#i promise the red is not that saturated :')

[sschmendrick]

I had so much fun doing watercolours again. A ser Proletius for my off day

From a picture by Christian Hjorth

[ohello0]

Ok so I’m making a flower “bucket” hat type situation with one of the two designs below and I can’t decide on the color/color combo so poll incoming

Say which order you’d like the colors if you pick the multi color option ex. ___ outer layer and ___ inner layer in the notes 😊

[techwrecker]

Handful of Roses

Summary: It’s you and Logan’s anniversary and he can’t even be bothered to show up. You’re left alone, wondering where he could possibly be.

Genre: Angst ⇒ Fluff

Tags: SFW, minor swearing, angst & fluff (duh), fem!reader, no use of y/n, reader calls logan bub sarcastically, logan is still a mutant, sickeningly sweet ending,

Word Count: 1.6k

Request: "Logan forgets a special event? Angst to fluff. Maybe a birthday, anniversary or special date night."

A/N: Tysm for the request! I really hope you enjoy it!

Other: dividers by @moosgraphics & @saradika (tysm!)

The congealed pasta slid into the trash bin with a solid thud. Hours of your hard work gone to waste.

Tonight you and Logan were supposed to be celebrating your one year anniversary. When you suggested the idea to Logan, he wasn’t too keen on going out to a fancy restaurant, so you compromised by promising to fix him something at home. You had made him swear he would be home by 7 to eat. You wanted him for the evening— all to yourself.

And yet.

You checked the time on the stove— 8:45 p.m. You had half a mind to lock Logan out. If he was going to break his promises, you were going to make him pay the price for it. Your heels clattered against the floor as you made your way to the front door. Just as you were about to turn the deadbolt, a tiny piece of your heart shot a plea of forgiveness through you. You hesitated, weighing the pros and cons.

On one hand, Logan deserved exactly what he had coming. You wanted to drive home your frustration. If he wanted to act like an animal, then he could sleep in the dog house.

But then again, staying in the house alone made you nervous. The house you shared was out in the middle of the woods and your mind tended to run wild with dangerous scenarios at the slightest sound. Usually, Logan was home before dark to protect you from your overactive imagination.

You decided to be nice to him. Especially since the rain was really coming down outside and storms made you nervous. And despite how angry you were with Logan, you didn’t want him to come down with anything.

You withdrew your hand from the door. The figure-hugging dress you had put on just for him was starting to scratch at your skin. This was the last straw. You let the plates clatter into the sink, not caring if they shattered or not and stormed off to the bedroom to find your fuzziest pajamas.

You gathered the pajamas and a towel and headed to the shower, turning the temperature gauge as hot as you could stand. You hoped the boiling temperature would take your mind off the disappointment Logan left you alone with.

Unfortunately, as soon as the water had saturated your hair, and turned your skin a flaming red, you burst into tears. You sat down in the bottom of the tub, wrapping your arms around your folded body to console yourself. Salty tears mixed with the water for some time. You weren’t sure exactly how much time had passed since you had gotten in, but your fingers had already pruned by the time you calmed down enough to stand up again.

You knew Logan cared about you, so why did he have to forget stuff like this? It was important to you— you wanted it to be important to him, too. Your life was sucky before he came into it. Was it really too much to ask for him to acknowledge the wins with you? For a man who had walked the earth for over 200 years, a one year anniversary is probably just a drop in the bucket. But to you, it meant the world.

You turned off the water and toweled off. The vibrations of the front door slamming closed shook the walls.

“Hello?” You heard Logan’s voice call out. “Y’home, darlin’?”

You nonchalantly dried your sopping hair a few seconds longer before pulling on your pajamas. You wanted to make him sweat a little. Logan’s footsteps were thudding about the house, looking for you. You waited in the bathroom, arms crossed.

After a few more minutes, a gentle knock sounded against the door.

“You in there?” His voice was soft and tender. It was the voice he used whenever he pleaded cutely for hugs and kisses. Your expression softened out of habit. Not fair.

Your mind brought you back to reality. His manipulative tactic only fueled your anger. You ripped the door open. “Yes, Logan. I-“

Logan’s appearance cut your spiel short. He was filthy. Sloppy mud was splattered from his boots to the chest of his t-shirt, his jacket was soaked through, and his face was covered in dark grease— a giant, walking contrast to your soft, pink appearance. He extended his arm to you, a wilted and nearly bare bouquet of roses in his fist. His forlorn expression reflected the misfortune of his appearance. You almost felt sorry for him.

“Before you say anything,” he rushed out. “I want to tell you that I can’t apologize enough, darlin’. These are f’r you.”

“What the hell happened?” The hot tears threatened to well up again. “You were supposed to be here hours ago,” you said, shakily.

“I know, I know. The goddamn pickup quit on me after work tonight. Nobody in town had the part I needed.” He paused, expecting you to cut in. You kept silent and let him continue his excuse. “I had to walk home in the friggin’ storm.” He raised his arms in exasperation.

It explained why he was late, but not why he was absolutely covered in mud. At most, his boots would have been caked.

You jutted your chin out, gesturing to his mud-covered body. “And that? You’re gonna be late and track mud through my clean house?”

“You’re gonna laugh at me.” He looked down at the floor, avoiding your eyes.

You crossed your arms and set your expression in a slight frown. It was difficult to be intimidating in pink, fuzzy pajamas and slippers, but you did your best anyways. “Try me.”

Logan rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, clearly embarrassed. “I slipped.”

“What do you mean, ‘you slipped’?”

“On the walk home. Tripped on a tree root and fell face first. I tried savin’ the flowers but…” He let the twiggy bouquet speak for itself.

You thought for a moment. It was difficult to imagine your stoic Logan tripping on anything, much less falling into mud and trying to save delicate roses in the process. A tiny smile crept onto your lips. You took the few flowers that were left out of his hands and took a whiff. Logan visibly relaxed his shoulders as you accepted his gift.

“I figured once my truck is up’n’runnin’, we could go out to celebrate instead.”

You lit up, eyes jumping from the roses to meet his gaze. “Oh, Logan! You mean it?”

“‘Course, darlin’. How else ‘m I supposed to make it up to my favorite girl?”

How were you supposed to stay mad at him when he looked at you like that? His deep hazel eyes contained nothing but devotion for you with a smile sweet as honey.

“I guess I’ll make an exception— just this once,” You gave in to his appeal.

He made a move to envelop you in a hug, but he was met with your index finger pressed to his chest before he could wrap his dripping, disgusting arms around you.

“Nuh-uh. I don’t think so, bub. You gotta get cleaned up before you come any closer.”

He looked down at the clothes sticking to his body. “Oh— right.”

You sidestepped around him, giving him a wide berth trying to avoid touching the mess of a man. He left the door open as he peeled the clothes from his body. He had no shame about his body and you didn’t mind one bit. Making your way to the kitchen, you found a delicate glass vase under the sink. It fit the handful of roses nicely. Despite the rough journey, the roses that did make it out were somehow still perfectly picturesque.

The roses reminded you of your relationship with Logan. It’s not exactly like he was the easiest person to live with. In fact, you had bought more sheets in the past year than you ever had in your entire life. His nightmares could get awfully terrible. You would hop out of bed and run to the other side of the room— not because you were scared of him. But because you knew he would never forgive himself if he hurt you, even unconsciously. It was one of the little ways you were able to try and protect him— by protecting yourself.

But when you were with him, it was hard to imagine being anywhere else. Logan adored you. Every fiber in his being did everything it possibly could to please you. You knew he would always love you.

The shower shut off, hazy steam rolling from the bathroom into the hall. You pulled out a bag of popcorn to make while Logan got dressed. As the kernels began to pop, you heard his heavy footsteps carry him to the bedroom. The opening and shutting of drawers told you he was about finished up.

You were monitoring the popcorn when now-clean Logan wrapped his arms around you from behind.

“Hiya, darlin’.” His voice was low and relaxed. He pressed a kiss to your cheek and nuzzled into your neck. His soapy scent somehow made him more attractive.

“Hi baby,” you said, bringing your hand up to caress the side of his head. His hair was still damp, but you didn’t mind. “I’m glad you’re home. I missed you today.”

“I miss you every day,” he said into the crook, his warm breath brushing against your skin. He lifted his face to meet your gaze.

You tilted your head to give him a gentle kiss, lips tenderly pressing together. His scratchy facial hair grazed your face. The sensation kept you grounded— reminded you that he was real and he loved you.

He cupped your face, turning you toward him slightly. He searched your eyes and found only love in them.

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart.” He pulled you tight against his chest, letting his strong arms swathe you in his adoration. “I love you.”

You melted into him. What would you ever do without your Logan?

“I love you too, Logan.”

Taglist: @arthurcerverogf @gdsvhtwa vwa @rosiahills22 @lonewolflupe

Join the taglist! || AO3 || Thanks for reading!

[torikuna]

i promise i won't hurt you again

synopsis: your boyfriend Sukuna accidentally hit you

you immediately realized something was wrong when the door to your apartment slammed shut with a sharp sound and an uncomfortably loud silence echoed throughout the entire apartment. instead of the usual “woman, i’m home” you were greeted by heavy and fast steps past your room. you heard Sukuna walk into the kitchen, swearing loudly and throwing his things on the couch

you slowly opened the door and walked into the kitchen where Sukuna stood with his back to you in the dim light of the kitchen lamps. the dim light alighted his large figure, permeating under his unbuttoned shirt, through which the curves of his toned body were visible. his shoulders were rising at an unusually rapid pace, his breathing was heavy, causing the air to narrow around you, bringing you anxiety. it felt like the heavy air was going to crush you, you were ready to literally suffocate, not knowing where to start

“Sukuna?” you asked quietly, moving closer to him, but he murmuring something under his breath, hitting the wall. his unpredictable action made you flinch and stop a few meters away from him. you realized that he was far from reality and the level of his anger was uncontrollable. but you decided to try again, reaching for his hand, gently touching his fingers. but he suddenly grabs your hand, squeezes it with a burning pain and and forcefully pushes you aside

you fall to the floor, holding your hand. a bright red mark instantly appears from his action. the mark begins to acquire more saturated and varied shades with bloody stains. all you could do was hold your hand and look at Sukuna with confusing eyes that were slowly gathering tears

“don't you see i'm in a bad mood? stupid woman” Sukuna says, looking at you over his shoulder with his blood-crimson eyes, burning with a fiery fire and rage towards all living things. he takes his jacket and walks past you, walking out of the apartment and onto the street, leaving you alone

about 30 minutes had passed since Sukuna had left the apartment. you had time to revive, get the medicine and start treating the bruise. holding a cold compress on the hand, you heard the front door open again. it was Sukuna. he looked calmer than before. his breathing had evened out, and the hostile look had disappeared from his face, replacing it with his usual frowning and emotionless expression

he looked at you standing by the kitchen unit with the medicine on it and walked over. he grabbed your sore wrist, looking at the extent of the damage he had done to you. he decided to take care of the rest of the bruise himself, his thoughtful expression screaming too loudly that he felt too guilty

an unfamiliar feeling arose inside his chest, stemming from guilt. something was tormenting him deeply and he found he was mad at himself. feelings he was pushing into the background were beyond his control. he couldn't control his anger, he couldn't protect you from himself, hurting you

“…i promise i won't hurt you again” Sukuna said huskily, breaking the silence between you two and he makes sure to keep his promise because you are the most precious thing he has.

[saintkaylaa]

𝜗ৎ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐏𝐚𝐩𝐚!𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐗 𝐌𝐚𝐦𝐚!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖, 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡/𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐦 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲, 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐈𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬, 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬, 𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hi to this really late 🎊 anon request! I’m so glad to have finally finished this because it was such a good request and it never left my mind. I was just in school still when you asked so it took me a bit longer sorry! Choso strictly calling reader “mama” as soon as he gets her pregnant is canon. I don’t make the rules I just enforce them.

𝐈 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬

“I don’t understand.”

You watched Choso in the mirror as he cocked his head to the side. His brows furrowed in obvious confusion.

Looking back at yourself in the mirror you traced your fingertips across the white and purplish red marks clawing up your stomach, leading them into the wrinkles close to your navel.

You sighed, “Stretch marks are what happens when your skin undergoes rapid weight changes.”

You explained, letting your hands fall away and slumping down at your sides as your eyes skimmed over your body with critique.

It had changed a lot since having your first child with Choso. Only really earning a few stretch marks that faded almost immediately once giving birth, and your love handles that had grown just a bit plushier. It bothered you at first but before you could even voice those self hating thoughts to Choso he had pointed them out in a positive way.

“Wow, these are beautiful.” He had whispered with awe and curiosity, his thrusts into you slowing down and tracing the stretch marks that were now mostly faded across the dip of your waist.

He hadn’t seen them before, at least not this closely. It had been the first time you two were having sex again after your first daughter was born. So now that he was this close to you the marks were clearer.

You wanted to cover them up almost immediately with the nearest blanket, even though Choso had just said they were beautiful. You just didn’t feel like it.

He noticed this in your eyes, as you looked off to the side as if ashamed of something. He lowered himself down to his elbows to kiss along your exposed neck. His hips rolling into you in a slower rhythm.

“What’s wrong mama?” He asked, his tone trying to sound more concerned than anything else.

Your eyes fluttered trying to focus on his question and not on the way his cock felt so good moving languidly inside you. It gave you that wonderful sense of familiarity of being full with the man you loved.

“I don’t—“ You sighed blissfully, struggling to answer him. Arms encircling his neck to bring him flush against you for that skin to skin contact you craved.

Choso hummed in response, his arms wedging themselves between you and the matress to tie you up in his stronge, safe arms.

“I don’t feel beautiful because of them…” You managed, and then his hips stopped.

After another moment of stillness you loosened your arms around his neck so that you could meet his eyes. Dark saturated violet eyes starring at you with a confusion that you were so used to from him, accentuated by the disapproving worried furrow of his brows.

“But you are beautiful.” He murmured, brushing his nose against yours.

You shrugged slightly, flitting your gaze away from him in embarrassment for only a moment before pulling away from his neck completely.

“But I don’t feel it.” you insisted meekly.

“I can help you feel it, mama.” He said matter of factly, like it was that easy.

Then he was moving away from you and down your body on a mission to make good on his promise.

His hands touching you with adoration in tandem with his mouth that worshiped every inch of skin it came into contact with.

His words of affirmation and worship over the body you were growing to hate were melting away and into the matress he was pushing you into with his body.

After that night your self-deprecation ceased, and that was mostly thanks to Choso and his sincere love and appreciation he had for you and your body. What it could do, what it had done, the family you two were growing and nurturing together.

But that was then, and this was now. Your body had given Choso 2 more babies since then, and the toll it took on your body was more visually taxing on you.

When you were done scrutinizing yourself in the mirror your eyes found his again— as they always did. Finding comfort in the half curse, more man, that never failed to provide you support, comfort, and most of all love. Love for you, who you were, what you could do. All of the things that made you so intricately and beautifully you.

He smiled with warmth at you before getting up and joining you at the mirror. Fully prepared and expecting him to tell you exactly all the love he had for you, touching you with gentle adoration, but to your surprise he didn’t do that.

Coming up behind you he kissed you once at the crook of your neck, and then lowered himself down on his knees in front of you.

“Choso, what are you—“ Your breathy chuckle halted by the sensation of his large gentle hands skimming over your thighs. Tracing over the uneven dips of them with his fingertips, brushing his knuckles over the fat of your love handles that had grown fuller since that night he made those self destructive thoughts go away.

You could feel his warm breath on your cunt and it made the pit of your stomach flutter.

“I’m gonna show you just how beautiful you are. He kissed the top of your cunt softly, then with half lidded eyes he looked up at you again.

“I’m gonna make you feel it.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in the form of a breathless sigh. Your hand reaching forward to brush back the loose hair in his face, knowing that what he was going to do next also warranted that you held on to something. Now desperate for him to sooth your needy clit.

“Choso you…” you whisper his name like a prayer, looking down at him with wild anticipation. Equal parts excited and moved by the holy sight below you. On his knees like worship. Touching you in an almost sacred like manner.

With an unadulterated adoration burning within him, he closes the distance between his lips and your wet cunt. Kissing your folds tender as if kissing your lips while his hands rubs soothing patterns across your love handles and your ass.

His tongue then dips into your folds, the tip of his tongue finding your wet hole and licking up to trace slow, delicious circles against your sensitive clit. The sensations spread through your body like wildfire, leaving you gasping and tightening your fingers around his hair.

Choso knows what he’s doing. He knows that he devours your cunt like a devout worshipper. Expertly pleasing every inch of your sex, just the way you like it, alternating between gentle licks and firm, devouring strokes.

You bend over slightly to brace yourself on the mirror, glancing up at yourself and taking in the sight of Choso completely buried in your cunt like he belonged there, and seeing the way he fit against you like this in the mirror really convinced you more. Moaning out, you let your head fall forward, lost in the pleasure. Your hips begin to move on their own, grinding against his mouth, desperate to continue building up that mind-numbing orgasm that was starting to bloom at the center of your pelvis.

Choso’s grip on your thighs tightens, keeping you firmly in place as he continues to feast on your sweet essence. The sounds you’re making urging him to continue, lighting a fire in his blood that was quickly reaching down into his cock. He so desperately wanted to palm himself to help alleviate his suffering, but this was about you. So he had to just perceiver.

The pleasure coursing through your body builds higher and higher, the need for release reaching a desperate crescendo and you think your knees might give out.

"Choso," you croak, your voice trembling now that he was sucking on your clit and shaking his head in added sensation. Having raised one of you legs over his shoulder so that he had deeper access to your cunt. Probing at your dripping hole with his tongue.

"I want to cum..." You whine, both hands flying to the back of his head to hold him in place and fuck his tongue with feverish urgency. Then his fingers slid themselves into you, and scissoring into you at the same tempo as his tongue, and you couldn’t help but let a slew of profanities leave your mouth. God, it was coming. That mind-numbing orgasm was creeping up on you fast, and you knew you were going to cum hard.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head in preparation when you feel Choso push up on your pussy, grab your jaw, and pull your attention down on him to watch yourself drag your cunt hard against his hot, skilled tongue. Violet eyes that held galaxies in them were looking up at you like you were the one to create them, and that was the thought that did you in. 

That Choso looked at you not only like you hung the fucking moon and stars up in the sky, but that you commanded them to take shape and form. He adored you. He worshipped you with the reverence of a devout follower, seeing you as the embodiment of grace, strength, and beauty in every moment. Devoted enough to fall to his knees and want you to cum right on his face like it was his greatest honor.

With a high pitched cry, a mind numbing orgasm consumed you like a fucking tidal wave.

Choso hummed in sweet pleasure, pulling his fingers out of your sopping cunt to grab your ass and love handle hard to hold you in place as you gushed into his mouth.

He revels in the taste of your divinity, his tongue continuing its relentless worship on your sensitive clit even as your body convulses in pleasure and you want to squeeze your thighs together for relief. He relishes the feeling of your hands gripping his head, urging him closer, deeper. He doesn’t think he belongs anywhere else but between your legs.

He continues to lap at your dripping core to prolong your pleasure, his eyes locked with yours. The sight of your face, scrunched in ecstasy, ignites an even fiercer hunger within him. His cock leaky and twitching.

When Choso knows you’ve finished completely he pulls back, his gaze locked firmly on your face as he speaks in a low, hoarse voice, "You look so beautiful when you come. I could watch you like this for eternity."

You breathe out a tired laugh when he stands up to take your face in his hands. His mouth glistening with your cum and you don’t think he could ever look as beautiful as he does now.

“When I look at you, I see a sacred beauty of creation.” He says, kissing you tenderly.

“Mother of children I didn’t know I could have.” He kisses along your jaw, one hand roaming down your chest while the other holds your face against him. Lost in this new pleasure, you only notice that he’s guided you back towards the bed when you feel the edge of it hit the back of your legs.

“Goddess of this home…” He whispers warmth against your ear just after he’s kissed you in the most sensitive part of your neck, and your breath quickens. Your hands close over his wrist as you try to meet his eyes again but it’s hard. You’re losing yourself in him.

You can’t help it. Choso’s love for you is so disorienting in the best possible way. It’s so easy to get lost in him and you half wonder if he’s obtained some new power that only afflicts you.

“Choso…” Your voice comes out much hoarser than you expected, and you wonder if he can feel your skin burning up again under his gaze.

His eyes follow his fingers as they lightly brush the stray hairs in your face away.

