

You look away before you are caught in such a compromising position, wiping your forehead with your damp training shirt.

“Oye,” Misa’s voice pulls you back, “are you paying attention?” You’re not even sure when she joined the conversation. Your relationship with the goalkeeper has always been overly complicated. You work very closely, what with you commanding the backline and her… also commanding the backline. But she’s friends with people who must have at least once wished you dead, so it’s hard to tell where you stand. “Are you okay?”

��Yeah,” you lie, screwing the cap back onto the water bottle and placing it in Olga’s held-out palm.

“You’re never this spacey. You’ve been off since the meeting,” she presses, her voice gentle but insistent. “If this is about the captaincy–”

“It’s not,” you snap, harsher than what was meant. Her eyes widen slightly and you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Sorry. It’s not about that. I’m fine.”

Misa doesn’t look convinced but she nods, letting it drop. Gratitude relaxes your shoulders but the uneasy silence that follows is punishing enough for you to be eager for training to resume.

Now that the rondos have been left behind until tomorrow, you divide into teams for a scrimmage. The squad is split into four and you throw yourself into the exercise. Every touch, every pass, every run is perfect, and you are unrecognisable from your lackadaisical lull only ten minutes ago. You’re pushing your body and it flicks onto autopilot, driven by muscle memory and determination.

Your head’s not in it. You can’t outrun her shadow. You can’t think when your teams are against each other.

The ring must have come off now, and she is getting stuck in. She’s relentless and irritating, evading your teammates’ tackles and drawing you into her. It’s almost transportative: back you go to gardens after school or being barefoot on the beach, forced out of your relaxation and into an endless game of ‘tackle me like you mean it’. She has that same glint in her eye, that same goading gleam. You consider it, but crutches at a wedding is a low blow.

And so you lay off. Just on her, and only just enough so that she knows you are not trying. You do not care for petty squabbles. You are not willing to go back to those memories, to that time.

Or at least, that’s the message you hope she gets.

The games slowly wind down, prompted by Montse’s whistle to signal the end of the session. You stay on the pitch longer than anyone else, taking you time to collect the stray balls scattered across the grass. It’s partly an excuse to delay walking into the locker room, where the tension will be thick (you were not the right choice for third captain in the eyes of your teammates), and partly because you need a moment to breathe.

The others slowly disperse, peeling off to the showers or collapsing onto benches. Alexia lingers longer than most, wiping away her sweat with her shirt, abs exposed and tensed. She watches you as you move across the pitch, and though her gaze is subtle, you can feel it blazing hotter than the sun lashing down on you. But, despite her staring, she too is eventually coaxed away. You’re unsure whether she is thankful for the interruption.

When you finally make your way to the changing rooms, most of your teammates are in the showers, and the sound of running water mingled with laughter echoes. You take a seat at the locker you were assigned and let out a slow breath, peeling off sweat-soaked socks with mild disgust. You turn to fling them into your laundry bag, but their flight path is blocked by a blonde who has clearly delayed her own shower to talk to you.

She’s looking oddly pensive. You don’t like it.

“We need to talk.” It’s uncomfortable for Alexia to say and it’s worse for you to hear. You’re not sure you’re okay with her decision to become reasonable and mature. It’s quite the compliment to always be the cause for stoic, rational Alexia Putellas going absolutely batshit crazy.

Driving her up the wall is fun.

“I’ll send you an invitation. No need to tell me which room is yours.” You give her a smile. And, like you always do, you walk away.

…

There’s a charge to the air that is choking you by dinner time. The upgrade to captain allowed for your own room, and it is easy to blow off teammates who want to have plans with you with the simple excuse of needing to talk to your agent. You technically do, since you are going to leave Madrid during the transfer window, but you have no intention of dialling his number until he confirms the best and furthest team wants you.

You’ve spent the evening avoiding the majority of the players, which Montse took advantage of, encouraging you to spend dinner discussing tactics with her and her staff. You feel like the teacher’s pet. You know how angry it is making Alexia.

Collapsing on the bed when you back into your room, you let out a loud groan, sinking into the mattress. Your phone buzzes on the bedside table and for a moment, you think it might be Alba, allowing you no peace and quiet despite her distance. Instead, it’s a message on the team group chat from the strength and conditioning coach about tomorrow’s gym session. A wave of relief washes over you; anything but her.

Still, as you scroll, you catch yourself lingering on the names in the group chat, your thumb hovering near Alexia’s. Your stomach tightens and the memory of her tone, her expression, pulls at you like a tether.

She’s not going to drop this.

It’s no longer a matter of avoidance in the camp. You’ve said you will be present. She must want to ensure you will not make a scene.

A knock at the door, so quiet you are almost convinced it was imagined, breaks you out of your brooding. Your eyes watch the wood as though it will be splintered in a moment, but when you make no move to get up, a more insistent knock sounds. You sigh as you pull yourself off your bed, dragging your feet towards the door. Opening it, you find Alexia standing there, arms crossed and wearing an expression you can’t quite decipher. It lacks her usual burning hatred. She looks exhausted.

You struggle to feel any sympathy.

“What?” you snap. It’s a bit harsher than intended but you don’t let on that that’s the case.

“Can I come in?” You guess that she didn’t pick up the hint when you gave her no invitation. You do not want to talk. You don’t do that to people much anymore.

She expects the door to slam in her face – and you consider it – but it’s your hesitation that tells her she can, and so she slowly moves inside, shoulder brushing yours because you refuse to move out of the way. And then she raises a deliberate hand towards the door, pushing it shut. You ignore the ring.

You lean against the door once it’s shut, arms folded as she wanders further into your room. She looks out of place somewhere so personal to you, standing awkwardly in the centre and trying not to look at the explosion of clothes and books that has been detonated on the floor.

She reads the titles of a few – classics that look dense and boring. Something hungry inside her dulls a bit, because you have not changed in this respect.

“You’re quiet for someone who wants to talk,” you prompt, mostly because the silence is unbearable.

She doesn’t respond immediately. Her arms drop to her sides, fingers twitching as if unsure what to do with themselves. She tries to meet your eyes, but falters when she sees the cold indifference staring back. You’re looking at her like she’s a stranger. It stings more than it should.

“I didn’t invite you to the wedding,” she says finally. “Olga doesn’t know about us.”

“There’s no ‘us’,” you snap, sharper this time.

Her jaw tightens and for a second, she looks as though she’s been struck. “Don’t lie.”

“There is no ‘us’,” you repeat, your tone icy now. “That disappeared the minute I–”

“Left,” comes her interruption, her voice trembling just enough for you to notice. She steps closer, her shadow crossing yours, and her eyes narrow. “Which was your decision, not mine.”

You scoff, a bitter laugh escaping you. “Don’t act like you didn’t have a say in it.”

“I didn’t!” she fires back, her voice rising. There is something raw beneath it – something fractured. “You didn’t give me one. You walked out, and you shut me out like I was nothing. Like we were nothing.”

Her words hang in the air and for a moment, you don’t know whether to shoot or turn away. But her gaze pins you in place, fierce and unrelenting, as though daring you to deny it.

You hold her stare, your throat tightening. “And you didn’t try to stop me.”

The silence that follows feels deafening. Neither of you moves. Neither of you blinks. You’re both standing on landmines and have nowhere to go.

Her jaw clenches, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Her voice, though low, crackles with the heat of restrained anger.

“You didn’t give me a chance to stop you.” And she steps closer, ready to bite. The door presses against your back as you instinctively move away. “You made up your mind before I even knew what was happening.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t see it coming.” You shake your head. “I didn’t just wake up one day and decide to leave, Alexia.”

Her expression darkens, something in her eyes flickering dangerously. “That’s not the point. You didn’t just leave the club. You didn’t just leave me. You left everything. Our family. Our life. Do you have any idea what that felt like? Watching you walk away as if none of it mattered?”

Your chest tightens but you refuse to let her words land. “You don’t get to make me the villain here.”

“I don’t have to,” she snaps, her voice rising now, accent thickening with her anger. “You were part of my family, part of me. You were at every Christmas, every birthday. My mother adored you. Alba still loves you like you are her own sister! And you just disappeared like none of it meant anything. Like we didn’t mean anything.”

You flinch at the weight of her words but force yourself into steadiness. “I didn’t belong there. It wasn’t mine, it was yours.”

Her face twists in disbelief, voice trembling as it rises again. “That’s bullshit and you know it! You were my family. My first everything. My first kiss. My first…” She pauses, her voice cracking. You swallow hard – you don’t want the fucking itemised list. “My first time. You think I just gave that to anyone? You think that it was just fun and games?”

Your stomach churns as she stokes a fire you’ve tried to smother for years. “It wasn’t nothing,” you agree, although it sounds like you are contradicting her in a way that causes her to falter on her drive forwards. “It was everything. That’s why I left. Because I couldn’t be what was needed anymore. Because I knew if I stayed, I’d only–”

“Only what?”

You gulp.

She’s back in your face, voice laced with venom. “Hurt me? Ruin me? Let us all done? Guess what, you did that anyway. Leaving made it easier? Made it hurt less?”

“I didn’t know what else to do!” you shout, voice splitting.

“You stay!” It echoes and it bruises your skin. Her eyes are blazing now, tears threatening to spill but held back by sheer force of will. “You stay, because that is what you do when you love someone. When you love a family. You don’t just walk away from them. You fight.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words stick in your throat, caught somewhere between guilt and pride. She sees it and it only seems to enrage her further.

Her voice drops, anger so torrid she has to purposely cool her tone. “You know, I thought that my world was ending then. I thought you’d done your worst. But I was wrong. Because your betrayal wasn’t just personal, it was… political. To not see someone you love except for when they are sitting at the feet of this. Corruption’s pet. Pandering to an organisation you hated, while the rest of us fought for scraps.”

Heat rises in your chest. How dare she– “I don’t pander to anyone.”

“Don’t lie to me,” she spits. She’s too close. She’s too inescapable. And her anger is no longer fiery but icy, piercing through your skin. “I’ve seen the way you act around them, bowing your head and playing the loyal soldier while they tear us apart. You think I didn’t notice how he favoured you? Or how Montse magically replaces an irreplaceable member of–”

“It’s not like that,” you counter, but the words feel hollow even to you.

“Then what is it?” she demands. “What is it that makes you stand there and let them walk all over us? Let them divide us? And don’t you dare say it is for the good of the team. The team hates you for it. We all do. You’ve earned every bit of it, traidora.”

The word hits you like a whip, lacerating and making you bleed. Your hands curl into fists so tightly your nails dig into your palms, the sting barely enough to contain the fury surging through you. “Don’t you dare call me that!” The sentence tears out of your throat, rough and jagged. You take a step forwards, the air between you crackling with tension, your voice breaking as you spit, “you don’t get to say that to me. Not you.”

“Why not?” she challenges. “It’s what you are. You left, you betrayed everything we stood for, and then you came back just to make things worse. You made your choices.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at her, the anger and heartbreak in her eyes, eviscerating and leaving you hollow. But then, something shifts in the air between you, and you find your voice again, souring from before.

“Is that why you’re here, Alexia? To throw all of this in my face? To let out fifteen years of harboured emotion? Or is it something else?”

Her brow furrows in confusion. Surprise. And then her expression twists into anger. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

You take a step forward now, and she is forced to retreat. “Do you not want to marry Olga, Alexia? Is that it? Is that why you’re here? Because you think you can come into my room, dredge all of this up, and make me the reason you’re unhappy?”

Her face pales as she takes a deep breath, hands trembling at her sides. “Don’t,” she warns, firmly enough to signal you need to push.

So you do.

“You came here because you’re scared.” She shakes her head but it’s rigid and forced. “Because you’re not sure you can go through with it and you want me to give you a reason to back out. Well, I’m not going to do that for you. This isn’t my mess. It’s yours.”

She says nothing and you feel sick. Her chest rises and falls with each gasping breath. She opens her mouth but again, you are left with silence, and the expression in her eyes flickers between defiance, confusion, and vulnerability. For a long moment, it feels like everything that could be said has been.

The air between you is charged, but neither of you know which way it will go.

You stare at her watching her waver. And it hits you: she doesn’t know what to do.

All of this, all the anger and the pain, all the accusations and betrayals, has led her here, to this moment. She thought she had an answer, she thought she would be able to end this, but now? Now, Alexia is lost. There is too much here, too much to lose. And for the first time in a long while, you are feeling the same thing. You are both no longer sure if you want to fight.

She takes a hesitant step closer and you freeze. But then, just as quickly, her hand moves – not to strike, not to harm, but to touch you. Her fingers brush lightly over the fabric of your sleeve, almost tenderly, before they fall away, and you don’t know if the motion was meant for comfort or something else.

Her breath is ragged, coming in slow, uneven gasps. Her eyes never leave yours. You don’t want them to.

“I don’t know what to do with all of this,” she murmurs, the rawness in her tone shattering any remaining wall between you. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

How do you respond to that? You want her to leave but the thought is unbearable. You want space but she is not close enough. Something inside you stirs, something you can’t fight; a need to understand her and make her understand you. To make her see how tangled this, how impossible it has always been.

Before you can form the word, before you can even think, she moves in closer, and there is no longer distance. She doesn’t ask for permission. She doesn’t hesitate. And then, without warning, her lips are on yours.

It’s soft, tentative at first, as though testing the waters of something neither of you is sure of anymore. But then it shifts. Her body leans into yours, and the kiss deepens, more urgent now, as if this is everything that has not been said and has been at the same time. Your heart races, a million conflicting emotions crashing through you. Anger, betrayal, love – it is all here, you can taste it on her lips. It’s fierce, desperate, and it feels like an endless cycle of need and regret, pulling you both back to something raw, something irretrievable.

Her hands find your waist, gripping tightly as though anchoring herself to something that could pull her under. You instinctively respond, pulling her closer, drawing in the heat of her touch, the scent of her skin, the pressure of her body against yours. For a fleeting second, everything else fades away. There’s no past, no future, only here and now.

And then the fog clears.

You pull back, breathless and worse off. You’ve fucked up again. Alexia is crying.

“I’m not the person you think I am anymore,” you say, but it’s hard to meet her gaze. “I can’t be that person for you.”

Her eyes search yours desperately for lies, for deceit. She wants it to be wrong. She doesn’t know why. And she replies, “I don’t care what you think you’ve become,” because she doesn’t. It doesn’t matter to her.

You stare at her, heart pounding, and you want to feel like this will be worth it, but nothing comes except cold emptiness. You force yourself to stay upright. “I think the wedding will be good.” She swallows. “You’ll be happy with Olga. I’m sure of it.”

It’s a death sentence.

This time, it is Alexia who leaves.

…

The wedding is beautiful. Blissful sunlight makes the venue seem to glow and it is hard not to be impressed with how they have set this up.

The model at your side is also beautiful, but you remind yourself it is not a competition. You focus on the whispers of anticipation from the guests, the rustle of the dresses as people pass in merry groups, clinking their glasses and finishing their champagne as they take their seats. Everything looks perfect, plucked from magazines and tasteful brochures. This must be what Alexia wanted.

Your date is occupying herself in conversation with the man seated next to you, who might be hitting on her, though you don’t care. She slides a hand over your thigh anyway.

The ceremony begins, although you’re not really concentrating on it. You try to focus, listening as the officiant speaks, but the words have become a dull hum. It’s all so rehearsed, so expected, and it’s boring. You won’t be getting married anytime soon, that’s for sure.

You know the flow of these things: the vows, the promises, the kiss, and the crowd’s applause. It’s a performance, though it’s not quite a farce.

And then, it comes. The moment. The one that feels like a trap.

The officiant pauses, glancing out over the gathering. “Si algú s'hi oposa, que parli ara o calli per sempre.”

For a heartbeat, time slows. The air thickens. Every muscle in your body tenses and the world around you goes still. You catch yourself holding your breath, gaze instinctively shifting to the woman standing at the front of the altar.

Alexia.

Her eyes flicker briefly in your direction – just a flicker, but it’s there, unmistakable. It’s her moment of hesitation, well masked but clear as day to you. But before you can make sense of it, she’s looking away, eyes fixed back onto Olga. Her expression hardens, more composed now, and you know that you are not going to break this silence.

The officiant, oblivious to the storm passing between you both, waits for a beat longer before continuing, his voice echoing in the silence.

And she’s married.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. It’s over now. You’ve let her win.

#woso x reader #woso #randombush3 #barca femeni #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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seresinhangmanjake · 9 months ago

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The Harkonnen's Claim

Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Reader

Summary: Your brother, Paul, took you from Feyd in a vulnerable moment, and if he wants the woman he loves back, he will have to give your brother something in return.

Notes/Warnings: this is part 2 of 2. Ignore canon ages in the timeline. I don’t know what they are, but everyone young is in their twenties, cool? Cool. Dune inaccuracies. Mention of pregnancy (present) and miscarriage (past). Jessica and Paul kind of (very much) suck. Feyd’s a soft boy for our reader. Smutty-ish (18+) and fluffy stuff, tidbit of angst. I'm sure there are spelling mistakes. I read it twenty times, but you know how it is. I think that’s it.

Words: 3300

Feyd Masterlist Part 1

You can’t see him—your eyelids are too heavy—but he’s shouting. Cursing. With each of his grunts glass shatters and metal clangs against the walls. Feminine voices are shrieking in sync with the rageful sounds coming from your lover and his actions. He is scaring them. He shouldn’t be scaring them. It isn’t their fault.

“Get out!” he yells.

More shrieks. Multiple pairs of feet rapidly shuffle about. The door slams and then Feyd is sitting beside you on the bed, one hand brushing your hair back from your forehead, the other rubbing up and down your forearm and pulling it onto his lap.

“My love…” he says, “It’s ok. You’re ok.”

You swallow hard and peel open your eyelids to see his face hovering above you. A sigh leaves his lips when his eyes connect with yours.

“They were only here to help,” you mutter.

Feyd bites down hard, sharpening the line of his jaw. He has much to say, you know, but he struggles to release his frustration in any manner other than shouting or fighting in the arena. Right now, he can’t do either.

“They did nothing to help,” he softly snaps.

But he’s wrong. The women he brought in to examine you did exactly as they were told. It’s just that their conclusion upon taking a look at you was not what he, nor you, expected to hear.

“Considering the excessive bleeding, she seems to have—” the woman paused; you could hear the tremble in her voice “—lost the baby, my Na-Baron. I’m very sorry.”

Neither of you has spoken about heirs or lineage or combining the genetics of Great Houses. You hadn’t even known of your pregnancy until you heard them tell Feyd that you are no longer carrying the child, and yet, you feel a tremendous loss. You instantly wonder what that child would have been. A boy? A girl? Would they have been a warrior like their father? Or more level-headed like their mother? Maybe a combination of both—that would probably be best for everyone.

“We’ll try again when you feel better,” Feyd tells you, leaning down and pressing his forehead into yours.

Slowly closing your eyes, you reach a hand up to rest on the back of his neck, your thumb caressing between his ear and the curve of his jaw. “Feyd, we weren’t trying to begin with.”

“Does that mean we shouldn’t?” he asks. “You are meant to be the mother of my heir.”

You sigh. “Feyd–”

“You are,” he demands, but you can detect his hidden plea. “You will be.”

—

They are scared of him—your son—or, at least, she is.

With your ear pressed against the door, you can hear them in the halls. Mother and son arguing over your value.

“Get rid of them, Paul, while you still can,” Lady Jessica implores him. “It’s in our best interest. You have no idea the kind of man she will raise that baby to be.”

But Paul has embraced his new role. There’s no hesitation in how he speaks to her anymore. His words are firm, but well-chosen. He truly was born to be a leader, just not the leader the Universe agreed on.

“The boy will one day be the Baron, and by then, he will have grown stronger than most, his father included,” Paul confirms. “But we only benefit from having that on our side. From Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s need for my sister, an alliance will be formed that could last decades, maybe centuries. But if you harm her, he will come at us in a way his House never has before. And if he finds out you also took his child from him then he’ll spend the rest of his life hunting you, me, Alia…Chani…your future grandchildren—he won’t stop.”

Paul sighs. You can picture him running his hand through his curly locks. He’s done that ever since he was a child. From the moment his little hand could reach above his head, his fingers would be playing with that hair. His mother scolded him wherever he did it in front of the other families of great Houses. ‘Makes you appear anxious,’ she would say, and no son of hers was permitted to come off as anything but respectable in front of their equals. She knew of the man he would one day become. But her nagging didn’t help him in the end.

“Paul, listen to m–”

“QUIET,” he commands in the Voice that seems to ripple through the halls. “You act as if I won that duel without effort. As if I could do it again in my sleep. But not only did he survive what should have killed him, he almost killed me,” he reminds her. “So do not let your hatred for my sister lead us down a vulnerable path.”

You pull your ear away from the door. How strange that you always knew she hated you and yet never heard it from anyone’s lips until now. You can’t say it hurts, but it does affirm that the only thing keeping you alive is the one thing you didn’t want to be: Feyd’s weakness. He’s saving you even though you’re out of reach. You and the baby he put inside of you.

You run your hand over your clothed stomach. There’s no physical evidence of your pregnancy, but now that you know he’s there you can feel him…somehow. You feel his strength. You feel his grit. You feel what Lady Jessica fears, and you love it. You hope she lives in fear for many years, always keeping one eye on the half-Harkonnen child that her son commanded her to spare.

The doorknob twists and you quickly back away as Paul steps into your bedroom. His brows pinch when he sees how you’re standing in the middle of the room. You’re not resting, you’re not admiring the scenery outside your window, there’s no book in your hand—you look suspicious. You can practically hear his thoughts. What were you doing, sister?

“It’s time to go,” he tells you, stepping closer. You don’t have a chance to reply before the command “SLEEP” weaves into your brain. Your eyes close. Your body goes limp into your brother’s arms. Your mind shuts down. You’re gone.

—

It’s bright. The inside of your eyelids are glowing the same orange shade as the flower your father traditionally gifted you on your birthday. It’s brighter than Caladan and Arrakis. A brightness you know only comes from Giedi Prime’s midday sun.

You're moving but not by your own feet. Your eyelids flutter to adjust to your surroundings, and when they open, you find yourself tucked against a chest. An Atreides soldier, once your father’s, now sworn to serve your brother.

“Put me down,” you mumble, but he doesn’t. “Put me down!”

“Put her down if she wants to be put down,” Paul says. “She won’t go anywhere. This is exactly where she wants to be.”

You’re set on your feet, but the soldier’s hand wraps around your bicep as the group comes to a halt. You do a quick glance around. Sixteen soldiers, suitably armed and shields activated. More on the ship likely, ready to attack if necessary. One Bene Gesserit bitch. One intended emperor with the skin of your brother. And you, anxiously awaiting him.

“Atreides!”

Feyd steps out of the Harkonnen fortress alone. He walks down the lengthy walkway alone. He has a blade at his hip, a shield, but no soldiers. You know they are somewhere, though, hiding, waiting for his call if needed.

As the distance between you lessens, tears attempt to blur your vision, but you blink them away. Your legs quiver, and you would collapse to your knees if not for the vice grip on your arm. He’s alive. He’s so beautifully alive. He’s broad, and strong, and he’s stomping toward your brother like a predator honing in on its prey. You didn't know for sure what he would look like after near death, and the last two weeks gave your mind the will to run wild, but he's perfect. Like it never happened.

“Paul, you must reconsider,” Lady Jessica whispers from behind him. “We do not need him.”

“I decide who and what we need,” he says. “My sister, my negotiations.”

She tips her head and steps back into place before shooting you a glare that you refuse to acknowledge.

Feyd is closing in, but his next step is deemed too close for Paul. Weapons are drawn. A blade presses into your neck. Feyd pauses.

“Give me what's mine, Atreides!” he snaps.

He’s seething and makes no attempt to hide it as he paces along the invisible line your brother has drawn. His brow is low, a shadow over the blue eyes piercing through Paul’s head. He hasn’t looked at you, but you know he won’t. Not directly. He already knows what your brother has over him and there’s no need to remind him by giving in to the internal panic he’s fighting.

“Yours?” Paul returns. “She’s not yours yet, Harkonnen, so it would be wise of you to cooperate.”

Feyd practically growls, pale lips splitting to reveal black teeth as Paul gestures for you to stand beside him. The soldier shoves you forward and you turn to smack at his wrist.

“I know how to walk,” you grumble. “Bastard.”

Paul clasps his hands behind his back. “You want her; that is understandable. She wants to be with you, too. You should have seen how she fell apart when she thought you were dead,” your brother taunts. His tongue clicks to make a tsking sound.

Feyd’s fingers twitch at his side, itching to grab the hilt of his knife. You know a layer of red bleeds across his vision. His thoughts are a jumble of demands bouncing around his skull. Kill. Maim. Destroy. Take what’s yours. But he can’t. And, excluding his uncle, Feyd hasn’t ever faced a situation where he can’t do as he pleases with whatever stands in front of him.

“Do not push him too far, Paul,” you mutter in warning. “He's not alone, either.”

Your brother ignores you, voice raising as he says, “And your son? You would like to have him as well, yes?”

The pacing stops. Feyd’s lips softly part. His eyes widen ever so slightly and he finally looks at you. When you lightly nod, his jaw clenches.

Paul doesn’t miss the silent communication. “So,” he says, lifting his chin a half-inch, “are we calm now?”

Feyd inhales a deep breath and huffs it out through his nose. He does it again and again, chest puffing out then deflating like an animal desperate to strike. ‘Calm’ isn't exactly how you would describe him—good, you expect nothing less—but he’s not displaying the same heightened level of fury.

“What do you want, Atreides?” Feyd grunts.

“Loyalty,” Paul doesn’t hesitate to answer. “You are my cousin. You love my half-sister and the two of you will share a child, assuming you can behave yourself. Family should inherently be loyal to family, I believe. That’s a fair place to start.”

“To start?” Feyd spits. “Do not play with me, cousin. Tell me all that you want from me now.”

Paul’s lips curve in a slight smile. The same modest smile he used when greeting guests of your father’s. You have your own version of that smile. They are smiles capable of hiding secrets. Like the smiles you would give Lady Jessica in front of your father, and the smile Paul gave Princess Irulan when he formally claimed her hand days after the duel.

However, there are no secrets behind the smile this time. He knows exactly what he wants from your lover and takes pleasure in revealing the totality of it.