Choso wonders if you’ve obtained a new power that only afflicts him, and if you have he never wants to break away from it.

“Mama I don’t ever wanna hear you say such horrible things about yourself like that again.”

You feel overwhelmed by his words.

You feel like crying by thought of looking at yourself in his eyes. Oh how you wished you could see yourself in his eyes…

“You breathe the very life of this family.” He kisses the corner of your mouth as you both settle into bed together.

Everything starts to blur together. You can’t decipher what his words are from his actions because it all makes you feel the same. Beautiful, raw, desirable, worshipped, divine, supremely real, and wholeheartedly loved.

You can tell now you’re crying because of how hot the droplets feel gliding down your face as you kiss him.

“With you I am complete.” He murmurs against your lips and takes your breath away.

Your eyes finally lock on his and you gasp, feeling Choso slide his cock into you slowly, and you both moan into each other.

And in him you discover the true essence of your existence.

𝜗𝜚𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

© saintkaylaa 2023-2024 do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work with out permission. reserved rights to any original ideas. I do not own any established characters. All rights reserved.

[tiny-merkitty]

hot tip! screenshot your bio or dni banner and put it under a black and white filter — can you still read it? no?

neither can i, or any other person with a visual impairment, eyestrain issue, or colorblindness. change it.

I know ppl have already said this but the fact that so many dni banners and user boxes are genuinely unreadable to the visually impaired is crazy.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

In The Gloomy Depths [Chapter 2: Tiger's Eye]

Series summary: Five years ago, jewel mining tycoon Daemon Targaryen made a promise in order to win your hand in marriage. Now he has broken it and forced you into a voyage across the Atlantic, betraying you in increasingly horrifying ways and using your son as leverage to ensure your cooperation. You have no friends and no allies, except a destitute viola player you can’t seem to get away from…

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), parenthood, dolphins, death and peril, violence (including domestic violence), drinking, smoking, freezing temperatures, murder, if you don’t like Titanic you won’t like this fic!!! 😉

Word count: 5.7k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @arcielee @nightvyre @mrs-starkgaryen @gemini-mama @ecstaticactus, more in comments 🥰

💎 Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 💎

The taxidermied tiger head hangs above the fireplace in the sitting room, its jaws agape in a perpetual roar and its eyes polished spheres of metamorphic rock the color of dusk. Daemon shot it in Burma years ago—valleys of saturated green earth, mountain ranges like a crooked spine—shortly after opening his third black opal mine in Australia. You stare at the disembodied creature and she stares back, a silent scream, a doomed eternal terror in her tiger’s eye gaze: Help! A man is killing me. A man is taking me from where I belong. A man is nailing me to a wall so all the world knows he is the one whose bullet severed my aorta, filled me with hemorrhaging blood until I sank down, down, down.

You say, still looking at the slayed beast: “Did we really have to bring that with us?”

Daemon glances over as he fastens his cufflinks, onyx with red beryl in the shape of a three-headed dragon, the Targaryen family crest. “I’m sure you’d prefer a finger painting from that Italian tosspot you’re so enamored with. What’s his name, Pizarro?”

“Picasso. And he’s Spanish.”

“Even worse.”

You turn to Daemon, and you can feel yourself wilting, becoming pitiful, vulnerable, needy. “Where are you going?”

He smirks as he stalks past you. “Wherever I want.” Then he passes through the doorway and out into the hall, flanked by the ever-grim Edward Rushton, black suits and polished leather shoes.

It’s midday on April 12th, and you and Fern are now alone in the Targaryen staterooms. Laenor is down on F-Deck enjoying the Squash Racquet Court with his new Parisian companions, Rhaenyra is in the Reading and Writing Room with a group of ladies led by the Countess of Rothes, and Dagmar has taken Draco…somewhere. Meanwhile, your sweet-tempered maid is flitting around making beds and collecting empty cups and soiled linens. “Fern?” you call.

She peeks out of Draco’s bedroom. “Yes, ma’am? Do you need something?”

To leap overboard and swim back to Ireland. “Would you like to take a stroll around the Promenade Deck with me? Breathe some fresh air, look for dolphins and whales, have lunch at the Verandah Cafe?”

Fern is apologetic in that soft, skittish way that she has. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I have to finish cleaning the rooms before Dagmar comes back.”

She doesn’t say why—that would be insubordinate—but you know. Just like on the family crest, the dragon has three heads: Daemon, Draco, Dagmar. All must be appeased lest their fire turn you to ash. And Fern lives in terror of the gaunt Scandinavian tyrant. “Right. I understand.”

“I should be done in an hour or two. When you return from your walk, I’ll make you tea.”

“You’re too kind.”

She is confused. “It’s my job, ma’am.”

“Still, I’m glad you’re the one doing it.”

Fern smiles, small and hesitant. “Thank you, ma’am. Enjoy your walk.”

Outside on the Promenade Deck, the sun is bright and the wind brisk, just warm enough to forego a coat, black mink or white ermine or grey rabbit or reddish fox, pelts harvested, creatures butchered. Your dress is a cheerful yellow, as if attempting to conjure the golden-haired magic of the Targaryens, their willfulness, their invincibility, their habit of bending the world’s truth in their hands until it snaps. Yet none of them are here with you; you are alone, you are unnecessary. As you walk, you pass women reading novels on teak deckchairs, children playing with spinning tops and dominoes under the watchful eyes of fathers and governesses, men smoking cigars as they debate business and politics and which gemstones they should purchase for their sweethearts. You have to get away from them.

You take the Grand Staircase up to the Boat Deck, the highest level of the ship, and to distract yourself you count the covered lifeboats that are stowed there. This does not assuage your anxiety; you see only twenty, and while you have made a practice of avoiding sailing and therefore are no expert on the issue, this does not seem like enough. You go to the railing—about as tall as your waist—and lean over it as you stare, thoughts troubled and brow furrowed, into the wild, uninterrupted blue of the North Atlantic, five hundred miles from the coast of Ireland. To your left is a man painting a sheet of paper clipped to an easel, a palette held in his hand, viscous globs of color from small silvery tubes. Seventy feet below where you stand is the sea, thrashing against Titanic, a wood-and-steel intruder. You lean a little farther over the side of the ship. The water is cold, you imagine; cold, deep, dark, silent.

If I fell in, this would all be over, you think. No more Daemon. No more anyone. The only people who would miss me are my parents, and they’ll never see me again anyway.

But no; you cannot abandon Draco. He’s a piece of you, even if he doesn’t know it. You cannot allow him to become a monster.

The viola player peeks out from behind his easel. “Not thinking about jumping, are you?”

You gasp, startled, and then cover your face as you groan. “Why are you always out here?!”

“Aw, fancy rock lady needs a member of the perpetual underclass to malign,” he says as he adds brushstrokes to his painting. He has procured a suit somehow—black, slightly too big for him, likely stolen—to better masquerade as a first-class passenger. “What’s the matter, rock lady? Did your servants not put enough sugar in your tea this morning? Did they tug a little too hard as they brushed your hair?”

“You’re not well mentally. You need a straightjacket.”

“I’m not the one about to throw myself into the Atlantic Ocean.”

You glare at him, bitter, defensive. “I wasn’t going to jump.”

“Then what were you doing?”

You can’t answer; you wring your hands and press your lips together so tightly they ache, watch dark smoke billow from the nearest funnel, coal shoveled into blazing furnaces, treasures of the earth extracted like teeth and consumed.

“Hey, I didn’t, um…” The viola player lowers his paintbrush, repentant. “It wasn’t my intention to upset you.”

You ask to change the subject: “What are you painting?”

“People,” he says, grinning, then turns his easel to show you. It’s a father holding his daughter so she can look over the railing and pointing to show her something out in the waves, dolphins, perhaps. His work is excellent, you are surprised to see: wispy curls of hair, irises alight with emotion, shadows and wrinkles and cheeks ruddy from gusts of wind, imperfections of reality.

“It’s good,” you manage once you’ve gotten your bearings.

“And of course you’re shocked.” He points to a scuffed brown leather portfolio resting against one leg of the easel. “I have plenty more, if you’re interested.”

You open the portfolio. There are men worriedly counting coins, women waiting on park benches, children beaming as they feed ducks or tend to their dolls, people giggling and scowling and burning up with clandestine longing, people sipping drinks in smoky pubs. In the bottom right corner of each painting is a moniker for the subject: Crystal, Big Red, Sunshine, Baron, Carnation, Tiny, Mars, Archer, Harpist, Pennies, Henry VIII, Belfast Belle. Unwittingly, you smile to yourself. “You give them names.”

“I watch people, but I don’t usually talk to them,” the viola player explains as he dabs thick oil paint on the paper clipped to the easel, treated to resemble the texture of linen. “I like to catch them unawares. Keeps the moment genuine, truthful. Otherwise they start acting for me.”

“Why paper instead of canvas?”

“Easier to travel with. Lighter and less bulky.”

You recall what he told Daemon at O’Connell’s Bar back in Galway: Well I’ve played all over Ireland, sir. All over Europe, in fact. You gingerly slide his paintings back into the portfolio and tease: “Who do you think you are, Picasso?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. His sand-colored hair trashes in the wind that blows off the ocean, salt and mist. “I am under no such delusion. I’ve met him, though.”

You gawk at the viola player. “You’ve…you’ve met Pablo Picasso?”

“Yeah,” he says casually. “In Barcelona. I love his Blue and Rose Period stuff. Now he’s doing some weird cubism bullshit.” The viola player shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s his art, he can paint what he wants. But I prefer something a little more…real.”

“I do too,” you confess. “I went to Paris once with my parents. I saw some of Picasso’s work in a gallery, but he wasn’t there at the time. I bought a few paintings.”

“Which ones?”

“Mother and Child from 1905. Flowers from 1901.” You hesitate. It’s a bit scandalous. “Blue Nude.”

But the viola player neither cringes nor makes a joke. “I remember that one,” he says softly, watching you. After a moment he asks: “Are they hanging in your rooms?”

“They’re in a trunk. Daemon doesn’t like them.” And the animosity in your voice is an act of treason, however small. You glance around for Daemon, Rush, Dagmar, Rhaenyra, Laenor, and thankfully find none of them. You avert your eyes, ashamed. A husband you hate, and fear, and obey, and lie awake at night conspiring how to please.

There is something that ripples across the viola player’s face—sympathy, distress—and then he resumes putting the final touches on his portrait of two unnamed passengers. “Do you paint?”

You laugh. “Very badly.”

He offers you the paintbrush, saturated with a reddish-gold color like dusk. “You can help me fill in the man’s scarf. That’s hard to fuck up.”

Your jaw falls open.

“That’s hard to mess up,” he amends.

Smiling shyly, you take the paintbrush and add a few tentative strokes to the scarf. The viola player accepts the paintbrush when you forfeit it.

“So besides making awful paintings, how did you spend your time back in Galway?”

Reminding my father who he is. Taking long walks through the fields with my mother. Sitting in the garden wondering how my life went so wrong. Trying to stop my only child from becoming a demon like his father. “I read a lot. Mostly Edgar Allan Poe, Jane Austen, and Shakespeare.”

“Shakespeare?” he echoes, amused. “Recite some for me.”

You take a moment to decide on a passage.

“Not for the world: why, man, she is mine own,

And I as rich in having such a jewel

As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl,

The water nectar and the rocks pure gold.”

“The Two Gentlemen of Verona,” the viola player says, much to your amazement. He’s a thief holding a third-class ticket, and yet he’s learned. This is rare outside the blue-blooded aristocrats and the titans of industry. Fern can barely read and write.

“Where were you educated?”

“The world,” he replies, grinning.

“And the world included lessons on Shakespeare?”

“Sure, sometimes.”

“Alright then, let’s hear an excerpt.”

He considers this, tapping the handle of his paintbrush against his lips. Then he says:

“My crown is in my heart, not on my head;

Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones,

Nor to be seen: my crown is called content:

A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.”

“King Henry VI,” you say, admittedly impressed. “I didn’t know poor people read Shakespeare.”

“Shakespeare’s plays were written for everyone, fancy rock lady. Standing tickets at the Globe cost pennies.”

You study the viola player as he paints, feeling a bewildering combination of curiosity, amusement, fondness. “What’s your name?”

He pauses as if he’s not sure what to say, then gives you a sly, crooked grin as he replies: “Picasso.”

Now a steward is approaching, and the viola player is alarmed, perhaps anticipating being revealed as a fraud and dragged back to the third-class accommodations; but the steward is only passing by with a tray full of champagne flutes, offering them to illustrious passengers as they stroll the decks. You take two glasses and he continues on his way. You down one flute in just a few gulps and offer the other to the viola player. He smiles politely but does not reach for it.

“Thank you, but I don’t drink.”

“Really?” Have you ever met a man who doesn’t? You can’t think of one. And you are suddenly aware of how quickly you finished your champagne—unladylike, improper, but surely no great disgrace in front of this audience—and how yearningly you’re already glancing at the second glass, carbonated amber, fool’s gold.

“I’m not someone who can stop at just one or two,” the viola player says. “I’ve learned that about myself. Tried to fight it for a while, turns out acceptance is easier. I hardly even miss booze anymore.”

“How long did you fight it?”

“Ten years.”

You are caught off-guard. “What? How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

Since he was thirteen? Can that be right? “We’re about the same age,” you say instead, taking a distracted swig from the glass that would have been his.

“Yeah,” the viola player agrees thoughtfully.

You finish the champagne and hand both glasses to a passing steward. “I should go,” you tell the viola player. “I don’t know where Daemon is on the ship, and…” I don’t want him to see us. I don’t want him to hurt me.

“Sure. I get it.”

“Good luck with your painting.”

“I’ll make one of you next,” he promises, and you’re certain he’s joking.

You smile and turn to leave. “Whatever you say, Picasso.”

You walk towards the Grand Staircase that leads back down to the Promenade Deck. As you pass the Gymnasium, you steal a glimpse through one of the windows and see them inside: Draco giggling as he rides the electric horse and yanks gleefully on the reins, Dagmar beaming as her gnarled, arthritic hands hold him by the waist so he doesn’t slide off.

You lay your palm against the cold glass, separated by a few steps that might as well be miles, wreckage peering up through the darkness from the bottom of the sea.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fern helps you dress for dinner: a glittering gold gown, a tiger’s eye amulet from Burma. Laenor has brought a companion, one of the Parisians he’s become so well-acquainted with, a count’s son named Hugo. As Laenor is preoccupied, Daemon escorts Rhaenyra to the First-Class Dining Saloon down in D-Deck. They meander together, her arm linked through his, murmuring gossip about the other passengers and snickering contemptuously. You trail behind them, feeling invisible, a sun that casts no warmth.

All around you are other first-class passengers descending the Grand Staircase: Benjamin Guggenheim and his mistress two decades his junior, John Jacob Astor and his pregnant eighteen-year-old wife, railroad tycoons Charles M. Hays and John B. Thayer, steel industrialist George Dennick Wick, the glamorous Countess of Rothes, the newly-wealthy Margaret Brown, the eminent journalist W.T. Stead, the White Star Line’s managing director J. Bruce Ismay. But your gaze keeps drifting to Macy’s department store owner Isidor Straus and his wife Ida, neither young, neither beautiful, and yet so evidently devoted to each other. You wonder how that feels; surely nothing like a bruise, a reproach, a back turned to you in the marriage bed.

On the A-Deck landing of the Grand Staircase is the viola player, his horsehair bow gliding over four thick strings to loose an energetic, jubilant song, standing there in his suit that no one else notices is too big for him because they don’t really see him at all. He is less than a fixture of the ship; the first-class passengers marvel at the glass-and-wrought-iron dome overhead and the Neoclassical clock on the wall and even the bronze cherub statue at the base of the steps, but the flesh-and-blood machinery of Titanic wears a sort of camouflage, unremarkable and interchangeable, uncomfortably human. The viola player gives you a wink and a quick, subtle smile as you pass by him, and you smile back. And for a moment, it is like you have a friend aboard the ship, a groundswell of fleeting joy, gratefulness, peace.

Dinner is oysters, salmon with hollandaise, corned ox tongue, chateau potatoes, asparagus soup, Waldorf pudding, other things that you pick at without much interest. You miss Lough Cutra Castle, you miss your parents, you miss Ireland, you miss your life before Daemon Targaryen stalked into it with his ever-glinting green eyes and his talent for making you so desperate to satisfy him. Instead of eating, you mostly drink champagne, draining glasses of it until your cheeks are warm and your thoughts hazy. You look around for the viola player, but he never appears in the First-Class Dining Saloon. Instead, the five-piece string ensemble that welcomed you aboard Titanic yesterday is playing Alexander’s Ragtime Band.

Daemon has invited a guest to share your table, chief designer of the ship Mr. Thomas Andrews. He is gracious and even-tempered, exactly the sort of man Daemon likes to entrap and enchant and have his way with. As you drown in champagne, Daemon tells Mr. Andrews about surviving a hurricane while mining Larimar in the Dominican Republic, domesticating a ring-tailed lemur in Madagascar (Daemon had named it Aegon and kept it on a leash), getting lost for three days in the Australian Outback and resorting to eating snakes and dingoes, bludgeoned to death with rocks and roasted over campfires. Rhaenyra observes all of this with a proud, radiant smile, encouraging Daemon with nods and oddly girlish giggles. Laenor, meanwhile, is chatting with Hugo and paying little attention to anything else. He and Rhaenyra have three young sons back in England, though they resemble Laenor Velaryon far less than they do Harwin Strong, Viserys the Duke of Beaufort’s former Master of the Horse and Rhaenyra’s rumored lover. The virile, dark-haired Harwin Strong was killed last year in an unfortunate riding accident, whereupon Daemon rekindled his previously strained relationship with Rhaenyra in the interests of helping her cope with the loss. As it turned out, Daemon’s niece had grown up to be much the same as he is—daring, sarcastic, charismatic, incorrigible—and as if you didn’t have enough difficulty winning his affection before, now you must compete with his kindred spirit, a golden-haired wildfire only a few years older than you and who Daemon can delightedly torment his estranged brother with by capturing her in his orbit.

Daemon is saying, his elbows on the table and miming clutching a massive gemstone in his palm: “As a famed French fashion critic once wrote, The jewel, which is so well adapted to a woman’s adornment, is a combination of the riches of nature and art.”

“Not just any fashion critic,” you say without thinking, the champagne parting your lips before you can reconsider. “Charles Blanc. And I’m the one who gave you his book, remember? It was one of my wedding presents to you.”

Everyone turns to stare at you, as if abruptly being made aware of your existence. Laenor and Hugo appear puzzled. Rhaenyra is frowning with disapproval. Mr. Andrews nods politely. Daemon, after a moment, chuckles in that low, rolling, sardonic way that he does.

“Yes, dear, you certainly did. Clearly it made an impression.” He looks to Mr. Andrews. “You’ll have to forgive my wife, good sir. I’m afraid she has a weakness for champagne.”

“Don’t we all?” Mr. Andrews replies diplomatically.

“The truth is,” Dameon says as if he’s confiding in the shipbuilder; and yet there’s an exhilaration he can’t entirely disguise, a malicious triumph, proof of the power he has over you. “She’s petrified of sailing, has been for years. And this journey…well…it’s been quite an ordeal for her. But under no uncertain terms was I leaving Ireland without my family. Where I go, we all go.”

“I’m so sorry to hear about your rattled nerves, Lady Targaryen.” Mr. Andrews’ eyes are soft with pity for you, a neurotic and illogical woman, tortured by her own nature. “Is there anything I can say to alleviate your fears? Have you been on a ship that’s run into trouble before?”

“No, no sir, I just…” You push through the warm, amber-gold fog of the champagne to explain. “I’ve never been able to stop thinking of all the water beneath us, and a ship…even one as large and luxurious as Titanic…it seems too vulnerable to me. One puncture and we all go straight to the seafloor.”

“That’s why I built Titanic with watertight bulkheads that go up to E-Deck,” Mr. Andrews says, smiling reassuringly. “There are sixteen total, and the ship can stay afloat with several of them flooded. This is meant to contain any possible breach in the hull.”

“Oh, how ingenious!” Laenor exclaims. “Hugo, isn’t that extraordinary?”

Mr. Andrews continues: “Truly, Lady Targaryen, I have built you an unsinkable ship. You have nothing to worry about here on Titanic.”

“Of course she doesn’t,” Daemon agrees.