“This war is just beginning,” Paul tells Feyd. “The other Houses reject my leadership. You will not. You will make a public declaration that the Harkonnens will fight for me, alongside the Fremen,” he says. “If you refuse to fulfill this, I will return with every fighter I have. My sister will be our primary target and you will fail to protect her…again.”

The disrespect lingers in the air. To force a Harkonnen to kneel to an Atreides is a power Feyd once told you only you possess. But it appears Paul has forced an unexpected exception.

“There's nothing for you to debate, I imagine,” Paul says. “Not when it comes to the woman you love and your child.”

Paul gives a winning smirk at your lover’s silence—Feyd’s glare is answer enough.

With a hand firmly on the center of your back, your brother guides you forward. “Go on,” he instructs. “There's no reason to keep him waiting.”

You turn your head back to Paul, expecting a trick, but when he nods in encouragement you rush over to Feyd in a light jog so as not to get tangled up in the skirts you can’t wait to tear off your body. A pale hand reaches out for you and curls around your waist when you’re close enough to be pulled against his chest. A kiss lands on your hairline before his forehead falls to rest on yours.

“You're not hurt?” he asks.

“I'm fine,” you promise him.

“This will never have to become complex, Harkonnen,” Paul calls from his side. Your heads raise to look at him. “Your House now fights for mine. If loyalty is upheld, personal lines will not be crossed. In other words, your child and woman are safe from me as long as my empress, concubine, and children are safe from you.”

Feyd’s Adam’s apple bobs harshly with his hard swallow; another practice in tamping down his rage.

“I’m glad we can all walk away from this satisfied,” Paul continues, grinning ear to ear. “Except for my mother, of course. Were she given her way, my sister would be cut open on the floor and her womb ripped out of her. She doesn’t believe a Harkonnen can exercise restraint and respect agreements. I’m sure you’ll prove her wrong.”

Your dress tightens at your waist from Feyd’s fingers fisting into the material. “Keep your head,” you gently whisper. “Let him go.”

“You have three days to officially announce your allegiance,” Paul tells the two of you before turning to his ship. He enters first, followed by his mother who gives you a final look of disapproval, and then, two-by-two, his soldiers. Not until they’re a speck in the sky does Feyd place a hand on your cheek, guide your face to his, and seal his lips to yours.

—

He intends to burn the dress to ash in the built-in incinerator that the Harkonnens consider a fireplace. Before now, you haven’t seen it demonstrate its purpose. Feyd refused. “We do not need that,” he would tell you, somewhat offended when you would request a bit more warmth in the middle of the night while he was next to you. He’d strip himself of any clothing he might’ve been wearing and tuck you into his side. “See? You’re fine now.”

Tonight, however, he’s quick to turn the thing on and let it heat up as he takes his knife to the back of your gown, slicing through the buttons that trace along your spine until the material slips off your body. He helps you out of the ring of destroyed fabric at your feet before wadding it into a ball and tossing it into the flames.

Feyd hums, satisfied, then piece by piece the armor falls from his form until he’s bare with his body to yours, his lips sucking and nibbling, fingers kneading and exploring, cock easing in and out of your core. You cry as he bites into your neck, and soak in the moment for what it is compared to what it could have been had he not survived. How alone you would be. How distraught over what would become of you.

But he did survive. He’s here. You have him. His lips and teeth and touch and cock and heart—all yours. You have the warmth of his breath that brushes your face and neck and shoulders. You have his groans and moans; the perfect sounds he makes when he first enters you and when he cums. Everything you thought you’d lost is wrapped tightly in your arms. Safe. Protected.

He finishes inside of you twice, and as he begs for one more, the ache between your thighs tempts you to remind him he already got you pregnant. But when you study the tenderness in his eyes, your desire refreshes, the pain washes away, and you can’t get enough. You take until he can no longer give—when all he has the energy for is holding and kissing.

Feyd leans over you in the bed, your legs intertwined under the sheets and his hand at the back of your head as his mouth moves with yours.

“W-Wait,” you say between kisses. He hums against your lips and when you tilt your head back, he makes a noise of protest before joining them again. “I-I’m ser-ious.”

With his brow pinched, he pulls back to stare into your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you search for a delicate way to question the effectiveness of his new authority. “Feyd, what’s going to happen? What will everyone think?” you ask. “Your people? Your soldiers?”

“That’s what bothers you right now while in this bed with me?” You nod. He sighs. “I observed my uncle in his time as Baron. I’m capable of explaining these changes in a manner that will have them think nothing of it. Should an outlier take issue, they will face the known consequences. The rest will do as I command,” he says, emphasizing his words with another kiss. “Just as they will do as you command and as our son will one day command.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be silly. No one on Giedi Prime will listen to me,” you tell him. “My voice doesn’t mean anything to them.”

“They'll respect the voice of their Baroness.”

Your brows raise. “Your wife?”

Feyd smirks and dips his head into the curve of your neck to lick and suck at sensitive skin. “Do you have objections, my love?”

It would be a lie to say you haven’t imagined being Feyd’s wife. It didn’t occupy your every thought, but it crossed your mind. Like when he would pluck out the eyes of the men who leered at you or remove the tongues of those who scoffed when you spoke. Or when you would watch him sleep and his face was unable to maintain the hard, stony stare that he brought back with him after dealing with his uncle. He’d be serene, the epitome of peace, and it was so lovely that sometimes you couldn’t help yourself. You would kiss his puffy lips until he woke to reciprocate, which led to him spreading your legs wide and stuffing his hard column of flesh between your folds. His ability to be gentle in his cruel world was how you knew he would be a good husband—to you, anyway. You have no idea the fate of his marriage were there a different bride.

His tongue runs over the bite mark and you gasp. “N-No.”

Lips trail along your jawline as his hand slides from the base of your neck between the valley of your breasts to settle on your stomach.

“He'll be strong,” Feyd says, looking at you. “Our boy.”

You chuckle. “Stronger than you, I heard.”

Feyd swallows, then nods in acceptance. “Good. He’ll need to be,” he says, thumb stroking just above your navel. “The only Atreides my son will answer to is his mother.”

A/N: i'd be open to doing future fics for them if anyone is interested. you can send in requests if you want, no pressure. I have a different feyd fic in the works atm as well

@unicoreads @haehwasworld @moonsoulk @lothiriel9 @landlockedmermaid77 @vintageroses10 @mamawiggers1980 @mrsjobarnes @aoi-targaryen @buckysteveloki-me @pao-prazz @skel-skell @barnes70stark @pekusofixus @vanilla88 @niragiswhore @benwishaw

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha #dune part 2 #austin butler #feyd x reader #dune #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune movie

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snaileer · 2 years ago

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Practice Your Skills

“You ever look at someone and wonder how hard it would be to get past their defenses and stab them?”

Damian snapped his head to the side, looking at the young boy now standing beside him.

The boy put his hands up in front of him with a wince, “Not that I ever do that. Totally not, whaaaat???”

Damian huffed and turned back around to watch the gala participants.

“It’s just you kinda looked like you were contemplating the logistics of stabbing Mrs.Halterguild for squeezing your cheeks.”

Damian scowled. Then, after a moment’s beat, “It would not be very difficult. She is nearly blind in her left eye, I would be able to approach without repost.”

The kid hummed, turning back as well before motioning to another group to the far right, “What about Mr. Beckensmith, he’s a retired vet right?”

Damian rolled his eyes and scowled harder, “The man has only seen the battlefield of an office as he bribed his way from being fully enlisted and instead managed to pay for increasingly higher ranks and medals. He is a disgrace.”

The kid cocked his head to the side, looking suspicious for a second and then nodding with concession, “Fair enough, I bet I could get close enough too.”

Damian scoffed.

“What, don’t believe me?”

Damian leveled a doubtful glare at the civilian, making it clear by looking him up and down, “Hardly.”

The other smirked dangerously, “If I can get close enough to poke him and get away without being noticed, will you believe me?”

Damian narrowed his eyes but nodded succinctly and watched as the boy immediately took off, making a few loops around other people before finally backing up to Mr. Beckensmith and poking him on the opposite side as a group moved past.

Damian pursed his lips. Interesting. Certainly better than he would expect from an amateur. And an amateur civilian at that.

When the boy returns to his side Damian brushes off the asks of meaningless praise.

“Come on, I did it, now you have to go poke Mrs. Halterguild without getting caught.”

Damian sneers, “And why would I do that?”

“Because I don’t believe you either, the woman’s old but I bet she sees you and squeezes your cheeks again. Old ladies just have a sixth sense for that stuff you know.”

Damian nearly growls but sets off on his task. He makes sure to stay on her left side, but the woman turns at the last second, forcing Damian to use a passing waiter as cover to remain hidden and finally get close enough to poke her gaudy dress.

Then he sidles back up to the boy on the edges and provides his best ‘I am more capable than you’ scowl. The boy simply laughs and says, “Who’s next?”

They spend the night like that, choosing each other’s targets to attack non-lethally as though they were attempting to stab them, and Damian finds the gala going by in a significantly less tedious manner.

Right up until the boy laughs at him when he chooses a target. Only one bark of laughter escapes, but it is enough for Damian to consider stabbing him as well. If only with a butter knife.

Instead, Damian grinds his teeth and asks, “What is so different about Masters, do you really believe you would be unable to succeed?”

The other gives a breathless chuckle, “I’m pretty sure even you wouldn’t be able to successfully stab Vlad Masters,” The boy’s shoulders sag even as his jaw tightens with irritation, “He sees everything.”

Damian narrows his eyes. Something naws at the back of his brain but currently the critique of his capabilities takes precedence.

“I would be capable of stabbing Masters even without my favored sword,” Damian scowls and stands taller with annoyance.

“Sure you can, man,” At this, the boy quirks a sharp smile, “If you can actually get him, I’ll personally get you a magic sword,” he says with an air of amused indulgence. Like he thinks Damian is some insipid child saying he will find a fairy.

Damian grits his teeth and shakes the other’s hand, then immediately sets off after his target. How dare this civilian question him! He is the Son of the Bat, this is not even a challenge!

Damian growls as his approach is thwarted for the third time by the man turning in his direction and almost spotting him. How dare he! He will not fail!

Just as he reaches to jab the man in the side, already poised to make his escape, Masters whips around and clamps his fingers around Damian’s wrist with a vice grip.

“Really Daniel I thought we were over-“ Masters pauses, looking at Damian critically as he glares at the man’s offending hand, “You are not young Daniel.”

“Remove your hand from my person at once,” Damian growls.

Instead of listening to Damian’s very sensible directions, Masters tightens his grip and twists his arm, most likely in an attempt to hurt him.

“Now why is a child attempting to-“

Damian doesn’t wait to hear the rest of the man’s words, sliding a dagger into his other hand and swinging towards him, until that hand is caught mid-movement as well.

“Heh-Hey there!”

Damian snaps his head to the side just in time to see Grayson take his dagger and slide it into his pocket. He ignores the bark of laughter he hears from across the room.

Masters’ hand disappears from his arm suspiciously fast, “Mr. Wayne, what a pleasure!”

Damian looks over his other shoulder to see his father standing behind him, a thin smile on his face, “Vladimir!”

His father’s figure quickly obscures his vision, putting an arm over Masters’ shoulders in a way that clearly makes him irritated but forces him to follow as he is steered away.

“Dami, I thought we talked about the stabbing at formal events,” Grayson says through a strained smile as he looks over the crowd to make sure no else saw.

“Tt, it was merely a demonstration of my skills, he was in no real danger until he refused to release me. I simply sought to correct that mistake.”

Grayson pinchesthe bridge of his nose, “Demonstration for who, Dames? We all already know your skills.”

“Tt,” Damian scowls and turns away.

Instead of pushing it, Grayson simply sighs heavily, “Just stay out of trouble for the rest of the gala okay? We’re almost done.”

Damian scoffed and waited for Grayson to leave. Once he does, Damian finally looks over to where he had been lingering with the boy.

Gone.

Clearly he’d taken the cowards way out when he’d seen that Damian had been accosted by Masters.

Pitiful.

Damian spends the rest of the night scowling from the wall and looking surreptitiously for a head of black hair and blue eyes unrelated to him.

Of course it’s not until they are actively leaving that Damian sees him and immediately splits off of from his family.

He approaches with irritation, preparing to grab the other by the shoulder when suddenly he turns around and blue eyes meet Damian’s green.

“You,” Damian sneers.

“Me,” The other shrugs. He has an amused smile on his face, though it’s strained at the edges.

They stare in silence for a minute, before the other’s smile grows and sharpens once more, “I didn’t expect you to actually try to stab him, y’know,” A slight laugh escapes him, “Not that it was unwelcome by any means, but still, unexpected.”

Damian scowls again, glaring at this foolish civilian.

“Oh, I never introduced myself did I?!”

The boy exclaims and holds out a hand, smile dangerous, “Daniel Fenton. Or if we’re being technical,” a pause as Damian finally returns the gesture and finds his hand trapped, “Daniel Masters, a pleasure to meet you Damian.”

“Hurry up little badger,” A voice says beside them, and Damian notices that it is indeed Vladimir Masters.

The man approaches, placing a heavy hand on Fenton’s shoulder, making the boy go taut, and then they both step into a dark car, leaving Damian on the front steps.

Damian’s anger flares and he shoots a glare directly to the boy getting into the car. It dies the moment they meet eyes and Damian sees the fear hiding in the other’s eyes.

Fear that Damian is all too familiar with.

Fear that reminded Damian of himself. Reminded him of his own eyes when he’d been under his grandfather.

But why did Fenton look like that?

#batman #danny phantom #batfam #dc #batman and robin #danny fenton #young justice #danny phantom crossover #bruce wayne #tim drake #dick grayson #Damian wayne #Damian Al ghul #dp x dc #dpxdc #Jason Todd #red hood #Nightwing #Robin

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saythenametotheworld · 3 months ago

Text

Plot Twist | c.sc (18+)

A chance encounter blossoms into a whirlwind romance when you become enchanted by the enigmatic stranger—Choi Seungcheol. As you spend more time together, one question lingers: could he be the unexpected plot twist that changes your story forever?

one | two | three | four | five

Genre: strangers to lovers, smut Pairing: Choi Seungcheol/Scoups x afab!Reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+) Notes: 24k words. Last part of the Heartbreak Hotel series, but it can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to Plot Twist by NIKI. Finally down to that last part! I loved working on this fic. Kinda sad now that it is over. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

Playlist: Plot Twist by NIKI, Nobody Gets Me by SZA, long story short by Taylor Swift

When Choi Seungcheol first arrived at the hotel, you pegged him as just another rich man passing through—the noble charisma he was exuding made that clear. But unlike most guests, he hadn’t just come to book a room. He had asked for something far more unusual—stories about your past relationships.

At first, you thought he might be a writer, searching for inspiration for his next novel. But then he handed you his card and, no, he wasn’t a writer. He was a young CEO of a holding company. That alone was impressive, but his request? Odd, to say the least.

Then again, what did you have to lose? All you had to do was share a few stories from your past and pocket the fee he offered. You could even make up the most dramatic story ever and he’d probably bite. Yet you found yourself being completely honest, revealing parts of your life you hadn’t thought about in years.

You told him about your first real heartbreak with a guy who wasn’t even your official boyfriend. You spoke about an unforgettable relationship you had with the most breathtaking man you’d ever known. And you relived the time when your own insecurities ruined what was beautiful and perfect.

“I actually skipped the depression part of my breakup with Mingyu,” you confessed, rolling your eyes at your own expense. “It was kinda embarrassing telling a stranger all that. But I had a feeling you could see through me.”

“Not really, but I figured,” he shrugged, sipping his drink. There was a knowing look on his face—one that he didn’t bother to hide. “And honestly, I didn’t mind. I was a stranger after all. I was surprised you told me anything at all.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Yeah, well, I guess I needed to talk about that stuff more than I thought.”

“So,” he said, leaning forward with genuine curiosity, “is there anyone else?”

You paused. “That’s it. That’s all of them.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You never dated much, huh?”

“No, not really,” you said, laughing. “There are others but it's not worth telling. They were either so-so, just passing through, or, you know... toxic.”

“Hmm. I see.” Seungcheol reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet. He slid out two checks, handing them to you. You took it and your eyes widened slightly at the numbers on them.

“This is... a lot,” you stammered. “Surely, my stories aren’t worth this much.”

He met your gaze, his expression unreadable. “I disagree. But if you think so…” He nodded at the checks still in your hand. “Consider it a tip for your—remarkable—room service.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Except, we didn’t even have it in the room, did we?”

“We could have,” he said smoothly. “But you weren’t interested in seeing my room.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his shift in tone. “Is that your way of inviting me to your room, Mr. Choi?”

He tilted his head slightly, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “No. But now that you mention it... maybe it is.”

You hummed, biting your lower lip. “And here I thought you’d be the assertive type.”

“Well, I was raised to have manners, but if you’re into assertive men then.” Seungcheol’s demeanor shifted in an instant. His eyes, once playful, turned sharp, commanding. “Come join me in my room.”

Your heart skipped a beat. And the way he said it made your skin tingle. You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. “Okay.”

Seungcheol’s suite was spacious and immaculately tidy. Though the interior resembled every other suite in the hotel—neutral tones, minimalist decor—you couldn’t stop your eyes from looking around the space he’d been staying at for the past two days. Sure enough, there were almost no signs of him anywhere—not a stray jacket, a personal belonging—nothing that would give you the slightest clue about who he was or what kind of life he led outside this hotel.

“More champagne?” Seungcheol offered, motioning to the bottle of champagne sitting on a bucket of ice. He didn’t wait for you to respond, reaching for it and pouring some of the sparkling liquid into the glass. The soft clink of the bottle against the flute felt almost loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“Thanks,” you said softly, taking the glass he handed you as you sat down.

You didn’t need more champagne, not really. But the cool bubbles offered a welcome distraction. Anything to give your hands something to do, and your mind something to focus on other than the thick tension swirling between you both.

You took a slow sip, eyes flitting to the abstract painting on the wall—blotches of color, indistinct shapes that blurred the longer you stared. But no matter how much you tried to focus on the artwork, you could still feel Seungcheol’s gaze on you.

He’s the one who asked me to come here, you thought, fingers tracing the rim of your glass. He should say something.

You didn’t know exactly what you were expecting when you agreed to join him in his room—but you do know that the conversation part was over. There was nothing left to talk about, this time right now was not for talking. You couldn’t trust yourself to look at him, afraid that meeting his gaze would confirm what you already knew—the desire building between you both, the unspoken question lingering in the air.

Seungcheol shifted on the couch across from you, the sound of fabric brushing against leather making your heart race. You wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but the words got stuck in your throat. Instead, you took another sip of champagne, more to keep your hands occupied than anything else.

It felt like an eternity passed before his voice finally broke through the tension.

“Come here,” he said, low and commanding, his tone sending a ripple of warmth down your spine.

“Yes,” you blurted out, standing up almost too quickly because your body was responding before your mind could catch up. You crossed the space between you in seconds, your heart racing in your chest, as though you had been waiting for that very invitation all along.

Seungcheol’s eyes were dark as he tugged lightly at your hand, pulling you down onto his lap. Your legs straddled his, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. And as you stared into his eyes, a mutual understanding passed between you without having to say a single word.

With one hand, he cupped the back of your head, drawing you in until his lips met yours. His lips were warm and firm, and the moment they touched yours, everything inside you unraveled. The knot of tension that had been coiled in your stomach loosened, sending heat through your entire body as his hand traveled down your back.

But just as quickly, you pulled away, breathless. “I—uh… I think we’re moving too fast,” you muttered, trying to collect your thoughts.

Seungcheol nodded. “Yeah, too fast,” he said, though his eyes remained fixed on your lips.

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the tension between you crackling like electricity. Then, without thinking, you leaned in again, your lips meeting his with more urgency this time, more need. The kiss was hungrier now, both of you pushing against the boundary you had just set, as though the pull between you was impossible to resist.

His hands found your waist, fingers curling into your skin as he pulled you closer, his body pressing against yours. But again, the rational part of your mind kicked in, and you broke away, laughing breathlessly.

“Definitely too fast,” you whispered, though you made no effort to move away.

“Definitely,” Seungcheol agreed, his voice low, amusement flickering in his eyes as he kept his hands on your waist.

And yet, before you could stop yourself, your lips were on his again, the heat between you too consuming to fight. This time, neither of you pulled away. You let the moment stretch out, giving in to the pull as words fell away and your bodies did all the talking.

You were back at your usual spot at the front desk the next day, almost as if everything was completely normal, as though nothing of note had happened the night before. It didn’t help that the hotel was quiet with barely any people coming in, so your mind kept slipping back to Seungcheol. His intense kisses, his tender touches, the rush of heat that coursed through your veins, the ecstatic high—all of it was still fresh, vivid as if it had left a permanent mark on you. You caught yourself smiling for no reason, or at least, no reason that anyone here could understand.

“Are you alright?” Elena asked as she passed the front desk, her sharp gaze narrowing when she saw your flustered expression.

“Huh? I’m fine. What’s up?” you responded, hoping you didn’t sound too defensive.

“You’re flushed,” she noted with a raised eyebrow. “You look like you’re coming down with something,” she added, giving you a suspicious glance before walking off.

You touched your face, realizing with a start that your cheeks were warm—whether from embarrassment or the memories swirling in your head, you couldn’t tell. Pulling out your phone, you opened the camera app to check your reflection, only to be greeted with a slight flush coloring your skin. You stared at your reflection for a moment, wondering how much of last night’s excitement was still etched into your features.

Before you could think too much about it, the telephone rang, snapping you back to reality.

“This is the front desk. How may I help you?”

“Hi,” Seungcheol’s deep voice resonated from the other line, causing your heart to skip a beat. “Could you send housekeeping up? This suite is in dire need of tidying.”

His tone was casual, but there was a hint of mischief in it that made your stomach twist pleasantly. You knew exactly what he was implying. The memory of last night’s aftermath flashed through your mind—as if you hadn’t already been thinking about it all day.

You cleared your throat, trying to maintain a professional tone. “Absolutely. Housekeeping will be there shortly. Is there anything else, Mr. Choi?”

There was a brief pause on his end before his voice dropped a little lower. “Is it too early to request room service?”

Your heartbeat hastened, knowing full well that he wasn’t just talking about food. You could almost picture the smirk he must have had on his face, enjoying how easily he could fluster you.

“Have a good day, sir,” you replied, brushing him off in the most polite way possible before hanging up the phone.

You were still grinning to yourself when the phone rang again. Glancing at the telephone, you didn’t even have to guess who it was. You picked up the receiver.

“This is the front desk. How may I help you?” You kept your tone as professional as possible, but the smile was hard to hide.

“I know you’re thinking about me,” came Seungcheol’s teasing voice, playful and smooth.

Your breath hitched as you tried to suppress a laugh. “Whatever are you talking about, Mr. Choi? It’s inappropriate to speak to staff this way during work hours,” you chided playfully.

“You’re right. I forgot my manners for a second,” he replied, the humor in his voice evident. “I just woke up and I am starving, so I was thinking of actually ordering room service.”

“You just woke up?”

“Yeah. Alone, but somehow, I had a feeling someone was here with me but they sneaked out came morning light,” he replied, still teasing.

You raised an eyebrow, enjoying the playful banter. “Maybe because they have a job and said job requires them to wake up and get ready by eight in the morning?”

“I figured. Still, it would’ve been nice to get a proper goodbye.”

“Didn’t wanna disturb you,” you replied in a low voice, your index finger drawing circles on the desk in front of you. “Anyway, work hours,” you said, more to yourself than to him.

You tried to get back into professional mode. “Why don’t you just eat in the restaurant? It’s much more comfortable down there—and you won’t be in the way of housekeeping.”

There was a brief pause, and then he chuckled softly. “Are you allowed to tell guests what to do?”

You laughed, shaking your head at the playfulness in his tone. “No, technically not. We’re supposed to cater to their every need, but since I know you, I’ll take my chances and tell you what to do.”

“Oh, so we’re at that level now?” he teased. “You think you can boss me around now?”

“Only because I know you’ll listen,” you shot back, unable to resist the smile tugging at your lips. “I’ve got a good read on you, Mr. Choi.”

“I don’t know about that,” Seungcheol hummed, amusement thick in his voice. “Maybe I’ll just stay up here and starve, wait for housekeeping to finish.”

“Or you could go downstairs and eat like a normal person,” you retorted. “How about that instead?”

He chuckled again, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “Alright, alright. I’ll head down.”

“Good. I’ll have the restaurant expect you,” you replied, feeling satisfied.

“Mm-hm. But don’t think this means I’m done with you for the day,” he added, his tone lower, more suggestive. “We’ll pick this up later.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the promise in his voice, but you managed to keep your composure. “I’ll take you up on that. Enjoy your meal, Mr. Choi.”

“Thank you,” he said before hanging up, leaving you grinning like a fool at the front desk.

The day had dragged on slower than usual. Being in a remote area meant there weren’t many guests, so it was quiet—almost too quiet. After taking care of a handful of check-ins in the morning, you spent the afternoon fielding calls, helping with some basic concierge tasks, and trying not to think about the previous night with Seungcheol. It was hard to concentrate with his voice still ringing in your ears from the teasing call earlier, and the stillness of the hotel only amplified your wandering thoughts.

As the evening rolled around, you were grateful to finally be clocking out. You grabbed your things and made your way out of the front desk, ready to head out when a familiar figure appeared from the corner of your eye.

Seungcheol stood there, casual yet polished as ever, with his hands tucked into his pockets. His presence was magnetic, and you could feel your coworkers’ eyes darting toward him and then back to you in curiosity.

“Going somewhere?” Seungcheol asked smoothly, his smile playful as he leaned casually against the counter.

“Just clocking out,” you replied, trying to sound composed despite the flutter in your chest.

“Well, since you're off the clock… how about you join me for dinner?” His invitation was simple, but the implication made your pulse quicken.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the intrigued stares of your coworkers lingering on the both of you. But the thought of spending another evening in his company was too tempting to resist.

“Sure,” you said, keeping your tone light, though your heart was racing. “But first, I need to change.”

“Alright,” he chimed, blinking slowly. “You can take your time. I’ll wait for you at the restaurant.”

As you made your way toward the employee exit, you passed the kitchen, where Leo, one of the chefs, caught sight of you. His grin was playful as he leaned on the doorframe.