“And there are lifeboats, I suppose,” you say. “Although…I didn’t see very many up on the Boat Deck. What is their total capacity, I wonder…?”

“Over 1,000 souls, ma’am,” Mr. Andrews replies.

You are horrified. “That’s half the people onboard.”

“Yes,” he concedes. “But as I said, Titanic cannot sink.” Again, he smiles blithely. “Besides, in the event of an evacuation—engine failure or damaged propellers or some such thing—the lifeboats would only be needed to ferry passengers from Titanic to the vessel we’d hail to rescue us with the wireless telegraph machine. The lifeboats were never intended to be able to hold all the passengers at once, that would be absurd.”

“Impossible,” Daemon concurs. “What on earth would necessitate a swift and total evacuation?”

“What about an iceberg?” Hugo says as he eats a heaping spoonful of Waldorf pudding, vanilla custard mixed with nutmeg, apples, walnuts, and raisins.

Mr. Andrews titters patiently, as if this is the most ludicrous thing he’s ever heard. “No iceberg could damage Titanic enough to flood more than three bulkheads. And we have lookouts employed to spot them and sound the alarm so we can turn in time. Icebergs are not a concern whatsoever.”

“Très bien!” Hugo declares, redirecting his full attention back to his Waldorf pudding.

Mr. Andrews looks to you, his voice kind but patronizing. “Do you feel better now, Lady Targaryen?”

“Much better,” you lie.

“Good. Then no more worrying. And no need to drink yourself under the table either.”

Daemon says with a derisive snort: “Well, she is Irish.”

Everyone laughs; everyone but you.

~~~~~~~~~~

Back at the Targaryen staterooms, Rush is waiting by the door to take your coats. Laenor and Hugo bid everyone goodnight, then depart; Rhaenyra, seemingly reluctantly, takes her leave as well. She and Laenor have separate accommodations as they always do while travelling, not unheard of among first-class passengers but also not helping to dispel the rumors concerning her sons’ parentage.

Dagmar is perched on one of the sofas like a falcon on a branch, her talonlike fingers knitting a forest green blanket for Draco. Your son, meanwhile, is sprawled on the sitting room floor and at war with Fern, who is trying to coax him out of his shoes and day clothes and into his pajamas.

“Draco, please, my love, it’s time to get ready for bed now—”

“I want to go back to the Gymnasium!” he screeches, wriggling out of her grasp. From the sofa, Dagmar chuckles as if this is charming behavior, a portent of superb athletic fitness, perhaps. “I want to ride the horsey!”

Fern is exasperated. “Darling, the Gymnasium is closed, no one is allowed to use it any more tonight. But I promise you’ll be able to go back tomorrow—”

“No!” Draco shrieks. “Now! Right now!”

Fern finally manages to slip off one of his shoes, and faster than anyone can stop him, Draco draws back his hand and slaps her across the face, open palm, a sharp crack in the air, and of course he’s too young and too weak to do anything but stun her, but he won’t be four years old forever.

One day he’ll be able to hurt people. He’ll be able to break them, bruise them, ruin their lives.

“No!” you shout, then bolt to Draco and drop to the floor to hold him by his frail little shoulders, firm yet careful not to harm him, no scratches, no bruises, no pools of trapped blood that will ache with violent memory. “You never do that! You don’t hurt people! You don’t hit women!”

“Mam?” Draco whimpers, his lips quivering and tears shimmering in his eyes; and he almost never calls you that, he almost never acknowledges you as his mother at all. But he knows, he must, this proves it. “I’m sorry…I won’t do it again…please don’t yell at me…”

Immediately remorseful, you embrace him, and Draco clings to you as he sobs. Fern is watching you with huge, frightened eyes; then they flick to someone standing behind you.

Rush grabs you by both arms and wrenches you away. You yelp in shock and pain; Dagmar swoops in to take Draco and vanishes into his bedroom, glaring at you over her shoulder, frigid lethal fury. Fern is covering her mouth with her hands so she won’t scream.

Rush hurls you to the carpet and backs away. When you look up, Daemon is standing in the doorway of your bedroom, orange dusk-like light spilling out from behind him.

“Come here,” Daemon says, beckoning you with his right hand.

You are terrified; you are shaking. “No.”

“The longer you wait, the worse it will be.”

“No,” you say again. You glance at Fern, but she can’t help you; she turns away, stifling a cry with her palms. The room is spinning, your thoughts are slow, your skull aches with rhythmic pulses like blows from a hammer. You peer up at Rush, blinking blearily. “Do you like working for a man who beats his wife?”

Rush doesn’t reply; his face is grave but otherwise unreadable. Fern curls up on the floor, shaking her head. The taxidermied tiger head roars silently from above the crackling fireplace.

Daemon says from the doorway: “Dear, I’m losing my patience.”

There’s nowhere else to go. You crawl towards him, then at the halfway point stagger to your feet. Daemons steps aside so you can cross through the threshold. He closes the door and locks it. You stare at him, swaying a bit, your hands hovering in front of you. You’re trying to figure out where he’s going to hit you, but he’s good at not letting on, and you’re drunk. You guess stomach, but it’s your face, just like Draco struck Fern; his open palm sets your cheek on fire and rocks your head back. You lunge for him, fingers clawing and knuckles jabbing at his ribs. Sometimes you fight back and sometimes you don’t—occasionally he finds it endearing and leaves you alone, more often it exacerbates the situation—but tonight you are overwhelmed with wrath for this man who has taken everything from you, your home, your parents, your son, your future.

You shove Daemon into his writing desk, then he pins you to the wall, slides open a drawer of the desk with his free hand, pulls out his gemstone-studded dagger and lays the blade against your windpipe. And you scream, because for all his roughness and his threats Daemon has never done this before. No one appears to rescue you; no one would dare.

“You will not correct Draco,” Daemon says. “He is my son, and I will deal with him.”

You seethe, teeth bared: “I don’t want him to be like you.”

“Think about it, dear,” Daemon hisses, the blade cold against your throat. You can feel it stinging, a thin slice like a papercut you’ll have to cover with makeup tomorrow. “We’re on a ship in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. If you were to take a tumble over the railing, who could say if it was an accident or a suicide or a crime of opportunity committed by some third-class scoundrel? There would be nothing to investigate. You would be gone, and that would be the end of it. Draco is past the fragile years of infancy, he is healthy and he is fierce. Your father’s quarry is already under the control of my managers. What do I need you for now? Why the fuck would I tolerate any further obstinance from you? Your usefulness has come and gone. You stand on the thinnest of ice. One wrong step, and you’ll find it splintering beneath your feet.”

He lifts the dagger away and strides out of the bedroom. You stand there in the tawny lamplight like a sunset, trembling all over, gasping for air, your hands flying up to your neck. When you check your fingers, they are sticky and copper-smelling with a small amount of blood.

He could have killed me. I think he wanted to.

There is a tall oval mirror by the bed, its frame gilded and glowing in the ochre lamplight. You stare at yourself, tears flooding down your cheeks, a gold dress worth more than you are. Everything you own is Daemon’s. That will be true for as long as he lives.

You flee out onto the small private deck attached to your rooms, through the back exit, and into the labyrinthian hallways of B-Deck. You run towards the stern of the ship, dodging stewards who ask if you need assistance and men sauntering back from the First-Class Smoking Room after dinner, puffing on their pipes and their cigars, nursing stout glasses of brandy to keep them warm. When you break out into the open air, it is bitterly cold. The ocean is a vast lightless void; you could mistake it for nothingness if it wasn’t for the thunderous rumble and salt spray of the waves. Your gleaming gold dress billows around you as you sprint to the metal railing that encloses the stern, grip the top rung with shaking hands, stare down into the roiling depths churned by the propellers.

Where can I go? There’s nowhere to go. There’s nowhere else to run to.

“Hey,” the viola player says; you recognize his voice immediately.

You turn away, not wanting him to see the swelling on your face, the traces of blood at your throat. You are heartbroken, you are humiliated. You agreed to marry a man and now he’s ruined your life. You wrap your bare arms around yourself and sniffle, shivering, swiping tears from your eyes.

After a while, the viola player says cautiously, realizing you aren’t in the mood for disclosures: “It’s cold tonight.”

“Obviously.”

He takes off his black wool coat, presumably stolen like the suit he wears underneath, and offers it to you. “I have more layers on.”

“I don’t want you to be cold.”

“Please shut up and take the coat, okay?” You accept it and put it on, and instantly you begin to feel better. The viola player asks gently: “Does he hit you?”

You shrug, petulant like a child. “Sometimes I hit him back.”

The viola player sighs, but he’s not just disappointed; he’s saddened, he’s pained. “Look, I know what it’s like to get knocked around. That’s why I left home.”

You remember what he told you when you first realized he’d followed you onto Titanic: I have family in New York City. I left home and haven’t been back in years, and I think now’s a good time for a visit. “Why would you ever want to see them again?”

“Things are different now. I’m older, I’m not afraid to walk out and be on my own, I’m confident that I can advocate for myself better than before. And they aren’t all bad. I have…” He hesitates. “I have two brothers and a sister in New York, and I miss them.”

“What are their names?”

“Um,” he stops to think. Clearly he’s making them up. “Arnold, Henrietta, and Dean.”

“Do you actually have siblings or is this some sort of metaphor?”

He laughs. “No, they’re real. The names might not be, but the people are. Want to see your painting?”

“You were serious?”

He carefully pulls it out of the brown leather portfolio he’s carrying under one arm. And if it’s supposed to be you, he’s failed, but still the image is mesmerizing: a young woman—too beautiful, far too beautiful—glancing over at him from where she was pondering the waves under a clear midday sky, her hair in disarray from the wind and her eyes fearful, an oil-paint snapshot of desperation, defenselessness, wonder, hope.

“It’s very nice,” you say at last. “But I don’t look like that.”

“Yeah you do.”

You examine the bottom right corner of the painting to see what he’s named you. You skim your thumbprint feather-lightly over black cursive letters, drawn with the smallest of brushes. “Petra,” you murmur.

The viola player says self-consciously, as if hoping you’ll approve: “It’s Greek for rock.”

You smile faintly. “I know what it means.”

“Oh, fancy rock lady took Greek lessons in school.”

“Of course I did.”Greek, Latin, French, Irish Gaelic. You muse softly, still studying the painting: “Petra and Picasso.”

You don’t have to look at him; you can hear the grin in his voice. “Guess we’re friends now, huh?”

“I’ve never had a poor friend before.”

“Well, firstly, you can’t call me your poor friend. That’s offensive.”

With great unwillingness, you surrender the painting and give it back to the viola player. “I can’t keep this. I’m sorry, I want to. But Daemon might find it.” And then he’ll push me overboard and I’ll be dinner for the sharks.

He tucks the painting safely into his portfolio. “I’ll hold onto it for now.”

“Forever, you mean.”

“You might not always have to worry about Daemon.”

You share a dark, horrible truth: “I’ll never be free of him.”

“We’ll see,” the viola player replies, undaunted.

We’ll see.

[omaano]

SW Hades AU September Update

Links and previous updates: May - June - July - August - everything else in this AU

For the month of September I have for you a finished character illustration for not only one but two characters for the Hades AU! One boon giver in the form of Shaak Ti,

and Obi-wan, this grumpy old desert hermit who is still missing shading from his dusty surroundings.

AND below the cut I will show you the designs for all the keepsakes I sketched out for the characters this month :3

But - before I go into some ramblings - let's have another poll:

(I know it's a lot like the last poll, but I'm really trying to work on drawings of the boon giver characters while I still remember all the layer settings I need for their glow and radiant spikes ^^;)

And now on for the ramblings and thoughts behind the process of the art I've created this month:

One last rant about me and replicating the Hades art style

I have touched on my struggles with how I translate the Hades art style into my project in the previous update, and unfortunately the perfectionist in me refuses to let it go... so I'll muse on that a bit more in this one as well. Last time, I promise. I've come to the necessary conclusions that I'll let the topic go once I typed these out.

I found this very interesting video that I wish I'd seen before I started this project.

It is a very interesting breakdown of the Hades art style. Now I have to admit that I am very very bad at observation. Therefore I heavily rely on others pointing out patterns and defining characteristics before I can consciously start building on those on my own. For example: when I started more seriously working on this Hades AU project my main objective was to get better at lineart. The way I saw it Hades artworks had very clean and solid linearts with lots of black (thanks to another video that pointed that out as one of the 3 major definig features of the style) but if I look at it more closely the lines and shading are a lot looser, and more confident than what I ended up using.

I quite enjoy doing it, don't get me wrong, but there is an up- and downside to hunting down single pixels that are out of order (b it for lineart or shading) and 100% zoom in... which is silly and unnecessary, since I have to scale down my art quite a bit before posting anyway, so who would see anyway?

Also at this point I'm very much facing the dilemma of how much I can change in my approach to this style to still keep this entire project coherent. I'm more in favour of coherency at this point, so I'm just trying to soak up these lessons for future references.

One of these lessons was another point that was very fascinating in this video (aside from how this video picks a multiply layer approach to shading... which I had abandoned after Boba and Cobb for whatever reason?) was to point out the one dominant, more saturated colour in a character art, and how all the rest are desaturated to support that dominating character.

Shaak Ti and my babies

And I actually was very consciously trying to apply that with Shaak Ti! (I'm so proud of myself, finally incorporating a lesson into my work, look at me go!) It didn't exactly go as I'd planned, in a great deal because initially I wanted the red of her skin to be the more dominant and defining colour. But as I went about colouring in the baby clones as well I realized that the blue of her montrals and lekku would be a much better choice, and have the other redish and warmer tones of her robe and clothes, and the skin tone of the cadets to play the supporting colour role. Yet again, half my screens keep eating away the hue and saturation of my reds, but I think that this approach worked out just fine in the end. The blue-purple of her stripes, her eyes and lips look nice and pretty, and the blue in the cadet uniforms tie the entire composition of all these characters nicely together.

I'd also switched up the gem sparkle highlight colours for this one (and Obi-wan too, since they worked so well with Shaak Ti) from the very limiting base 6 fully saturated colours on others (that don't really show up in print anyways...).

And lastly why they are little ghosties in the alternate version:

Ahead of that however a brief introduction is in order. From left to right they are Ray (depicted here the last time he was biggest of the bunch), Slider (my anxious little field medic), and Goldie (my silly little goldfish who claimed the name before it could stick to Slider). For the record they all grow up just fine to join the war effort.

In this case they are more of a stand-in for all the clone cadets on Kamino, especially those who didn't get to grow up, the training of whom Shaak Ti ended up overseeing. (I don't remember if canonically there had been any of them on Kamino when the Empire destroyed their facilities.... but I'd bet that there must have been.) They deserve someone to look after them too, after all.

Also I wanted to see if I can make the Hades shade design work for me. The answer is.... eh, jury's still out, but no, not really. Luckily however, before I have to figure out if I stubbornly would want to change that, it seems like I'm done with my semi-transparent or shade clones. Wolffe is gonna be just fine, solid and grumpy as you can imagine.

Obi-wan

I don't have much to say about the grouchy old man, except that he was surprisingly easy to finish once I got over worrying about the pressure I'd put on myself because of this character illustration.

I fear to say this, but I'm pretty sure I should draw another version of him... like how Patroclus stands up from his hunched over pose and stands tall and strong and matching Achilles with his own spear once you reunite them in the game. And call on them for assistance. So I guess it would be cool if he could stand back-to-back with Cody, with his lightsaber back in his hand, and looking like someone who (allegedly) has his life together XD

Oh! There is one thing. It was a last minute change but I'm so pleased with the stained glass pieces of his teacup! It's his keepsake as well :))

Keepsakes

These speak for themselves, I believe. Special thanks to Quatre for brainstorming a few of these with me <3 Funnily enough Cody's snapped of antennae is the one I feel least sure about now that I have the whole lineup. They feel very in character for Cody (and how he gets his entertainment out of trolling Din in this AU) but it feels a little silly, you know? Especially with how little they look like antennae X"D

Cody - antenna from his armor, Rex - one of his DC-17 blasters, Wolffe - a tooth with "Plo's bros" carved into it, Bo-Katan - a medal/locket with the pattern of the throne of Mandalore, Cobb - his scarf, Boba - a black melon surrounded by stained glass and a fistful of sand, Echo and Fives - a domino

Omega - a clone trooper doll, Kit - a shell and pearl, Paz - a nesting doll with a Pantoran on the inside and a Mandalorian on the outside, Shaak Ti - akul teeth, Satine - a calla lily brooch like she wears in her hair, Ahsoka - a glowing feather from Morai, Leia - Lola

Obi-wan - a fancy teacup, Quinlan - whatever is the Star Wars equivalent of a pendrive, Fennec - a handful of bullets, Sabine - airbrush, Ezra - a tooka brooch made of pebbles and snail shell, Maul - Talisman of finding (the one Savege used to find him)

Anakin - multitools, Mythosaur - a mythosaur pendant, Aphra - Spice Dice used for a variant of Sabacc, Luke - toy ship, The Armorer - her hammer

It's a bit wild to see all of them laid out like this i'm not gonna lie :D

So that's it for now. As for the next month I'm hoping to surprise-finish Aphra (like I did with Obi-wan), maybe do something about the surpirse I can maybe do for Fives and Echo and why they haven't gotten their character interaction yet, sketch out a new character and maybe start lining Bo-Katan and her gang. It should be doable, right? XD Also I promise that this was my last rant about my relationship to how I've given up replicating the game's style as close as possible. Cross my heart and all that.

Taglist of anyone who wants to be pinged once a month for these updates <3 If you want to be added to the list send me a message, or just reply to this post (a 👀 would do, nothing fancy required ;))

@elwinged @yeehawgeek @velsayshi @lionsaint

If you want to be taken off the list just message me and I'll take you off, no hard feelings :)

[hey-august]

Brought to you by this wonderful request from @soupsprout !

WC: ~1.4k Warnings: SFW, buggy x gn!reader, established relationship, mild profanity, cozy fluffy bathtime, buggy loves richie i promise

The sharp stench of wildlife, dusty earth, and shit permeated the room so effectively that even your dreams were saturated. The moonlight visions flickered under the muck before giving way and dropping you back in bed. You groaned from the abrupt shift from sleep to consciousness. Cracking an eye open, you saw the source of the awful aroma close the bedroom door. The figure whispered and muttered to himself, only allowing syllables to peak in volume before reigning in the rest of his intelligible tirade.

“Bad night, hun?”

“Wha- fu- what??” Buggy constricted his alarm into a whispered shout. “I thought you were sleeping, it’s so damn late,” he hissed.

“I am,” you drawled. “Are you coming to bed soon?”

“Not like this,” Buggy said. Looking down at his clothes covered in hay, mud, something that looked like mud, and strands of Richie’s mane, the captain deflated. His anger gave way to resignation. “M’gonna clean up first. Just for you, babe.”

A bright smile carried through your exhaustion on a giggle, giving the pirate a much-needed boost. Buggy lifted his arms and bowed theatrically. He alternated hands to blow you kisses before clawing the air like a lion and sending you one final kiss. It was goofy - cheesy at best. And yet those antics never failed to make you laugh and fall a little harder.

You laid in bed and listened to the sound of running water. Both crisp and dull, it almost sounded like a waterfall. The current carried you gently through time that moved both fast and slow. The sharp water sound stopped but the deeper noise continued. A little thought swam past your raft, saying something about a bath. Isn’t that nice. A shower and a bath - Buggy would definitely be clean after that. Warm water, maybe a blanket of suds…

Buggy didn’t hear you slip into the bathroom over the sound of the running tap. He had been leaning back, eyes closed, and focusing on the feeling of the water creeping up his body, sliver by sliver. The water changed pitch through the dancing ripples when you slid into the opposite side of the tub.

“Sleeping, huh?”

You shrugged with a sheepish grin. “The bed is too big without you.”

“You said no to the hammock.”

Buggy reached over to turn off the tap and you took advantage of the close proximity to flick a few drops of water at him.

“You move too much for a hammock. I like the bed, it’s just better with you in it.”

Buggy grinned and opened his mouth to respond, which turned out to be the perfect target for more water projectiles. A hand swam over to splash you back while Buggy turned his face away. With two wet losers, the short aquatic battle was over and both sides sank deeper into the hot water.

You stared through still drowsy eyes at your partner on the other side of the bath. His freshly washed hair was tied up on the top of his head. A few tendrils escaped and the tips clung to the surface of the water, the vibrant strands looking more like water than the actual liquid in the tub.

Buggy’s face was clean. Mostly clean. Stubborn charcoal clung to his eyes, not yet ready to leave his eyes unlined. His lips had a red hue, either stained from long-lasting make-up or because he scrubbed too hard to remove the cosmetics. It could also be a slight reflection from his red nose. In the steamy room, that crimson feature almost appeared luminescent and you loved it. Even with all the excess colors washed away, this was your Buggy.

Like the shared bed, the tub was big. One night had found Buggy, Mohji, and Cabaji crammed in the tub, where they drunkenly believed themselves to be adrift at sea, so it was more than comfortable for two people. But it was also too big.

You reached out of the bath for a washcloth and beckoned for Buggy to come closer. The water sloshed back and forth, a small tide ebbing and flowing while he changed positions and sat with his back to you. You dipped the cloth in the warm water and got to work.

While all the filth had been washed away in the shower, his shoulders and back weren’t blank canvases. You pulled the wet cloth along fresh and fading bruises, scars from a time long ago, swatches of sunburned skin, and dustings of freckles. The washcloth’s path was followed by your hand. Skin against skin, trailing the warmth and feeling every mark, every pull and tug of his muscles, and his relaxation.

For you, it was mesmerizing. Soothing. And next, it was your turn.

“Alright, alright, switch!” Buggy interrupted your unexpected meditation moment.

Rather than creating waves spinning around, the pirate chose to create a mini-maelstrom. Tilting his head back to rest on your shoulder, Buggy balanced that piece on your body while the rest of him fell apart and dropped underwater. His bits and pieces wiggled and zoomed past you, like a panicked school of fish. You yelped in surprise at the commotion, which ended nearly as abruptly as it began. A solid form collected itself behind you, Buggy’s head chuckling when it rejoined his body and he nudged you forwards.

Whatever exclamations hadn’t found their way out of your mouth were shushed and soothed away by the washcloth now in Buggy’s hold. Rivulets of water escaped the small towel dragged down your shoulder, the creeks finding paths along the front and back of your torso. Buggy used his other hand to scoop up more water to pour on your back. Between the textured cloth, the pirate’s large hands, and the streaming water, you felt like you were bundled in a cozy blanket.

“How did things go with Richie?” The question took a lot of effort to pull from the weight of the attention on your back and the tiredness regrowing inside.

“How do you think?” Buggy grumbled. A small surviving ember of agitation flared up. “It’s just a shot. I don’t understand why that mass of fur and teeth is afraid of a measly needle. We even had a plan, a whole routine and script for ten people. Ten!”

Buggy pushed the cloth back into the tub with a loud punctuating splash. Your acknowledging hum was pulled into a comforted sigh with the next pour of water on your skin. Tilting your head forwards and catching the rising warmth from the tub on your face, you closed your eyes and continued listening.

“He’s just an overgrown cub. He put on the performance of a lifetime as a scared kitty cat,” Buggy huffed. His breath was cool on your neck and brought out goosebumps that he chased away with a calloused hand.

“-it wasn’t just mud. I told them to clean everything before we started, but apparently that didn’t include the mountain of shit…”

You jumped slightly and opened your eyes. Part of the story was missing and backtracking didn’t uncover any misplaced words in your head. Whatever Buggy said had drifted past you without stopping. It was getting hard to concentrate and untangling this tale was too much. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on his voice again.

Water tickled the tip of your nose and made you aware of another missing chunk of the story. Your body was bent from a sedating massage and your head had drooped so far forwards that your next breath might have been underwater. Buggy’s hands kneaded your shoulders in time with his unending monologue.

You groaned softly and sat up straighter, swaying slightly from the change in position. Buggy’s touch moved to your neck, his fingers walking up to the base of your skull and making you realize just how heavy your head felt. You let it loll to the side and followed his movements. His words, however, went unfollowed.

Another gap in time brought you to bed. The sleep that caught up to you in the tub receded slightly, now that you were under dry sheets. You still felt flushed from the bath and the areas where Buggy had wrapped himself around your body were sticky. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. The closeness was exactly what you wanted.

[espionn]

SkyWing tribe sheet!

my computer always fucks up colors in export for some reason and its really obvious with these guys :( i promise they're more saturated my computer just sucks

anyway i really liked doing these guys, skywings are fun and i think they have a lot of potential. enjoy!

Physical Appearance + Traits:

-SkyWings, as their name suggests, are dragons made for the wind and sky. They are better fliers than any other tribe, with enormous wings and several birdlike features. Some can fly for more than a day without landing, and even when they aren’t flying they make their homes at the peaks of mountains, with the entire world beneath them.

-They are quite large, taller than any other tribe, with long necks, long tails, and regal figures. They don’t have any obviously deadly weapons, but they have no clear weaknesses either; they are generally successful dragons.

-Their coloration consists of almost entirely warm colors, specifically red and orange. Yellows and golds are sometimes seen too, and more uncommonly, purples and browns. Their colors are bold and striking; they are one of the few Pyrrhian tribes that has no need for camouflage. 

-Young dragonets are hatched with a coating of feathers, particularly on their wings, necks and tails. Most dragons simply shed their feathers as they grow; some, though, carry a few into adulthood, usually lining their wings or making a thin ruff around their necks. These feathers are often even brighter than their scales.