“Somebody’s got a boyfriend,” Leo asked with a teasing lilt, wiggling his eyebrows. “After all this time, and after all the guests who tried to sweep you off your feet, someone has finally tickled your fancy huh?”

Drea, another kitchen staff, appeared beside him. “Looks like it. They’d been hanging out all weekend.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “I’m just making a friend, guys. There’s no need to be all giddy about it.”

“Sure, sure,” Leo chuckled as he turned back to the stove. “Make as many ‘friends’ as you want.”

Drea fell into step with you as you walked toward the exit, lowering her voice to a whisper. “So… I guess your ‘friend’ let you crash at his place last night, huh?”

You blinked in surprise. “What? What are you talking about?”

She giggled softly. “I saw you sneaking back into your quarters at the crack of dawn, sugar.”

You grinned, waving her off with a laugh and gesturing for her to keep it down. Drea mimed zipping her lips before heading back to her tasks, letting you continue on your way in peace.

The restaurant had a cozy ambiance, with warm lighting and soft music playing in the background. As you settled into your seat across from Seungcheol, the enticing aroma of food filled the air, making your stomach growl.

“What’s the best thing you’ve ever eaten here?” Seungcheol asked, leaning back in his chair as he scanned the menu.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” you replied, running your finger along the edge of the menu. “I don’t eat here unless I can’t help it.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief. “So, I’m your first real dinner date at this place? How flattered am I?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you laughed lightly, but your heart raced at the playful glint in his gaze. “It’s just dinner.”

“Last night begs to differ,” he commented, making you gasp audibly.

Before you could say anything, Seungcheol gestured for the waiter who approached immediately. You ordered a rich pasta dish while Seungcheol opted for the steak.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked after the waiter left.

You shook your head. “No, not at all. I’m just not the type to openly talk about… you know, my activities in the bedroom.”

“Alright. I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, smiling as he watched you curiously. “What do you usually do when you’re off the clock?”

You shrugged, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. “Not much. Just… binge-watch shows or read.”

Seungcheol chuckled. “A woman of refined tastes, I see.”

“Hey, everyone needs a little escapism,” you shot back, your cheeks warming. “What about you, Mr. CEO? What keeps you busy?”

His expression shifted slightly, the playful facade dropping just a notch. “Well, I run a holding company that invests in other businesses.”

You leaned in, intrigued. “That sounds interesting. What does that involve exactly?”

Seungcheol took a sip of his drink before answering. “We invest in companies we think have potential and help them grow. Sometimes we acquire them and either hand them over to other people to manage or strip them down for parts.”

“Sounds awful for the owners,” you remarked, unable to hide the frown forming on your lips. The thought of someone losing their livelihood sent a chill through you.

Seungcheol shrugged, his expression neutral. “That’s just the way it is. We usually only acquire companies on the brink of bankruptcy. It’s better than losing everything, right?”

“What do you even gain from a failing company?” you asked, tilting your head in confusion. The whole business seemed ruthless, a world away from your warm hotel lobby.

Seungcheol chuckled, a hint of challenge in his eyes. “Are you seriously enjoying this conversation?”

“Not really,” you admitted with a laugh. “But there’s nothing else to discuss.”

“Then let’s talk about you,” he said, leaning closer, his eyes searching yours. “Why are you still in hospitality?”

You felt your defenses rise. “Hey, that’s straight-up prying into someone’s personal business.”

“Weren’t you prying into mine just now?” he challenged, crossing his arms.

“Not the same! I was asking about how you make money; you’re asking about my life choices,” you shot back with a pout.

“I can see why you wanted to be a journalist,” he said, his voice softer now.

“What? How?” you asked, genuinely surprised.

“I just know,” he replied, an enigmatic smile on his face.

“Okay, Mr. Can See Through Me,” you laughed, but deep down, you wondered how much he could actually see—and if it was more than you intended to show.

After what happened with Seungcheol, you figured you’d be back in his suite once or twice more while he stayed in the hotel. When you think about it, like really think about it, it felt strange to hook up with a guest you’d known for only three days. But it didn’t bother you as much as you expected. Maybe because you’d already shared so much with him; intimate stories and personal memories that left you feeling vulnerable, strong, even a bit broken. Somehow, being with him physically felt minor compared to the depth of everything you’d revealed.

That said, you weren’t expecting to just keep sleeping with him the whole time. No. He was amazing—that was an understatement. And it wasn’t just because you hadn’t had any action in months; it was simply the truth. But Seungcheol didn’t seem like the type to put physical needs before familiarity.

“Good night, then,” he said, smiling as you both lingered in the hallway between the elevator and the employee exit.

“Good night, Mr. Choi,” you smiled back, trying to keep it light. “Thanks for dinner.”

“No problem. I had a great time,” he replied, closing the distance to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. In your ear, he whispered, “And please, just Seungcheol.”

“Sorry, I keep forgetting that,” you chuckled softly. For a moment, you stood there, eyes holding each other’s, as if something else was left unsaid. You weren’t sure what exactly, but you could tell he felt it too.

“Go on, then,” you prompted, nodding toward the elevator.

“No. You can go first. Don’t worry about me.”

You shrugged, reluctant but trying not to show it. “Alright. See you next time.”

“Tomorrow,” he corrected with a grin. “Hope you’re not sick of me yet.”

You laughed. “Not yet, but we’re getting there,” you teased. Leaning forward, you brushed a quick kiss over his lips.

Seungcheol’s hands settled on your waist just as you started to pull away, his eyes searching yours. You grinned, tapping his arms twice to signal he should let go.

“Would you like to—”

“No, thank you,” you interrupted a bit too quickly. His face fell, and seeing it made you laugh. “I would’ve if you’d asked earlier.”

He sighed, shaking his head with a small smile tugging at his lips. “Didn’t want to overstep.”

“I know. And I appreciate that.” You walked toward your exit, giving him another smile before pushing the door open. “Good night, then.”

“Good night,” he replied with a small wave.

The next day, the morning felt lighter somehow. You went to work in high spirits, smiling at coworkers more than usual, even humming a song to yourself while you were sitting at the quiet front desk, scanning the deserted lobby.

You caught sight of Seungcheol a few times throughout your shift. Once in the lobby, sitting by the window with his laptop and a coffee, his expression focused and distant; and later, he walked by while in a quiet exchange with someone on the phone.

In those moments, he was just like any other guest, a charming yet distant stranger. Yet every time he passed by the front desk, his eyes would flicker up, a sweet smile plastered on his lips.

At the end of your shift, you found him waiting in the lobby, leaning against the marble pillar with his hands tucked into his pockets. “Dinner?” he asked, his tone casual yet warm.

“Sure,” you replied, smiling. “Give me a few minutes?”

“Take your time. I’ll wait for you in the restaurant,” he said easily.

“Alright then.”

You and Seungcheol got to know each other more this way. During work hours, he didn’t cross any lines, and neither did you. It was almost like an unspoken rule between you—when you were on the clock, you were strictly concierge and guest.

But in the evenings, he would swing by the front desk, waiting for you to clock out to invite you to dinner. Dinner became a quiet ritual for the two of you, a rhythm that felt almost natural despite how suddenly it had started. On the second evening, Seungcheol had ordered in from a local restaurant he claimed had the best ramen in the area. You laughed when you saw the spread of takeout boxes arranged across his room’s coffee table, a bottle of wine between them.

“Who told you this place had the…” you made air quotes, “ ‘best ramen’ around here?”

“Uh…” He narrowed his eyes, thinking as he uncorked the wine. “The internet?” he said, just as the bottle popped open.

“The internet? Right,” you teased, sinking into the armchair across from him. “Do you always look up best ramen places online?”

“Not usually,” he admitted, handing you a glass of wine. “But I was craving something more familiar than steak and pasta.”

The rich, savory aroma of the ramen mingled with the scent of the wine, filling the room with a cozy warmth. You clinked glasses and sipped quietly, the casual laughter and teasing slipping in like it was second nature. Between bites, he asked about the town, and you shared stories—of slow nights at the hotel, odd guests, and a few personal memories you hadn’t thought about in a while.

The conversation flowed easily, often sidetracking into random topics that carried you late into the night. He asked you about more stories from your past, not always about relationships—just small things, places you’d always wanted to see, anecdotes from college, or dreams you’d put on hold.

At some point, you found yourself telling him about your old plan to be a journalist, how you’d gone through a whole phase of pitching stories to magazines, only to give it up when you didn’t hear back from any of them.

“You ever think about going back to it?” he asked, watching you with curiosity.

“Sometimes,” you admitted. “But I don’t know… it feels far-fetched now. I think I’ve lost the ‘spark’. Besides, this job is steady.”

“Steady is good, but there’s usually no progress in steady. No room for growth in a place that doesn’t challenge you.”

You glanced at him, surprised by his statement. He held your gaze and you could see the sincerity in his eyes that caught you off-guard. “I guess not,” you admitted softly.

He leaned back against the couch, his eyes holding yours. “How about doing what excites you? You know, taking risks and challenging yourself?”

You scoffed lightly, though his words hit a nerve. “Like running empires, taking over companies?” you quipped.

He raised a brow, his lips quirking into a playful smirk. “Something like that.”

And then the conversation turned light again. He kept surprising you in small ways. He’d remember details, ask questions that dug deeper than the usual surface-level chatter, and share a few of his own stories, mostly humorous or random, yet still holding a touch of mystery.

And after dinner, you put on a random TV show, but barely pay attention to it. His hand rested on your leg, and you could feel the warmth of his touch through your skin. At some point, he leaned in to kiss you, and the rest of the night became a blur of tangled sheets and stolen breaths.

It was unsettling how easy it felt, how natural it was to be with him. There was no awkwardness, no need for pretense. When you weren’t kissing, you were talking—about everything, really, but especially your dreams. Seungcheol kept pushing you, nudging you to think beyond the walls of the hotel.

“You’ve got something to say. And it’s about time you said it,” he’d told you once.

His belief in you always left you speechless for a moment. You didn’t need anyone to tell you that you were capable, but it felt good to be encouraged. Your friends and family, even Vernon, constantly encouraged you to pursue your passion. Only now were you realizing that you could have been unstoppable with their support if you weren’t so hung up on your own insecurities. You didn’t realize it then, but their belief in you was genuine, and they looked at you the same way Seungcheol did—as if they saw something in you that you hadn’t allowed yourself to see.

“You’re glowing these days,” one coworker had said, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Drea couldn’t resist chiming in as you walked past the kitchen. “Dinner again tonight?” she asked, winking. “Must be some guest to get that kind of special treatment.”

You’d laughed it off, but there was a part of you that knew they weren’t entirely wrong. Something was shifting between you and Seungcheol—something that went beyond casual hangouts or even the growing physical intimacy. It was like you were slowly unraveling pieces of yourselves to each other, bit by bit, until there was nothing left to hide. He knew more about you, your past relationships, your fears, your dreams, than anyone else ever had.

And the pattern continued: dinner in his room, sometimes in the restaurant, laughter mixed with stolen kisses, and whispered conversations that lasted well into the night. The more time you spent together, the harder it became to ignore the growing connection between you.

And while the teasing at work stoked the fire, you brushed it off with a smile, trying not to think too hard about Seungcheol and everything that had happened between you. He was a guest, sooner or later, he’d go back where he belonged and he’d be nothing but a fever dream—someone who stirred up your usually mundane days in this hotel. It is best not to get too attached to someone who will eventually leave. Maybe you’d meet again, maybe not, but you’d remember the few days you spent with him—easily, no doubt because he was simply unforgettable.

You had just finished drying your hair when you heard soft knocks on your door. You glanced at the clock and frowned. No one ever came by this late. Opening the door a crack, you were met with the familiar grin of Seungcheol, leaning casually against the frame with that same mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, feeling both surprised and thrilled. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

He shrugged, a small, playful smile tugging at his lips. “Rules can’t be that strict if they let me get all the way up here.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, glancing behind him to make sure no one was around. “You’re lucky the night staff doesn’t usually do rounds here. Come in—before you get us both in trouble.”

As you closed the door behind him, he looked around with a curious gaze, hands in his pockets. The small, modest space suddenly felt even smaller with him there.

“So, this is where you retreat after charming all the guests in the lobby,” he mused, taking in the sparse decor and impersonal furnishings.

“I think this is like, three times smaller than your suite,” you quipped, feeling a little self-conscious.

“Yeah, but it’s much cozier,” he replied, flashing a warm smile.

His eyes softened as he looked around, and for a moment, you watched him walk around your space. Then your stomach growled—a loud, unmistakable sound in the silence. You both froze before dissolving into laughter.

“Hungry?” he asked, barely containing his amusement.

“Starving,” you admitted, covering your face with your hands. “I skipped dinner because you weren’t there to pick me up.”

“Seriously?” he scowled, concern evident in his voice.

You burst out laughing. “No, silly. I had dinner with some coworkers but I didn’t eat much.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Oh, I thought you were serious. I was in a virtual meeting with some people earlier so I couldn’t treat you to dinner.”

“Hey, it’s totally fine,” you said briskly, shaking your hands. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Alright but we should still do something about that,” he replied, pointing at your belly. “How about a late-night snack?”

“I could go for that,” you agreed, grinning. “But only if you’re okay with whatever random ingredients are lying around the hotel kitchen.”

A few minutes later, you led him into the quiet kitchen. Inside, the quiet hum of the fridge filled the room as you checked the shelves for ingredients available for employees. Seungcheol leaned on the counter, watching with amused fascination as you assembled a simple meal from what you could find.

“You know, I think you’re a little too comfortable in here,” he remarked, eyebrows raised as he watched you pull down a pan with a smirk.

You shrugged, turning on the stove and tossing some ingredients into the pan. “Just another perk of the job,” you replied lightly. “Besides, if anyone asks, I’ll say it’s for an important guest.” You gave him a wink.

He laughed, and as you stirred the ingredients together, he kept up a steady stream of questions about your work, your routines, and little quirks about the hotel you hadn’t realized you’d noticed. You could feel his gaze on you, warm and steady, and for a moment, you forgot about the quiet kitchen and the hotel entirely.

When the food was ready, you both sat down at the small table, sharing bites and laughter as though this were something you did every day. He listened closely, chiming in with his own stories, asking questions that went deeper than you’d expected. You found yourself opening up easily, letting him in on things you usually kept tucked away.

Once the plates were cleared, Seungcheol reached for the dishes. “I’ll take care of these,” he said, standing and moving to the sink before you could protest.

“Sure, but…” You trailed off, watching as he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, muscles flexing in his forearms. You’d seen those arms several times before—even felt them holding you close—but somehow, it still left you speechless how effortlessly captivating he was.

A sudden urge to close the distance between you overcame you and it was too tempting to resist. So you did, slipping behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist. He chuckled as he rinsed the dishes with care.

“You’re not very good at standing idle, are you?” he murmured.

“Not when I have such a sexy man washing the dishes for me,” you replied, resting your head against his back. His back vibrated when he chuckled.

“Oh, is that so?” he asked, amused, just as he set the plates aside and peeled off his gloves. Turning to face you, he wrapped his arms around you, his eyes meeting yours. “You’re pretty sexy yourself. And your cooking’s top-notch,” he added, lifting your chin to give you a quick kiss.

“What can I say? I have many talents,” you teased.

Seungcheol pressed his thumb on your lower lip, staring at it with desire in his eyes. “About that sleeping quarter of yours,” he murmured, voice lowering. “Think you can keep it quiet in there?”

You bit your lip, shaking your head with a soft laugh. “Definitely not.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “We’d better not stay there then,” he said with an almost playful glint in his eyes. “Do you have work tomorrow?”

“My shift starts at noon,” you whispered.

“Good. You can sleep in,” he grinned before pulling you into a deep, feverish kiss.

Back in his suite, laughter turned into whispered words, and conversation faded into shared warmth. He watched as you moved to his bed, peeling away your clothes one by one before sprawling across the bed, hair fanned out against the pillows, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. He stood there a minute, enjoying the view with half-lidded eyes.

“Are you just going to stand there?” you lilted, propping yourself on your elbows, watching his reactions as you spread your legs open for him. “Or do I need to invite you properly?”

Your confidence shot through the roof when you saw how he clenched his jaw and narrowed at the sight of you. He chuckled darkly, crossing the room with deliberate slowness, pausing at the edge of the bed. “Proper invitation, huh?” he murmured, leaning down, his face hovering just above yours. “Maybe I’m waiting for you to make the first move.”

“This is my first move,” you replied in a low voice, trying not to just go ahead and kiss him right there. You arched a brow, and with a grin, reached up, looping your arms around his neck to pull him down beside you.

Seungcheol closed the distance, capturing your lips in a torrid kiss. You swear you could feel the tension crackle in the air as he trailed a slow line of kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone, each one making your heartbeat quicken.

Your eyes met again, just as his hand cupped your naked sex, making you bite your lip. His laughter softened the intensity as he whispered, “How long can you stay up?”

You tutted, shaking your head playfully as you unbuttoned his shirt. “Don’t start making promises you can’t keep now.”

“You think I can’t keep it?” he challenged, putting pressure between your legs. Your body arched ever so slightly.

“How would I know if we’re just gonna keep talking like this?” you retorted, reaching down to grab the erection underneath his pants.

“Are you always this impatient?” he chuckled before leaning in to kiss you again.

You melted together, movements slow and gentle at first, then deepening as his hands roamed your body. He didn’t miss a spot, touching every crevice with his hands, kissing every sensitive spot, and sucking where he knew you’d love to be sucked.

He kept his promise—not a wink of sleep was had that night until dawn came through the windows. You’d given up at that point and just passed out next to him on the bed.

When you were trying to leave Seungcheol’s suite late the next morning, he had given you a soft kiss on the lips, bidding you goodbye but his arms were tight around your waist, unwilling to let go.

“You seriously need to let me go now,” you chided softly, though you weren’t making a move to leave either. “Elena’s gonna kill me.”

“Then she’d be in jail for murder. I’m sure she doesn’t want that,” he quipped, biting your earlobe softly.

You giggled, pushing his face away. “Stop. I’m serious. I have work to do.”

Seungcheol pouted his already pouty lips and gave you the saddest puppy face you’d ever seen from a man. He even tilted his head for a dramatic effect.

“Is that the best you can do?” you sneered, rolling your eyes. “It’s not working.”

His face softened back to his usual, easygoing look. “This is why you should leave this job.”

“No, this isn’t.”

“No, but this could be," he shot back.

You chuckled, letting him pull you back into his arms. You settled against him, knowing you really should go but letting yourself stay in that comfortable quiet until the very last possible second.

When you finally rushed out, you had to practically sprint to your quarters to shower and throw on your uniform. Even as you hurried to the lobby, Seungcheol’s words and the warmth of his last kiss lingered in the back of your mind.

You settled into your morning routine, shaking off the haze of the late night, but two hours into your shift, you caught sight of Seungcheol stepping out of the elevator hauling his luggage while looking as composed and put-together as ever. An unsettling sensation crept into your heart, causing it to beat rapidly in your chest.

“Leaving already?” you asked when he approached, struggling to keep your voice casual.

“Yeah,” he replied with a small smile. “Can’t avoid work forever.”

You nodded, trying to mask your disappointment. You’d known from the start that this was temporary, but the reality of him leaving still hit harder than you’d expected. “Well, I’m glad you stopped by to say goodbye,” you said, managing a small smile.

He tilted his head, gaze softening. “Doesn’t have to be goodbye, you know.”

“Huh?” You blinked, surprised. Seungcheol didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he pulled out his phone, tapped a few times, and a moment later, your own phone buzzed in your pocket. When you checked it, you saw a message from him. It was a link to a job posting.

“It’s a publishing company I’m investing in,” he explained. “They’re looking for new writers for their magazine,” he explained with a playful tilt to his tone. “I could make a call and help secure you a position there, but I don’t think you’d like that.”

You raised a brow jokingly. “Are you serious? I’d kill for an easy way in.”

“Really?” he asked, his eyebrows lifting slightly as if actually considering it.

“Of course not,” you laughed, shaking your head. “But… thank you. I’ll definitely check it out.”

“Good,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “See you soon?”

You nodded, voice softening. “Maybe, if you ever find yourself back in town.”

“Or,” he countered, his smile widening, “if you find yourself in mine.”

You smirked, leaning in a little closer. “No promises, but I’ll keep you posted.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he murmured before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, pulling back with a look you couldn’t quite read. “Take care, alright?”

“You too,” you whispered back. With a final glance, he picked up his bag and walked toward the doors. Watching him disappear, you glanced down at the job posting on your phone, your lips curving into a small smile.

The days that followed Seungcheol’s departure drifted by in a slow but steady routine. You returned to work, easing back into the usual rhythm of the hotel. Tasks that once kept you occupied now felt a little empty, missing the spark his presence brought. Although you kept in touch, neither of you could commit to a steady chat correspondence because you both had work to do.

The teasing began as soon as he left, of course. One morning in the break room, Drea and Clara from housekeeping cornered you with knowing smiles.

“So,” Drea began, leaning in with a smirk, “guess Mr. Loverboy had to hit the road?”

“Heartbroken already?” Clara teased, nudging you lightly.

Rolling your eyes, you tried to brush it off. “Please, I knew he was going to leave. He was here for business, not for… whatever you’re implying.”

“Uh-huh,” Drea said with a slow grin, “and all those late-night chats and ‘work dinners’ were totally normal, right?”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks and huffed, trying to keep your cool. “Can we not do this right now?”

They both winced, and Drea placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Sorry, we’re just teasing. You looked a bit gloomy after he left.”

“I’m not. Maybe I’m just…” you trailed off, smiling sheepishly. “Maybe I’m just missing the ‘work dinners’, you know?”

They laughed, and you joined in, letting humor push away the gloom—even if only temporarily. As you returned to your duties, their words lingered, nudging a realization you’d been trying to ignore. Seungcheol had stirred something within you—a restlessness, a desire for something more than the steady routine you’d settled into at the hotel, this place far from home.

The days dragged and you buried yourself in mundane tasks. You updated records, tweaked guest files, and even took extra shifts, but the thoughts of what you wanted next kept creeping in. There were quiet moments when, mid-shift, you found yourself idly scrolling through the job posting he’d sent, rereading the requirements and trying to imagine what it would be like to actually take the leap.

In the quiet of your room, you’d take a pen and paper and scribble down short articles on random things: the day’s specials, trends in the hotel’s online promotions, even quirky stats like how many times housekeeping was called to the same suite. It was practice, a taste of what it might be like to write for real. The more you wrote, the stronger the pull grew to step beyond the winding roads of this small city.

Your coworkers noticed the change. Sometimes, they’d catch you smiling to yourself, drifting off mid-sentence, or jotting ideas on scrap paper between check-ins.

“You’ve got that ‘I’m making a big decision’ look,” teased Leo, always keen to know when something was brewing. “I’ve seen it a hundred times before. Spill it!”

You laughed, brushing it off at first, but as days went on, your secret plans came into focus. Each conversation—some encouraging, some bittersweet—helped you admit to yourself that maybe it was time to step forward. Even the strict, watchful General Manager Elena took notice.

One day, on an unsurprisingly slow afternoon, she called you into her office. When you entered, she had her glasses on, nose deep in some paperwork, but she looked up with a rare softness in her usually stern demeanor.

“I heard you’re considering leaving,” Elena said, getting straight to the point.

For a moment, you couldn’t find the right words. “Actually… yes. I’ve been thinking about it. There’s this job posting that might be… a better fit for what I want.”

She studied you, her expression unreadable. “That’s a shame,” she finally said. “You’re good at what you do here. But I understand. We all have paths we need to explore.”

It was strange hearing those words from Elena of all people—the one who seemed to keep everyone on a tight leash. You hadn’t expected her understanding, and her support only fueled your desire to follow through. Still, you didn’t make a decision right away. The idea had gotten so real, you could almost touch it, yet you kept putting it off.

“You’re still thinking about it?” Leo would ask, crossing his arms with a look that was half-concerned, half-excited.

“Yeah, but… it’s not easy to let go of something so familiar,” you’d admit, trying to make sense of it yourself.

Eventually, after more late nights of wondering and overthinking, you knew what you had to do. It took a deep breath and a lot of inner pep talks—you even came up with a small mantra for yourself—but you finally handed in your resignation to Elena. She accepted it with a knowing smile, and, much to your surprise, added, “You’ll be missed. We don’t get people like you often.”

They gave you a two-week transition period to train the new concierge. It was bittersweet, teaching someone else the ropes, walking them through routines and the hotel’s small quirks. You realized how much you’d grown attached to it all—the people, the quiet corners, the smell of fresh coffee in the lobby. Each day brought flashes of memory—Tony pulling you into yet another crazy story; Leo cooking up a storm during restocking season; late-night conversations with Drea; and the soft light filtering through the lobby as you’d start your early shifts. It was your life for the last seven months, and letting go felt like peeling away a part of yourself.

On your last day, you finished training your replacement and said your goodbyes, packing up the small personal items you’d kept at your station—a worn-out notebook, a stray earring you’d misplaced months ago, and a couple of pens. Standing at the door, you took a last, quiet look back at the lobby, thanking it silently for what it had given you. Then you stepped out of the hotel, feeling strangely sad and excited at the same time. It was time to open a new book. Hopefully, this one would have a different plot, and maybe, just maybe, a plot twist you so badly needed.

The train pulled into the city’s central station just as the sky softened into late afternoon shades. Stepping off with excitement and nerves twisting in your chest, you took a deep breath and pulled out your phone to dial Seungcheol. You hadn’t told him about your decision to move, and as the call connected, you wondered briefly if surprising him like this was a bit too sudden.

“Hi. How are you?” Seungcheol’s voice came through the receiver. You could hear a faint chatter on the other line and he said, “Excuse me,” to someone.

“I’m fine, where are you?” you asked, unable to stop the slight tremor in your voice.

“I’m here and there.” You could hear the sound of a door opening and closing. “This is a pleasant surprise. You never called during work hours. What’s up?”

“I just thought I should call you,” you replied, unable to stop grinning. “You did tell me to let you know if I ever find myself in your city.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just let out a soft chuckle that seemed to hold both relief and excitement. “Where are you?”

“At the station.”

“Don’t move. I’m coming to get you.”

The city loomed around you, humming with life and endless possibilities. For a moment, you stood in the crowd, letting the sound of distant conversations and the sharp aroma of fresh coffee sweep over you. It hit you then—this was a new chapter, and there was no going back.

Fifteen minutes later, Seungcheol’s familiar figure came into view, weaving effortlessly through the crowd. The moment he spotted you, his smile widened, and as soon as he was close enough, he swept you into a tight hug, burying his face in your shoulder.

“Aw,” you cooed, hugging him back. “Did you miss me?”

“You should’ve told me you were coming,” he murmured against your hair, his grip on you firm and almost possessive.

You laughed, pulling back just enough to look at him. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Well, you nailed it,” he replied, leaning in to press his lips to yours. The kiss was deep, lingering, as if he’d been holding back all this time and could finally let it spill out. It felt like no time had passed at all since you’d last seen each other, yet there was a new energy—an excitement and sense of anticipation in the air between you.

The drive to his place was filled with teasing and sidelong glances, his hand never quite letting go of yours. Arriving at his penthouse, he wasted no time with pleasantries, trapping you in his arms as soon as you walked in and locking your lips together. His hands roamed your body, exploring familiar curves, while yours tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

You left a trail of clothing on the floor as he guided you into the bedroom. With each kiss, you melted into him, feeling his heartbeat quicken against yours. You failed to notice the marvelous view of the cityscape stretching out under the setting sun, reflecting shades of orange and pink in the tall glass windows. The world outside simply faded into a blur, leaving just the two of you in a connection that was charged with all the longing that had built up during your time apart. As your bodies moved together, a sense of urgency guided you—each touch igniting a flame that had only been waiting for the right moment to burn.

When you finally caught your breath, lying intertwined in the soft glow of the fading sunlight, you stared at the ceiling with pleased smiles on your lips. The warmth wrapped around you like a soft blanket, and a comfortable silence settled between you.

Seungcheol reached for you, and you glanced at him, smiling as you scooted closer and tucked yourself into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. “So,” you started, grinning up at him, “do you mind if I stay with you for a little while? Just until I find my own place.”

His face shifted, the tiniest smirk tugging at his lips as he looked down at you. “Actually, I think it’d be smarter if you stayed until you got the job.” His hand slid down your back. “Then you can pick a place close to work and save yourself a long commute.”

The logic made sense, of course, but the glint in his eyes told you there might be more to his offer. “Or maybe you just want to spend time with me day in and day out. Be honest,” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him.

He laughed. “I was trying to be cool, but alright. I want you here with me everyday. That’s the truth.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You could at least continue pretending to be hard to get. You’re no fun.”

“What?” he asked, confusion written all over his face. “I thought you wanted honesty?”

“Whatever. No fun,” you said, fighting back a grin.

But inwardly, a warmth spread in your chest at the thought that he wanted you here—that he wanted you close. You didn’t know where this leap would take you, but sitting there with Seungcheol, the uncertainty felt like something you could embrace.

After Seungcheol gave you a quick tour, the two of you found yourselves tangled up on the couch again. His hands skimmed over your arms, your back, your thighs, tracing over your skin with a familiarity and a desire that sent your pulse racing. The TV murmured in the background, but his slow, deliberate kisses made the world feel quiet and distant.

Just as you were beginning to sink into that familiar haze, the sound of his phone ringing on the coffee table cut through the moment. You both glanced at it, sharing a look, but Seungcheol ignored it, his focus solely on you as he wrapped his arms tighter, pressing his lips to yours as he eased you down onto the plush couch. His hand slipped under your shirt, leaving a trail of warmth along your skin, and you couldn’t help but surrender to the pull of the moment, melting into him completely.

But the phone wouldn’t stop. The ringing resumed, persistent enough that eventually, you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, gently pushing him away. “Aren’t you gonna take that?”

“No,” he murmured against your skin, moving to kiss the sensitive spot near your collarbone. “Ignore it.”

Yet another ring, and you couldn’t help but laugh, giving him a playful push. “Take the call, Cheol. It seems important.”

With a sigh, Seungcheol pressed a quick kiss on your lips, and then moved to grab his phone. There was a slight furrow of annoyance on his face as he answered. “What is it?”

You were sitting so close that you could faintly but clearly hear the other person speaking. “Where did you run off to, man?”

“What is it?” Seungcheol repeated, ignoring the other guy and adding weight to his own question.

“Dude, you left in the middle of a meeting. The Takahashis were livid.”

Leaning back against the sofa, Seungcheol rolled his eyes as though this wasn’t worth his time. “Buy them out.”

The other voice paused, clearly taken aback. “What? I thought you wanted a partnership?”

“The man is senile, Josh. Can’t even remember his own son’s name. There’s no point partnering with someone who doesn’t know when it’s time to step down. Let’s buy them out.”

You could hear ‘Josh’ sighing on the other side. “Alright. But it won’t be easy to convince them after your little disappearing act.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Seungcheol said with confidence. “Bring Yoon Jeonghan with you.”

“Alright. Is everything okay? Where are you? What was so important that you had to rush out like that?”

Seungcheol glanced at you, his gaze heavy with what seemed like an unspoken answer to his coworker’s question. The small smile that tugged at his lips told you exactly what he wanted to say without saying it. Rolling your eyes, you gave his arm a light slap.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Seungcheol said with a smile.

“Tomorrow? Dude, we have 4pm scheduled with the construction company. Don’t—”

Seungcheol ignored the rest of Joshua’s protests as he hung up and tossed the phone aside, refocusing his attention entirely on you. He pulled you back toward him, his lips finding yours as his arms wrapped around you in a familiar, easy embrace. But before he could deepen the kiss, you pressed a hand against his chest, pausing just long enough to catch your breath.

“Go back to work, Cheol,” you said, trying to keep your tone firm. “I can’t believe you ditched work for this.”

He gave a nonchalant shrug. “I’d rather be here.”

When he tried to kiss you again, you dodged, shaking your head with a grin. “I’m serious. You can’t just skip work whenever you want, even if you’re the CEO.”

“I thought being CEO means I can do just that?” he teased, watching your expression. When he saw your jaw drop in playful shock, he laughed. He took your hand, pressing it gently against his chest. “Alright, I’ll go. But only because you told me to,” he said, stealing another kiss.

You rolled your eyes and let him cup your cheek. “Are you sure you want me to go?” he asked.

“Yes. Stop being dramatic. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Seungcheol sighed, glancing at his watch for a second and turning back to you. “Alright, but I’ve got time before my next meeting. Anything you want to do before then?”

You thought for a moment, glancing at your bag. “Actually, yeah. Can you drop me off at an electronics store? I need to get a laptop.”

“Sure. Let’s go,” he invited, but instead of standing up, he lunged at you with a kiss that had you staying on the couch for a good five minutes.

The very next morning, Seungcheol sat across from you at the dining table, his coffee steaming as he watched you scroll through company profiles on your laptop. “It’s important to think about their vision, not just the job title or pay,” he said, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against his mug. “A company’s culture and goals say a lot about how they’ll treat you and how you'll grow there.”

You glanced up, catching the intensity in his gaze as he shared his thought process—like a glimpse into the inner world he often kept guarded. “When it comes to investing, I look for places that share my values or at least lean in the same direction. Even if they’re a little off, if there's room for alignment, and they have really good potential I give them a shot. But if it's a hard no from the start…” he shrugged, smiling a little. “Then it's not worth my time.”

“So, I should find a place that’s worth my time?”

He smiled. “Yes. If it’s worth you time, then it’s exactly where you fit.”

His words echoed in your mind as you stepped into the publishing house for the interview. The receptionist greeted you warmly, and as you waited, you couldn’t help feeling lighter—more confident. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were making choices that aligned with who you were and who you wanted to become.

Over the next few days, Seungcheol’s advice seemed to anchor you, guiding your approach to each application and interview. Whenever he was out for work, you spent your time filling out forms, researching companies, and drafting cover letters. And with each application, you felt a step closer to rediscovering a part of yourself that had gone quiet.

One evening, you found yourself staring at your laptop, a small smile spreading across your face. It hit you suddenly how long it had been since you’d felt the drive to pursue something. The doubts that had once held you back seemed far away now, chased away by the growing belief that you still had what it took to make this work.

When the rejection email arrived, it hit a bit harder than you’d expected. You stared at the screen for a moment, feeling the disappointment settle in. This was the company Seungcheol had suggested—the one that aligned with everything you’d been hoping for.

Seungcheol found you still at your laptop when he got home, catching sight of the email over your shoulder. Without a word, he placed a comforting hand on your back, leaning in close enough that his warmth almost made the disappointment a little easier to bear. “Hey,” he murmured gently, his thumb tracing soothing circles. “These things happen. A rejection doesn’t define you. If anything, it just means that place wasn’t ready for someone like you.”

You sighed, leaning into him for a second before tilting your head up with a small, determined smile. “You’re right. Anyway…” You toggled to a few other emails on the screen. “Who cares if H Publishing isn’t ready for me? I’ve got three other alphabets practically falling over themselves to snatch me up.”

His eyebrows rose, and he chuckled, folding his arms as he looked at you with mock admiration. “Three companies? Wow, look at you. Guess I gave pretty solid advice, huh?”

“Oh, please. I’m the one with the charm and talent.” You grinned, crossing your arms in triumph. “But yeah, some random guy did tell me to find a place that really fits. He was very wise.” You leaned over, planting a quick, playful kiss on his cheek.

Seungcheol’s face softened as he pulled you in for a real hug, resting his chin on top of your head. “Wise guy, huh? He sounds like he wants you to be somewhere that lets you shine.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you teased, glancing up at him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He laughed softly, his arms still wrapped around you, neither of you in any rush to pull away. The moment lingered, easy and unhurried, as if you both knew things were exactly as they should be.

Once you’d finalized the details with your chosen company, the reality of your situation began to settle in. Your start date was fast approaching, and with it, the understanding that your time in Seungcheol’s apartment was coming to an end. He hadn’t mentioned anything, but you knew that, now that you had a stable job, there was no reason for you to stay here anymore.

It was bittersweet. In the past three weeks, you’d become more attached to this life—sharing a space, a routine, even the quiet moments with him. The thought of going back to an empty bed, waking up without Seungcheol’s warm embrace, or the comforting ritual of morning coffee together, weighed on you. But this was a necessary part of starting over; after all, you’d come here to stand on your own, not to fall into the comfort of living with someone you weren’t even officially dating.

Wait… You paused, realization dawning on you. You and Seungcheol weren’t exactly in a relationship… were you?

Up until now, you hadn’t given it much thought, but now that you’d asked yourself the question, suddenly, it was all you could think about!

Was this casual? It was while you were still a guest and a concierge in a faraway hotel. Right now, it doesn’t seem that way anymore. What kind of relationship would you have if Seungcheol had already offered you his home, supported your dreams like it was his own, and focused on you with a warmth and attentiveness that made you feel like his world revolves around you?

“Do you even have feelings for him?” Jill asked when you told her about it over the brunch you’d planned with her a few days ago. She lived in the same city and while you were genuinely happy to spend time with her after all these years, she noticed that something was bothering you and managed to coax you into talking about it.

“No?” You answered, though it sounded more like a question directed at yourself. “I don’t know. I just… hadn’t thought about it until now. Everything felt so easy and so natural. I guess I forgot that things like this might need an actual label.”

Jill’s eyebrow lifted. “Things only need a label if you’ve got feelings and aren’t just hooking up.”

You flattened your lips, contemplating. “Does ‘hooking up’ mean making me breakfast every day for three weeks? Bringing home random gifts just because he thought I’d like them? Or being completely supportive of my career and dreams like it was his too?”

Jill’s knowing look softened as she studied your expression. “Well… when you put it like that, no,” she said, a teasing smile creeping in. “It sounds a lot more like someone who wants to be in your life than just in your bed.”

You sighed, feeling the warmth of her words and, at the same time, a little overwhelmed. “So… what do I do now? Ask him if he wants to be something more?”

Jill shook her head, reaching out to pat your hand. “Relax. You’ve got a lot going on already. You don’t have to figure it all out now,” she said, her voice calm and reassuring. “Just let things unfold naturally. Enjoy this stage, see where it takes you. If it’s meant to be more, you’ll both feel it, and you’ll know.”

And yet that was the problem. You weren’t patient. When something bothers you, you just have to get to the bottom of it as soon as you can.

That evening, as you were preparing dinner together, the inevitable topic was finally brought up. You’d just plated the food when Seungcheol leaned back against the counter, watching you with a contemplative smile.

“So… you’ll be looking for apartments soon,” he said, almost casually, though his gaze held something deeper. “Have you found any places that catch your eye?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you set the plates down on the table. “No. I haven’t gotten to it yet. But I’ll start tomorrow, don’t worry.”

A flicker of something—disappointment, maybe?—crossed his face before he gave you a small nod. “Right. That’s good.”

For a moment, silence hung between you, thick with the things you both weren’t saying. The thought of leaving left a strange ache in your chest, and as you looked at Seungcheol, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he felt it too.

“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked just as you sat down to start eating.

“What about work?” you asked back and he shrugged.

“I don’t have anything important to do tomorrow, so I can leave it to them.”

You gave him a smile, one with a hint of sadness about your impending departure. “Alright, then. I could use some company who could show me which neighborhood would be best for me.”

The next morning, the air felt different as you and Seungcheol set out for apartment hunting. As you drove through the city, Seungcheol pointed out various areas, describing their unique vibes.

“This neighborhood has some great coffee shops, and the park nearby is perfect for a morning jog,” he said, gesturing toward a tree-lined street bustling with life.

“Looks perfect,” you replied, though your mind lingered on the idea of leaving his apartment behind.

As the realtor showed you a particularly spacious unit, you couldn’t help but compare it to Seungcheol’s massive penthouse with its high ceiling and floor to ceiling windows. Then again, you had to brush it all aside. This was a hunt for your home, the place you’d be spending your days in while doing what you loved. Somehow, shifting your perspective that way filled you to the brim with excitement.

At the next stop, you walked hand in hand, your fingers interlaced as you each enjoyed churros from a nearby vendor. You wandered through a vibrant farmer’s market, the scent of fresh produce and flowers enveloping you. Picking up a bundle of herbs, you turned to Seungcheol with a grin. “What about an apartment where I can have little herb pots by the window?”

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Do you think they’d survive though? What if I can’t take care of them well enough?”

“I think you’re capable of anything as long as you put your mind into it,” he replied and you felt a tug of familiarity in your chest. You were sure you’d heard someone tell you the same thing before, you just forgot when or who it was.

After picking up a few fresh ingredients to bring home, you resumed your hunt for an apartment. You stepped into an open house at a newly-built complex, just two blocks from your workplace. The agent who welcomed you in boasted about the high-tech security system and beautiful amenities, showcasing a rooftop garden that took your breath away.

“Based on your description, Ma’am, this unit might suit your taste perfectly,” said the agent, guiding you into a unit that was a bit smaller than the previous three-bedroom one he’d shown you. “It has one bedroom, a spacious living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom with both a shower and a tub. And of course, a bay window with a beautiful view of the city.”

You marveled at the empty space, envisioning it as a blank canvas waiting for your personal touch. As you exchanged glances with Seungcheol, his eyes sparkled with curiosity, mirroring your excitement. It felt like the beginning of a new chapter, one where your dreams were within reach.

“Feel free to look around and let me know what you think,” the agent said, noticing the delight on your faces. Someone called his name outside, and he excused himself, closing the door behind him.

Practically vibrating with excitement, you walked up to Seungcheol, wrapping your arms around his waist and beaming up at him. “Do you like it?” he asked.

“I love it!” you exclaimed, pulling away to explore the living room further.

Seungcheol leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with a fond smile. You pushed open every door, gasping at each detail that captivated you.

When you finally felt satisfied, a realization tightened in your chest: It’s happening. You took a deep breath and met Seungcheol’s gaze. “This is it. This is the place.”

He offered a soft smile, one that reached his eyes. “I know. I like it too.”

Once again, the sinking feeling of leaving his place overcame you. “I’m gonna miss your house.”

He pushed off the wall and walked toward you, gently squeezing your shoulders. “You don’t have to go just because the job is set, you know?”

There it was—the invitation you hadn’t dared hope for. But as much as you wanted to stay, your resolve to stand on your own was stronger than any feelings you had for him.

“No, I have to go. I can’t keep invading your space,” you said, smiling, though the sadness flickered in your eyes.

He pulled you closer, wrapping your arms around his waist. “You’re not invading, sweetheart,” he said softly, cupping your cheeks and pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “I like having you there.”

“I know,” you scoffed playfully, rolling your eyes at his obvious affection. “But it wouldn’t make sense to stay there when the purpose of me moving here was so I could pursue something of my own.”

He sighed. “Why did you have to be so independent? Can’t you just stay with me forever? If you haven’t noticed, I’m very capable of making you live a life of luxury without you having to lift a finger.”

“Really? Wow. I didn’t notice,” you deadpanned in mock-surprise. You both laughed for a bit and the quiet that followed was heavy. You just stared at each other, conversing with your eyes but not coming to an understanding. “I’m sure you can make that happen, but forever is such a long time, Cheol.”

“It is,” he replied, his voice low as he looked into your eyes.

“You know, the most common factor that caused my past relationships to fail was our lack of communication. After the last one, I realized I have to make communication the very foundation of my relationships with people—friends, family, boyfriends.”

Seungcheol’s brow furrowed slightly as he absorbed your words. “I get that. Communication is important,” he said slowly, his gaze steady on you.

You felt a surge of courage as you met his eyes, willing yourself to be vulnerable. “That’s why I want to know exactly what you think about us. If this is casual, or if there’s more to this than what we both intended. I like what we have, but I also know that the beginning of our relationship was unconventional and we haven’t known each other that long. But I like it, I like you. Maybe not so much right now, but I’m willing to see where this takes us. So…” You took a deep breath and reached to cup his cheek. “I need to know where you stand.”

His expression shifted, and for a moment, you could see the hesitation flicker in his eyes. But then he leaned into your hand. “I like you more than words could ever describe, sweetheart. I haven’t felt this way for anyone, ever.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his confession, a mix of relief and excitement coursing through you. “Do you mean that?” you asked softly, searching his eyes for sincerity.

He nodded, his gaze unwavering. “I do. I agree that we started off in a weird way, but I wasn’t even expecting to form something so profound with you in the first place. Still, I’ve enjoyed every moment we’ve spent together. You make me feel different... better.”

A warm flutter spread through you, but the uncertainty still lingered. “So, where does that leave us? I mean, I’m glad we like each other but I don’t want to jump into something without knowing we’re on the same page.”

He leaned to kiss you softly and slowly, as if it was the answer to your question. When he pulled away, there was an affectionate smile on his lips. “There. I jumped first. What are you gonna do?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and crashed your lips into his for a much deeper, much fervent kiss. The world around you faded, leaving just the two of you and the electric connection that buzzed between your bodies. As the kiss deepened, you felt a rush of warmth flood through you, and your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

Seungcheol responded eagerly, his hands roaming your back. The heat of the moment enveloped you both, and soon you found yourselves pressed against the wall, lost in the embrace. The kiss grew more passionate, hands exploring—fingers tracing along arms and waists, as you both got lost in the vice of each other.

But just as you felt the desire to take things further, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, pulling you back to reality. The agent’s voice cut through the haze, followed by the sound of the doorknob clicking. You pulled away abruptly, breathless and wide-eyed, a rush of embarrassment flooding through you. Seungcheol looked just as startled, both of you momentarily flustered. The heat of the moment dissipated, replaced by the urgency to regain composure.

The agent’s smiling face appeared from the foyer, greeting you cheerfully. “So, what do you think?”

“We’ll take it,” you replied abruptly, still flustered.

“Yes. It’s ours,” Seungcheol added.

“Mine,” you corrected gently, patting his chest.

“Huh?” he asked dumbly, gawking at you for a second. “Oh, yeah. Hers.”

The transition into your role as an assistant editor felt seamless. The initial apprehension faded quickly, replaced by a surprising confidence as you organized articles and collaborated with your team. Being in a creative environment was thrilling and fulfilling. It didn’t even bother you that the pay was average—this was your passion in action, it should be priceless.

Twice a week, Seungcheol would sweep you off to dinner, the routine becoming another cherished ritual. He watched you with a fond smile as you animatedly discussed your day, your words flowing freely as you shared your small wins and challenges.

“I was nervous because they asked for my input out of nowhere but guess what?”

“They liked it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“They did. They thought it was fantastic!”

“Wow, you’re brilliant.”

You giggled. “Oh, and earlier the chair gave out when I was—” you stopped, realizing how much you were rambling. “Sorry. Was I talking too much?”

“It’s okay I’m used to it,” he smiled, offering you a slice of his food. He smiled when you accepted it. “You could go on for hours once you start telling stories, remember?”

You sighed, remembering when you used to recount stories about your exes at his request. “Of course. But back then, you actually wanted to hear it. This is just me going on and on.”

“I like it,” he murmured, nudging another bite your way. “It’s endearing.”

“You’re saying that because you like me too much,” you teased, rolling your eyes playfully before taking the bite from his fork.

His laughter echoed in your ears, affectionate and genuine. You continued eating and talking. Every little touch, every shared smile, left a warmth that lingered even as the plates were cleared. And as you both walked home, Seungcheol slipped his hand into yours, fingers intertwining effortlessly.

“Do you wanna sleep over?” you asked, leaning against his shoulder as you walked.

“Can I?”

You hummed affirmatively. “It’s kinda cold and I kinda missed you.”

His chuckle was low and warm. “Do you miss me every day?”

“Yes,” you replied softly, sniffing the sleeve of his jacket. “Every single day.”

He glanced at you, a glint of mischief visible in his eyes. “Then what do you think about moving in with me?”

“Don’t you ever get tired of asking?” you scoffed, though a smile tugged at your lips.

“It’s fun. Who knows? Maybe if I keep at it, you’ll give in,” he teased, nudging your shoulder.

“Or maybe I’ll kick you out of my life forever.”

“You can try.” He smirked. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

The two of you often spent your evenings at your apartment since he’d pick you up from work, and your place was closer. His job demanded much of his time, even on weekends, so you’d only managed a couple of trips in the last few months. Still, you made time to hang out at his place whenever you could.

Seungcheol always treated you with warmth and care, never missing a chance to hold you, lean against you, or pull you into a hug. It felt like he was always close, a steady presence you’d come to cherish.

“Yes, right there,” you exclaimed, moaning in delight as Seungcheol massaged your tensed shoulder with expertise. You grinned, aware of how you were affecting him. “Oh, Seungcheol. That is so good.”

“Keep doing that and I’ll give you something to really moan about,” he teased, shooting you a look that made you quickly mime a zipper over your lip.

You settled back, savoring the massage, though you couldn’t resist letting out a dramatic moan here and there just to tease him. Seungcheol, as it turned out, is more in control of his urges than you’d expected.

When he finished with your shoulders, he moved to the carpet beside the couch, taking one of your legs into his hands and massaging it. You gave him a warm smile. “You know, I really enjoy being treated like a princess by you,” you mused.

He paused, tilting his head at you. “Princess, huh?”

You nodded with a giggle. “Mmhm, exactly.”

Seungcheol chuckled, setting your foot down with exaggerated care. “Maybe I’m not doing enough, then.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait—what? You’re already doing more than enough!”

“Then why are you a princess and not a queen?”

Your mouth fell open in mock surprise before you started laughing at the cringe line. “Alright, alright. I get it. You’ve got rizz. Come here.” You leaned forward, cupping his cheeks with both hands as you guided him up to meet your lips.

“Choi Seungcheol?” Mina asked, glancing up at you as she leaned back in the salon chair. You’d been looking forward to this weekend with her, Jill, and Lea, a chance to unwind over manicures and girl talk.

“Yeah. Do you know him?” you asked, mildly intrigued.

Mina sighed dramatically. “Do I know him? Everyone in the industry knows him. The guy’s a genius.”

“Really?” You tilted your head, genuinely curious.

“I don’t know all the details, but he founded his holdings company back in 20XX, and it only took him seven years to build a multimillion-dollar empire,” Mina explained, her tone awestruck. “He’s actually one of the investors at my company.”

You blinked in surprise. “That’s... impressive.”

Mina gave you a look. “Wait—didn’t you know this?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I mean, I knew he had his own company, but he doesn’t talk much about it.”

Jill chuckled. “Your boyfriend is mysterious.”

“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend.”

The three of them stared at you, expressions of disbelief on their faces. Finally, Mina broke the silence, “If he’s not your boyfriend, what is he?”

You hesitated, then admitted, “I mean, well… We’re together, but he didn’t really ask me to be his girlfriend. And I didn’t ask him either. We just came to a consensus that we wanted to be together.”

“Girl, that’s literally what dating is,” Jill deadpanned, rolling her eyes.

You laughed. “Fine, maybe you’re right. I just didn’t want to dwell on labels, you know?”

“Unbelievable,” Mina muttered, but her grin softened the words.

“So, is he self-made or did he get help?” Lea interjected, steering the topic back to Seungcheol’s career. “Nepo baby?”

Mina shrugged. “Not entirely sure. I heard he started out with just one investor—apparently the father of his business partner.”

“Or maybe he’s a genius who just knows how to make the right investments,” Jill mused.

As they chatted, your mind drifted, replaying Mina’s words. You’d never asked Seungcheol much about his past because he was usually reserved about it. He’d drop hints now and then, but he never got into the deeper details. You didn’t even know whether his parents were wealthy—or if they were alive. Somehow, you’d just assumed he’d built his company on his own, out of necessity.

But now, a strange, almost bittersweet curiosity tugged at you. Just who was the man you’d grown so close to? Why did it feel like you barely knew about him?

The weekend went on as the four of you bounced between shopping, brunch spots, and lazy strolls through the streets. Your friends were great company, their laughter and stories taking you back to your youth when things were much simpler. Yet, every now and then, your thoughts wandered back to Seungcheol and the half-formed questions he’d unknowingly left with you.

Had he really kept his career and his life so under wraps out of modesty, or was it just a deliberate choice to keep you in the dark? Was his interest in you genuine, or were you just another distraction to him—an easy escape maybe?

“Earth to you!” Jill’s fingers snapped in front of your face, pulling you back to the table. She looked at you, brow raised, with a teasing smirk. “Where’d you go off to?”

“Oh—nowhere,” you said, smiling sheepishly.