-SkyWing horns are a mark of pride, and they continue to grow for as long as they live, meaning some of the oldest SkyWings have horns that resemble enormous and heavy antlers. Sometimes their horns are decorated with wires strung with jewels.

-SkyWing fire is the hottest and most powerful fire any tribe can produce. At its hottest it scorches through bone, and it can be used with accuracy from a long distance. It is their main weapon in combat, and quite a devastating one if their opponents don’t know how to properly fight it. They also use it for a number of other things, though. (More on this in the “society and culture” section.)

-Their wings are stronger than those of most tribes, allowing them to temporarily use them for balance rather than their front legs. This lets them hold and work on things more easily. (This headcanon belongs to @sidyashchiy-na-plakhe!! i saw your post and really liked it, hope you dont mind me adopting it)

-Not dissimilar to SandWings, they have darker streaks near their eyes to help with the glare of the sun when they’re flying, often facing the horizon directly.

Life Cycle:

-SkyWings are hatched in clutches between one and five, although four and five are a bit less common than one through three. SkyWing parents are not involved much with their dragonets. By tradition, they lay eggs in nests high in the mountain peaks, and return occasionally with food once they hatch. The rare unlucky SkyWing newborn may be snatched up by a large bird, but they’re big enough that it isn’t usually an issue. They are also hatched with disproportionately massive wings, big enough to make the fall less likely to be lethal if they fall before they learn to fly.

-Once the dragonets are large enough, though, or once they get hungry enough to search for their own food, they will leave the nest, often simply jumping out and letting the wind carry them, learning to properly fly quite quickly. Once parents notice that the nest is empty, they simply stop bringing food. They will never know who their dragonets are, but SkyWing superstition says all dragonets will eventually make their way to the kingdom, where they will be made a part of the tribe. And, truthfully, they almost always do.

-This practice, which some tribes find strange or even barbaric, is seen by Skywings as an important part of their life and tradition. Each of them took the same journey, and so did the generation before them, so they have faith that it will continue to work out well. It’s in their nature to leave their nest and find the kingdom, and it doesn’t result in enough casualties for them to try to halt the tradition. The only dragons this practice does not apply to is the royal family, for the sake of tracking bloodlines.

-By the time they are entered into the wider kingdom, dragonets usually know how to hunt and avoid danger, so all tribe life offers them is the ability to meet other dragons and find work. There isn’t much of an education system in place, with the exception of mentorships for some careers, such as metalworking, and military training. If they take part in work for the kingdom, they’ll have societal benefits and a secure place in the tribe, and most end up in that position eventually. But there are always a few SkyWings who simply live on the outskirts, uninterested in the larger tribe.

-They don’t form many close relationships, being fairly solitary dragons as soon as they leave their siblings. They do not very often form genuine romantic relationships, but marriage is fairly common simply as a formality or political maneuver. Royals in particular almost always get married, though they don’t usually form natural bonds with their spouses. The only responsibilities parents have is bringing food to their nest until the dragonets abandon it.

Culture and Society:

-SkyWings are proud and solitary; these things combined have given them a reputation of being rude, aloof and uncharismatic. They are powerful fighters and fliers, but their strength is not in diplomacy. Their kingdom norms, though, which allow every dragon to simply utilize for the tribe whatever talents they may have, at their own leisure and for whatever profit might be available to them, suits them well and has made for an uncomplicated but successful society. (This is excluding a few periods such as the reign of Queen Scarlet, who reshaped the tribe into something more dictatorial.)

-They are generally quite matriarchal; every tribe has a queen, but SkyWings tend to have a more overall unbalanced system. Females are a bit larger than males and are usually in higher positions of command.

-Fire is extremely important to SkyWing culture - it produces light, warmth, and without it they would be much less deadly in combat. It has its place in almost every tradition and is used in almost every career path. 

-They are the most superstitious tribe in some ways, their lives dictated heavily by tradition and spirituality. The way dragonets are raised is one example; there are countless others, including funeral rites that involve burning, gladiator fights performed for glory, a general belief of night marking bad luck, and others. 

-Continuing on this note, SkyWings - though most would never admit it aloud - are almost universally afraid of the dark. The caves and caverns in which they live are always warm and well-lit, via torches lit by their own fire, and they are almost exclusively out by day. They worship the sun and daytime, believing it to chase away the shadows in its glory. NightWings, for similar reasons, tend to be unnerving to them.

-And to elaborate on gladiator fights: The arena near the palace was originally constructed for SkyWings to prove their prowess by fighting other SkyWings and completing various challenges. During these fights they would wear a special set of ceremonial armor, which they could then keep if they succeeded. (Scarlet, of course, transformed this arena into a convenient way to execute prisoners, and later Queen Ruby reinvented it completely by erecting a hospital where it had once stood.)

-In general, SkyWings are one of the only tribes to wear armor, and the only tribe that has used it for entire armies during war. A particular emphasis is placed on wing armor that allows for comfortable flight while still protecting the wing membranes, as a flightless SkyWing is considered as good as dead by its tribe.

-Jewelry almost always involves precious stones, particularly rubies, diamonds and citrine. It’s very common to have these jewels embedded in scales; some royals have done this with such excess that they appear to have crystals growing out of them.

Diet: Carnivorous. They eat birds, mountain goats, deer, and occasionally fish, rodents or whatever else they can catch. Sometimes raw, sometimes scorched. They don’t typically make full and elaborate meals like other tribes; the only common seasoning they use is salt. Other than the rare use of herbs for flavoring, they eat no plants at all.

[ja3yun]

The Sun That Always Burns | S.JY pt.2

sim jaeyun x afab!reader

warnings: smut (mdni). exhibitionism (slightly), fluff, angst, y/n is kinda mean, fingering, oral (m+f rec), pet names, protected/unprotected sex, not proofread, anything else lmk!

wc: 17k+ (sorry)

synopsis: you and jake's high school relationship blossomed into a romance filled with hope and promise. however, as time went on, jake's long-term expectations began to weigh heavily on you, who struggled to meet them. your paths eventually lead you in separate directions, each experiencing different aspects of life and ultimately moving on from your past love. unexpectedly, fate intervened and you both reunite after years apart. the reunion allows you to rediscover your feelings for each other but also forces you to navigate the complexities of your past and present.

part 1 | part 3

a/n: hi! this part is heavily filled with plot, drama and smut. hope you all like it. this will probably be the deciding factor of if I continue the series (I have written it all now) or not. if you like it and want more please lmk!

To say everything was going well with you and Jaeyun over the next year would be an understatement.You had never felt so loved in your life; not by your parents, not by your siblings, it was only Jaeyun that made you feel like the world had its saturation turned up. The sun had a habit of making life look brighter.

Your 18th birthday party was tonight and you had been planning this for the past few months. It fell right after exams so you were going to use it as an excuse to get everyone together and let loose. Did you have an abundance of friends? Not really, you had your group of all-weather friends. Did that mean you didn’t invite everyone in your year that you liked so you could have a great birthday bash? Absolutely not.

Your friends Ryujin and Yeji were there to help you pick out a birthday outfit which of course you had preemptively chosen knowing that it would have the approval of your best friends and your boyfriend.

“Y/N, you look amazing,” Ryujin said as she eyed you in your short black dress with red lace trimming the bottom and ends, “You look so good, Jake isn’t going to be able to keep his hands off you.” You smile and nod, she would never know you bought the dress specifically for that reason. When you were in the store there were lots of dresses that fit your normal aesthetic but you wanted something bold, something that said you’re no longer a little girl. Of course, you were still a little girl, one birthday isn’t going to magically make you an adult but that didn’t mean you couldn’t look like it.

A few hours later and the party is in full swing, your parents are gone, there is over 50 people in your house, and you have to get to see Jaeyun. You’re getting nervous that he isn’t going to come. His text message stares at you as you read it for the nth time.

Be there soon, Baby. Can’t wait to see my girl! x

That was two hours ago. 

“Hey.” A voice from behind you pulls you out of your trance and you look at him, his body close to yours, “You’re the birthday girl, right? I’m Sunghoon.” His sleeked-back hair and perfect features throw your whole state of being off. 

“H-Hey. Um, yeah I am! Thank you for coming.” You bow a little and as you come up, your eyes meet his, and your face goes red. He is so beautiful, mesmerising, unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. The moon shines on his face as it bleeds through the windows. The freckles on his face add another dimension of beauty, his canines gleaming when he smiles.

“You’re Jake’s girlfriend? Where is he?” where is he? You ask yourself the same question. He is always beside you, always on time, always here. 

You shrug your shoulders and fakely chuckle, “I have no idea actually.” Honesty is the best policy but as Sunghoon’s hand reaches for your arm you think it was better if you had lied and told him Jaeyun was only away to the toilet. Jaeyun please come here quick. Sunghoon caught on to your rigid demeanor and nodded. He knew Jaeyun had an unholy hold on you.

“If I was Jake,” he started, “I would never let my pretty girlfriend stand alone at her own party.” Sunghoon kissed your temple.

He was right. Jaeyun should have been here the whole time. Are you too lenient on him? You take a shot of Cherry Sourz, Jaeyun’s favourite you mentally note. An earlier conversation with Yeji pops into your head.

“If you’re going to celebrate your 18th birthday you might as well have no regrets.”

And that’s exactly what you did. 4 hours after the party started you had no sense of yourself, Jaeyun was still nowhere to be found, and you were handed another shot. This was your 9th shot to be exact. 

Jaeyun strolls through the door with his friends Heeseung and Jay. His attitude was relaxed, a smile plastered on his face as he said hi to the people in the hallway; that was until he saw you.

Your body in that dress, your hair tussled from the dancing, the way the smile was placed upon your place, those hands that were on your hips. Jaeyun paused, his jaw that was once relaxed now clenched as he saw who was behind the foreign hands holding you - Sunghoon. 

Huffing, Jaeyun clenched his fists and walked over to you, jealousy seeping through every part of his body. He wasn’t afraid to admit that he was intimidated by Sunghoon, he wasn’t delusional to the fact that Sunghoon was attractive, probably the most handsome guy at the school and lamentably for Jaeyun, he was clearly into you. 

“Baby.” Jaeyun whispers as he wraps his arms around your waist and knocks Sunghoon off of you in the process, resting his head on your right shoulder, “Happy birthday, my love.” You were mad at him, but his touch was almost enough to forgive him. Unfortunately for Jaeyun, the shots didn’t make you forgive but rather fueled your anger towards him. 

You brushed his hands off ignoring him as you continued your conversation with Sunghoon. Jaeyun was hurt. In a way, he understood why you were acting like this, he let you down, and football practice lasted way longer than he intended, however, he wasn’t about to let Sunghoon take up all your attention. “Princess,” he whispered, knowing exactly what it did to you. You couldn’t ignore him anymore but that didn’t stop you from rolling your eyes.  Jaeyun noticed. “I’m sorry I’m late, I feel like such a dickhea-”

“Good. I hope you feel worse than that. I have been waiting for 4 hours. Do you know how embarrassing that is? All so you could what? Kick a ball about? Cheat on me? I don’t understand what was so much more important.”

Jaeyun stands still. He feels sick to think that even for a second you thought that you weren’t the most important person in his life. Cheat. That word echoed in his mind and he started to feel sick. Did he not show you love enough? Why was that one of the first things you thought of? He would never dream of it, he hasn’t even so much looked at a girl since he met you.

“Baby, I’m sorry I got caught up in football practice.” He confessed honestly. Was it an excuse? No, but his coach wasn’t letting him away no matter the excuse he gave.

“Whatever, Jake.” Jake. You hardly ever called him that before, not since you found out he liked being called Jaeyun more. Everyone called him Jake except for his family and you. His face turned pale as he realised how hurt you were by his actions. “Go enjoy yourself, I’m in the middle of a conversation.” His eyes met Sunghoon as you spoke. Sunghoon had a smirk on his face as if he had won in a game Jaeyun didn't know he was playing, and he did not want to be a part of it. 

You turned to Sunghoon and continued to speak to him, ignoring Jaeyun’s sad expression as you laughed at whatever shitty joke Sunghoon had to offer. 

To say Jaeyun was a sensitive soul would be an understatement. His feelings were so easy to read because he never thought to hide them, and as much as he was bottling his anger as Sunghoon stroked your arm, he wasn’t hiding it well. You were getting dangerously close to Sunghoon, your chest was millimetres away from him, and your head was tilted up to look at him. When Sunghoon leans down as if he is going to kiss you, Jaeyun knows he has to do something.Sunghoon had a reputation and Jaeyun would be damned if he let you be a part of it.

He strides over and hugs you from behind not unlike before. Trying to keep his cool and not come off as jealous he nuzzles his face into your neck and whines, “Baby.” Dragging out the pet name was a tactic he’ll admit. He knew you couldn’t resist it. “Can I give you your present now?”

“Is it to leave me alone? Because I would love that.” You spat at him. As soon as you turned around to look at him you instantly regretted the words that escaped your lips. Jaeyun’s eyes were wide, his brain was working overtime, and his chest was moving heavily. The alcohol in your system was making you react in a completely opposite way to how you would have. If sober you was alert she would have comforted Jaeyun and given him a thousand kisses to apologise, but drunk you was in charge and she was dangerous. “I need you to stop being so clingy, it's embarrassing.” Stop talking you screamed at yourself, “Can’t you see I’m talking to someone?” For the love of god please shut up and apologise. 

“Oh.” Jaeyun nodded slowly. He has never gotten angry, not once since you’ve known him, at least not seriously, but right now you see a fire behind his eyes that makes you wonder if you’re seeing things. He pushed his tongue to the side of his mouth and looked down, letting out a half scoff half laugh.  “Hope you have fun fucking him.” Jaeyun glares at Sunghoon and with that, he leaves. You call his name but he pushes through the crowded people to escape through the front door. 

He hears you calling his name but he is too upset to answer you. Your hand grabs his wrist as you pull at him, “Babe, please.” You plead but he yanks his arm away and continues walking. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it.”

“Mean what? That I’m clingy? That you would rather speak to Sunghoon? That you think i would ever cheat on you?” His voice turns venomous towards the end and in that moment you realise what you’ve actually done. “Okay, yes I was late for your birthday, and believe me Y/N I am so fucking sorry. I tried to get away and I couldn’t. But you flirting with someone right in front of me? That’s a low i never expected.”

“Jaeyun I never-”

“Don’t fucking try it.” Jaeyun cuts you off. You have never seen him like this. “I’ll take anything you have to say to me, all the criticisms, but don’t you dare ever for a second think I would cheat on you.” Tears are forming in his eyes but he blinks them away and exhales slowly trying to regain some composure. He might have been upset with you but he couldn’t bare to shout at you. “Y/N, I can’t control what you do, or what you think, but you can’t fuck with me like that.”

He was right. You were flirting with another guy because you were mad at Jaeyun. It wasn’t fair to him. You stare at him and bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying. You want to hug him and kiss him and apologise but your body and brain were fueled by the substances consumed earlier. “You know what Jaeyun?” you started, “How am I supposed to know you aren’t going around with other people? Half of your football team were here on time but suddenly the coach only wants you to stay behind? Fucking funny that isn’t it?”

“I fucking love you, Y/N. That should be enough for you to understand I’m not screwing anyone behind your back. Do you not trust me? Have I done something that would make you not trust me?” His voice is angry but not raised. Jaeyun sees the hurt in your eyes at his temper and it almost makes him aplogise. Almost. What does he have to be sorry for? He said he was sorry for being late, it was you who blew this into a big deal.

You knew it too. You knew deep down he would never cheat on you, and he wouldn’t be late for your birthday unless something was holding him back. The alcohol that coursed through your veins wasn’t helping you be a reasonable person, however. You stood in silence, staring at Jaeyun. He scoffs. “You don’t trust me? Fine. You know what?” Jaeyun takes a gift-wrapped box from his jacket pocket and throws it with force on the ground at your feet. “Happy fucking birthday, Y/N. Hope Sunghoon gets you off better than I can.” 

Frozen, you watch him walk home angrily. Your first fight and it was over something so stupid, something you caused and could easily have been fixed. No, it wasn’t great that he was late, but it wasn’t worth losing him over.

You bend down to pick up the box and unwrap it. As you flip open the box you see a gold sun-shaped necklace with a rose quartz centre. It’s beautiful and it’s so obviously Jaeyun. You were his sunshine, his love, his everything, and he probably saved up for this necklace which was clearly handmade. The engraving was the date you first started school, the day you first met. 

You were an idiot. You had to make it right, you can’t lose him. Losing him would ruin you completely. Running as fast as you can in heels you try to catch up with him but he is nowhere to be found. You spend a good hour outside looking for him before making your way to his house. He had to be there by now.

As you stand before his front door you inhale a deep breath and chap the door vigorously. 

“Oh my days it’s like 2 am what do you want.” Jaeyun opens the door quickly, speaking before he has even seen you. His eyes fall on you, red-faced, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace, the dress is hiked up sitting just under your ass. “Y/N?” 

Bursting into tears you blabber out everything you have to say. “Jaeyun I am such an idiot, I am so sorry for ever thinking you would cheat. To be honest, I knew you would never, I was just drunk” You’ve started to sober up in between the running and crying, “You were late for my birthday and It honestly wasn’t even that big a deal, I was angry and stupid. I love you so much please don’t break up with me.” You rush the last few sentences in between sobs. 

Standing in the doorframe, Jaeyun’s eyes are soft, a smile gracing his lips - a complete opposite to how he was only a few hours ago. He hated how blown out this whole thing was. It took him coming home and showering to calm down and assess how undeep the situation truly was.

“Princess, I know.” He brings you in for a hug and squeezes you as if at any moment you could disappear. “I will never break up with you, my love.” A kiss to your forehead. “I’m not angry at you.” A kiss to your temple.”I’m sorry I was clingy” A kiss to your cheek. “I love you so much.” A kiss to your lips.

You pull away with wide eyes, “You aren’t clingy, I was an idiot. I love you, I want you to be clingy all the time. I love it. I was just mad you were late.” Jaeyun nods in understanding and bites his lip, a habit of his you’ve never been able to get over.

“I’m sorry I was late.” He stares at you with his forehead resting against yours. Your eyes are red and puffy, his show clear signs of crying too. You were both so scared to lose each other in this moment that no words were exchanged, just this stare.

He pulls you in for a kiss and grabs your waist as he brings you into his house. “Stay with me tonight.” He whispers, almost unmissable if you weren’t listening. You nod and keep kissing him. 

“I’m sorry, Jaeyun.” He shakes his head.

“No, don’t. Don’t keep apologising, we were both silly.” He looks down at your hands and notices the box that contains his birthday present to you. “Did you like it?” You’re confused at first but as your eyes follow his to where they are looking for you to answer.

“I love it, can you put it on me?” 

Without another word, he nods and brings you into his room. He quietly shuts the door trying not to alert his parents. Jaeyun was surprised at how they didn’t wake up with you banging at the door but he didn’t give it too much thought. “Turn around, Princess.”

Obediently you turn around and hand him the necklace. As he clasps the jewelry around your neck you shiver at the coldness of the gold. The coldness doesn’t last long as Jaeyun starts kissing your neck, his plump lips pressing softly. 

“Jaeyun,” You moan softly and turn to face him, “let me make it up to you.” Your hands trail down his body as you stop at his lower abdomen. It’s only now you realise he’s only wearing his black boxers. “I’ve been so horrible to you.” As you play with the lining of his underwear, Jaeyun throws his head back. He wants this, he really does. You’re beautiful all the time but there is something so ethereal about your lips around his cock. But you’re intoxicated and upset and he doesn’t want to take advantage of that.

“Baby, I don’t need you to do that.” Jaeyun’s heart is beating fast as you trace the outline of his cock. “Please, you’re drunk and I don’t want you to feel like you have to.” He’s trying to defuse this situation without hurting your feelings. What he isn’t aware of is that you aren’t listening to him, a hand trespasses his boxers and lightly strokes his cock making him mutter an almost inaudible ‘fuck.’

With a hand on him, you guide him to sit on the gaming chair in his room. “Relax, Jaeyun. I know how much you love my mouth.” He could come right there and then. You slide his boxers off, slapping his thigh so he will lift his bum off the chair. “I’ve missed your cock so much.”

Jaeyun laughs at that. “We literally fucked yesterday.” 

“Technically it was 2 days ago,” you point to the clock that reads 2.37 am, “and I didn’t even get the celebratory cliche birthday sex.” Pouting while you were down on your knees had Jaeyun’s head in meltdown mode. You were so beautiful, in spite of the tear-stained cheeks and mascara smudging, you looked so irresistible.

His hand comes to cup your cheek as his thumb wipes away the running makeup from your face, “You’re so lovely.” You smile and he mirrors you, “Lovely people deserve to get fucked on their birthday, yeah?” Jaeyun breathes out.

There it is, the Jaeyun you were waiting for, and the permission you needed to take his cock in your mouth. It caught him off guard and his hands instinctively moved to your hair. “Fuck, Princess you’re so beautiful like this.” He looks down at you with admiration and desire. You bob your head up and down, every time you come up you swirl your tongue around the tip, dipping into his slit every second time. You knew everything that made Jaeyun feel pleasure. Over the past few years, you’ve learned and memorised each other's bodies, likes and dislikes. You were convinced no one could ever know you the way Jaeyun does. 

A few weeks ago you walked in on Jaeyun jerking off to porn. He threw his phone away and apologised a million times. You’re not the type of girlfriend that has an issue with her boyfriend watching porn, you too have done it sometimes if he’s away for the weekend to football training. What you did notice though was that as you picked up the phone, the girl was giving very enthusiastic head, gagging as he fucked his cock into her mouth. You had never done anything like that before. Jaeyun always held back thrusting his hips up so as to not cause you pain or discomfort. But you wanted it.

So today, you were going to give him everything you got. Apologies can’t be half-arsed, right?

You smile and lift your bum from your feet so you’re hovering over his cock at a higher angle. Smirking, your eyes meet his and you take his full length in your mouth, gagging as the tip breaches the back of your throat.

“Baby be careful.” Jaeyun was always attentive, always caring, but right now you needed to see him lose control. You don’t come off his cock but rather sit with his dick in your mouth and swallow - a trick that wasn’t easy to master but you knew it would drive him crazy. “Fuck, Princess.” As he feels your throat close and pinch the tip of his dick he moans so loudly you’re scared his parents might hear him.

You work your mouth up and down his cock again, you pinch his thighs a little and his hips thrust up, slamming his cock into your throat again. “Shit, baby I’m sorry.” You simply moan trying to let him know that's what you want. You pinch him again and he gets the memo. “Oh? Does my love want me to fuck her pretty little mouth?” You’re dripping by this point and hum around him in acknowledgment. He leans down and pulls you off his cock. “Tell me you want it.” Jaeyun’s hand has your hair in a ponytail. 

“I want you to fuck my throat until I can’t speak anymore.” A groan leaves his body. You’re perfect, he doesn’t understand where you came from, or how you both exist in this lifetime together, but he is so thankful.

“If it gets too much just tap my leg three times okay, Baby? No matter what. If it hurts, if you need air, let me know.” Nodding your head and smiling you let out a weak okay and he kissed your lips. It's so tender and loving. You know you’re about to get a completely different Jaeyun in two seconds.

He squeezes your cheeks with his middle finger and thumb to get your mouth to open. His dick is red and frustrated, multiple veins protruding around the shaft. You’re starving for it. Placing his cock in your mouth you take him all in. 

Slowly thrusting you can see he is trying to be gentle so you meet his thrusts, sucking up and down. “My baby.” He breathlessly moans as he picks up the pace. His tip is battering against your throat and you love every second of it. You hum in pleasure around him as he pounds faster into your mouth. “Y/N you’re so fucking good to me, such a perfect girl. Always taking what I give you.” He moans and his thrusts become erratic, and sloppy as he gets closer to his high,