Mina shot you a knowing glance. “Does ‘nowhere’ happen to be a certain tall, good-looking, and mysterious Choi Seungcheol?”

Your cheeks warmed. “Maybe.”

“Thought so.” Mina took a sip of her drink, eyes twinkling. “You’ve been a little preoccupied. Did something bad happen?”

“Not exactly. It’s just…” You hesitated, picking at the edge of your napkin. “I just realized I didn’t know much about him, which is dumb because he probably had me memorized by now. What if there’s more he’s not telling me? And what if he’s not telling me these things because… you know, I’m temporary?” You winced, not quite sure how to put it into words.

Jill reached over to squeeze your hand. “That’s understandable. I mean, the guy’s clearly got a lot going on. Maybe he’s just waiting until he feels it’s the right time?”

“Or maybe he’s afraid of something,” Mina chimed in, thoughtful. “A rich guy like him? People probably approach him with motives all the time. Maybe he’s cautious around people he cares about.”

You sighed, staring down at your coffee. It didn’t help that Seungcheol hadn’t called or messaged you since Friday, leaving a quiet ache you hadn’t quite anticipated. Usually, you’d hear from him at least once, even if it was a short message to check in. Although he did promise he won’t bother you while you were hanging out with your friends. Still, this silence felt different, unsettling.

The afternoon passed by in comfortable, busy distraction. You all wandered through shops, trying on clothes and laughing at ridiculous sunglasses, sharing in the small, simple joys of being together. But every so often, while waiting in line or glancing at your phone, you found yourself hoping to see his name light up your screen, only to be met with empty notifications.

“Are you okay?” Lea asked later, when the two of you found yourselves alone for a moment, the others a few steps ahead.

You managed a smile, brushing it off. “Yeah, I’m totally fine.”

She gave a sympathetic nod. “You know, it’s okay to ask him these things. Better than sitting around wondering. Just… don’t let it ruin your weekend, okay?”

You appreciated her concern, and as the evening stretched into night, you pushed the thoughts aside, letting yourself laugh along with the others and lose yourself in the joy of good company.

On your last night together, you especially looked forward to tomorrow, knowing you’d finally see Seungcheol again. But as you and your friends shared wine, the conversation turned deeper and more personal.

“To be honest? You get the worst when it comes to relationships,” Mina slurred drunkenly, pointing a wavering finger at you. “Jill always attracts cheaters, but she has never let them walk all over her, no.”

Jill raised her glass with a laugh. “Never!”

“Lea is engaged to her high school sweetheart,” Mina continued, gesturing at Lea, who grinned proudly. “And I’ve always dated long-term—though I’m single now,” she added with a shrug.

You chuckled, finding Mina’s drunken antics endearing. She turned her gaze back to you, suddenly serious. “You, my darling girl, you…”

She stumbled over to you, landing next to you on the floor, and you reached to steady her. She rested her head on your shoulder, taking a deep breath before nuzzling into your warmth. “Why do you always get hurt?”

“I don’t do it on purpose,” you replied softly.

“Of course not. Who would ever choose to hurt themselves?” she chuckled bitterly. “I just mean… you always find these amazing guys, only for them to slip through your fingers in the end.”

Lea scoffed playfully, joining Mina on the carpet. “You’re one to talk. You always date long-term, then break up anyway. What’s the point of dating for years if it’s not going anywhere?”

“You wouldn’t understand, Lea, since you’ve only dated one guy since high school,” Mina teased, nudging her. “But with my exes, they were all great at first, only to turn out to be self-absorbed jerks or cheats.”

“So why am I the worst?” you asked, running your fingers through her hair.

“You’re not the worst,” she sighed, leaning her head on Lea’s. “You just have the worst luck out of all of us.” She closed her eyes, voice softening. “Mingyu was broken, and you were right to leave him, but if he’d been in a better place, it could have been beautiful. You wouldn’t have had to go through that heartbreak when you were still young.”

You nodded, feeling the memories settle heavily between you all.

“And Wonwoo…” Mina continued, “well, he was perfect. But he was just passing through your life. And of course, there’s Vernon…”

Mina paused, and the others went quiet. You held your breath as she looked at you, her gaze full of sympathy.

“Breaking up with him… that was your lowest point,” Jill murmured, joining the huddle, her hand resting on yours.

You huffed, a self-deprecating smirk tugging at your lips. “Worst time of my life, to be honest.”

Mina tilted her head, her eyes meeting yours with earnest sympathy. “Do you know what happens to you once you’re in a relationship?” she asked quietly. You shrugged, feeling the gentle press of her hand urging you to listen. “You hyperfixate on them. You forget you had a life before them.”

A pang of guilt struck you, sharper than expected. She was right, and you already knew it—had felt it but never fully admitted it to yourself. In the background of every relationship, your friends and family had often become shadows. You swallowed, words heavy. “I’m sorry, guys.”

Mina waved her hand dismissively. “That’s all in the past. But honestly?” She gave you a half-smile. “It’s a little frustrating to see you dissociate this weekend, drifting off because of your current guy.”

“It really is,” Jill agreed, chuckling. “And you’re not exactly subtle about it.”

“Come on, girl!” Mina sighed, though her tone held a warmth only close friends could manage. “This weekend is supposed to be for us, but your mind’s clearly somewhere else. I get it, we all do, but… I guess I just wonder why that part of you hasn’t changed after all these years.”

You opened your mouth to apologize, but Jill cut you off, her tone softer. “Hey, you don’t have to be sorry. We get it. It’s just… we worry about you.”

Mina’s hand found yours, giving it a light squeeze. “We just hope you find your happiness soon, whatever that looks like.”

You managed a small smile, touched by her words. “So do I, Mina. So do I.”

As you settled into bed that night, Mina’s words lingered in your mind. Her gentle yet unflinching honesty made you confront a truth you’d avoided for years: once you entered a relationship, you tended to lose yourself in it, almost as if everything else faded to the background. And while the connection with Seungcheol felt different, you couldn't ignore the uneasy feeling that you were once again falling into old patterns.

You rolled over, staring at the ceiling as a strange but comforting realization took shape in your mind. For the first time, you decided to hold onto your own life and interests alongside a relationship. You’d never thought about it before because it never seemed necessary, as if love could fill every space. But now, you understood that nurturing your own dreams and friendships was just as vital—that it was the way to truly keep the people you love close to your heart for as long as you could.

The next morning, you found yourself surprisingly refreshed. As you packed up and prepared to leave the villa, you felt a lightness that hadn’t been there before—a sense of confidence that came from knowing you could hold onto yourself, too.

When Seungcheol arrived to pick you up, he stepped out of the car with his usual charm, dressed in his usual suit and tie outfit that drew appreciative glances from your friends. He greeted them warmly, offering a firm handshake and a genuine smile that seemed to put everyone at ease. You introduced each of your friends, watching the small exchanges of laughter and chatter that followed.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Seungcheol said, a warm glint in his eye. “You’ve been taking great care of her, I can tell.”

“We try,” Lea teased, elbowing you playfully.

With a grin, Seungcheol offered, “How about I treat you all to brunch, as a thank you?”

The girls exchanged quick glances, and Mina, always the spokesperson, politely declined. “That’s sweet of you, Seungcheol, but she’s all yours. We’ve already had her to ourselves all weekend.”

They bid you both goodbye, with Jill pulling you aside for one last, quick hug. “Remember what we talked about, okay?”

You hugged her back, nodding. “I will.”

As you settled into the passenger seat, Seungcheol reached over to clasp your hand, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin. You glanced over at him, feeling both the comfort of his presence and, for the first time, a quiet certainty that you didn’t need to lose yourself to love him. That this time, you could have both—your life and his presence in it, without one overshadowing the other.

Seungcheol glanced at you as he pulled onto the road, catching the thoughtful expression on your face. “Good weekend?”

“Yeah,” you replied, squeezing his hand. “It really was. I think I needed it more than I realized.”

He smiled softly, eyes returning to the road. “Glad to hear that. I think it’s important you keep in touch with friends. They’re usually the ones who know you very well.”

You nodded. “They really are.”

When you reached your apartment, Seungcheol immediately pulled you into a kiss, his arms tight around you. You couldn’t help but smile, coming to a conclusion that he’d been waiting for you.

“Miss me?” you teased, fingers tracing idle patterns on the back of his neck.

“Always,” he replied, his voice a low murmur against your temple as he brushed a kiss there, slow and unhurried.

You tilted your head to meet his gaze, your fingertips trailing up to his jaw, grazing the hint of stubble there. “Then why didn’t you call me?”

“You said you were gonna catch up with your friends,” he pouted, burying his face on the crook of your neck. “I took everything in me not to text you. I spent three hours in the gym every night just to distract myself.”

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “Liar.”

“I’m serious.” he shot back indignantly. “I would never lie about that.”

You scoffed, but your grin was hard to conceal. Seungcheol kissed your cheek. “I miss you so much,” he said softly, his hand sliding to the small of your back, drawing you close.

Your fingers curled at the back of his neck, pulling him down until your lips met in a slow, languid kiss. You could feel him smile against your lips, his fingers tracing gentle circles as he pulled you even closer as if you weren’t already pressed flush against each other.

Soon his mouth left yours, trailing down your jaw to your neck. You sighed into him, savoring the warmth that wrapped around you, letting your heart and body override your brain and lose yourself to the vice of Seungcheol’s touch.

The warmth grew more intense as the familiar press of his body against yours stirred your passion awake. Soft sighs escaped your mouth each time Seungcheol’s teeth grazed your skin and sent a ripple of pleasure throughout your nerves. His strong hands traced slow, deliberate lines along your back, mapping the familiar curves with ease, not stopping when he reached your ass all the way down to your thigh.

Without warning, he lifted you off your feet, making you yelp. Seungcheol grinned, kissing your lips briefly before walking straight into your bedroom. Inside, he dropped you down the mattress and you bounced slightly as you fell.

“You’re such a tease,” he commented, making you blink in confusion and chuckle.

“I’m a tease? I’m not even doing anything,” you retorted, rolling your eyes.

“I know. It’s crazy,” he grinned, discarding his shirt and crawling toward you. “You’re not doing anything and yet…” he guided your hand to his crotch, leaning into your ear as he whispered. “...you’re making me lose my fucking mind.”

Your breath hitched when you felt how hard he was under his pants. His cock pulsed against your palm and it sent a sudden wave of desire through your body that made your pussy tingle with anticipation.

It didn’t take long before you were both naked on your bed, lewd sounds of pleasure and skin against skin echoing through your apartment. If your neighbors could hear you, you wouldn’t know—you didn’t even care anymore at this point. Each kiss and every thrust spoke volumes, a language only the of you knew, built over countless moments like this, yet still feeling as thrilling as the first.

Seungcheol’s pace was delightfully rough, rutting into you with a force that reached the very core of your of cunt and made your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your mouth was gaped open the whole time, letting every moan and whimper escape your throat.

It was wonderful the way he seemed to know you so well, understanding every sigh and shift in your expression. You found yourself responding instinctively, matching his pace as if you were two parts of the same whole.

“Cheol,” you managed to gasp, feeling your body clench with the familiar ache in your belly. You clawed his back frantically, desperate to hold onto something in fear that the intense euphoria would actually send you into orbit. “Please… don’t—don’t stop!”

Recognizing the slight scrunch on your expression, Seungcheol maintained his pace, lowering himself so you could hold onto him properly. “It’s okay. Hold on tight and go ahead. Go ahead, sweetheart. Let it all out.”

Time seemed to slow down, as he rasped your own name in your ear, his voice amplifying the need for release. Eyes rolling back, you let out a dragged-out moan, back arching as you came undone underneath him. He held you by the waist, pausing while he was balls deep inside of you and your walls pulsated around him. He watched your fucked-out expression with a proud smirk before slowly setting you back down, your body twitching a few more times with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

You smiled at him, pushing him up just enough so he could continue. Seungcheol didn’t need to be told, immediately thrusting into you and riding the high that hadn’t even left you yet. Your moans were throaty, losing your mind once more as he rammed into your overstimulated cunt.

And when he finally stilled, he let out a guttural grunt you’d ever heard before collapsing next to you. He wrapped an arm around you, holding you as if letting go wasn’t an option as if you could stay this close forever. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, feeling the quiet warmth settle between you, a deep, steady comfort that lingered even after the last whispers of passion had faded.

“I love you,” you whispered, just as Seungcheol drifted off to sleep.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Your career was blossoming, you were closer with your friends, and you talked to your parents more often. Adding in Seungcheol by your side, your life felt fuller than it ever had. In this new chapter, you embraced everything as it came, ready to weave your dreams into the fabric of your life.

Then again, life just likes taking a turn when you least expect it to. After all, if it’s all sunshine and daisies, then it isn’t life at all. Challenges are necessary for growth. In this chapter of your life, the ‘turn’ was both familiar and new. Something you’d seen before, but somehow, it felt different.

“Would you like to come with me this weekend? There’s a party and I could use some company,” Seungcheol asked while you were lounging in your living room one night. “A gorgeous one,” he added, winking at you.

“What party?” you asked, considering the invitation but needing to know the details first.

“It’s the anniversary of Hong Industries. I’m close with them so I can’t miss it,” he explained.

“Alright,” you chimed, smiling at him. “But first, am I your girlfriend?”

Seungcheol paused, looking at you with a slight scowl on his forehead. “Of course, you are.”

You hummed. “Just making sure there’s an actual label to this.”

Seungcheol chuckled, placing his spoon down and giving you a fond look. “Of course there is. What happened? What made you ask me that out of nowhere?”

“Nothing. I was just checking,” you replied, shrugging. “If I am to accompany you to a party where I might meet your acquaintances, I should know how to introduce myself.”

“You’re not gonna go there and introduce yourself as my girlfriend, are you?” he asked, looking genuinely perplexed.

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

Seungcheol shrugged as if the answer should be obvious to you already. “You could introduce yourself as a writer.”

“I’m an assistant editor at a publishing company. Not a writer.”

“Then you can introduce yourself that way too.”

You leaned back on the couch, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at him with playful suspicion. “Do you not want me to be known as your girlfriend, Choi Seungcheol?”

“Again with the full name.”

You smirked. “What? I thought you liked it when I called your name?”

“Oh, you’ll call my name alright,” he smirked, tugging his necktie off and lunging at you. You let him lay you down on the couch, but you didn’t let him kiss you, covering his mouth with your hand.

“Come on. Tell me the truth,” you said sternly, narrowing your eyes at him,

Seungcheol smirked. “You know, I could lie right now just to get what I want.”

“Yes, but you wouldn’t. You’re not the type to do that,” you challenged, feeling confident despite the voice in the back of your mind telling you he was changing the subject and avoiding the question.

“You know me too well,” he lilted, kissing your lips softly. “You’re my girlfriend, and we can introduce you as such to anyone and everyone who would care to listen.”

“See? How hard was that.”

Seungcheol sighed, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “I just don’t want you to feel... overshadowed. Being my girlfriend might sound simple, but trust me, it’s not gonna be easy. They’ll see you through that lens first and it’s gonna stick.”

You studied him, intrigued by the rare moment of openness. “I get it, but I know who I am. I’m okay with the label if it’s one we’re both proud of.”

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss you again. “See? You’re one of a kind.” His hand slid down your arm, pulling you closer, and you nestled into the warmth of his embrace. The ease of your familiarity made your heart flutter, the way it always did.

As the evening of the gala approached, you slipped into a fitted, elegant gown, one that was classic yet alluring, the kind that made you feel like you belonged in the world Seungcheol occupied so easily. You finished with a touch of makeup, something that highlighted your eyes and a bold lip to match the confidence you wanted to project tonight. Right on cue, Seungcheol arrived, stepping out of his car looking every bit the part in a sharp black tuxedo. He stopped when he saw you, taking a moment as his gaze swept over you.

“You look marvelous,” he said, reaching for your hand and kissing your knuckles. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

The gala venue was grand, a historic mansion converted into a luxury event space. Tall windows lined the walls, offering a stunning view of the city skyline. The chandeliers bathed the room in a golden glow, illuminating guests dressed in designer clothes, mingling with ease over champagne and laughter. As you stepped into the space, you felt Seungcheol’s hand slip to the small of your back, a subtle gesture that felt both protective and possessive.

“Stay close,” he murmured, guiding you through the crowd.

Seungcheol was a magnet for attention tonight. As soon as you arrived, people began gravitating toward him, friends and colleagues, associates he had to greet. Each time, he would introduce you with an easy, charming smile. “She’s an assistant editor at V Publishing,” he’d start, then add with pride, “and also my girlfriend.”

Every introduction made you feel both more part of his world and distinctly aware of how different it was from your own.

“CEO Choi!” someone called from the crowd.

You and Seungcheol turned toward the voice, spotting a man approaching with a friendly, approachable charm. He looked polished in his navy-blue tux, his expression warm. Seungcheol sighed as he saw him, a subtle reaction that made you wonder if he wasn’t fond of this guy.

“Hey, Josh,” Seungcheol greeted, his tone drier than usual. The name triggered a vague recognition in your memory.

Joshua ignored Seungcheol, focusing on you with a bright smile as he extended a hand. “You must be her—the woman who made CEO Choi go AWOL for a whole week in some far-off hotel. I’m Joshua Hong, COO of his company.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly but shook his hand anyway. “Somehow, I feel like you don’t like me already.”

“Oh, I adore you! I’ve been dying to meet you,” he said with exaggerated enthusiasm, though you weren’t quite convinced.

“Okay…” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

Before you could continue, another voice chimed in from behind. “Well, would you look at that,” a smooth voice said. You and Seungcheol glanced over your shoulders to find a strikingly handsome man with blonde hair, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “If it isn’t Choi Seungcheol with the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol replied flatly, sighing as though he’d already braced himself for this. “Just my luck.”

Jeonghan slipped over to Joshua’s side, eyeing you with a knowing smile that made you feel self-conscious. He looked you over with a slow, appraising gaze.

“Alright, you two are creeping me out,” you said, scowling slightly. “What’s going on?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t checking you out,” Jeonghan teased, his gaze shamelessly drifting from your face to your dress. “You’re kinda hot.”

Seungcheol stepped in, placing a hand on Jeonghan’s chest and pushing him aside. “That’s enough. Don’t make her uncomfortable.”

Joshua stepped forward, positioning himself on your other side with a friendly grin. “Sorry about my friend. He’s a bit of a creep,” he said, nodding toward Jeonghan before offering his arm. “Can I get you a drink?”

You glanced at Seungcheol, who nodded reassuringly. “He’s my friend. Go ahead if you’d like.”

“Hey, why does he get to be her escort?” Jeonghan protested, raising a hand in mock indignation.

“Because you’re a creep,” Joshua replied, dismissing him with a wave of his fingers as he guided you to the minibar.

At the minibar, Joshua handed you a glass of champagne and leaned in with a warm, curious smile. “So,” he began, “how did you and Seungcheol get together?”

You took a sip of your drink, feeling a bit on the spot. You didn’t go into the details but gave him the briefest version. “It just sort of… happened, I guess. We kept running into each other.”

Joshua nodded, looking amused but a little surprised. “Seungcheol doesn’t usually bring dates to these events. I mean, he keeps his private life pretty close to the chest, so seeing you two together tonight is definitely a first.”

You glanced across the room where Seungcheol was in conversation with another guest, his eyes occasionally drifting back to you. The thought that he’d brought you here when he normally came alone gave you a quiet, warm thrill.

Before you could say anything else, Joshua shifted the conversation with a curious glance. “He told me you’re an assistant editor. That must be exciting work. Jeonghan over there,” he nodded toward his friend who was in the same circle as Seungcheol, “he’s in the broadcasting industry. They’re always on the lookout for writers, you know.”

“Oh,” you replied, taken aback by the suggestion. You hardly considered crossing into a field like that, especially given that this was one of Seungcheol’s friends.

Joshua noticed your hesitation and chuckled lightly. “I know Jeonghan comes off… well, a little intense. But he’s actually a decent guy—he just likes to mess with Seungcheol as much as possible.”

You laughed, feeling more at ease. “Yeah, I did notice they seem to have that kind of friendship.”

“Exactly. But hey, if you’re interested in exploring other avenues with your writing, Jeonghan would be a good contact. You’d be surprised at the kinds of opportunities that open up in broadcasting.”

You nodded thoughtfully, his words sparking an idea you hadn’t considered. Working as a writer beyond publishing was unfamiliar but intriguing, and the prospect made your heart race a little. “Thanks for the tip, Joshua. But I’m fairly new in the industry. I will consider it though.”

Joshua smiled at you with a kind of charm that made you feel at ease. But before the conversation could deepen, someone pulled him aside, and he gestured he’d be quick. You nodded, mouthing that he could take his time. As you sipped your champagne, your gaze drifted over the crowd—and then you spotted a familiar face. Mingyu, with that warm, easygoing grin, met your eyes and lit up immediately.

Within seconds, he’d crossed the room in a few quick strides. “Oh my god, I can’t believe this—how long has it been?”

You laughed, surprised and genuinely happy to see him. “Not too long. How have you been?”

Talking with Mingyu felt like no time had passed at all. He was as charming and witty as ever, and soon you found yourself reminiscing, falling into a rhythm as if the year between you had been just yesterday. Mingyu asked about your work, your life, and sprinkled in stories of his own misadventures, making you laugh and remember what had drawn you to him once.

But out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Seungcheol approaching, his gaze locked onto you and Mingyu. His steps were unhurried, but his eyes held an intensity that sent a shiver through you. He slid his arm around your waist as he reached you, claiming his place at your side in a way that left no room for doubt.

“Hey,” Seungcheol greeted before pressing a quick kiss on your cheek.

“Hi,” you smiled at him and then turned back to Mingyu. “This is Choi Seungcheol my—”

“Boyfriend,” Seungcheol cut in, his voice steady but carrying an edge that made your stomach flutter. “And you must be Kim Mingyu.”

Mingyu’s face brightened. “You know me?”

Seungcheol’s gaze shifted to you briefly before replying, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Really? It’s nice to meet you! CH Holdings, right?” Mingyu asked, genuinely enthusiastic.

“Yes,” Seungcheol replied coolly, sizing Mingyu up in a way that was hard to ignore. The silence that followed, though brief, felt thick and awkward. Mingyu was the first one to break, glancing at you with a smile.

“I’m really glad we ran into each other. We should catch up sometime,” he suggested, glancing between you and Seungcheol with a hint of his usual playfulness.

“Why?” Seungcheol’s reply was direct, and though his tone was mild, there was a possessiveness beneath it that made Mingyu laugh.

“Relax, man. I’m not trying anything. We go way back, that’s all,” Mingyu assured.

Seungcheol’s hand on your waist tightened slightly as he responded with a controlled smile, “Doesn’t seem that way to me.”

Mingyu blinked, taken aback for a moment. “What?” He glanced at you, clearly confused.

You could sense the tension simmering beneath Seungcheol’s composed expression, and though Mingyu was mostly oblivious to it, you could feel the subtle line that had been drawn. Seungcheol wasn’t letting his guard down.

“Alright, that’s enough,” you said, gently squeezing Seungcheol’s arm, trying to diffuse the situation. Turning back to Mingyu, you offered, “It was good seeing you, Mingyu. Let’s catch up soon.”

“Definitely. Enjoy the party!” Mingyu’s smile was genuine as he gave a small wave before heading off, but he glanced back at Seungcheol with an amused look as he went.

Once he was out of earshot, you looked up at Seungcheol, catching the faintest trace of jealousy in his expression. “What was that about?” you asked, arching an eyebrow as you leaned into his arm.

Seungcheol shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just remembering what happened the last time you bumped into him.”

You laughed softly, a bit incredulous. “You think something like that would happen again?”

He gave you a look, not entirely joking. “Who knows?”

“Okay, that’s offensive.”

“What do you mean?”

Your smile faded as you let out a short, sharp sigh, feeling a twinge of hurt at his insinuation. You shook your head and stepped away. Seungcheol reached out as if to follow, but before he could say anything, a group of men gathered around him, clearly eager for his attention. He glanced at them, then back at you, his gaze following you even as he nodded along to their conversation.

You were offended, and rightfully so. How could he see you as someone who would betray his trust so easily? Your encounter with Mingyu last year had been a fleeting moment of comfort during a time when you were single and lonely. But now, you’re with Seungcheol. Surely he wouldn’t think you’d jeopardize what you had with him by sleeping with your ex, would he? Did he really really think that low of you?

You barely noticed the woman who approached you until she spoke. “Are you Seungcheol’s designated arm candy? You’re pretty.”

“Excuse me?” you blurted, startled by her sudden appearance and appalled by her question.

“You have an attitude too, hmm,” she commented nonchalantly, looking you up and down before walking away.

You watched her walk away, bewildered by her casual insult. Was that really how people saw you—just a pretty accessory to someone like Seungcheol? Did everyone at this gala see you through that narrow lens?

The woman's words lingered in your mind, twisting with the doubt that had already taken root from Seungcheol's earlier comment. You clenched your fists, trying to shake off the feeling of inadequacy that threatened to creep in.

As you scanned the room, the laughter and chatter around you felt distant and muted. You wanted to enjoy the evening, to stand alongside your boyfriend with pride, but your thoughts kept spiraling back to the weight of his mistrust and the woman’s dismissive tone.

The car ride back to Seungcheol’s penthouse was quiet and tense. He kept glancing your way, trying to coax out the reason for your anger, but you merely stared out the window, letting the city lights blur together into a wash of colors.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” he asked again, his voice laced with concern.

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to speak without letting your frustration spill over. The truth was, you didn’t want to talk; you didn’t want to explain the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t shut me out. I know something’s bothering you,” he pressed gently, reaching for your hand. You pulled away slightly, feeling the distance between you growing.

Once you arrived, you wasted no time making your escape. You hurried to the guest room, locking the door behind you. After a quick bath, the warmth of the water soothing your nerves, you slipped into bed, the exhaustion from the night settling in as you closed your eyes. You heard the soft creak of the door sometime later, feeling the mattress sink behind you as Seungcheol lay next to you. But you pretended to be fast asleep, too tired to face the rift coming between you.

“I’m sorry. I was just jealous,” he murmured, pulling you closer. “I trust you with my life. I know you would never go behind my back. I’m so sorry.”

You heard him clearly, but you were intent on your pretense so you didn’t respond. Instead, you allowed yourself to relax into his arms, grateful for the warmth, even if your heart felt heavy.

Morning light seeped through the curtains, casting yellowish light into the room. You blinked against the brightness, feeling the soft fabric of the blanket wrapping around you. You soon waddled out of the bedroom, dressed only in your underwear and Seungcheol’s oversized shirt. As you entered the living room, the casual atmosphere was shattered by the sight before you.

Seungcheol was standing with his hands on his waist, facing a woman sitting comfortably on the couch as if she belonged there. It was the woman from the gala, the one who’d called you an ‘arm-candy’. She was beautiful, with an air of confidence that emanated from head to foot. And she noticed you as soon as you stepped into the living room, raising an eyebrow arrogantly.

“You have a guest,” she said, making Seungcheol glance over his shoulder. The hard expression on his face softened upon meeting your gaze.

“Who is this?” you asked Seungcheol, trying to mask your discomfort with a casual tone.

Seungcheol opened his mouth to answer but the woman was quicker. “I’m his fiancee,” she announced, standing up at once. “Nice to meet you.”

You froze, your mind buffering at the declaration. Seungcheol held your hand and with a warning tone, he said, “Jiwon.”

The woman—Jiwon—raised an eyebrow. “If you like her so much, you should have told her about me sooner.”

“Get out,” Seungcheol practically growled, but that didn’t seem to faze Jiwon. She smirked, picking up her purse and heading for the door.

Before leaving, however, she said, “You’re free to play around as much as you want, Seungcheol. But only for now. I won’t stand for this disrespect once we’re married.”

It felt like your world came crashing down, a weight settling heavily on your chest as you stood there, trying to make sense of it all. Your mind was spiraling, processing the information painfully fast and coming into a confusing conclusion: was your relationship with Seungcheol simply a distraction from his obligations to Jiwon?

“I can explain,” he began, his voice urgent as he stepped closer. You recoiled when he reached for you, looking straight at him with confusion and hurt. Instead of listening to his reassurances, you turned away, the sting of tears blurring your vision. You retreated into the bedroom, your footsteps thundering against the floor as you shut the door behind you, leaving Seungcheol’s voice echoing faintly in the hallway.

Your hands were shaking as you tugged on your clothes, every movement fueled by a whirlwind of emotions—hurt, confusion, and anger. You were just about to change when you felt Seungcheol’s arms wrap around you from behind, holding you tightly against him.

“Please don’t go,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear, a hint of desperation softening his voice. “You said you want communication to be the foundation of our relationship, and yet you walk away when I try to do just that.”

“I didn’t wanna hurt myself even more,” you muttered under your breath, but he heard you just fine.

His voice grew firmer. “I would never hurt you.”

“That’s too big of a promise,” you whispered, biting back fresh tears. “You already did.”

He sighed, and you reluctantly turned to face him, tears spilling over. “Is it true? Is she your fiance? Are you engaged to that woman?”

His expression softened, and he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes. “Yes, but—”

He held your gaze, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Yes, but—”

Before he could finish, you slipped out of his hold, pulling on your own clothes as if it would shield you from him. Seungcheol reached for your arm again, but you swatted his hand away. Seemingly frustrated, he tugged your shoulders so you would face him.

“Please listen to me.” He reached for your arm again, frustration crossing his face as he gently tugged you to face him. “Jiwon is only engaged to me because of our families’ wishes. It’s a business arrangement, nothing more.”

You tried to absorb his words, but all you could think about was how little you actually knew about him. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re engaged to someone else.”

He sighed. “It’s not that hard to deal with it. I can even go ahead and break it off right now.”

You pushed him away, stepping back to keep a distance between you. “Alright, fine! Let’s say it is that easy to break it off, but that’s not the point, Cheol. You were engaged with another woman. It doesn’t matter what the circumstances were, the fact that you couldn’t tell me—your girlfriend—something so important? That is the problem!”

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol sighed. “I never meant to keep it from you. I just want to protect you from all this chaos. I know I should’ve been honest from the start. I’m sorry.”

Your gaze didn’t falter, not even after his heartfelt apology. “I hardly know anything about you, Seungcheol. Who were you before becoming such a successful businessman? How did you grow up? What’s your family like? Did you have a good childhood? You never told me any of these things.”

Seungcheol’s brow furrowed, and he took a deep breath. “I thought it didn’t matter. My life was uninteresting until I met you.”

“But I want to be a part of your life, and for that to happen, you need to open yourself up to me the same way I’ve bared my heart and soul to you.” Your voice trembled as you spoke, frustration mingling with despair. “I don’t know what reasons you have, but all I know is that your refusal to share the intimate details about yourself implies that I am just a temporary phase in your wonderful life.”

“That’s not true!” Without hesitating, he reached out to cup your face. “I’ll bring you into my life. I’ll show you everything—my family, my past, my business. I want you to understand who I am, and I want you to be a part of it all.”

His sincerity pierced through the haze of hurt clouding your mind. You wanted to believe him, to trust that there was more to him than the wealth and the privilege that surrounded his world. But doubt still lingered in your heart.

“I swear,” he added, his gaze unwavering. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. Just don’t walk away from me now.”

His words hung between you, a lifeline in the storm of confusion. You felt the warmth of his body against yours, a reminder of the connection you had built. It was fragile, but it was real. And in that moment, you wanted to fight for it.

You nodded slowly, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Okay. But you have to promise to be open with me. No more secrets.”

Relief flooded his features, his soft smile brimming with gratitude. “I promise.”

As you felt his arms around you again, you found yourself holding onto hope, even as questions lingered in your mind, waiting to be answered.

Seungcheol’s promise of taking you to meet his family came sooner than later. His parents always held a regular family dinner in the grand hall of their estate, the kind you’d only seen in movies. Chandeliers hung low from the ceiling, casting a soft glow over tables with silver cutlery that gleamed as if they’d never been touched. Seungcheol’s hand stayed firm around yours as you walked in/

He had told you about his family situation before coming here. His mother remarried when he was a kid, and while his stepfather wasn’t hard on him in any way, he wasn’t exactly affectionate either. And that lack of connection made Seungcheol feel distant from him, causing him to feel like he didn’t really belong in the family.

He leaned in, whispering, “Stay by my side, okay?” You nodded, but even his warmth couldn’t ward off the unease settling in your chest.

Seungcheol introduced you to his mother first, a graceful woman with soft eyes and a welcoming smile that made you feel at ease, if only briefly. “It’s so lovely to meet you,” she said, her hands clasping yours warmly. “Seungcheol’s told me about you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Just as she was about to say more, a tall, sharp-featured man walked over—the infamous stepdad. He nodded curtly, his handshake firm but impersonal. “So, you’re the one Seungcheol’s been seeing.” His voice was low, with an edge that made it hard to gauge if he was simply reserved or disapproving.

“Yes, sir,” you replied, and though he made no further comment, his cool gaze lingered on you for a moment before he turned away to greet another guest. You glanced at Seungcheol, who gave you a small, reassuring squeeze of your hand.

As the evening wore on, you began to feel the walls closing in. Each relative seemed to carry an opinion, judging you silently, as though Seungcheol’s mere association with you was an odd choice they couldn’t understand. While his parents were civil, the whispered conversations and lingering looks from his extended family didn’t go unnoticed by you.

As if that wasn’t enough, Jiwon was there too and she made her hostility impossible to ignore. She was seated just across the table, her gaze flicking over to you now and then with a displeased expression. Eventually, she leaned over when Seungcheol stepped away to speak with his mother.

“You surprise me, seriously,” she said, eyes sparkling with a smugness you couldn’t miss. “Where did you get the nerve to come here, meet his entire family, and act as if you would ever be an actual part of his life?”

You sighed, careful not to let your emotions show. “Say whatever you want. I’m here for Seungcheol, not you.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, lips curving in a faint smirk. “I hope you can keep that attitude. His parents may be civil, but everyone else?” Her eyes swept over the hall and you couldn’t help copying her.

The unease in your chest transformed into an unsettling fear as you caught the sharp gazes of the other family members. It was as if you’d found yourself thrown into a den of venomous snakes waiting for a chance to attack.

“Seungcheol’s life is complicated, you see,” Jiwon said in your ear, her voice low. “If you think your love—or whatever you think you have, is enough to conquer all of this, then, good luck.”

You clenched your hands in your lap, holding back the urge to respond, knowing anything you said would only give her more satisfaction. The evening continued in much the same way, the subtle jabs and dismissive glances wearing you down. By the time Seungcheol returned to your side, you could barely manage a smile.

“Are you alright?” he asked, brows furrowing as he noticed the strain in your expression.

You forced a nod. “It’s just…a lot to take in.”

He sighed, eyes scanning the room as though seeing it through your eyes. “Do you wanna leave now?” he murmured. “We don’t have to stay here.”

His voice was reassuring, but it didn’t change the way you felt, and you weren’t sure anything could. Every glance, every whispered word, reminded you of the differences between you and the world Seungcheol lived in. Your heart felt heavy with the painful realization.

“Let’s get out of here,” you whispered, forcing a smile to at least offer comfort for him.

As you waited for Seungcheol to finish his goodbyes to his parents, an elderly aunt approached you, her lips pursed in a look of utter disapproval. She regarded you up and down, her eyes narrowing as though you were something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

“So, you’re the fling,” she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain. “That ungrateful brat. If he had even the tiniest ounce of self-respect, he wouldn’t parade some crook in front of the people who raised him.” She let out a dry chuckle, glancing pointedly at the oblivious Seungcheol. “He’s not even a part of this family. The least he could do was have enough decorum to not disrespect the fiance picked out for him.”

You felt the blood drain from your face at her words as they echoed bitterly in your mind, ripping through the thin layers of composure you had left. You thought you could endure it, but the attack on Seungcheol stung sharper than any quiet insult directed at you all evening.

As you settled into the car, a heavy silence lingered between you and Seungcheol. He shot a worried glance your way, brow furrowing as he took in your strained expression.

“What happened back there?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You looked down, fiddling with your fingers. You opened your mouth, but all that came out was a shaky breath. It felt as though the right words were slipping through your fingers, too fragile to grasp. You took a deep breath, willing your heart to calm down.

Finally, you met his gaze, and the words tumbled out before you could stop them. “I don’t think I belong in your world, Seungcheol.”

His expression shifted, shock clouding his features. “What are you talking about? Of courses, you belong in my world. That there is not mine. It never was.”

You shook your head, holding back the tears that threatened to spill over. “Your family, your friends… the life you come from—it’s so different from everything I know. Tonight just proved that to me, over and over again.” You paused, voice catching in your throat. “I can’t pretend like it doesn’t matter.”

“Who cares what they think?” he countered, his voice rising with frustration. “You’re not dating them, you’re with me. I’m not gonna lose you over this.”

The hurt in his voice tugged at your resolve, but the memories of those sneering faces and whispered words echoed in your mind. You bit your lip, unable to hold his gaze any longer. There was so much you wanted to say—how you didn’t want his family’s disapproval of you to affect how they saw him. The thought of him facing endless judgment and criticism for choosing you, no matter how strong he was, filled you with an aching guilt.

You looked out the car window, gathering your thoughts before speaking. Then, with a quiet voice, you asked, “Why did you date me, Seungcheol? If you knew everyone would be against it?”

Seungcheol’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he drove. “I don’t care what they think. I care about you. You’re the only one I want.”

His words felt sincere, but it only frustrated you more. “Just tell me why?” You turned to him, voice trembling. “Why did you stay in that remote hotel just to spend time with me? Why did you sleep with me? No—actually, let’s go back to the very beginning, why did you ask me to tell you about my exes in the first place?”

He pulled the car to a stop outside your building, silence stretching between you. Finally, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wanted to hear it,” he admitted, his voice soft, almost uncertain.

“Yes, but out of all the people, why me?” You leaned closer, searching his face for answers.

“Because I didn’t know what love is!” he burst out, cutting through your frustration. The rawness in his voice made you pause, your breath hitching at the vulnerability laid bare before you.

“I didn’t single you out. You just happened to be there, and I was desperate.” His frustration spilled over as he punched the heel of his palm on the steering wheel. “I didn't know what love felt like or how it looked. I had an idea, but it wasn’t enough to grasp the whole concept.”

You watched him, heart aching as he avoided your gaze as if it shamed him to tell you all of this. “I thought that maybe I just needed someone else’s perspective. Maybe if I could find someone who’s willing to let me in on their experience of love and being loved, I would come to understand it.”

“Cheol…” you trailed off, heart heavy with sympathy.

“I didn’t mean for it to be you,” he continued, eyes distant, lost in his memories. “You rejected my offer and that was it. I was ready to look elsewhere, but then you came to me and said you’d tell me. I was grateful and I looked forward to it. I was only there for the stories, for your perspective. But then… but then I saw you.”

His gaze flickered to yours, softening with affection. “I saw that you’re the type who wears your heart on your sleeve. I noticed how your eyes twinkled at the happy memories, how your face fell with the sad. You offered the most sensible insights about love and relationships—you made it so easy to understand.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he confessed, leaning his head back against the headrest, exhaling slowly as if releasing a weight. “But the more you spoke about love and its beauty, the stronger I was pulled toward you. You intrigued me, and made me curious about you. I stayed awake all night, looking forward to seeing you again and being greeted by that vibrant smile. I…”

Seungcheol took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours again, revealing the depth of his feelings. “I fell in love with you, and I didn’t even know that’s what it was until right now.”

You couldn’t find your tongue, utterly dumbfounded by his confession and the raw honesty he was willing to share. Your heart raced with confusion, empathy, and heartbreak, making it difficult to breathe. How could he feel this way yet remain so unaware of the consequences?

You wished you could fully embrace this moment, but the reality of the world outside felt suffocating. Would this love be enough to bridge the gap between your worlds? Did that world even matter when Seungcheol was ready to leave it all behind, defying everything just to be with you?

“Choi Seungcheol you…” you trailed off, and you never got to finish what you were supposed to say.

It has been over a year since you last came home. The familiar sights and sounds of your hometown wrapped around you like a warm embrace. You strolled through the tree-lined streets, savoring the laughter and chatter of families and children playing in the parks. Every corner held a memory, a fragment of your childhood and your youth, and it felt good to reconnect with your old life.

One afternoon, you decided to explore the downtown area, a vibrant hub that had seen its fair share of changes over the years, though it looked almost the same as when you left it last year as a heartbroken woman determined to pick yourself up from the god-awful slump you’d found yourself in. As you wandered through the streets, your heart swelled with nostalgia. The familiar shops, cafes, and the old movie theater brought back a flood of memories.

As you passed by the sleek glass building that housed Vernon’s company, a wave of pride washed over you. You couldn’t help but marvel at his accomplishments. You had always known he was meant to succeed, and it felt rewarding to see him thrive in a world that was once a part of you but not felt so distant. You paused for a moment, contemplating your lives, wondering how he was doing now. And while you hoped he was doing great, you had no intention of checking in on him. You knew better.

At home, after a cold shower, you found your phone buzzing incessantly on your bed. You opened a message notification and found yourself added to a group chat with your old friends from senior year of college. The lively banter and enthusiastic greetings flooded your screen, and you couldn’t help but smile.

Lea: 🎉 Heyyy guys! Guess who’s finally in the group chat?! Mina: My girlie! I missed you! Lea: I added her last because her account was deactivated a few days ago. So mysterious 😏 Seokmin: My honeybunch sugar plump! I missed you! You: you guys are so energetic lmao Hoshi: Hi hiiii! Don’t worry. It’s a bit awkward talking to your ex on here but it gets easier lol lol Mina: IDK. You’re the only one who feels that way. You: 😳 Can we not bring up exes? Seokmin: @/wonwoo Hoshi: @/wonwoo Junhui: @/wonwoo You: You know what guy? Fuck you Wonwoo: 😅😅😅

The conversation flowed effortlessly as you reminisced about inside jokes, embarrassing moments, and late-night study sessions. It felt like no time had passed at all.

Jill: What’s everyone up to these days? I feel like I’m in a time warp! Mina: I just got a promotion at work! 🎊 Now I’m officially a project manager! Seokmin: Nice, Minmina! What’s your secret? Mina: Coffee and panic! Hoshi: Did you guys hear about Wonwoo? He’s working at a big company in London now! You: Really? That’s amazing! Junhui: Living his dream fr! Proud of you man! Hoshi: And he’s also dating a supermodel now, right? Seokmin: Ugh, goals. 🤩 Wonwoo: False. Guys don’t listen to him, he’s an idiot Mina: Some things never change. Hoshi: HEY LOW BLOW! YOU USED TO TELL ME I WAS YOUR IDIOT? Junhui: smells like a comeback

The chat continued to buzz with excitement as everyone chimed in, sharing their own updates and encouraging each other to reconnect. You felt a warmth spread through you, a reminder of the bonds that had shaped your past. You found out later on that Lea made the group chat to tell everyone she was getting married. You spent the rest of the afternoon lost in conversation, laughing and sharing memories.

On the fourth day of your weeklong leave, you walked down the busy sidewalk of the downtown area again, running an errand for your mom who had asked you to buy some bread. When you turned a corner, you almost collided with a couple exiting the same corner.

“Jiwon?” you exclaimed, stepping back in surprise. Of all the people you could run into, Jiwon was the last person you’d expected. “What are you doing here?” you asked, eyes flitting back and forth between her and the guy she was clinging on to.

“Hi! It’s been ages,” she greeted exaggeratedly, catching you off guard. She smiled, though you could see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “I didn’t expect to run into you. Do you want to grab a coffee and catch up?”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure where this was going. She turned to the man beside her. “She’s an old friend. Can you go back first? I wanna catch up with her for a bit.”

“Alright, no problem,” he chimed, kissing Jiwon briefly and then smiling at you before he walked away.

As you settled into a cozy café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped you both. You were reluctant to join her, but curiosity got the best of you. She spoke first and the initial awkwardness began to fade as you exchanged pleasantries. But soon, she leaned forward, a serious expression on her face.

Is she worried you’d tell someone that you saw her with another guy? Maybe. She was probably gonna ask that you keep it a secret. That was what you were thinking while she was hesitating to speak.

“Do you love Seungcheol?” she asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, taken aback by the question. “What does that have to do with you?”

Jiwon sighed, her shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world pressed down on her. “I just... I need to know if there’s a chance. I mean, if you could make it so we didn’t have to marry each other, that would be great.”

“Why?” You couldn’t help but challenge her. “That has nothing to do with me.”

She shook her head, frustration lining her features. “I’d hate to tell you this since we’re not close, but I’m the oldest in my family with no brothers, and misogyny is a thing that runs deep into my father and forefathers’ bloodstream. I could never be heir to my family’s estate so I have to marry a rich man and produce a male heir.”

You winced before you could stop yourself. What a backward way of thinking, you thought to yourself. But who am I to judge? “You’re free to follow your traditions.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t want to follow tradition. I don’t even want the estate. My boyfriend is wealthy too, but they preferred Seungcheol over anyone else.” She paused, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m sorry for being mean to you before. I have no excuse. I just felt it was unfair that Seungcheol gets to openly date someone he genuinely liked while I can’t.”

You felt a surge of empathy for her, a realization that her harshness stemmed from her own insecurities and the pressure she faced. But you kept your thoughts to yourself, knowing that to her, any hint of pity would only feel like an insult. While you empathize with her, that didn’t excuse her actions before. She was rude and mean, regardless of her personal problems, she had no right to take it out on other people.

You leaned back in your chair, adopting an arrogant demeanor. “I’m not going to love Seungcheol to do you a favor. If that happens, the reason would simply be the fact that it’s how I really feel.”

Her expression faltered, surprise mixing with frustration.

“And honestly,” you continued, your voice steady, “I couldn’t care less about your issues, or what happens with the agreement between your families. If Seungcheol chooses me, then that’s all the reason I need to fight for our love.”

You didn’t want to tell her what to do, nor offer any advice—you were not in a level of familiarity where you could do that. You didn’t even want to confess your love for Seungcheol to anyone else, but it was your way of subtly supporting Jiwon’s pursuit of true love. It was up to her to interpret.

Jiwon looked down at her coffee, deep in thought. You hoped she was thinking about her options. “I guess that’s fair,” she murmured finally, her voice barely audible.

You watched her for a moment, curious about the vulnerability she’d hidden behind arrogance and pride. Perhaps, in another life, you could have been friends. But in this one, you were on opposing sides, each fighting for your own happiness.

As you walked home, the weight of your conversation with Jiwon lingered in your mind but you were feeling lighter as if a thorn had been pulled out of your chest. You pushed open the front gate, the familiar sound of creaking hinges echoing in the quiet evening. Your heart raced at the thought of what the future held for you and Seungcheol. You tried to get him out of your mind, but now you miss him so badly.

“Hey,” came a familiar voice and made you stop in your tracks. Standing at your front porch, silhouetted against the soft glow of the porch light, was Choi Seungcheol.

“Cheol?” you whispered, eyes wide. You took a step closer, your pulse quickening.

He sighed. “I know I said I’d give you time, and I promised not to bother you while you’re trying to collect your thoughts, but…” His voice cracked slightly, the vulnerability evident in his tone. “I can’t help it. I miss you so much I felt like I was gonna die.”

The sincerity in his words struck you like a bolt of lightning. It pierced through the confusion and doubt that had clouded your mind before you left him a few days ago.

You smiled, walking up to him and pulling him into a tight hug. Seungcheol hugged you back, gripping you so tight that it felt like you would soon melt into his very skin. With his tight embrace and the soft, slow kiss that followed, you knew you were ready to fight for your love, no matter the challenges that lay ahead.

Your family took to Seungcheol like they’d known him for a long time. Watching him charm his way through conversations with your parents, sharing laughs with your siblings, you couldn’t help but feel pride swell in your chest. Seungcheol fit in effortlessly, his laughter echoing alongside theirs, his smile as warm and familiar as home itself. He would glance over at you, eyes shining with that unmistakable spark, and your heart would skip every time.

That evening, you invited him out for a walk after dinner, where he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as he murmured your name again and again. His voice was soft, as if every syllable of your name was a song he needed to sing.

“You’ll be sick of that name if you don’t stop saying it,” you chided softly as you both settled on a park bench.

“You think so?” he asked, genuinely curious. “That can’t happen.”

You grinned as you watched him zip his mouth. When he glanced at you and saw you smiling, his eyes softened with immense affection. You took the chance to make fun of him. “You like me that much?”

Seungcheol didn’t say anything, instead he let out a long sigh of what sounded like relief and helplessness. That made you raise an eyebrow. “Okay, that’s too much. You’re exaggerating at this point.”

“Am I?” he questioned, more to himself. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so obsessed with you.”

“I think you’re trying to say you love me,” you quipped, leaning on his chest and basking in his warmth.

“Yes. Fuck that. I do,” he replied, tightening his arms around you and kissing the top of your head. “It’s true that I’m obsessed with you though.”

When it was time to return to the city, Seungcheol was practically vibrating with excitement. He bade your family goodbye, leaving with a promise to visit over the holidays. You sat in the train with him, reading a book with your head on his shoulder while he answered emails on his tablet.

Back in the city, your relationship reverted back to its usual steady course, navigating days of blissful highs and small, inevitable disagreements. Dinners were still a regular thing, though instead of the restaurants, you spent more of it in your homes, sharing home-cooked meals. You cooked together most of the time, laughter echoing in the kitchen as you worked together with ease. Sometimes, his busy schedule left him tired and withdrawn, but he’d still text you, asking about your day, eager to connect even in the smallest of ways. And whenever you argued, his sincerity cut through the tension—he’d listen, apologize if needed, and somehow make everything feel right again.

Your days were made special by small, loving gestures: the way he’d bring you your favorite coffee, or how he’d lean in to whisper something funny during a crowded gathering. You often made him his favorite food, even helping him keep a tidy appearance every day at work. He had sworn that he never needed sunscreen at work, but since you made him use some, Seungcheol has never stopped buying it regularly.

Through it all, he treated you the same—if anything, with more care and respect than ever before. Every little moment, every shared smile, built a quiet foundation of trust and affection, one that felt stronger with each passing day.

And today, as the glow of candlelight flickered across the apartment, you swayed gently with Seungcheol, your arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders, soft music filling the room. It had been a perfect evening: the surprise dinner, his careful planning, and the way he looked at you as though he couldn’t believe you were really there with him.

He held you close, his hands settling comfortably at your waist, pulling you just a little nearer. “Did you like the dinner?” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair.

“It was wonderful,” you replied, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Then, with a smirk, you looked up at him. “But if you’re planning to propose right now, please don’t. I’m not ready to even talk about it.”

He chuckled, his laugh vibrating against you as he shook his head. “Relax, I’m not proposing,” he said, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “We’re not there yet. We still need plenty of time to figure things out.”

You were relieved to hear that, but even with his agreement, the idea was taking shape in your mind. You realized that you couldn’t imagine a future where he wasn’t beside you, bringing out a side of yourself that you’d thought had faded long ago. He was patient, steadfast, and the way he looked at you told you he was here to stay, whether or not there was a ring.

“I love you, Seungcheol,” you whispered, almost to yourself. “Before this, I thought I’d never find love again. I’d convinced myself that I was… I don’t know, incapable of this, given my history. I told myself that there’d never be anyone who would fit.” You hesitated, wondering if he would understand, if he could feel what you couldn’t quite say.

Seungcheol’s hand gently tilted your chin up so your eyes met his. “I don’t believe that for a second,” he said softly. “You were always going to find someone. I just got lucky that it was me.”

The corners of your mouth lifted, a warmth spreading through your chest. He was right there, looking at you as if you were all that mattered. This was more than just a moment, more than just the fleeting connection you had once feared it to be. Choi Seungcheol had somehow become the unexpected twist in your life, the chapter you hadn’t known you needed. And as the two of you continued to dance, you realized with quiet certainty that this was just the real beginning—your beginning, together.

[fin]

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gay-dorito-dust · 4 months ago

Note

could you do a lil drabble for each of the batboys with a ghost!reader who haunts the mansion? like the ghost is super nice and chill, and they help out in minor ways (help finding small items, cleaning up places, fixing someone’s clothes).

All the boys at some point knew the mansion was haunted, but not by the ghosts of Thomas and Martha Wayne, no but instead of a different person entirely who had no ties what so ever to the manner but thankfully you’re rather helpful and chill in comparison to how movies tends to stereotype ghosts as…something you take full offence to…

Jason

Ironically he reacted the least to you when you showed up in front of him one day, his red helmet in hand.