His grip is tighter on your hair and he yanks you off before he comes.

“Jaeyun what’s wrong?” Your voice is hoarse and it drives him crazy.

“I need to come inside you, Princess. You can call it another birthday present.” He kisses you and lifts you up with ease, his mouth never leaving yours. “Such a pretty dress,” he states as he lays you down on the bed, “As soon as I saw you in it I knew I had to fuck you while you wear it.” Jaeyun hikes up the dress so it sits above your hips, exposing your red underwear, his favourite. “All for me, yeah?” His fingers lightly graze your slit over the lace. 

“Everything is for you.” The loving confession makes his heart swell in his chest. He needs you so bad, and you know it. “Just fuck me Jaeyun.” Your eyes land on his cautious ones. He hasn’t prepped you yet, it’s already a struggle to make him fit when he’s stretched you open. “I can’t wait for your cock any longer.” Frustration is laced within your voice and your body is writhing for some attention.

Jaeyun takes a condom from his stash and slides it on. His sensitive tip colliding with the rubber makes him wince. He looks for lube but can’t find his usual tube. You look at him searching and take the opportunity to shuffle down, grab his cock, and guide it to your entrance.The shock plastered on his face is quickly switched out with one of pure lust. “Princess can’t wait huh?” You eagerly shake your head as you push him in. The stretch isn’t painful due to how turned on you are. Genuine wonder starts to invade your brain as you think back to any other time you’ve been this desperate. You haven’t.

“You’re the death of me, Y/N.” He moans as he bottoms out. 

“I need you to fuck me so bad, baby.” And who was he to deny you? His thrusts are sharp and pierce right through you. “Right there, baby, so so good.” Your encouraging words spur him on and he goes at a faster pace.

“Tell me I’m the only one.” He mutters as he kisses your neck. He was still feeling a little self-conscious after the whole Sunghoon incident. To think that you could be taken away by someone else makes his heartbreak, he needs the reassurance.

Bringing his head up and cupping his cheek you stare lovingly into his eyes, “You’ll always be the only one. I don’t want anyone else. I need you.” 

Jaeyun practically growls as he picks up the pace again. You’re trying not to moan loudly but he’s hitting all the right spots and it’s got you gasping. His hands are roaming your body, gripping and grasping at every part of you, the action will leave bruises and he’ll apologise in the morning but right now he just needs to feel you.

“Even if Sunghoon wanted you?” he asks quietly and you shake your head immediately. Never for a second would you even spare any time of day for the other, not when you had Jaeyun. You were going to have serious words with yourself once you’re done. You made Jaeyun feel insecure, you’re the reason he’s doubting himself like this.  

“He could never love me the way you do,” you bring your lips to his ear, “and he certainly couldn’t fuck me the way you do.” 

Pure fire and passion rise through Jaeyun’s body. His thrusts go harder and faster, he places your legs on his shoulders and drives in deeper. “You take me so well, Princess. I love you so much.” Jaeyun might have been fucking you like he was a man possessed but his kind and nurturing personality will always come through.

He was perfect.

You clench around him, “Jaeyun, babe, I’m so close.” Your nails are digging into his arms. 

“Me too, Baby.” he kisses you gently, “Come around my cock, show me how good I make you feel.” Jaeyun might be the sweetest man alive but he is still a man after all, always trying to get you to boost his ego. And you come around his cock hard, your chanting his name mixed with a few ‘fucks’ and ‘oh gods’ in there. 

Not letting up, Jaeyun is still pounding into you, “Good girl.” he mumbles into a kiss. It doesn’t take long before he’s spilling into the condom. “Fuck, Y/N.” His moans are loud and desperate as his hips still. “Fuck, Princess. So good.” He lazily kisses down your neck whispering sweet ‘I love yous’ and ‘You’re so perfect’. He wanted to revel in the moment, his cock was softening in your walls as his lips graze every inch of your skin. 

“I love you, Jaeyun.” He looks up at you with his big puppy eyes and all you can see is love held within them. You could cry. This is the man you’re going to spend the rest of your life with. You know it.

“I love you too, angel. So fucking much,” He kisses you deeply, “Let's never fight again.” Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you nod and continue to kiss him. “You’re it for me, Y/N.”

“Sim Jaeyun if you have a girl in here-” His dad barges in, ruining the moment between the both of you. Jaeyun jumps up and covers himself and you with a blanket. Mortified doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel. “Y/N? Is that you?” his dad questions trying to see your face which is hidden behind Jaeyun’s blanket.

“Hi, Mr.Sim” Your head pops up and shyly wave a hand. “How’s it going?” 

“Dad can you like, leave, please.” Jaeyun wants the world to swallow him whole. He has always been so careful not to get caught. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell his parents it was just that they would never let you stay over again if they knew he was fucking your brains out every time you stayed over. 

Mr. Sim runs a hand down his face and squeezes his eyes shut before wagging a finger between you and Jaeyun, “How long have you…how long has this been going on?”

“About two years.” Jaeyun shrugs and mumbles. He wasn’t going to say your 2 year anniversary was a pebble throwaway, he didn’t need specifics. “We’ve been dating for 2 years.”

“2 YEARS?” Mr. Sim’s eyes widened and his mouth slacked open. “2 years and you haven’t told us? You know we would never stop you from dating someone.” he scoffs, “2 fucking years and you didn’t tell us.” 

Your head is hanging low, Jaeyun notices your discomfort, he always does, and he reaches for your hand under the blanket and gives it a squeeze.

“Dad we didn’t mean to keep it a secret from you or mum. I’m sorry.”

“Me too, Mr. Sim.” You squeak out. 

“Don’t,” Jaeyun’s dad starts, “Don’t keep things like this from me again.” A smile crawls onto his face, “especially if it’s Y/N. You know she’s like the daughter I always wanted.” His eyes soften as he looks at you. 

You were so close to Jaeyun’s family after spending 3 years living between his house and yours. His parents knew your favourite foods, what made you tick, and how to cheer you up, they even invite you over on Christmas Eve for a pre-Christmas celebration. His family loved you, you were never scared of receiving their approval, deep down you knew you always had it. “Get some sleep. I’ll talk to your mum. And Y/N?” Your head shoots up, “Please tell your parents. I’m sure they’ll take it well.” He nods his head and leaves to go back to bed. 

Jaeyun turns to you and a roar of laughter erupts from him making you playfully smack his chest. “That was so embarrassing.” He wheezes. 

“I am never coming back here again.” You hide under his blanket, giggling. 

You spend the rest of the night cuddling Jaeyun, feeling complete bliss. When you woke up the next morning you received a text from your mum.

Mrs. Sim told me. Jake is NEVER allowed to sleep over again, do you hear me?

I’m happy for you both.

You smile and snuggle deeper into Jaeyun’s embrace. The sun lights up the room, landing perfectly on your boyfriend's face.

________

As your high school life was reaching its end you found yourself searching through college brochures and websites trying to find anything that sparked your interest. That was your problem, you weren’t interested in anything, not anything that you could make a career out of anyway. Jaeyun was what you were interested in if you had to be frank but considering he’s a broke almost 19-year-old you couldn’t exactly become his trophy wife, but god did you wish life was that easy sometimes? 

Jaeyun had applied for Apollo College situated in Busan. His dream was to become a mathematical physicist which has been his dream since he was like 10 years old. Honestly, his dedication and passion for the subject made you fall in love with him even more every time the boy would get so hyped when he spoke to you about it. Fair enough you found the subject so boring but something about the way he spoke about quantum theory or one of those old dudes that are plastered on his physics textbook made the subject come to life. He worked immensely hard to even get the grades to get into Apollo, and you couldn’t be more proud.

“What about applying for Apollo? They do some ND-level courses?” Jaeyun says as he scrolls through his phone. He has been trying to help you pick a college for over an hour in his bedroom. You both agreed Busan or somewhere close would be the best option since you both couldn’t imagine doing long distance. ‘It wouldn’t work, I would miss you too much.’ Jaeyun has pleaded when you were entertaining the idea of looking at some in Seoul.

“Babe I am not applying for a smarty pants college.” You laugh and reach for his face taking his glasses from his face. “Although,” You place the glasses on the bridge of your nose, “I would look good as a woman in STEM.” A smile creeps on your face as you seductively look over the frames of the glasses and see Jaeyun bite his lip. Never once has he uttered it out loud but he does have a thing for you in glasses, a fantasy of dressed in only them as he fucks you until they’re steaming up slithers into his mind more times than not.

“My girl looks good all the time, but STEM would make me want to wife you up right then and there.” Placing his phone down beside him he leans over until his face is mear centimeters from yours. 

You know what he was looking for, that face of lust painted so obviously and god did you want to give into him, he’s irresistible. But it had to wait and you unsubtly let him know by placing your pointer finger on the middle of his forehead and push him back. “Jaeyun, this is serious,” you say pouting looking back down to the laptop in front of you, “I need to find a college or else I’m gonna be stuck here in my parents’ house forever, and only see you like once a month or something.”

“Y/N, you’ll find something in Busan okay? And if not I’ll look somewhere else. My grades are good enough to get in anywhere.” It's a subtle brag but you know he’s right, he might be the smartest person you know in all fairness but that doesn’t mean he can just give up his dream school that he’s spent countless sleepless nights studying to get into. His effort to get into this school more than proved that him not going sounded like the most ridiculous thing in the world.

“I am not letting you drop your dream college because I’m too thick to even get into one measly college. It’s your dream I’m not letting you ruin your chances.” You half-joke before Jaeyun speaks up again. 

“You’re my dream, Y/N. I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go. I’d give up anything for you, you know that.” His serious expression makes you a little uncomfortable. Hearing him say he’d throw his aspirations for you hurt your heart and you didn’t know why. Maybe because you spent your relationship with him watching him work hard for opportunities to enhance his future and in a millisecond he would give it all up, and for someone like you? It seemed ludicrous.

“Jaeyun don’t say that,” discarding your laptop and shuffling towards him you put your hands on his shoulders and squeezed tightly, “I didn’t watch you need an IV drip from studying so hard just for you to throw it away.”

“I might not get in.” And you laugh, your hands loosening from his shoulders to cup his neck.

“You’re a shoe-in, baby.” A smile forms on Jaeyun’s lips at your encouragement. You always wondered why your boyfriend had such a hard time believing in his own abilities, if it was possible you wish he could see himself through your eyes, maybe then he’d understand how truly remarkable he is. “I’ll find a college, don’t worry.” Bopping his nose with yours you take the glasses off your face and place them on his nose. “Let's look at Yangsan-Si, it’s only 30 minutes away from Apollo. I think they have that independent college.”

Looking up at your laptop you feel Jaeyun’s puppy dog eyes on you and you turn around to see him still in the same position, “Babe? You okay?”

“I mean it, Y/N. Anything you want, I’ll do it. If colleges in Busan don’t work I’ll find somewhere else. Take up an apprenticeship or whatever.” 

“Jaeyun, it’ll be fine!” You try to lighten up the atmosphere but his face is stern and his body is tense. “What are you so scared of?” your voice is shallower than usual trying to read him but it seems impossible. 

“I don’t want you to leave me, and that’s what long-distance means right? We’ll keep up talking the first few weeks, then we’ll be too busy to talk every day so we Facetime for what? 30 minutes every weekend, then we just stop talking altogether and turn to texting because it’s easier. You’ll find someone less clingy, more handsome, he’ll be there to give you attention and we’ll break up. I can’t watch that happen.” 

Smiling sadly you try to hide the burning feeling in your chest as you watch Jaeyun’s mind scramble and come up with this whole plot point you didn’t even think was an option. Does he think about you both not working out often? You etch forward and take his hands. “Jaeyun,” you say waiting for him to look at you before you continue, his watery eyes slowly look up, “I will find a college near Busan. I will be right beside you for as long as you want me. And we will never break up okay? You don’t have to worry about it.”

Deep down you felt his concerns too. And with him saying all this, talking about how long distance wouldn’t work, it made you start to overthink with what ifs. But right now you had to convince Jaeyun everything would be fine, convincing yourself in the process. 

His nod lets you breathe a sigh of relief and kiss him lightly on his plumped lips. “I love you so much.” His words make you smile and kiss him a little longer this time.

“I love you too. Now come on and help me get into college. I need that big sexy brain of yours.” Jaeyun’s heaved-out laugh hits your ears and you both spend the night applying for random schools, easing his mind a little.

________

Rejection. Rejection. Rejection.

Opening the next email you sigh, another rejection, your 7th to be exact. It had been two months since you applied for colleges in Jaeyun’s bedroom and time was ticking. You had 5 weeks to get accepted at the earliest, thats when Jaeyun was set to move to Busan, when you were moving with him.

You could never forget the day he got the acceptance letter to Apollo. There was a rapid chap at your door causing your dad to whip the door open angrily, “Who the fuc- Oh, Jake. What’s the big rush?” Your dad calmed down as he saw Jaeyun and his cheesy grin on the other side of your front door.

“Is Y/N here? I need to see her.” His eyes shifted to the upstairs where he hoped you’d be.

“Go on up.” Your dad's head flicks back in the direction of your room. Without a second passing, Jaeyun is taking his shoes off and running up the stairs, missing a step each time. “Who is it?” your mum says to your dad as he laughs. “I think Jaeyun got into college.” Your parents were so proud. Jaeyun had opened your door in a flash and saw you at your desk studying for exams. He examined you; your hair tousled, baggy sweatpants, and the old football jersey he gave you after he won his first game of high school. “Beautiful,” he muttered loud enough to gain your attention.

“Jaeyun? What are you doing here? I thought I was meeting you later?” He strides over and extends his arms sharply, holding an envelope in his hands. The action made him look so young and innocent, like a toddler proudly handing their mum a drawing they did in the nursery. Gingerly you take the already torn envelope and withdraw a letter.

“Dear Mr. Sim,” you read out loud, “We have received an overwhelming amount of applications for the Mathematical Physics BSc Honours program. We are delighted to offer you a place…” You trail off, “Jaeyun, you got in?” Re-reading the letter you squeal and jump up to hug him, “This is amazing, baby. I’m so proud of you!” You exclaim. Genuine happiness is felt between the both of you and Jaeyun’s grip tightens around you. “You fucking did it.” You whisper as he pulls away. His face is brighter than you had ever seen, his future coming together like perfectly matched pieces in a puzzle. You envied him a lot in that moment.

Snapping out of your memory you mutter a ‘fuck’ as you lock your phone and make your way to class. Apparently, you weren’t good enough for Busan, or Yangsan-Si, or Gimhae. Nowhere wanted you. The prospect of not getting into college suddenly weighed down heavily on your shoulders. You had picked courses about things you enjoyed through school, or rather, got decent enough grades in but it wasn’t enough. There were two colleges left that you are impatiently awaiting replies from. One a mere 20 minutes away from Jaeyun and one 4 hours away on the outskirts of Pyeongchang. Obviously, you neglected to mention this choice but it was apparently the easiest one to get into and you didn’t really think every single other choice would reject you having confidence at least one would offer a conditional place. 

There is only one chance. 

Walking somberly into class you see Jaeyun wave you over, his chair turned from his desk to face his friends beside him. “Baby come here!” He shouts over to you gaining attention from the other people in your class. The thing about Jaeyun is that he wasn’t quiet about anything, especially your relationship to many of the girls in your class’ dismay. 

Smiling at him widely, your once dampened mood is now gone. He had a habit of being able to do that. You go to take the seat next to his friend Jay but before you can pull out the seat Jaeyun is pulling you onto his lap and circling his arms around your waist to situate you in a comfortable position. 

“You guys are disgusting.” Jay groaned but Jaeyun paid no mind to him, kissing the back of your shoulder and smiling, giddy at intimacy.

“It's a good thing you guys are going to college together, think my man here might die if he isn’t with you for more than 3 minutes.” Kai chimes in jokingly, slapping Jaeyun’s right shoulder lightly nearly hitting you in the process. That sinking feeling in your chest slowly bubbles its way back up. 

There is only one chance..

“Yeah, he wouldn’t last a day if you were long-distance.” Jay continued on to Heeseung’s statement.

There is only one chance. 

“As much as I love you all saying my relationship grosses you out,” You start to stand up and remove Jaeyun’s hands, “I need to pee before class starts.” Hiding your discomfort from the conversation you press your lips to Jaeyun’s, “I’ll be back in a minute.” His hand trails down your arm and squeezes your hand.

Quickly you walk out of class and head to the bathroom to compose yourself. It’s not that you don’t think long distance could work for you, it's that you know long distance won’t work for him. All the previous conversations swirled in your head mixed with your doubts. 

A ping echoes in the empty bathroom and scramble to unlock your phone. You view the notification as it reads Mail: Offer Update: Kyungsung University. Your heart is in your throat as you read the outcome.

Rejection.

There is no more chances. Shit. You’re gonna lose him. The mirror before you shows the shell of a girl who just lost everything she loves in the space of a minute. Eyes red, lips trembling, a sob escaping your throat, you were crushed. I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go. I’d give up anything for you. Those were his words a few months ago with the weight of his intent still heavy. He would give it all up for you and that was a hard burden to live with. 

Another ping comes from your phone and you squeeze your eyes shut to get rid of the tears that blurred your vision. Mail: Offer Update: Avanti College.

Your eyes widen quickly opening the email.

Dear Miss L/N,

We have received your application. With much consideration, we would be delighted to offer you a place at Avanti College for the studies of Film and Media. As you would be aware our school terms start earlier than others, thus, we have sent you a link to our module assigning system for you to quickly choose your classes. These are filling up and you should confirm these as soon as possible.

We look forward to seeing you next month.

Yours Sincerely,

Mr. Suh Kyung Min

Head of Recruitment. 

You smile brightly as you read the email over and over again. You got in. Granted, film studies was the only course at this college with spaces left, but if you weren’t thinking about that, you could learn to love it. It was also 4 hours away from Busan. 4 hours away from the love of your life. Your shoulders sink down and the smiles fades from your face. 

You had two choices; tell him you didn’t get into college and have him drop out of his dream university, ruin his future, all for you, or, don’t tell him and go to college, leave Jaeyun without an explanation so he doesn’t destroy everything he’s worked for. That would mean leaving your family and friends behind too because they would cave in and tell Jaeyun where you went. If you just left without a trace he would have no choice but to go and live his future the way he was supposed to. 

The second option feels right. There is no way you are going to be the one to leave Jaeyun’s future desolate, you couldn’t offer him a future better than the one he had already set out for him. So you just won’t tell him. Did his happiness and future mean more to you than your own? Absolutely. And fuck did that stab you in the heart. 

Looking back in the mirror your eyes are drooping, depressed, void of any happiness you register now you have another choice; make this the best few weeks with Jaeyun, or slowly break away to make the situation easier on you both. Deep down you knew even if you stayed away during this period he would find a way to see you, so you accepted it, giving your undivided attention to him just as you have all these years. Give him all the love you have.

3 weeks. You have 3 weeks before you’re away to live a completely new life. You have to remind yourself why you’re doing this, why you’re hurting yourself by leaving your only love. It was for him, all of it. 

_______

Two weeks until you leave for Pyeongchang and you’ve gotten good at concealing any hurt you feel. Jaeyun kept asking if you heard anything from colleges but you just shrugged and changed the topic. He was getting suspicious but you just kept reassuring him there was still a month left and most of the colleges you applied for were clearance so they tend to do it last minute. 

With exams over and school finally ending the only logical solution was for your year to host a party. A BIG party. Now you all could legally drink it just meant more alcohol being brought and because the chances of you seeing any of these people again is practically zero, you really wanted to let your hair down. You spent most of these days in worry and dread that you didn’t just want to get wasted, you needed it. 

Ryujin and Yeji were on their way to pick you and Jaeyun up from his house - Yeji got stuck on DD duty after losing rock, paper, scissors and she won’t shut up about how unfair it is. Jaeyun was already dressed in his blue double denim outfit accessorised with a graphic white t-shirt, some old silver chains hanging from his black D&G belt, rings that you’ve felt on your throat more than once displayed on his fingers and a pearl necklace he got as a gift from Heeseung. His hair was bouncy and parted the way he liked it, with his forehead showing. Jaeyun was the most gorgeous boy you had ever seen and every day you noticed something different. Walking out of your bathroom you notice how his shoulders have gotten slightly broader.

“Have you been going to the gym?” You question nonchalantly as you fix your earrings, staring at him while he scrolls through his phone. He shrugs and continues with his eyes fixated on the phone. You huff, waiting for your boyfriend to notice you and the clear effort you made in your outfit. The gold two-piece you bought left little to the imagination and you felt so powerful and sexy in it. 

Dragging your tongue over your front teeth you walk behind him and rub your delicate hands on his shoulders. “You’ve gotten bigger, width-wise.” You flirt.

“Dunno must be all the extra lifting at work. Shits heavy.” He mumbles, liking pictures on Instagram as if you aren’t there. Usually, you would be offended but you learned that sometimes Jaeyun is just a little dense when it comes to attention. So you take matters into your own hands.

One of your hands never leaves his shoulder as you circle to his front, one leg hiking over so you can straddle his lap, head tilted as you wait for him to look at you. Finally, but not nearly as quickly as you want, he looks at you, his mouth open as his eyes trail up and down your body, absentmindedly locking his phone and throwing it not caring where it landed. “Fuck.”

You nod and smile coyly, biting your lip. “Do I look good?” Your fingers dance up his chest and wrap around his neck as you shift your weight slightly until you’re sitting right on his clothed dick. 

“Shit, Princess you look fucking ethereal,” Jaeyun says as his hands rub your arms until they find their way to your waist, “Do we have to go? I don’t want anyone else to see you like this.” He laughs and kisses your lips, his eyes looking up at you with adoration.

“Yes!” you exclaim, “I wanna get drunk and dance.” You shuffle off his lap and pull his hand so he’s standing. Instinctively, his arms circle around your waist. “Plus you get to tell everyone this,” you point to yourself, “is all yours.” Your boyfriend's eyes roll but he bites his lip, probably the sexiest habit he does. 

“Baby don’t tempt me, I’ll go into that party and put on a show so they know who you belong to,” You moan as his hands grab your ass, and his eyebrow quirks. “Oh? Do you like that idea? So I should just bend you over in the middle of it and fu-” Swiftly you clamp a hand over his mouth and laugh.

“Shut up. You know what I mean.” Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “You’re so horny all the time.” He shrugs again and takes your hand that’s placed over his mouth, kissing your palm before he intertwines your fingers with his. “We better head down and say goodbye to your parents.” Sauntering away he pulls you back and kisses you deeply taking your breath away. 

Jaeyun groans as he tastes your cherry lip oil, the same taste he’s had the pleasure of devouring for 3 years. Desperately his hand grabs your waist and pulls you closer. He can’t get enough of you and honestly, he doesn’t think he ever will.

“Jaeyun,” you whisper against his lips but he simply keeps kissing you, his tongue invading your mouth when you speak only making him crave you more. “Baby, we need to go,”

“No,” He whines and picks you up, your legs wrapped around his waist, “can’t wait to punch guys in the face for looking at you too long.” his voice whispers in between kisses and you throw your head back laughing. 

As your actions expose your neck he places kisses all over, focusing on a spot just above your freckle, a gasp escapes your lip. Jaeyun is sucking and biting at the spot and you realise what he’s doing and your eyes fly open, “Jaeyun!” you warn him but he keeps going and it feels too good to stop.

Pulling away he examines his work and smirks. A hickey. A big red soon to be deep black and purple hickey starts to appear on the base of your neck. “There.” He kisses it once and then proceeds to look in your eyes innocently. “Everyone will know you’re mine.”

Rushing to the mirror you see the red mark and sigh, half annoyed half amused. “What are you? 13?” A rumbled laugh comes from behind you. 

“Just possessive. Can’t have another Sunghoon situation now can I.” Jaeyun jokes but it makes you wince. You try to forget that birthday night as much as possible. “I can’t lose you. Not for anything.” His sweet words turn over in the acid of your stomach. You think about what you’re going to do just two weeks from now and you feel sick. You have to tell him, but you can’t. This is what’s best.