‘You’ve got to stop dropping this dude, it can only take a couple more drops before you break the fucking thing completely.’ You tell him as you set the helmet aside on his bedside desk.

Jason only looks at you with intrigue. ‘How did you get in the manor?’ He asks. You crossed your arms over your chest. ‘I’m a ghost, there is no getting in when I’ve been here for a little over a couple months.’ You replied

‘How?’ He asks.

You shrugged. ‘Dunno, I died a few feet from this manor and yet I got stuck here regardless, it sounds like the start of a shitty horror movie.’ Jason chuckled as he sits back on his bed. ‘Yeah it really does but aren’t you ghosts meant to be, you know…vengeful towards the living?’ He teases and you shot him a look.

‘First of all those ghosts are old cunts who are have a thing for killing young people and kids for the sake of enforcing their hatred towards the newer generation. I on the other hand don’t fucking care because what purpose does it serve me to frighten people into paranoia? None and besides you lot are a messy bunch that don’t know the first thing of keeping your stuff in your own rooms, you and dick are the worst for that.’

Jason raised his hands in defence. ‘Guilty as charged but they always seem to come back to our rooms regardless, so I’m assuming that’s you?’

You hummed.

‘Why?’

You shrugged again. ‘I’m bored and got too much time stuck here doing fuck all. So now I clean up after you lot to pass the infinite time I’m now cursed with.’

‘Must suck.’ Jason said as he looked at you. ‘Being dead and I should know but unlike you I was brought back against my will.’ You waved a hand at him as you sat next to him. ‘It’s not all bad being dead but I think coming back to live is an even worse fate to have.’ You then look at him with concern for his wellbeing. ‘How do you do it?’

Jason stayed silent as his steely gaze locked onto the wall in front of him. ‘I’m still trying.’ Was all he said and you decided they your time here was over as you walked over to his doorway but looked back at Jason before leaving. ‘Talk to your brothers, before you regret not doing so later…I know I regret not saying anything to my family before…you know.’ You tell him with a weak smile.

Jason was left mulling over your words that night.

Dick

He fainted the moment you handed him his weapons to him. This wasn’t the first time he did it either.

You weren’t amused as you sighed. ‘Okay big guy, let’s get you back to bed.’ You settled aside his weapons on the kitchen counter where you found him, before focusing all your effort and energy into lifting him up and carrying him back to bed, tucked in tight like a baby that he was when it came to horror movies.

You often left dick’s stuff in places he frequently visited or in his room rather then stay long for him to see you, all in the hope of not having to hear him scream and potentially faint on the spot, for in all honestly after the first few times it was beyond ridiculous, and you couldn’t be bothered to make an attempt to ease his anxiety about you if he wasn’t even conscious for you to do so.

He was the one you interacted the least but would keep an eye on from afar like you did with the rest of the boys.

So when he finds himself in his bed, he’s confused, he thought he was in the training room before but then he remembered that his encounter with you sent him into unconsciousness. He wasn’t the biggest fan of horror movies and ever since his first one, his fears and worries towards ghosts has grown since his siblings love horror movie nights, much to his dismay.

There was a ghost in the manor…but you didn’t seem hostile or as angry and violent as the ones he saw in movies, if anything you were the exact opposite but still his worries that this was all just a ruse was enough to have him on edge whenever he heard a creak in the floorboards or shutting of a random door.

‘Christ you’re hopeless boy wonder.’ You say out of instinct and dick, who had gotten out of bed at this point and wandered down the hallway, straightened up and looked over at you with wide eyes.

‘You!’

‘Me!’ You replied sarcastically. ‘Now before you faint on me, your weapons are in the training area where you fainted before I had to drag your ass back to bed, if not ask Tim as I left him the responsibility to tell you where they are.’ You add and within a matter of minutes, dick fainted and you sighed once more as you were forced to carry the man back to bed, more then ready to do this all over again should he cross your path once more.

Tim

Didn’t fully encounter you until he was on a hunt to find his missing computer charger, growing ever more annoyed when he couldn’t find it, only to hear someone from his doorway say;

‘Looking for this?’

Tim looks up to find your translucent hand hold out his charger, it almost looked as though it was floating in midair in front of him as though it was the carrot on the stick and he was the donkey, destined to be lured by the illusion of one day eating the carrot only to always be mere inches away from that reality but never getting any closer then those mere inches.

‘What the-‘ he begins but you raised your other hand.

‘Don’t freak out dude, I’m just a ghost who’s trying to help you find a charger, no need to reach for the phone and get a fake medium, nor call that John Constantine dude Christ.’ You said as you threw his computer charger onto his bed. Tim was still very much in a state of surprise at how you could intersect with objects, for as he was aware ghosts had to be able to muster the anger to do so, but here you were doing what other ghosts couldn’t so effortlessly and easily as breathing.

‘Thanks?’ He then says and you shrugged your shoulders.

‘No problem, also when dick comes and ask you where his combat sticks are, they’re in the kitchen…where he left them the night before, I would do it but I’m pretty sure he fainted when I held them t to him.’ You told Tim but before he could say anything else, you disappeared through the wall across his room and it left him with a cold sensation travelling through his body upon witnessing it.

He’s now going to sleep with one eye open in the instance you came back to watch over him like a sleep paralysis demon. That and he found out your death with a quick search.

Damian

Didn’t believe in ghosts until he caught you sorting out his art supplies in a neat and orderly manner.

‘Hey!’ He’d bark.

‘At least arrange your paint brushes from thickest to thinnest,’ you groaned, ignoring his bark, ‘it’s a pain in the ass to keep cleaning after you and keep the art desk clean also.’

Damian faltered and his anger subsided to confusion. ‘You’re the one who’s been doing that?’ He asks. You looked at his as though he grew another head. ‘Duh, of course I do. Also don’t wear anything that can get into acrylic paint, it doesn’t come out, like at all that shit ruins any good shirt you have forever see!’ You then showed him your paint covered sleeves with a smile.

‘How did you get in here without setting off the alarms?’ Damian questioned and you then sighed as you balled up a fist and threw a punch that went straight through the set desk, you leave it there for Damian to realise what your situation was before pulling it out. ‘You’re a ghost.’

‘In the flesh! Well flesh for you not me as I’m dead and all-‘

‘Yes I get that but-‘

‘Damian.’ Dick’s voice could heard through the door as the pair of you froze. ‘Who are you talking to?’ Damian was about to answer but when he looked over at where you stood, you were gone as though you had never existed and slowly Damian closed his mouth. ‘No one.’ He replied as he looked over at his art desk to see that you had cleaned his paintbrushes, organised them from height order and even brought a fresh canvas out for him too.

Something told him that this won’t be the last time that he saw you.

Congratulations you’ve gained his interest.

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oh-thats-what-it-is · 1 year ago

Text

Jess Mariano SMUT: The best friend and the boyfriend.

POV: Your best friend Rory always gets what she wants as the town’s golden girl. Well, you have had enough and its time you get what you want.

WARNINGS: 18+ (minors dni); cheating; rory slander; lorelai slander; p in v intercourse; dirty talk; unprotected sex; light choking - i think that is it

AUTHOR’S NOTE: wasn’t enough jess smut for me on here. Wanna fix that! first time writing anything so please be gentle. 2k+ words

You’re at Luke’s diner trying to get some work done before your exam tomorrow. The wetness inbetween your legs was proving a great distraction to the task at hand. You had to muster every ounce of concentration to listen to what Lane and Rory were saying. The three of you were finishing up your group project for school. You had all been friends for years, but recently you had found it hard to be yourself around them.

The reason for that, was standing behind the counter, serving customers with a surly look and a quippy comment if he spoke at all. Jess.

The whole town knew about him and Rory. How could they not? Stars’ Hollows’ golden girl drew attention wherever she went. Her and Dean’s romance had been the talk of the town - the stuff of young love! And she could do no wrong. Even after she dragged Dean through hell and back with her indecisiveness before ultimately bringing him to breaking point - people still loved her.

And hey - you did too. She was your best friend. But you couldn't help but roll your eyes at the way the town fawned over her. Even though it had been happening your whole lives. Rory and her busybody, try-hard mother were the apple of the town’s eyes. And you were used to it.

But you had been surprised that Jess had fallen for it. When he arrived in town, a sullen and brooding figure, you had immediately felt drawn to him. You could sense his angst. You could feel it vibrating off of him. And lets not pretend like he wasn’t a total smokeshow. He looked like a man.

If only Lorelai and Luke weren’t so close. Then you might have gotten your chance. But as fate had it, and as it always seemed to, Rory got in there first. Lorelai invited Luke and Jess over for a welcome dinner, and he instantly became smitten with Rory’s mild manner. It only took a matter of months - and a breaking of one Dean Forrestor’s heart - until they became an item.

At first it was all rosy. Rory wouldn’t shut up about it. But you could tell. Something wasn’t quite right. Two months passed and Rory would go red every time Jess was brought up, or came to sit with your group at lunch. You asked Rory - genuinely as a friend. She would just mumble and divert the subject. Lane also pressed, but there was no budging Miss Gilmore.

It was only a month ago when you cottoned on to what the problem was. You had been wearing jeans that hugged your ass, and a top that teased just enough of your cleavage to make anyone blush. You bumped into Jess in the hallway at school. As in, physically bumped into him, as he came around the corner. He grabbed onto you out of instinct to apologise.

“Oh hi Y/N. What are you….” His eyes trailed down to your chest. You didn’t notice at first. You thought he was dazed by the surprise interaction.

“Just on my way to Spanish. Señora Castilla is making us do a book report - I’m doing 100 years of Solitude.”

“Hmm” he responded. “That’s one of my favourites. Magical realism, love, scandal - “

And then you clock. His eyes are on your tits. His hand is still on you. On the small of your back.

This man is hungry. He hasn’t been laid or anything of the sort in a while. Or at least since he has been with Rory. Jess wants you. You avert your gaze.

“Jess. I have to go.”

He moved his hand lower, testing the waters. You don’t remove it. You inhaled, trying to retain your morals. You remind yourself: We’re in the middle of the hallway. At school. He is Rory’s boyfriend. Rory is my best friend.

You repeated these over and over to yourself like a mantra, willing yourself to move. After what seems like an eternity, he whispers in your ear: “My car. 10 minutes,” and sauntered away.

And that was how it began. A whole month of some of the steamiest makeout sessions, hottest sex, and best orgasms of your life. Did the secrecy turn you on? Maybe. Did you feel bad for Rory? Perhaps. But were those moments with Jess worth it? Absolutely.

You had to be careful. Not just to avoid Rory and Lane. But Luke couldn’t know either. If he did, he would have gone straight to Lorelai and it would have been a whole thing. It wasn’t worth it. So the two of you would sneak in quickies in his car, behind Miss Patty’s studio, in the AV room at school etc.

But Luke was out tonight. Doing something for Lorelai probably. Who knows. Jess had suggested the two of you take advantage of the situation. He had recently acquired his own room at Luke’s, ever since his uncle had knocked a hole in the wall for him. It wasn’t much, but you couldn’t wait to share a bed with him, and take your sweet time worshipping his body.

“Okay Y/N, we’re off. You coming?” Asked Lane.

“Nah, I have a bunch more work to do for my college application. I will see you both tomorrow?”

Rory went over to give Jess a kiss goodbye. You couldn’t help but smirk as you saw him looking at you as she kissed his cheek. The two girls waved goodbye and left the cafe.

The minute they left, Jess pounced on your table. He summoned Cesar to take over his shift and close up.

“Cmon baby” he whispered, taking care not make it look obvious to the other customers what was going on.

You and Jess went up the stairs silently but quickly. The minute you reached the top flight and opened the door into the living quarters, Jess slammed the door shut and pressed you against it.

“Do you know how bad you are? Sitting right next to my girlfriend and giving me those ‘fuck me’ eyes all night? It was all i could do not to take you on the table right there.”

His forehead was against yours, his hands cradling your face. All you could see was him. All you could feel was him.

“Such a good boy for restraining yourself,” you cooed, trying lure him into making the first move. Each time you were together, it still felt like new. A game of chicken. Who would break first? Fresh and dangerous, yet familiar and comforting all at once. “It must have been so hard for you” you said, moving your hand towards his crotch. “Show me how much you want me” you dared.

It was too much for him. He growled and leant in to kiss you with everything he had. He was messy and sloppy with need. His teeth clashed against yours. You moaned with need. Your hands wandered to your waist, dipping under your trousers, then your panties. You started playing with your clit and panting his name back into his mouth.

You were still against the door. Jess moved his hands under your shirt, finding the valley of your chest easily as you hadn’t worn a bra today.

“Fuck” he said, breaking the kiss. “You had your tits out all day baby girl? You are such a slut, wanting everyone to notice.”

Before you could begin to formulate a reply, his mouth was on your left nipple. You sighed as he sucking with such fervour. Just as you got used to the sensation enough to say something witty to him, he bit down hard. You yelped - this was a new move from him. He obviously felt emboldened by the new setting, being in his own territory and out of a car.

Jess went to your right nipple, sucking and making the most obscene slurping noise and his hand went to your other tit. It was too much. It felt too good. You started playing with your clit with even more until he finally noticed.

“That’s my job Y/N. Its not like you to be so selfish!“ he scolded. He grabbed both your wrists and pressed himself into you, letting you feel his bulge. You whimpered at the loss of your fingers inside your wet cunt and pouted at him. He brought your fingers to your mouth.

“Suck” he said, with a devious glint in his eyes. Like a fucking wet wipe, you did as he said. You were embarrassed at first, but didn’t care. You would do anything he said at this point.

When he was satisfied you had fully cleaned your fingers, he took them out your mouth and kissed you hard and hungrily on the lips.

You saw you opportunity to the turn the tables, to take power. “Jess?” You asked innocently.

“Hmm?” He responded, trailing kisses down your neck.

“The whole point of tonight is that we have a bed for once. Let’s make the most of it.” You pushed him off you and took his hand. You walked past the door to his bedroom. He stopped you and looked at you confused.

“Oh Jess. I don’t wanna be fucked in your single bed. I want to feel all of you” you whispered in his ear, guiding him to Luke’s room and king-sized bed.

His eyes widened with realisation and need. Was this a bad idea? Almost certainly. Did he care? At this point, not even wild horses could stop him from having you. He would do anything you said. And he had to admit, there was something hot about doing it somewhere he shouldn’t.

You pushed Jess onto Luke’s bed, unzipped his jeans and pulled down his boxers. His cock sprung up immediately. It was red, throbbing and angry. You couldn’t help but drool. Jess saw this and smirked. He knew what he did to you. He pulled off his shirt, knowing it would drive you crazy.

You dived onto his cock, unable to wait any longer. You took all of him in his mouth, as he held your head there. His pubic hair tickled your nose. You stayed there for as long as possible, until your eyes watered. You took your head off, wiped your mouth, and then began bobbing up and down slowly.

Jess propped himself up on his elbows, watching you like a hawk. His tongue was sticking out as he concentrated his breathing to stop himself from blowing his load. His dark curls were pressed wet against his forehead as beads of sweat started to roll down his face.

You moved to his balls, gently sucking them into your mouth while your hand moved up and down on his rock hard member. He started moaning and rocked his hips into your hands, desperate for more.

You had him right where you wanted him. You removed yourself from him completely and clambered to sit on top of him. His cock was nestled in your folds. So close to where he wanted to be. So close to where you wanted him to be. But you decided the chase was more fun. You lowered yourself down, so that your tits were pressed against his chest.

You whispered “Can Rory make you feel this way, Jess? Does she drive you wild like I do? Can she make you moan like a bitch the way I can? Has she ever made your cock this hard?” You punctuated each sentence with a nip on his ear.

“Fuck you,” he replied, grabbing your ass and turning you onto your back so that he was on top. He pushed himself into you and started fucking you with no mercy.

Your tits were bouncing with every thrust and you were whimpering with need every time he pulled out. You snaked your arms around his back, pulling him deeper into you. You didn’t want any space between you.

“You’re such a whore Y/N. Fucking your best friend’s boyfriend. I can’t believe it turns you on so much.”

You moaned at this words, unable to deny the appeal of the whole situation.

“Fuck baby, I can feel your cunt clenching around me as i say that! You are a fucking whore Y/N, squeezing me with your greedy pussy. Such a bad fucking girl.” Jess yelps, spanking your ass.

“I am a whore Jessy, your whore, only for you” you cried, embarrassed by your pathetic display. He grinned as you used the nickname you only brought out for him when you were cock drunk beyond belief. You groaned inwardly as you couldn’t believe you had given him the satisfaction of that ego boost.

You were lost completely in Jess. He moved his hand down to your core, adding a finger into your weeping pussy, and using his thumb to toy with your clit. It was bliss.

“Jessy?” You called out.

“Hmm?” He groaned in response.

“I want you to cum inside me” you begged.

His eyes widened as a wild look came over him. Without missing a beat, he swung your legs over his shoulders and bent you in two as he fucked into you harder than before. His hand moved to your throat, gently choking you. You stuck your tongue out like a dog in heat - animalistic and beyond a care as to what was normal.

The bed’s headboard was hitting the wall with every thrust from Jess’ pelvis, sure to cause a suspect dent tomorrow. But neither of you could have given a single fuck as the you both chased your highs. The sound of skin slapping, moans and gasps were obscene.

“Jess, have you seen Luke’s toolbox? We need it and he said it might be - Oh my god!”

You both froze and turned to the door. Lorelai was face to face with you and Jess butt naked on Luke’s bed. Sorry - lets rephrase that. Lorelai walked in on her daughter’s boyfriend and best friend fucking raw on Luke’s bed.

She narrowed her eyes and hissed: “Get the fuck out.”

#jess mariano #gilmore girls #milo ventimiglia #gilmore girls smut #jess mariano smut #literati #lorelai gilmore #jess x reader #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano x y/n #jess mariano imagine #jess imagine #gilmore girls imagine

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stardayzzing · 3 months ago

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Icarus and Helios art?

[Icarus & Apollo doodles]

Okay OKAY hear me out beforr yall flip ship in any way shape or form

I've said this before but my depictions of greek gods/myths are NOT accurate and I have a lot of fun with them and change a LOT of stuff (such as Helios basically being Apollo's uncle and the basically adopting him bc that's definitely not accurate to the myths LMAO)

So my Icarus was a young adult (probably around like 19-21) in this version, and he was ofc infatuated with the sun when he took flight. Ifc the wax melted (the stuff in his back is actually burns and leftover wax!) But when Helios saw him fall he was curious and saved him from death, but in USUAL greek myth style, he did basically kidnap Icarus and never give him back to his father. But Icarus isn't horribly upset because Helios is the sun he was so desperate to fly too close to (and Helios is slightly surprised and unsettled by how content Icarus is with him)

They can be seen as platonic or romantic!! I will always be drawing them in some vaguley confusing manner, as is most greek art as well..

#icarus #helios #not accurate to greek mythos #greek gods #fanart #my own version #I love how alarmed I made Helios #he's like wow humans don't usually like being kidnapped #and Icarus is pretty content #he misses his dad but at least he didnt die #and he gets to be with the very tall very warm very pretty titan

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clubforfrogs · 10 months ago

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Heyyy, SLIP UPS- AWESOME, WOMAN HOW DO U DO THIS-?

Also a request...!!! M so excited!!

Sirius black x reader snape

Basically snake's younger sister, is constantly bullied by the marauders, cuz of snape yk yk, especially on her make up preferable her foundation, after lots of teasing and bullying, she lashes out on sirius n removes her makeup to show a huge scar imprinted on her face. Cuz of her family issues n stuff. I leave how sirius reacts and their bonding up to you.

I LOVE UR WRITING SM, I SWEAR ITS SO GOOD. M NOT EVEN LYING. UR MY SOUL WRITER.

French love from dxb, Mon cherie

Um hello?! You’re literally the sweetest🫶🫶. I also love this request so much, so I hope I did it justice. I came up with this little blurb- I really hope you like it!

I’m currently working on a Sirius ask and a little James blurb- so keep on the look out for those.

Of All People - Sirius Black x Reader

~ 1.7k words

•

Now let’s be clear, you loved your brother, but some deep, shameful part of you resented him for the attention he attracted. Your parents had instilled posh pureblood ideologies into your heads from young ages. Luckily, you were able to see through their bullshit. Severus wasn’t so lucky.

He brought that thinking into Hogwarts, and was ecstatic when both you and him were sorted into Slytherin, where he took no time at all befriending other air headed Slytherins who thought the same. This, along with the simple fact of his existence, brought the full wrath of the marauders down on your brother, which also trickled down to you.

The marauders would endlessly bully and tease your brother. Being the dimwit he was, he always decides to try and fight back, ultimately failing every time. They would cast small hexes on you in the hallways, just constant, small annoyances. Eventually, it seemed as though Snape wasn’t enough of a challenge for the marauders, which caused them to turn fully to you. Now you were the one getting harassed. Constant jabs at the way you looked, filth about you thinking the same way as Severus, and the never ending comments about the amount of foundation you wore. What kind of guy even noticed that stuff?

To be quite frank, it sucked. You were stuck with a shitty brother whom you loved, and a group of boys who bullied you for that very reason. It was exhausting, which meant that you valued every moment you could find yourself at peace- like right now. You were sitting underneath a tree near Black Lake. It was the first of the warmer days at Hogwarts, so you blended in with the multitudes of students soaking up the sun. You hoped this blending would be enough to allow you some quality time away from the marauders.

You leaned back your head against the bark of the tree. There was a gentle wind blowing across your face, a gentle buzz of voices coming from the other students outside, and a heavy liquid falling down your face. Wait… what? You opened your eyes quickly and rubbed at your face. It felt as though sticky black tar had been dumped on your head.

Though the substance made it hard to see, you could hear the roaring laughter of James, Peter, Remus, and Sirius. “What the hell? What is your issue? You couldn’t leave it for one day?” You questioned. You had cleared the goo enough clear your eyesight, and could see the amused faces of the boys. Sirius had the biggest grin stretching across his face, “Aw, we wouldn’t do that to you. You simply look too adorable with black sludge covering your face. Honestly, it looks better than that makeup you cake on everyday.”

You could punch him for the look on his face. You had already been having a crappy day, as your parents had sent you a letter reminding you that the summer holiday was approaching, and they expected you to not forget your manners like you seem so inclined to do.

Basically, if you didn’t listen to every word they said, you were going to “get straightened out” like your mother always said. The letter was fresh in your mind, and with it, a need to punch something. Luckily for you, there were four perfect targets standing right in front of you.

You took a step towards James, the closest of them to you. He looked slightly confused, but taunted you nevertheless, “You coming in for a kiss? Sorry, I don’t French with snakes.” That was all you needed. You reared back your fist, and punched James Potter square in the gut. He doubled over in pain, and you swear you’ve never felt so much joy. Peter and Remus rushed over to him right away. Sirius looked at you in shock and took you by the shoulders. “You’re such a bitch! I knew all of the Snapes were the same. Just leave Hogwarts! We don’t need another bunch of rancid, pureblood twats spitting nonsense around here!” He was screaming in your face, and everything about what he was saying infuriated you.

“Excuse me? Have you ever thought of asking about what I believe instead of assuming I’m just like my brother? I don’t believe in any of that shit! And what’s even worse, I have to suffer the consequences of being a half decent person all the time!” Sirius looked confused at your last sentence, so you rolled your eyes and casted a simple spell to clean the liquid off of your face, along with the thick layer of foundation you had applied that morning. Underneath, a giant scar cut along your cheek. It was relatively new, so the skin around it was red and puckered.

Sirius sucked in a quick breath. The other marauders had stopped cooing over James, and looked to you with shocked expressions. “Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry-“ you cut Sirius off. “Just stop, I thought you of all people would know what I was going through, but I guess not.” You started walking away, but when you heard the footsteps of Sirius behind you, you sped up to a run.

The footsteps behind you also increased in their pace, and a large hand grasped your wrist. You turned to look at Sirius. Tears had started forming in your eyes, but you wiped them away in futile the hope that would stop Sirius from seeing them. Sirius didn’t speak right away, instead he chose to study your face. You squirmed, under his scrutiny, you just felt ugly. Your red rimmed eyes, stuffy nose, and large scar now visible. You were heavily considering bolting away again until he spoke up, “I’m sorry. I- I never even considered that you might not be like your family. And you’re right, out of anyone, I should have been the one to give you the benefit of the doubt.” You looked back up at him, his eyes seemed genuinely apologetic, but that didn’t mean you were letting him off the hook just yet.

“Yeah, you should be sorry. You and your cronies have been ruining my life here at Hogwarts. My one escape from my family. And you’ve been taking the absolute piss out of my brother. I know how he is, but he’s still my brother. Talk to me again when you show me you want to change.” With that, you pulled your wrist from his grip and walked back to your dorm. You really wanted to give him a second chance, partly because you had been harboring a small crush on him since first year. But before you could even let yourself consider that, he had to prove that he wanted to change. You sat in your dorm thinking about that very scenario, wishing, hoping, praying, that he would make the effort.

And in the next few weeks, he did. There were certainly the occasional taunts thrown towards your brother in the halls, but you supposed you could live with that. There were no more cruel pranks aimed towards you or Severus, and Sirius had even made James, Peter, and Remus write out apology notes and deliver them to you personally. You had probably gotten way too much enjoyment out of that one.

As you ate in the Great Hall, surrounded by a few acquaintances, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Behind you was a nervous looking Sirius. “Would you like to come over and eat with us? I swear, no bad intentions. We really want to get to know you.” His voice was much smaller than you had ever heard it. You weighed your options back and forth, but with the genuine effort he had been putting into righting his wrongs, there was no way you could deny him. “I would be delighted to.”

His face lit up at that, and you could see his confidence instantly repair itself. He led you over to where he and the other marauders sat, guiding you by placing his hand on the small of your back. The simple act caused your face to redden, but if he noticed, he didn’t say anything. Once you sat down at the table, everything was surprisingly normal. The other boys made one more quick apology each, but then the conversation quickly migrated to more light hearted topics.

“Okay, James,” it was hard to speak through your laughter, “You went up to this fifty year old dude, and insisted he was your mom?” The entire table burst out in laughter. “It was an intense game of truth or dare, I had ten galleons riding on it!” Remus smirked at him, “Yeah, but you still ended up losing,” he then looked to you, “You want to know why, Y/n?” You looked at him nodding, as you heard Peter groan, “Don’t do this mate.” Remus only spared him a glance as he launched back into his story, “So the truth or dare game was down to just Peter and James, and neither of them would back out. That’s when Sirius came out with this absolutely vile looking plate of chicken. It was cold, half raw, and definitely spoiled. We dared James and Peter to eat it for the win. James backed out immediately, but Peter ate it and puked for weeks.”

You had been drinking pumpkin juice as Remus told his story. But once he reached the part where Peter at the chicken, you lost it. Laughter spilled from your lips, and juice came up out of your nose. This only made the laughter at the table increase ten fold. You realized that you were receiving from worried glances from the students around you, but the laughter clouded your mind and you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You finally managed to calm yourself, and Sirius handed you a napkin of while wiping away a tear. You wiped away the juice, and caught sight of the watch on your wrist as you did so.

“Shit, I was supposed to be working on a Potions paper due tomorrow! I’ve gotta be off, this was lovely though!” You hugged Peter who sat right next to you, the boy looked a bit shocked, but satisfied nonetheless. You saw the pouty look emerge in Sirius’ eyes, so you leaned across the table and pecked him on the cheek. His face immediately blossomed into a lovely pink hue as the boys shouted out variations of, “You’re in!” “When’s the wedding?” and “Can I be the best man?” You smiled as you walked away from them, hoping that you’d be invited to sit with them again tomorrow.

#james potter x reader #marauders x reader #poly!wolfstar x you #remus lupin x reader #poly!marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #wolfstar x reader #marauders x fem!reader #poly marauders x reader #harry potter

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splynter · 5 months ago

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Thinking about how attraction can come out as a fascination for study, which was most likely what happened to Ford.

Trying to learn everything about Bill, studying his words and his powers and his dream body itself, building things alongside him, even making fucking art of him. Thinking about how Ford latched onto Bill because Bill knew things,,, and invited Ford into his circle with flattery

Thinking about Bill including Ford in social activities, often just one to one, instead of only making him do things to further his goal. The constant physical contact in a playful manner that pulls Ford against him. In a weird way it was a slow burn for him. Thinking about how Bill gave him birthday gifts. I can’t recall him giving gifts to anyone else before.

It’s so interesting to think about their relationship. As hilarious as it is to shove them together and kiss and say “HE FUCKED THE TRIANGLE!!!” it’s definitely not as cut and dry as that. Yeah we’ve got the horrible abusive stuff and Ford managing to escape from all that, but I want to focus on the more interpersonal and intimate parts of this

After all, Bill definitely felt so much for Ford. And Ford saw Bill as his universe. I doubt either of them had the right mentality to define it as sexual or romantic, but good god it was definitely there

Like okay. Imagine you’re a lonely young man in the woods. You have a past of being bullied, being the golden child, being fascinated with the paranormal and the powers of other beings. You’re desperate to be seen, to be known and to know, you chase every little bit of information that you can find. So what happens when a dream being hears your call and answers you? How else are you supposed to feel aside from joy when he says he’s decided to be your muse?? To help you??

Like good lord what an ego boost

And not only did Bill help Ford with his studies, but he definitely had normal conversations (as normal as a Bill conversation can be) with Ford, as well as fucking calmed his anxiety and made his body feel better and gave him little advice. Like hello?? He considered Bill to be his friend, his muse, his partner. In Bill’s absences he would get jealous and start making up other people Bill must’ve been talking to. We don’t have as much information about Bill’s feelings and thoughts about this but. I wonder if that got to him in some way

I wonder if he felt genuinely wanted

Bill definitely didn’t realize what he had until he lost it, but I like to think that some of his actions did betray a vulnerability and attachment that normally was not a part of his deals with his puppets

Is this a ramble to help me figure out a drabble I want to write? Maybe

#Splynter rambles #gravity falls #bill cipher #billford #the book of bill #I’m so insane about these two #they’re so. awful #I gotta Doink them together and break them apart

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ninapi · 2 years ago

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▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺╚══ Wind Pillar ╝

Premise: A life without the demon corps was just meaningless. Living with a heavy survivor guilt can really eat someone from the inside. That was until a weak light arrived in the most unexpected way possible, breathing life back into his lungs, making him feel needed once more.

Word Count: 5081

Warning: spoilers, the story takes place after the manga’s original timeline.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shinazugawa Sanemi was not the wind pillar anymore, he wasn’t Genya’s older brother anymore either. There was nobody left in this world that needed him.

After losing his family and dedicating his youth to demon hunting, losing the corps was the final blow for him.

Why was he the only one left?

He should have died if not with his family back in the day he should at least have died defending his brother’s life, Genya should be the one alive right now, not him.

What is the point of being alive when everything you care for was now gone?

He wasn’t particularly good at anything else besides demon hunting, getting a regular job and settling down was definitely not his style. He walked around the neighborhood he used to live in when his family was still alive, the thought of moving back into his old house crossed his mind, maybe do some renovations, hopefully he could drown in his good memories until time would come to give out his last breath.

But the house was now taken by an unknown family. A lot of people lost it all to demons and the destruction they brought with them, it wasn’t uncommon to see abandoned houses here and there, it made sense the house was deemed abandoned, they did leave to never come back.

He had nothing left, not even his old house.

Starting fresh could be encouraging to others, but for Sanemi it was torture.

None of the dojos he visited needed new instructors, majority of them were terrified by his looks alone, if a bunch of guys hitting each other for no apparent reason didn’t want him there what type of job was he supposed to get? It’s not like he was well mannered and literate like Tomioka or had a support network like Tanjiro. What’s the point of being the second strongest pillar if the demons were now all gone.

Sanemi’s lunch was now being given to stray ducks as he had no appetite whatsoever, feeding them was more productive than remaining in such a depressing head space, that’s when an orange rolled in between his feet. He didn’t think much of it, maybe someone dropped it while shopping, but then another orange came rolling next, and then three, making him look back in confusion.

A lone cart full of oranges was coming full speed down a hill with no one pushing it. He had to do something otherwise the villagers could get hurt, he saw small children playing around the area not long ago. Running towards it he was able to stop it before anything major happened, only a few oranges were lost, and the cart was still in good shape. A young woman came running in his direction panting for her life, “Thank you so much, good sir. My cart, it was so heavy, I lost control of it on my way home.”

Not trusting your current strength, he kept on holding the cart, still thinking of the kids running around and how exhausted you looked. “Were you heading down hill?”

“Not really, I was actually supposed to go up the hill behind us, but the cart was heavier than I expected, and it wouldn’t listen to me, so it rolled backwards.” Sanemi stared at said hill with a worrisome expression, that was no hill, that was a full-sized mountain. You were small, looked frail, pale even, little cuts and scars littering your hands. There was no way you could take the cart up that mountain, and it was not like he had anything else to do.

Somehow you reminded him of his mother and how they always needed to help her move heavy stuff around and reach tall places, wanting to help you came out naturally from his heart. “Lead the way.”

“Eh? It’s ok, don’t worry about me. I can take it!” your blushy surprised looking face caused him to scoff, turning the cart around and walking up the first hill. “Like hell you can. Now shut up and tell me where to go.”

“How can I tell you where to go if I shut up?” you were doing your best not to grin at his constipated looking scowl, but instead of teasing him further you just walked beside him in silence. The climb up to your house was steep, but he didn’t even sweat, before you noticed you were now at the entrance of your property, all over way too fast.

“Thank you, good sir. You can leave the cart there I will unload the oranges.” you ran into a small shed, bringing a cloth to wrap them up and bring them all inside. If the cart was heavy, the load was even worse. You couldn’t even lift them from the ground, causing Sanemi to heave a deep sigh. “Don’t you have a husband to help you? Or someone else like a father or brothers? There’s no way you can take all those fucking oranges inside unless you take one at a time and that would take a stupid amount of time.” He grabbed the load with one hand, swinging it over his shoulder like if it weighted nothing, waiting for you to open the door to your abode.

“I do not. My entire family was devoured by a wild beast while I was being treated in a hospice, far from here. Once I regained my strength back, they were all gone. My brother was the one who did all the heavy work around here, my mother and I would pick up the harvest and take care of the animals.” you had a pretty large farm, it wasn’t well tended now but it had several crops still growing and remains of what it used to be an area for livestock. “So, I do most of the work now that I’m alone.”

He knows how uncomfortable sympathetic comments are, so he doesn’t address the information gained, “Why do you even need so many oranges?” a loud thump could be heard as he set them on the kitchen floor, making the wooden floor tremble at the weight. “I was thinking of using them to make some marmalade and sell it at the markets, growing crops is harder than I thought, and I still need to eat, so had to figure something out.”

It was somewhat comforting for Sanemi hearing about the struggles of someone with a similar background. You both couldn’t protect your family, both had to worry about an uncertain future ahead of you. Both had things the other didn’t, but it felt good knowing he wasn’t the only one out there with similar problems.

“Do you like marmalade? I got some bread earlier, come sit down. Let me make you some tea, I still need to thank you for your kindness.” he nodded looking around for a place to sit down, the climb and the lack of food were starting to get to him, it sounded like a good idea.

He never thought making marmalade could be as complex, he had nothing better to do so he just looked at you from where he was sitting. Your hands were so small you needed both of them to stir the mix in the pot, it was amusing. The focus you were putting into making the treat, the tip of your tongue poking out passed your lips in concentration, it was all very eye catching. He’s always admire people that are good at cooking, always wanted to make delicious ohagi for himself, but he wasn’t the best with his hands unless it required brutish strength.

Once the marmalade was ready, you brought it to the small table in front of him, setting down a loaf of bread, a knife and two cups of steaming green tea.

Sanemi thinks back of the last time he was able to relax this way, sad thing really, he hadn’t ever since his mother left this world. Thinking of having afternoon tea without a worry in the world, it’s been over a decade since he had the luxury to do just that.

“Is it good? Do you like it? If you don’t, I can bring out something else.” the expectant look in your eyes made him contemplate what was in his mouth. It was sweet and very refreshing, he’s never had orange marmalade before so he couldn’t really compare it to any other, but he definitely didn’t hate it and wouldn’t mind eating some more. “It’s good, I’m sure it will sell well.” happy with his reply, you tried a bit yourself making mental notes of how to improve it even more.

Teacups were empty, plates clean, it was time for Sanemi to go back to wonder around town, maybe even try to find that one inn he heard about the day before. As he was getting up from his seat heavy rain came pouring down, a loud thunder making you jump. “When it rains this bad around here it takes a while for it to go away; would you like to stay for dinner? Um…sir?”

“Shinazugawa. Shinazugawa Sanemi.”

“Would you like to stay for dinner, Shinazugawa-san? I’m (Y/N) by the way.” he was starting to worry for your well being, you were deliberately letting an unknown man into your house and didn’t even know his name, that was not safe, even without demons around. “Tch, not like I have a choice.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The rain was just not stopping, dinner was done for, and it was pitch black outside, the mountain’s treacherous paths were not places to wonder around in a stormy night like this one, “Shinazugawa-san, how about you stay for the night? You can stay in my brother’s room; I can even lend you some of his clothing so you can take a bath.”

A bath, it’s been days since he took one of those, an alluring offer indeed, but somehow the way you were taking the situation didn’t sit right in his stomach, rage was now bubbling inside his chest at your disregard for your own safety.

“Are you dumb or what? Do you not see me as a man? Hell, you do know you shouldn’t bring men you don’t know into your house, right? Specially not at night.” his angry outburst made you giggle, closing the front door shut to make a statement. “You sound like my brother, he used to say things like that to my mother. I do know you though, you’re the very kind young man that helped a woman in need without asking anything in return, I even know your name now.”

“So what? Is not like I couldn’t just do something to you now that it’s dark, it’s just the two of us here in the mountain, no one would hear if something was to happen, nobody would come even if you screamed for help like a damn pig. Don’t do stupid things like that even if you think you know someone, you don’t know a fucking thing about me.” he was shouting at this point, his fists shacking. He was really a kind man, all he wanted was for you to understand how evil the world out there could be, to others it could be overwhelming to have a figure like him shouting so angrily at them but you could see he was just worried.

“I won’t do it again, Shinazugawa-san, I promise. Now please come with me, I will show you where the bath is.” your attitude and gentle smile were infuriating. All he could think of was how his sweet mother got beaten down by his own father and the men he would bring home sometimes for drinks. How she could barely defend her children and would always ended up hurt, how she had no chance whatsoever to fight stronger men. You wouldn’t be able to defend yourself either, you needed some sense put in that head of yours before it was too late.

He pinned you against the bathroom wall, one of his muscular thighs going in between your legs, rendering you useless against his grip, he was glaring down at you in a strangely attractive way triggering many things within you, except fear, “See how easy it is for me if I wanted to hurt your ass? Take me seriously dammit, take every man fucking seriously, you can’t trust someone you don’t know so easily, it will get you killed.” he let go off your wrists roughly, wanting you to learn your lesson, but one of your hands reached for his, “You have a blister. Let me bring a bandage so we can clean it, it was probably the cart, it tends to do that.”

“No, stop. Why are you acting this way? Are you out of your mind? I could have assaulted you just now, open your eyes woman!”

“But you didn’t. You had more than one chance to do as you pleased with me, but you didn’t. Instead, you ate my food, laughed at my jokes, helped me when no one else did. You are a kind man Shinazugawa-san, wether you want to accept it or not. I’m not stupid, I wouldn’t invite someone over to my house if it could do me some harm.”

Sanemi was speechless. You didn’t consider him dangerous? He couldn’t even get a decent job because everyone would look at him like the killer he is. If there was someone dangerous out there it was him, he could kill you without even trying, in seconds, painfully, he was the second strongest in a chain of the strongest people humanity had to offer. There was something off with your view of the world.

“Now, stay still, I’m going to clean it.” his hand has never been held that way before, of course he’s had his wounds tended to, he’s always needing some patching up after his many battles, but your touch was different, it was so gentle, he could feel how you were really worried about him, about his tiny blister hurting with your touch, like if he was as frail as you were. “You gotta make sure the wound is properly cleaned before you apply bandages, look at yourself, all those scars…I bet they were all so painful…you need proper care if you don’t want them to get infected or leave traces. You tell me to take care of myself but wouldn’t look in a mirror first.”

Nobody talks to him like that, specially not females. The girls of the butterfly state were always scared of him and just looking their way would make them run away. The only active women in his life were his mother and sisters, he never had time to mess around with girls or to get his wounds properly taken care of, there were demons out there that needed to be killed and that’s all that mattered to him back then.

“Are you seriously not afraid of me?”

You looked up into his eyes, staring at him in disbelief, his tone was a lot tamer now you could hear the honest confusion lacing his words, “Why would I? You look tough, that’s true. But I am nobody to judge others. My brother also had many scars from taking care of the farm, even several of his toes were missing from when he stepped on a saw by accident, you’re not the only one around with a couple of fingers missing in this violent era. People used to say he was scary, all big and full of scars, skin tanned by the long hours of working in the fields, but he was a gentle man, always took great care of me and my mother. You strike me as the same type, you don’t feel like someone who would hurt the weak, you feel more like someone that protects them.”

Sanemi was left speechless once more as you left for him to enjoy his bath, you made sure the water was warm enough from the outside, blowing on the fire constantly until you heard him come out. He’s never been able to relax this much, he knew demons weren’t a threat anymore but that didn’t only mean he was unemployed, he didn’t think of what that meant fully until now. No demons meant less danger, meant being able to take his time to live life, to breathe, to relax. It was a strange feeling, not having to worry about someone bursting the door open and slaughtering the woman outside, but it was a good kind of strange.

He felt awfully relaxed that night and after years of nightmares, he was finally able to sleep peacefully.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It’s been three days and the rain just wouldn’t stop. Sanemi had helped you covering the crops so they wouldn’t die out in the rain but there was no sign of it stopping any time soon. It was typhoon season, and it was heavily hitting you this year.

Not only did he help with the crops, but the roof also had holes in it which you two didn’t notice until you woke up to a flooded floor, so he repaired it. Your front door wasn’t safe enough for his liking, so he used his extra time to take care of that as well. He didn’t even notice time was moving this fast and days had gone by. It wasn’t as bad having something to do, keep your mind busy and your body active, regular people life wasn’t as boring and dreadful as he originally thought it was.

There was so much to do around the house that he wondered how you’ve managed to live up here in the mountain by yourself all this time. He got to learn you’ve been living here all alone for a couple of years and you have been doing all you can to not let the farm fall, your determination was admirable and made him question his own future.

“Shinazugawa-san, I enjoy thoroughly having you here, but isn’t your family going to worry? It’s kind of been a while now.” the back of his neck was strangely hot, your comment taking him off guard. He enjoyed the simplicity of the last few days comparing it to the rest of his life, he’s never been able to just sit down and listen to the rain fall on the roof sipping on a hot cup of tea, but he didn’t know you were enjoying it just as much.

“I don’t have a family. They also got killed by a wild beast long time ago, the only brother I had left passed this year, so no, nobody is going to worry about me not returning home, I don’t even have a home.” the stoic look on his face while he was retailing his life tragedy worried you, it’s something he should feel sad for, but he didn’t look sad, he looked angry, and you could understand that feeling, your family was taken away from you in the very same way.

“I bet your brother looked like you.” he wasn’t expecting that, usually people get uncomfortable with the thought of having to empathize with something they can’t understand and start apologizing, but you did go through the same, you stirred the subject around like he usually does when facing the same situation and he was grateful. “Hm, he had less scars than me, was taller, dark hair. But he did kind of look like me.”

“I bet he was kind too.”

“He was.” you were now pouring more tea in his cup, admiring the heavy rainfall through your window. “My brother didn’t look like me at all, he was way kinder, very smart, had the prettiest face I’ve ever seen with beautiful large eyes.” this made Sanemi look at your face, it was difficult to imagine a big muscly guy that looked anything close to the delicate tiny woman in front of him, but then again, he used to see his mother in Genya all the time. “Sounds a lot like you.” blood was flowing at full speed to your cheeks, decorating your lovely face with tinges of reds.

“Sometimes I wish I was the one the beast ate instead of my brother, the farm needs him, he was so good with animals and with the people at the market too, everyone loved him, he was the best of the two of us, it’s a shame really.”

Sanemi was lost in your face, the way your eyes watered at the memory of your brother, the way a soft defeated smile crept on your face signalizing guilt, he felt understood in a very deep level, strangely. “Same. I did all I could to protect my brother, I wanted him to live a normal life, get a wife, have some kids. But he ended up following me around and dying before me anyways. All my efforts were completely useless. I should have died, not him.” his fists were now shaking against the coffee table, veins popping all around his body as a rush of anger and despair rushed through him at the thought of his dying baby brother.

“I’m sure he just wanted to be with his beloved older brother. I used to follow mine around as well, wanted him to teach me how to get milk from the cow and got myself a kick to the face, turns out they get quite stressed if you’re too excited.” the absurdity of it all felt like getting some sort of medication for the illness that consumed his heart, like a serum being injected into his blood stream, cooling his anger down.

“Dumbass.” the sound of your laughter brought new air into the house, a house that is rather quiet all the time was now loud, and it smelled like a proper home.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After two stormy days more, the sun was finally out. There was a lot of work to do in the fields to fix the damage caused by the storm. Sanemi started working on it as soon as he woke up without even asking you, and it took you both all day, something you thought would take an hour ended up extending throughout the entire day.

He was better at this than he thought he would, you even ended up planting some pumpkin seeds you got from the market a while back upon his suggestion of adding different types off crops. The front of the farm looked like a proper one afterwards bringing a powerful sense of completion to the both of you. It was hard work, but teamwork does really make a difference. And you two made a good team.

The sun was setting, all there was left to do was water the crops and prepare dinner, fresh rice already cooking in a pot inside the house. “Maybe you can grow some berries and do your marmalade using them instead of having to buy oranges, growing orange trees seems like a pain in the ass and there are wild berries in the forest, should be easy to find some and bring them here.” you were giving it serious thought, you’ve never thought about changing the ingredients, you were just replicating the treat your mother used to do for you and your brother when you were little. Being so lost in your head doing ingredient calculations and noting ideas for the recipe, you didn’t see the frog that was comfortably resting on your foot. Once you did though, panic filled your insides, you hated frogs and would always stay as far away as possible from them.

“Shinazugawa-san…there’s…there’s a-“ you looked like you were about to faint so he walked closer to you, spotting the aggressor, “(Y/N) is just a stupid frog, move your foot, it’ll go away on its own.” you shook your head closing your eyes shut, you didn’t want to hurt the poor animal out of your own silly phobia.

Sanemi crouched down to your feet, grabbing the little troublemaker and took it over to the edge of the river near your property. When he came back you were still frozen in place, sweating. “It’s gone now.” You were ridiculous, it was just a tiny frog, you couldn’t even defend yourself against a frog, how were you going to defend yourself against the odds of life. You let out a long-held breath, taking his hands in yours as a token of appreciation, quickly forgetting the hose was in your hand and getting his face completely wet.

“(Y/N)….you little piece of shit….” his face was red, a deep snarl on his face. You threw the hose to the ground and ran for your life, laughing in the process. “I’m so sorry!! Kyaaaaa, how are you this fast!” one step of his was five of yours, he caught up to you in no time and the look on his face was a sight to behold.

He wasn’t angry, his wet hair was sticking onto his face, and he was laughing. He looked way younger this way and it made you feel relived to see he was having as much fun as you did these days. Your hand reached his face, caressing the droplets of water away, a loving smile gracing your lips. He wasn’t sure when things started heading in this direction but he’s never felt that way before and he didn’t hate it.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There weren’t more excuses for Sanemi to linger around, the rain was gone, the farm cleaned up from the storm, even the marmalade was ready to be sold. He offered to help you with the cart since it was even heavier now that the load had increased.

The idea was for him to take you downtown and then leave and move on with his life, find a job and a place to stay.

But you didn’t even know how to build the display table in the market and then unloading the cart is faster between two people. Then an old lady asked him for three jars of marmalade and by mid afternoon he was still by your side selling your goods.

“Sir, could I convince you and your wife to trade two of your jars for one of my chickens? I don’t have any money left but I would really like to take some home for my kids.” His what- the cloth he was using to clean the table ended up on the floor at her statement, taking him off-guard, you also didn’t say anything to deny it. “What do you think, dear husband? I think it would be a good idea, we could look around and see if we can find her a mate and get eggs from them.” so you were seriously not just going to ignore it but also go along with it-

“Um, yeah. There’s some spare wood in the shed, I could use that to build them a house.” the lady was now handing him the cage with said chicken, waiting anxiously for the last two jars of goodness to be her own.

“You make such a lovely couple; I wish my husband was as understanding and loving as yours. Thank you, my children and I will be forever in your debt, my youngest is celebrating her birthday today, I wanted to bring something special home.” it somehow warmed both of your hearts, you both think of days when you had a large family and how much fun you had eating delicious treats with your siblings, children laughter filling out every corner. “Thank you for your kind words, we’ll take good care of your chicken. I hope you and the children have a lovely evening!” and just like that the marmalade was officially sold out.

“So where do you think we can find Mia’s future husband?” he wasn’t sure how or when you and him became a ‘we’ but he wasn’t mad at how it sounded like and the intentions behind it. “Did you just name the fucking chicken?” he was used to your silly antics by now but it was still very much amusing to him, your quiet giggles confirming he was right. “I saw someone selling some chickens by the entrance, let’s go see if they have one after cleaning up.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Time Skip~

It’s been ten years since Sanemi started coming to this market every morning. He still misses the fun days of demon hunting, but mostly he still misses his brother. Life wasn’t as good to Genya as it was to him, and he still felt guilty from living the life he wanted his brother to have.

Having a permanent stall in the market came with a lot of responsibilities and a lot of hard work, but his strength was put to good use by the smartest person he’s ever met.

“How much for the corn?” Sanemi, who was now cleaning the small worktable looked up to tend his first customer of the day. “If you take two you get one fr- Tomioka???” Giyuu was smirking at him from the other side of the table, a knowing look in his eyes. “That apron looks good on you, Shinazugawa.” Leaving the stall behind, he walked over to his old pillar mate, it’s been years since the last time they saw each other.

“Heard your stupid ass went to live with his old master like a sissy lost baby, near Tanjiro and the gang of brats.”

Some things never change.

“Yeah, it’s been a while, we didn’t even know you were still alive.” the conversation got cut short by a child clinging onto Sanemi’s leg, getting Giyuu’s attention. “Father, mother needs your help unloading the milk crates.”

Crouching down to his size, Giyuu stares into the child's eyes, lost in the memories of his lost friends, painful days of loss came right into his heart, “You look just like your uncle.” patting the child on the head, he smiled, the ghosts of his lost comrades shining behind the toddler. “I know, I was named Genma after uncle, but my hair is like this because of mother, the rest have father’s hair.” As if on cue you came out of the back with a baby tied to your back, an older looking boy than the one before him holding a sleeping girl in his arms. “Nemi, the milk!”

“I see you’ve been busy.” Sanemi’s face was red as a beet, making him grumble insults quietly for his child not to hear.

“I’ll do it in a second, come here, I want you to meet an old friend of mine.” this was the first time any of them had addressed the love-hate relationship they had in the past as friendship, but now being older they both agree that’s what it was. “Tomioka, this is my wife (Y/N)”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you…and your four children…” the smirk on his face was so sly nobody would notice it but Sanemi, it made him want to punch his guts like he would do back in the day when they were younger.

“Is that your wife over there, Tomioka-san? I see you also have a little one, take some of our milk, our kids love it!” The child looked just like him, it was an easy guess. You were doing your best to move around with a child on your back and a swell on your stomach, a promise of another youngster arriving soon. The woman behind Giyuu came holding his son and after a long chat and bunch of laughter they promised to go to your place for dinner soon.

Ten years ago Sanemi thought he had lost it all.

And he did.

But he made a silent promise to Genya after meeting you, he would live as long as he could, never waste the opportunity to live his brother gave him, never let his sacrifice be in vain, he would live for the both of them, he would bring life to this world and protect it the way he couldn’t protect his siblings, he would protect his family until his last breath and once that moment comes and he gets to see him again, he will have many stories to share as they embrace eternity together, as family.

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Tagged babes: @doumadono

Masterlist Bonus Chapter

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