Putting on a facade you smile and kiss him on the cheek and walk by him. “That won’t happen, babe.” 

A honk from outside diverts both of your attention and you scurry downstairs, eagerly awaiting the party that lies ahead. 

Arriving at the party it’s already in full swing, classes from all over the city have come to celebrate the end of an era. Looking around at the dim lights, strobe effects, and some people making out in the corner you wonder if you were actually in a club rather than someone’s house.

“Who’s house is this?” You ask no one but Yeji turns around. “Kobayashi Daigo. Was in your class for like 2 years.” She laughs and shakes her head. In her mind, she knew she shouldn’t be surprised you don’t know him considering you only ever spoke to Jaeyun or your friends.

“I’ll get you a drink, baby, come on.” Jaeyun whispers lowly and guides you towards the kitchen, his hands on either side of your hips. There was something about his big hands on your waist that made your whole being melt and just follow anything he said. 

When you get to the kitchen you see a bottle of Tequila Rose with your name on it and as you pick it up there is a strong hand taking it from you. “Princess, you want a double?” Jaeyun takes the bottle and starts to pour his own and eyes you as he awaits your answer. 

“Double.” You smile mischievously as you watch the liquid pour into the glass. The pink drink is brimming to the top of a tall shot glass as you lift it to your lips, your eyes never leaving Jaeyuns’. “Cheers.”

“Cheers, baby girl.” He slams the shot on the worktop and then downs it, his Adam’s apple bobbing harshly as he swallows the soft shot. You can’t take your eyes off him as you swallow your drink.

“You’re so hot.” You murmur still looking into his eyes and he chuckles at your statement, pouring another shot.

“To us, to Busan, to forever.” He cheers and takes the shot of happiness, while you chug the shot down and it suddenly tastes bitter. You need about 15 of them to forget the man in front of you is the one you’re leaving. 

Suddenly it’s 3 hours later and you’re drunk, still aware, but are one drink away from hanxiety the next day. “Love, dance with me.” Jaeyun licks your ear and leads you to the middle of the living room which serves tonight as a dance floor. Pressing your body against his you start to dance to whatever pop song seems to be playing in the background, your hips swaying against him, your arse pressed to his groin and one hand reaching to the back of his head, the feeling of pure bliss overtaking you. 

You can feel his cock growing hard beneath you as you grind into him. You look up to him but his eyes are fixated on someone else at the other end of the room. Sunghoon. Internally you cringe thinking about what happened last time, and honestly, the black-haired boy has been nothing but respectful towards you after your birthday, but that doesn’t mean Jaeyun doesn’t feel his shoulders go rigid as he sees the attractive guy’s stare burn into you. Sunghoon's crush on you never left and Jaeyun was all too aware. He had to show Sunghoon you were his girl, so, Jaeyun’s hand slid down the front of you, his middle and forefinger dancing over your skin. “Jaeyun, what are you doing?”

No answer. But as his eyes fixate on the boys across from you, he smirks and slinks his fingers up your skirt, bypassing your underwear. A gasp suddenly leaves your lips as his fingertips ghost over your clit. “Jae…there are people around, let's go somewhere- '' A hard press to your core stops your sentence and you lose all sense of yourself, Jaeyun’s thumb now rubbing your nub. The music surrounding you is suddenly muted, and the air is too hot as two of his fingers invade your entrance hitting the spot that has your legs shaking. Jaeyun smirks as you try to hold your groan in, his eyes on a furious Sunghoon. It had been over a year but Jaeyun still liked to rub it into dear Sunghoon that he got the girl. “I’m serious, Jaeyun.” you whisper but his fingers only increase the pace, kissing your neck softly, tracing over his previous mark on occasion.

“You want me to stop, baby?” His voice is hoarse and mocking, and all you can let out is a moan, tossing your head back onto his shoulder, not caring if the whole party sees him touching you. His fingers move faster and with more urgency as he feels you clench around him. “Good girl.” thankfully the lights were so low and everyone was beyond obliterated due to the overconsumption of alcohol that no one was noticing, well, everyone but Sunghoon. “Come for me, Princess, show them it’s me that makes you feel this good.” His lips trace your ear as he picks up the pace, eager to get you off. His eyes are not leaving Sunghoons’. Your high comes crashing over you as his fingers hit your sweet spot and thumb traces your clit harshly, it takes every part of you not to moan like a common porn star. Sunghoon awkwardly coughs at the sight and turns away embarrassed and absolutely livid. 

You however are riding out your climax on your boyfriend’s fingers. “Fuck, Jaeyun.” you breathe out and he chuckles behind your ear, turning you around to face him.

“Good?”

“Fantastic.” You laugh until he sticks his fingers into your mouth, letting you taste your own release and you whimper, lapping his digits with your tongue. “So beautiful.” He whispers watching you.

This party was exactly what you needed.

________

Two days until you leave. There is an aching in your chest as you attend your job for the last time. It was a shitty convenience store job but you loved it deep down. The regulars, your boss, the people you worked with. You won’t miss the bright blue uniform though. You remember the day you told Jaeyun you got the job and he acted like you became the CEO of some high-end company. ‘My beautiful hard-working girl, I can’t even begin to describe the pride in my heart’ the memory of him picking you up and kissing you all over floods every inch of your body. The way he kissed you and the way his eyes sparkled as they bore into yours, that grin that was plastered on his face as he suggested congratulatory sex - he would use any excuse.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Jaeyun comes behind you wrapping his arms around you and his lips kissing your neck softly. You sink into him, his usual citrus with a woody undertone engulfs your senses. Biting your lip you try not to get caught up in this feeling. “Miss me?”

“Jaeyun I’m working,” Turning around you look into his big, shimmering eyes and suddenly regret everything you’ve been doing. To him, to yourself. He simply smiles and kisses you lovingly, one long everlasting kiss followed by small pecks, feeling his smile with each one. 

“You get off soon, just bail.” His plump pink lips trail down your jaw and land back on your neck. It's hard not to give in to him. 

“Baby, let me finish.” You pout and try to focus on stacking the shelves of the local mart. 

Jaeyun’s hands grip your hips harder leaning in to whisper in your ear, “I can make you finish if you want.” His teeth nip at your earlobe and you feel his smirk appearing. This boy will be the death of you. Jaeyun revels in the effect he has on you as he can almost hear your heart beating through your chest. He thinks only soulmates can notice minute things like that.

“I will attend to your every need when my shift is over, but for the next 20 minutes these cans of butter beans have my full attention.” He laughs and kisses you. 

“Butter beans…I love it when you talk dirty.” You slap his chest lightly and laugh. You’ll miss this. Maybe you should just tell him, to change your plans. You could find work in Busan surely. One look at him and you’d drop everything for him, hell, you were even planning to skip the end of your shift just so he could fuck you in his car. You needed him. That was the problem. You needed him, relied on him. 

Pushing the thoughts to the back of your mind you smile up at your puppy boyfriend and wrap your arms around his neck, “Sim Jaeyun you are the most infuriating person I have ever met.” 

The sun creeps in the shop windows and lights up his face as he smiles and pecks your lips. 

“You love me though.” He declares proudly, his teeth showing as he beams widely. 

“So much.” Too much. 

“Good, then hurry up and get this shift out the way so I can have you all to myself.” With that he kisses you, biting your bottom lip as he pulls away. Jaeyun finds you irresistable whenever he sees you and his heart bursts with pride that you are his. “I have a surprise for you.” His eyebrows raise cheekily as he bites his lip and he leaves the store in a hurry. He goes to double-check he has everything he needs.

While you were at work you had no idea Jaeyun was planning anything. 

Jaeyun phones Heeseung to check in and make sure everything is set up. Heesung doesn’t appreciate the interrogation considering the plan was actually his idea but he lets his best friend away with it considering this was a big deal for him.

“Yes Jake everything is set up, i followed your strict to-the-point plan exactly as.” Heeseung rolled his eyes affectionately over the phone. He loved Jaeyun so much, being the only one of his friends that left for college early was hard, but he came back when he could and he would be damned if he missed this.

“Thanks, mate. I owe you one. And the r-”

“In the glove compartment. I told you, everything is sorted.” Jaeyun exhales and checks the glove compartment to see the white box. It's prettily decorated in a pink bow with the edges dusted in silver glitter, “She’ll love it. You know she loves everything if it's got something to do with you.” Heeseung’s voice blares through the phone with endearment.

If there was one supporter of you and Jaeyun it was Heeseung. Every day he had to hear about you through Jaeyun, he felt like he was part of the relationship with you. He had to sit through Jaeyun describing every outfit you wore, every time you changed your perfume, and every new song you recommended because it reminded you of him, Heeseung has been through it all. "Jake, stop overthinking it, you guys are meant to be and if it doesn't then I don't believe in love" he laughs through the phone and Jaeyun joins him. It isn't a question in his mind if you're going to be with him forever, it's a fact.

"Shit, she's coming. Thanks again, mate." Jaeyun hangs up quickly, hiding the box in the pocket of his car door. You've changed into your usual jeans and t-shirt and to Jaeyun you look like the most beautiful being to ever roam the earth. "Hey, my love." 

"I wish you would have told me we were doing something, I would have brought nicer clothes with me." 

"You say that like aphrodite doesn't worship the ground you walk on even in jeans." Jaeyun passes off the comment nonchalantly but your heart flips within your chest. He had a way with words that no late teen should have the possession to have. Beautiful and gorgeous weren’t good enough adjectives for him to describe you, he always had to go a step further because to him you were worth more than compliments that are used on pets and under celebrities' Instagram posts. Even if he couldn’t fathom the right words to describe you he was still going to try his hardest to make you feel like the most exquisite human in the world.

As you buckle your seatbelt, face still flushed, you hear Jaeyun fiddling with the music. His car was a shitty little black 1998 honda civic he got for pennies from an uncle looking to make a quick quid. It was so old it didn’t have an aux but rather was graced with a cassette player. Jaeyun didn’t mind because it meant he could make cute mixtapes like in the old 2000s movies. One he even made for your road trip you took during Christmas break filled with all the songs that reminded him of you, most of them being love songs with the one accidental Hotel Room Service by Pitbull in there because he couldn’t figure out how to get it off. It soon became your song. 

“I think I’ve made the best mixtape of all time,” Jaeyun gloats as he wags the cassette tape between his fingers before slotting it in, “you will love it.” Jaeyun spent the good part of yesterday perfecting each song that went on it and always with you in mind. The first song that blared was ‘Love is All Around’ by Wetter. 

“My favourite song.” you mutter and look at him adoringly, noticing the smile creep onto his face clearly proud of himself. His hand clasps yours as he brings it to his lips and kisses it gently. 

“It’s slowly becoming my favourite too.” He turns to face you with love glazed over his eyes. You could cry right there. No one will ever love you as much as Jaeyun does. “You know they’re playing a show in Busan in the fall. If you want I’ll grab us tickets since we’ll be up there anyway.” His head turns to pay attention to the road, his hands not leaving yours as he moves the gear stick. Sickness submerges you and the colour rushes from your face. God, why are you doing this? This is so silly just tell him.

“Jaeyun I-”

“I’ll buy the tickets next pay. They’ve had tickets sat there for a while so I don’t think they’ll sell out within the two weeks.” He interrupts and in a way you’re thankful. Swallowing the lump in your throat you thank him and turn to look out the window, your hand still snug in his. Jaeyun notices how you’ve clammed up but he leaves it for now. He knows when to ask you if anything is wrong and it is not right now. 

The whole car journey takes about 32 minutes and Jaeyun held your hand and squeezed it intermittently for 31 of those minutes, that 1 other minute he used to take a few gulps of water. His mouth was dry from the anticipation, of going over everything he had planned in his head. It had to be perfect, you didn’t deserve anything less. 

“We’re here, Princess.” Jaeyun’s voice and the car coming to a stop pull you out of your thoughts and you smile softly at him. He puts a finger up indicating for you to wait as he gets out of the car and rushes round to your side to open the door, “Right this way.” One hand opened the door and the other elongated to point towards the grassy hill. Nothing was worse to you than walking up a hill but you’ll let it slide this once since your boyfriend has put so much effort into whatever this is.

Side-eyeing him you get out of the car trying not to fall which in your case happens far more often than you would like to admit, “Making me walk after a 6-hour shift should be criminal.” You say as a pout forms on your lips.

Jaeyun’s face however is beaming, “Ah see I knew you would complain about that,” He starts, “I’m going to carry you.” He kneels down in front of you with his back in your sight, “Hop on, baby.”

“You cannot be serious? Babe, you can’t possibly carry me up there.” His head turns and eyebrows furrowed as he stares at you with a look of confusion.

“Does my girlfriend not have any faith in her very strong and capable boyfriend?” One of his eyebrows raises as he scoffs seeing the look of disbelief written on your face. “Trust me,” he pats his back, “get on and have some faith in your man.” 

A genuine laugh erupts from you and you oblige with his instruction. Straddling his back you hook your legs around his waist as he hoists you up almost effortlessly, “Have you been working out?” you ask curiously. Lifting one arm and posing with it he says, “Babygirl I’ve been packing these guns since I was a kid, John Cena is jealous.” Placing your head on his shoulder you laugh and the sound fills his ears like music from angels. Jaeyun kisses your cheeks and points forward, “To the top!”

“To the top!” You mimic him and he goes forth. 

When you reach the top surprisingly with no stops, Jaeyun sets you down gently and you can see his arm veins popping from the tension of holding you up. They’re delicious and it’s the one thing you’ve never been able to get over about your boyfriend and he knows it. In school he’ll roll up his sleeves when he has the same class as you because he knows you’ll be staring, practically drooling over them. One time before coming over to yours he made sure they were protrusive, clenching and unclenching his fists and he was happy with the results of his endeavours, the night ending with you riding his fingers, gripping onto his arms desperate to feel his veins under your touch.

“Baby?” Jaeyun bends forward, his head tilted looking up at you, “you in there?” his hand waving in front of your face snaps you out of your memories as you smile and say a simple “Hmm?”

“I said ta-da!” He exclaims, hopping in his place and outstretching his arms. You follow his gesture and see fairy lights wrapped, or more so tangled, around two trees which illuminate the picnic blanket underneath, two baskets are situated on either side and a bouquet of flowers lies in the middle. You follow the trail of rose petals that lead up to the beautiful scene in front of you. No words can escape your mouth and Jaeyun starts to get nervous, rubbing the back of his neck and letting out a half laugh, half huff. “I know it’s cheesy and cliche but I remember you reading about it in one of your books and saying you loved the idea of a midnight picnic. I know it’s not midnight but-”

The touch of your lips on his cuts off his rambling explanation. Jaeyun’s hands settle upon your waist as he kisses you back sentimentally and with relief washing over his body. You liked it and that’s all that matters.

“Come on,” he pulls away and gives you his hand to take leading you up the petalled scattered path and you don’t take your eyes off him. Your heart is so full and it is breaking all at the same time, “I got you all your favourites; kimchi pancakes, tteokbokki,  some chicken and spinach samosas,” he continues listing everything he has prepared but you’re too infatuated by the boy who stand before you, his dark hair shorter than when you first met, the side parting of his bangs framing his matured face, those delectable lips that gave you so much pleasure over the years and whispers sweet nothings into your ears any chance he could. Your eyes travel down to his blue and white striped Ralf Lauren polo-necked jumper, he looked so beautiful, so unreal. He was yours, at least for now. 

“I love you, Jaeyun.” You blurt out not even meaning to, just pure raw emotion taking over your body. 

Jaeyun has heard you say it a thousand times but it doesn’t stop the hairs standing on his neck and the crimson flush kissing the tip of his cheeks. He noted the undertone was a little different this time, not like you didn’t mean it every time but that this confession was more purposeful than the others. He takes your hips into his hands and looks down at you. “I love you too, Y/N. So fucking much.” His heart swells so big he thinks it might rupture. The next kiss he gives you has you tearing up. It’s so amatory yet pure, he truly loves you and harbours deep feelings not even psychologists could explain, it was more than consummate love, it’s nothing that can be theorised and dissected. It's yours and it's his. And in 2 days you were giving it up. After pulling you down on the blanket Jaeyun starts to unpack the picnic baskets. The smell invades your nostrils and your mouth waters. Everything looks so good. 

Jaeyun notices the hearts in your eyes as you stare at the food. He has to thank Jay for cooking it all when he sees him next. His chopsticks pick up the tteokbokki and hover it in front of you, “Here, take a bite, baby girl.” and you wrap your mouth around the delectable food you know he didn’t make. Jaeyun couldn’t so much as cook a simple lasagne without burning it and setting off the fire alarm. Suddenly a laugh leaves your mouth and your boyfriend cocks his head, “What’s so funny?” Waving your hand dismissively in front of him. The image of him wafting a green and yellow dishtowel under the alarm to clear the smoke is imprinted in your brain. It was the first time he cooked for you, your 100-day anniversary dinner turned into his dad airing out the kitchen and giving a long lecture about how Jake needed life skills. “It’s nothing, I’m just happy.” you say honestly. You were so happy here with him.

He hums and you continue like this, eating and laughing under the twinkling lights. As the food diminishes his heartbeat gets louder, more rampant. The reason for this grand spectacle of a date finally showing its head. “Um, Y/N?” His voice is nervous and you put down your plate giving him your undivided attention. 

“Yeah?” Noticing the sweat start to collect on his forehead you start to get worried. Did he know? Was he about to confess that he knew your plan all along and he actually did all this to convince you to stay? Is he giving up everything for you? Or is it simply too warm on this May evening?

“Hoo okay so,” He starts and turns his whole body to face you, taking your smaller hands in his shaking ones. “I love you, so much, and uh, okay um,” Jaeyun had planned this whole speech with Heeseung playing you in the scenario, the elder threatening to put on a wig and some eyeliner, “I need to get into character!” he had proclaimed. 

Even after all this preparation he still wasn’t sure what to say to you, he forgot all his words as he looked at your golden hour-kissed face that was staring back at him. 

He inhales deeply and calms himself pushing out the air slowly. “I love you, and I have ever since that first day at school.” His eyes flicker down to the necklace he got you for your birthday and then meet your eyes once more, "you took the breath from my lungs and to be honest, every time I look at you I still forget how to breathe. I don't know if there is such a thing as soulmates or twin flames or even matches made in heaven but baby you're all of them to me. I curse the stars every night because they get admired for being so beautiful yet you're the brightest one in the universe, you're my sun, my moon, and all the stars. You deserve all the admiration they get and if I can spend the rest of my life looking at you and studying you like I'm some astronomer then I know I've lived my life well."

A pause, two hearts beating rapidly, enough love shared between you both it could probably initiate world peace. 

Jaeyun takes out the box from his pocket and gives it to you. His hands are shaking violently. "I want you to know I'm so serious about us, Y/N." Taking the box from his hands it's now your turn to shake. "Open it." he huffs out, head dizzy.

Peeling off the baby pink bow and lifting the lid you see two rings and two keys. The rings are small, and silver, and there is a mid-sized heart on it which contrasts the thin band. Glancing up Jaeyun scoots forward and takes the left ring out, "Before you freak out I'm not proposing," a half-hearted laugh leaves his mouth as he takes the ring between his thumb and his pointer finger, never taking his eyes off it, "This is my promise to you that from now until forever, I am yours. A pinky ring," he takes your left pinky and slides it on slowly, "until I can get you a wedding ring."

Tears are streaming down your face as you laugh at the adjusted lyrics he's managed to embed in his speech. The ring fits so perfectly on you. Jaeyun had them handmade and saved up every bit of his wages to get them. They were simple because at the end of the day, he's still only shy of 19 and hasn't exactly got cash streaming in but for you, it's more than enough. Enough to show his undying and devoted love to you. 

"And this," he picks up one of the keys, "is the key to our flat in Busan. I know we should be living in dorms but I struck a really good deal with a sweet landlady. Don't think I could go a day in this life without seeing you, and if we live together then I'll see you all the time." Jaeyun smiles sheepishly looking at the key as he places it in your now ring-cladded hand.

Don't think I could go a day in this life without seeing you.

The tears streaming down your face once ones of happiness are now overbearing with sadness. You were letting this almost too-perfect boy go, all for the fear of losing him in the long run. It didn't make sense but it was too late. Your mind made itself up. It was easier to leave him now and cut ties than watch him break away from you piece by piece. Surely that hurts more.

Fixing your gaze on the key you sob and Jaeyun starts to panic, "Baby listen if it’s all too fast we ca-" 

You forget how many times since you've been dating that you interrupt him just to kiss him but here you are for the nth time. You're cupping his neck as your thumbs situate themselves on his cheeks and he feels the cold ring against his skin, a small smile appearing. 

Your hands find their way to his shoulders and massage them lightly. Jaeyun doesn’t beg for any reassurance because in his mind this is enough. Your kisses and touch are enough of a yes for him. 

Jaeyun suddenly picks you up and carries you back down to the car. “I need to make love to you so bad but it won't be in a car.” His voice is disappointed but you knew Jaeyun wasn’t a big fan of fucking in the car. You’ve done it twice before but to him it didn't give him the space he needed to 'do you right'.

The car journey is filled with silent but desperate touches. Jaeyun is speeding to his home recklessly, all he is thinking about is you. He glances at the pinky ring and smiles; you are his, and he is undoubtedly yours. 

As he parks in his garage and you both make your way up the stairs you feel him pawing at you desperately. Jaeyun pushes you into his room, his lips on yours messily and needing. 

“Princess,” He groans as he feels your hand press against his groin, “you’re dangerous.” 

You laugh, the last genuine one you’ll let out for a while you think. This will be your last time with Jaeyun, you decided on the way to his home.

His hands grab the collar of his t-shirt and yank it off in a smooth motion, leaving his bare chest in your eye line, the hickeys you gave him last week faded but still scattered. Quickly, he bends slightly, gripping your ass tightly and picking you, his lips all over your face. He lets a quiet ‘so beautiful’ escape his mouth. 

“Jaeyun, fuck I need you.” He nods into your neck, gently putting you on the bed, his chest not leaving yours as he feels up and down your body. 

“I know, Princess, you’re gonna be a good girl, and wait though, yeah?” The arrogance in his voice just turns you on more, declaring that you’re his good girl in a huffed-out moan that gets him out of his trousers in record time. The button of your jeans is undone and he tugs them and your underwear off, leaving you bare. “All mine.” he whispers to himself as he kisses up the inner of your left thigh, lingering longer the closer he gets to your center. 

It’s so wet, desperate for his touch it’s like it’s crying for him. “You’re so wet baby, don’t even think I need to prep you.” He presses a butterfly kiss to your clit teasingly and you rapidly shake your head.

“No, Yunie, please.” You slip out the nickname that only seems to come out when your brain is so fogged in want that you can’t even say his name in full. His breath hits your sensitive spot when he chuckles at how desperate you are. 

His hands crawl up to the top of your thighs to hold them down and open as he nibbles gently at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Your hips push up, seeking his mouth where you need it most. Jaeyun presses soft warm kisses across your core before tracing his tongue slowly upwards. 

Your hands find their way to his hair, gripping harshly as you plead for more. Being the perfect boyfriend he is he complies, groaning softly as he feels your desperation in your fingers tugging his hair. “Tell me what you want, love. Tell me what you need.” His voice is low and husky, his tongue working you faster awaiting further instructions. 

“F-fingers. I want your fingers.” All sense of shame leaves your body every time he fucks you, not caring if you sound needy. 

His tongue slides over your clit, hearing your plea, then gently moves his right fourth and middle fingers up to your heat, circling your entrance. “These fingers?” His mocking tone causes you to groan in aggravation, just yearning for him to do it. He swiftly pushes them inside you, opening you up. He watches for your reactions to make sure it’s pleasant for you and by your open mouth and head thrown back, he’s okay to continue. They hook into you and move back and forth in a smooth and sensual rhythm, touching you the way you like it.

Feeling your walls contract he knows you’re close to the edge, “Gonna cum on my fingers baby? So soon?” He inserts another finger which only adds to the pleasure running through your veins, the stretch feels magical. 

You’re a moaning mess as he finds your sweet spot, thrusting harshly as he works it. “Let it all out, Princess. Show me how I’m making you feel.” His voice alone could send you tipping over, but it’s his tongue flicking your clit and sucking it that had you screaming his name loud enough for the whole house to hear. He doesn’t stop you, loving the sound of his name falling from your lips. “That’s it, angel, doing so good for me.” The three fingers continue inside you, helping you ride out your orgasm. 

Panting, you get up on your elbows and look down at him, his mouth glistening with your release. You stare at him a bit longer, mentally capturing the image and keeping it locked away for a day until you need it again. On a day he isn’t with you. Any day after tomorrow.

“You’re so hot when you cum like that. Like I’m the only one that can do that.” Jaeyun mumbles against your skin as he kisses from your thigh to your stomach. His mouth feels the vibration as you laugh and he looks up, puzzled.

“Jaeyun, you’re the only person I’ve had sex with, of course you’re the only one that can do that.” He looks down at your stomach and laughs with you. Before the next sentence makes you feel like you’re stomach is in knots.

“And I’ll always be the only one, until the day we die, you’re mine forever, Y/N.” It’s innocent on his part but you feel sick as his kisses return to your abdomen. He won't be the only one you touch and you won't be the only one to touch him. “You’re thinking about something,” He doesn’t look at you but lays kisses on your chest and neck until his eyes find yours, “Tell me.”

His iris’ bore into yours and you push down whatever thoughts you have, determined not to ruin your last night with him. “Just that I want you to fuck me.” The back of your hand strokes his cheek and a flip switches inside him that went from concern to lust. 

Grabbing a condom from your drawer he slips it on with earnestness. 

The head of his cock is suddenly at your pussy, sliding up and down. He slaps it a few times against your clit, his signature move and you can’t get enough of it. “Say please and I’ll think about it.” There he was, typical Jaeyun, but you knew he was just as needy as you were at this point.. As you let out a whispered ‘please’ he kisses you, his tip penetrating, “Good girl.”

A deep breath leaves him as your walls squeeze him. He’s slow and teasing, filling you up slowly at first until he can’t hold himself back and his thrusts become more urgent, determined to make you feel good. Your combined moans echo around the room as you both lose yourself in the moment of the intense act. 

Jaeyun’s left hand finds yours, clasping tightly as he fucks you hard. A loving smile plasters over his face when he looks down at your joined hands and feels your matching pinky rings sit next to each other, his love for you so evident, so pure, even in this lustful moment. His heart is filling with adoration for letting him be yours. Bringing your hand to his face he kisses your pinky tenderly. 

Your body is so overcome with love and emotion that you start to cry, crying over the love you have for him, the love you’ll lose. 

“Hey,” His voice a whisper as he stills in you, “Princess, are you okay? Did I hurt you?” The concern in his voice drifts through our ears and you move your head from side to side. 

“No baby,” He hasn’t hurt you, but you’re going to hurt him and it makes you cry harder. “I love you so much.” You sob and laugh knowing how ridiculous this looks on the surface. Jaeyun smiles adoringly at you, the hand that once held yours now wiping your tears away.

His lips kiss the apples of your cheeks to clean the last bit of wetness and sighs, “You had me worried, sweatheart.” He brushes your hair off your face and says, “I love you too. Till my last dying breath.” A sob leaves you again but Jaeyun’s soft thrusts bring you back. 

As his hips find the perfect rhythm again your worries leave you for the time being and focus on how good he is making you feel. “S-so good.” 

“Yeah?” The cocky face he has falls into a pleasured one as your cunt squeezes him tight, “Jesus fuck, Y/N, take me so well. Love you so much.” The way the raw emotion is pouring out of him you beg yourself to do something reckless.

“The c-condom.” You say breathlessly and he slows down, one of Jaeyun's eyes opens

 as he comes out of his aroused daze and mutters a ‘huh?’, “The condom, take it off.” His eyes shoot open and he stops again to your annoyance.

He re-adjusts himself, his hands placed at each side of your head. “I don’t think I heard you right.” Jaeyun was always cautious, always careful. Not once, despite his sometimes desperate need, has he ever fucked you without a condom. “You want me to fuck you without it?”

“I need to feel you.” His cock sits half in you making it easy when you slip off him, “I want to feel it all.” He leans in with his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged and his chest moving fast. “Please.”

Running a hand through his hair now perched on his knees above you he thinks about it. “You’re still taking the birth control?” He sees you nod and point to your desk where you keep all your medication. “Every day.”

He huffs and mutters, thinking about what consequences could come from this. 

“Fuck it.” 

You smile at him, grateful. If this was going to be the last time you had him, you needed to have him completely without barriers. He peels off the wet condom and throws it in the bin beside your desk before crawling forward back on top of you. “You sure?” Nodding you wait for him but he doesn’t move, “Use your words, Princess.” His hand holds your cheek as he awaits your verbal permission.

“I’m sure, Jaeyun. Fuck me.” It’s almost like the first time you had sex with him when you lost yourselves to each other, a new experience to share. Another first.

After your confirmation, he slowly enters you again and Jaeyun wishes he had done this sooner, feeling every bump of your walls cuddle his cock overwhelms him and he lets out a low groan, almost collapsing on top of you and cumming right there and then. 

You match his experience, feeling pleasure like never before. “Jaeyun…” You slip your hand down to circle your clit but he slaps it away, “Nu-uh, mine.” His possessive tone and his raw cock have you convulsing around him, two seconds from bliss. His middle finger rubs up side to side on your hard sensitive nub, exactly what you were going to do but better, and you cum for the second time, but this wave so hard that the breath is knocked from your lungs. 

Jaeyun doesn’t let up, feeling your raw pussy cumming around him only has him striving for release, the sooner the better. If he doesn’t cum soon he might get addicted and never let his dick have a rest. “That’s it, baby. So fucking beautiful when you cum on my dick like that.” His thrusts get sharper, more determined, and focused as his head falls back, “You’re so fucking perfect. Made for me, only me.” You cry out as he continues to rub your clit and pound into you, he’s overstimulating you but you don’t care, you need it. 

“Cum inside me baby, fill me up, please, please.” You grab his face and stare into his beautiful big eyes and he cums. So deep. So beautiful. You feel every drop coat your walls, giving you the feeling of utter bliss. His mewl is loud and his hips stutter inside you, continuing to spurt his seed like an ever-going fountain, he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop. 

“Fuck, Princess. Pussy is taking it so well.” Jaeyun’s kiss is welcomed on your lips as you smile, aware of the cum leaking past his cock inside you and onto the sheets. 

As you both regain composure and your eyes meet you both laugh loudly, his body weight falling on top of you. “You’re fucking incredible.” He kisses along your breasts for a while before easing his cock out of you, the sight of his white cum dripping from you almost makes him hard again. He is so pathetically in love with you, and this just made him wish the ring he gave you was an engagement one.

His hands reach out for yours as he stands up, “Come on, Princess, let me get you cleaned up.” You take his hand gladly but he abruptly lifts you bridal style and stares at you, “I’m so happy you’re mine.”

_____

The next morning you wake up with your boyfriend's naked body draped over you, his ring shining in the sunlight. This is it. You had one more day with him but after last night you couldn’t risk another second with him. Every inch of your body is saying your reasoning doesn’t make sense. If you were so in love you could make long-distance work. But you had made your bed so now it was time to wallow in it. 

Busan will have lots of pretty girls, far more spectacular and interesting than you will ever be. He’ll be fine. Deep down you know this will hurt him but Jaeyun is strong, he’ll get over it. 

Getting dressed quietly and stealing glances at his sleeping figure you hold in tears. You’re so stupid for this. You’re leaving the love of your life because you’re scared of losing him. 

Silently, you slip the ring off your pinky finger and place it on his dresser. The thought of leaving a note crosses your mind but as your boyfriend stirs you realise there is no time for that. You need to leave while you can.

As you sneak out the front door, the sun is shining but there is a bone-chilling breeze that cuts through you, you know it’s going to pour down later. Your phone vibrates with an email from your college. During the night you emailed to ask if your accommodation would be ready earlier and you presume this is the reply.

Mail: From: Avanti College RE: Housing Enquiry.

Dear Y/N L/N,

I am responding to your inquiry regarding accommodation. The room is available as of today, however, there is no concierge available to give you your keys. Your assigned roommate has been made aware of your occupancy and is expecting you today and will let you in. Please collect your accommodation key on the date previously arranged.

Kind Regards,

Cho Min Woo

Head of Accommodation and Living.

You let out a breath you never even realised you were holding. It’s now you against the world and a roommate you don’t know whether hates you for intruding early or couldn’t give two shits. Making your way home you start to run, you need to grab your bag, book a bus, and go. No looking back and definitely no overthinking. 

Thankfully you took the liberty of packing earlier in the week so you could make a mad dash out the door if needed but you still had to let someone know where you were going. The last thing you needed was your face being posted all over socials on missing persons blogs, they didn’t need to think you were dead. So when you enter your bedroom you grab a pen and pad that are sitting on your desk and scribble a note to your mum and dad. You don’t go into detail, just the basics saying you need a fresh start in a new city. You contemplate whether to include the college but they’d just drive up and drag you home, or worse, tell Jaeyun. 

As you sign the note with your name you’re holding your breath and tears. No more seeing this room, or your parents, or Ryujin, or Jaeyun. You fucked up so bad but you need to see this through. For your future. If you give up on your plan now you really don’t have a future and you’re stuck here, and to you, that is scarier.

_______

Incoming Call: My Love &lt;3

Missed Call (67) My Love &lt;3

Missed Call (34) Dad

Missed Call (23) Mum

You sigh and turn your music up. The bus is fully loaded as you managed to book one of the only two coaches leaving for Pyeongchang. Your hands are shaking as you click on the messages sent by Jaeyun.

07:30 am Princess, where are you? 

07:30 am Are you coming back to bed? xx

07:49 am Y/N I’m getting worried

07:52 am Pick up your phone baby please talk to me

07:52 am If I pushed you too far yesterday I’m sorry…

08:16 am Why are your parents saying you’ve left?

08:16 am Baby don’t do this

08:17 am What does your letter mean ‘I need a fresh start from everyone and everything’

08:17 am You aren’t leaving, right? You’re not leaving me, are you?

08:23 am Please please please

The messages continue down the same route until the very last few sent only minutes ago.

10:32 am I will search every part of this country until I find you

10:32 am You can’t expect me to just forget about you? Will you please answer your fucking phone?

10:34 am Y/N…I can’t make you answer me, or love me, but just know I love you and I’m sorry for whatever I did. I’m leaving for Busan in two weeks. Come home then and you won’t hear from me again. Don’t leave your parents like this baby they can’t lose you.

10:34 am I can’t lose you but if it's what you want…I’ll go.

A new message pops up on the phone from Jaeyun as your eyes are blurred with tears.

10:41 am: I love you, I won’t ever stop. My heart is yours, always. Until the sun stops shining.

You let out a sob so loud the whole bus turns to you. Putting a hand over your mouth you bow in apology and proceed to block everyone’s number, when you get to Pyeongchang you’ll get a new phone.

________

Jaeyun’s heart hasn’t stopped breaking since you left. He thought you were happy about your future together, all for you to have planned a whole other life without him. It hurts. Physically and emotionally he doesn’t have the courage to do anything but try and understand you. 

Did he read you wrong? Did he force this foreseeable life on you? Did you just not want him? It’s impossible for him to comprehend and it’s driving him crazy.

As he pulls up back to his house he sees Heeseung’s car in the driveway. He can’t deal with this right now. He loved Heeseung of course but he just wanted to go home and try and think through everything that had happened this morning. Sighing, Jaeyun makes his way up the stairs, ignoring his parent’s questions of ‘Where have you been?’

“Jake my man! Tell me how it went, you went radio silent last night, I’m presuming that meant it went well.” Heeseung says wiggling his eyebrows as Jaeyun walks into the bedroom, his head hung low to hide his swollen eyes. “Jake? You okay?” 

It’s a question he doesn’t know how to answer so instead he tilts his head back to stop the tears and exhales loudly. “Did-” Heeseung stands up and cautiously makes his way over to the younger, “did she not like it? What did she say?”

Jaeyun looks everywhere but Heeseung, his eyes hazed with tears and then he catches a glimpse of the ring on his table. Uncontrollable sobs leave him and Heeseung brings him forcefully into a hug. “She left.” 

The worry that was on Heeseung’s face quickly changed to astonishment. He was flabbergasted by Jaeyun’s statement. “Jake, what do you mean she left?” 

“Me, us, her family, she left everything behind.” The crying only got louder the more he spoke, muffled by his best friend’s chest as he nuzzled in further for comfort.

“Let me call her-”

“No use, she won't answer. She’s going straight to voicemail. Not even her mum can get a hold of her.” Jaeyun steps back and fetches the note from his jeans pocket and silently hands it to Heeseung. As Heeseung reads the letter, Jaeyun walks towards the ring and picks it up, anxiously biting his lip as he looks at it. His promise to you lying in the palm of his hand. Jaeyun starts to remember all the times he spoke about marrying you, even when people said young love doesn’t last you both just shut them out. A part of him wonders if they got in your head and he was too wrapped up in everything he didn’t notice, didn’t give you the reassurance you needed. But then, wasn’t this ring reassurance enough?

“What the actual fuck!” Heeseung exclaims, pulling Jaeyun out of his trance. “Jake…fuck, what the fuck is she thinking?” Somehow Heeseung is more angry than Jaeyun. He grips the letter tight and waves it in the air, “So she didn’t accept the ring?” The glint from the silver flashes in front of Heeseung as he stares with wide eyes.

“She accepted it. Last night went better than I could have imagined,” Jaeyun starts, “It was this morning she left.” A slow tear falls from his right eye as he finally makes eye contact with his best friend. “What did I do, Hee?”

Nothing. Heeseung knew the puppy-like boy had done nothing wrong. With two long strides, Heeseung pulls him back into a hug and almost crushes him with the pressure. Jaeyun liked hugs like this the most, ones that had intent and emotions. Heeseung was fuming and Jaeyun was breaking. Fire and Ice reacting to the same situation.

“You did fuck all wrong, Jake. I don’t get what's going through her head.” He huffs and pushes Jaeyun so he is arm's length away, his hands gripping his shoulders as he stares into his eyes, “You did everything right, she’s just-”

“Don’t. Don’t say anything about her okay? You don’t know her. She wouldn’t do this without a good reason.”

“And what? She couldn’t tell you what the reason was and instead pussied out and left? She should have told you she was leaving last night before she got your hopes up and accepted that ring, no?” Jaeyun knew Heeseung was right but his love for you was still as strong as ever so his instincts kicked in to defend you.

“Fuck you man you don’t get to speak about her like that. I might not understand it now but I don’t doubt in my mind she did it for a reason she thought was valid,” Jaeyun is pushing Heeseung out the door, his voice low, dangerous, “She wouldn’t have told me last night to protect my feelings.”

Heeseung looks his friend dead in the eye, a flame behind them Jaeyun hasn’t seen before. “Yeah? How are your feelings right now then? Do they feel protected?” Silence. The whole house is still as he scoffs and sticks his tongue in his cheek. “Think about that.” 

Heeseung storms out of the Sim residence and Jaeyun slams his door. How could Heeseung say that when he doesn’t even know the reasons behind your departure? Jaeyun is envious of him in reality. He wants to be that mad and get out all his feelings. But for now, he’ll wallow in this hurt for a few more days. Everything will come crashing once he leaves for Busan to your shared- 

His flat. 

[suddenly-stickmin]

COMMIIIICCCC I made based off a stick-dream I had a few nights ago!!! Couldn't get these scenes out of my mind. Rambles about the dream below!! VVV

The dream took place in this snowy area with an abandoned, old building [it kind of looked like a church??] being the only structure in sight. The camera followed Johnny, who was anxious and kept looking around the area. The sky was a saturated red, and black ashes fluttered in the air.

Then there was someone else the camera kept cutting to. This figure with a black cloak [though here, I made it red to suit the Vibes] that was looking for Rupert. In the actual dream, they found Rupert and stayed in the shadows, trying to reach out and grab him whenever they were close enough, but Rupert would just barely escape their grasp. This lead to them getting frustrated and storming off.

Here, however, I sorta cut that scene and instead see this as a: "This stick TRIED to look for Rupert, couldn't find him, so they stormed off."

In the dream, the stick finds Johnny.

"You promised me Rupert." They said, "You promised I could save him, but that hasn't happened."

The stick leaves, and Johnny follows behind. In the dream, they run into Dave, and just as Johnny's about to reunite with him, the cloaked stick grabs Dave by the throat and lifts him in the air. [For the comic though, I changed it up so they were already together. I liked drawing the expressions and interactions between the two here!]

Johnny grabs the stick's cloak and pulls on it. The stick looks down on him and says: "You don't want me to hurt him? You know who to bring me."

The dream ended with an up close shot of Johnny, his eyes wide as he tried to pray to the figure.

[poundingprincess]

Blushing and Beeps

Here’s another, much, much longer piece about a cardiophile couple below the cut! It might be slightly unrealistic because I don’t know if vital sign monitors actually have audio or not, but oh well!

Summary: a cardiophile woman who’s just had an operation (successful - we love fluff over here) and her cardiophile boyfriend enjoy how the vital signs monitor has an audible ECG. (Mostly fluffy, somewhat smutty? Nothing explicit.)

Ryan can tell when the anaesthesia has worn off because Jessie is no longer slurring her words, but the biggest giveaway is how her wide eyes dart back and forth between the vital sign monitor and her boyfriend’s face.

“You good, baby?” he chuckles, amused at how her eyeballs seem to be playing ping pong - up to the monitor containing her heart rate, blood oxygen saturation and respiratory rate on her left, then up to him sitting in the chair on her right.

“I didn’t- I didnt realise it was audible,” Jessie stammers, referring to the high pitched beep, beep, beep in time with each heartbeat.

“You were pretty out of it, but I didn’t expect it to affect your hearing too. You seemed to reply to me pretty fine.”

His eyes study her face - she’s avoiding his gaze, a telltale sign that she’s feeling shy. He fights the urge to smirk - it would be pure evil in how flustered she’s getting, right?

“Well,” he snorts, “not exactly fine, you were saying some weird things…”

“Shit,” she hisses, dropping her voice to a whisper, “I didn’t mention… you know, did I?”

He laughs, a little too loudly, then covers his mouth, not wanting to wake anyone.

“No, baby,” he smiles, leaning in towards her ear, “you didn’t mention your raging heartbeat kink.”

He pulls back, relishing the sight before him - a bright red paints her cheeks. Their gaze remains locked for half a dozen or so rapid beeps before he averts his eyes over to the monitor.

“85 BPM, huh?”

“Funny how you said it was my you-know-what,” she teases, “I haven’t looked at the number once.”

“Liar,” he scoffs, “now that you’re not preoccupied with your surgery worries, I’m sure you have space in that kinky little brain of yours to indulge while you can.”

Jessie realises he has a pretty good point - she wasn’t able to enjoy the ECG and the pulse oximeter earlier because she was so tense. But now the stakes are practically zero, so indulging in her cardiophilia kink would be a low risk, high reward activity. And a good way to relax.

But is it ethical? And how, exactly? It’s not like she can rub one out or fuck in the middle of a ward.

She glances down at her boyfriend’s crotch and is greeted by what’s at least a semi peeking through his sweatpants.

“Uh,” she giggles, “Ryan-”

“Don’t,” he groans, being the one to blush now, “I know.”

“Sooo, how come?”

“I-” he sighs, leaning in again, not wanting anyone to hear, “I promise you I wasn’t like this before. I couldn’t be, not when I was stressed - I promise that I am turned off as fuck when there’s a genuine medical reason as to why your heart is being monitored.”

“Trust me,” she smiles, feeling strangely relieved and even more fond of him (if that was possible), “I couldn’t be either. It’s funny how context plays a big part.”

“I think it’s because I know you’re okay now. Like you normally are when your heart’s the focus of my attention.”

She bites her lip. “I can’t lie, knowing that you can hear every beat right now is so fucking hot.”

“God,” he groans, and she shivers from his hot breath against her ear, “it is. It’s making me want to make it even faster.”

As if they’re both thinking the same thing - what effect did that have? - they glance at the monitor in unison.

83 BPM.

“I really wanna see a PVC on the ECG in live time,” she whispers, “but I don’t know if that’d set off the alarm.”

“Tr-”

Before he can agree that it might be risky, the curtain is pulled open by a too-cheery nurse.

“Jessie!” he smiles, “good to see you more alert. I’m just going to run some obs if that’s alright.”

Ryan flashes a discrete wink in her direction as the nurse reaches around his neck to retrieve his stethoscope. Stethoscopes have always been his girlfriend’s kryptonite.

“O-Okay.”

“Is that a Littman?” Ryan asks, moving his hands in front of him to cover his semi.

Fuck, Jessie thinks, I am going to kill him. His tone of voice would be perceived as innocent to anyone else, but only Jessie - just as intended - is able to hear the air of ‘I enjoy flustering you, my love’ that his question is laced with.

“Uhhh,” the nurse murmurs, turning over the bell (but thankfully not his face towards Ryan), “yeah, it is! Do you work in healthcare?”

“No,” he says, before a hearty laugh escapes his throat. “No, I, uh- it’s a cliché, right?”

“I mean, they’re the best of the best,” the nurse shrugs, “clear heart sounds are essential for diagnosing things like heart murmurs-”

He clears his throat, interrupting himself. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling. I forget that I can’t nerd out to people like you guys.”

“Yeah,” Jessie says shakily, forcing herself to laugh a little.

If only the poor nurse knew.

“Alright,” he sighs, “it looks like I can’t get this under your annoyingly long gown without the bottom being lifted up. Is that okay?”

Jessie nods, her tongue darting out of her mouth to wet her suddenly dry lips. She hikes up her gown to the middle of her torso, grateful that she’s wearing underwear - the only man who’d ever be allowed to listen to her heartbeat whilst she’s naked was not the one currently holding the stethoscope!

It takes everything in her to not whimper as the diaphragm touches her chest.

She wonders if the nurse can still hear the beeps of the vital signs monitor, then realises that both her and her boyfriend can hear just what he can, minus the lub-dubs of the valves. Knowing that they can both hear how fast her heart is racing makes her clit pulse.

Jessie looks at the nurse and prays he doesn’t see her eyes widening. When she realises he’s looking past her, she lets herself quickly look at the BPM displayed on the monitor.

85 BPM. Real cool, Jess, her inner monologue tuts.

Her eyes dart back over to her smirking boyfriend. As smug as he’s trying to appear right now, his cheeks are also flushed, which amuses her.

“Take a deep breath in for me and hold it, please.”

Jessie’s cheeks burn as she complies.

As she holds her breath, she can feel her heart beating harder against her chest. Against the diaphragm. Her clit throbs again - it’s all becoming too much for her, and she’s sinking into that sweet, fuzzy headspace of submission.

“And exhale for me.”

Her exhale is embarrassingly shaky, and she hopes it isn’t picked up on.

The nurse pulls the diaphragm away, and Jessie is reluctant to let herself relax. Surely he’s going to auscultate her chest throughly, or go to her back next, but he doesn’t.

“Sounds good,” he nods. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

The couple watch him put the stethoscope back around his neck and smile at them before walking out and closing the curtain again.

The second the curtain closes, Ryan stands and stares at Jessie in disbelief.

“I didn’t know “some obs” meant a brief listen to tricuspid before fucking off.”

“Ry!” she gasps. “Don’t be so rude.”

“I’m not!” he says, throwing his hands up in the air, “I’m just saying that I would’ve done a much better job at listening to you and making sure you were okay.”

The look in her boyfriend’s eyes - a stern gaze of lust and possessiveness - combined with his words makes Jessie swallow. She feels so small and protected right now.

“I know,” she whispers, as he walks towards the bed.

Ryan sits down on the bed and leans forward, brushing a few stray hairs behind Jessie’s ear. He leaves a long, gentle kiss on her cheek, then leans back and stares into her eyes.

“Listening to your heartbeat is a fucking privilege, Jess. It’s the thing that keeps you being you - my beautiful girl.”

Jessie can’t fight the smile that tugs at her lips in response to his affection.

“I know it’s silly, but I was worried while you were under. You know, like, what if you didn’t wake up or something.”

She giggles. “You know that’s rare, right?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “couldn’t help it though.”

A warm fondness fills Jessie’s chest - her boyfriend wasn’t usually one to be so lovey-dovey and vulnerable, so he must’ve really been worried.

It’s the worry that’s making him so affectionate… right? Surely not being able to hear every beat of his girlfriend’s heart?

Ryan places his hand in the centre of her torso, a hesitant look on his face. “Can I?”

She bites her lip. “You know it’ll probably make me… you know… right?”

“What?” he whispers, “horny?”

Jessie nods.

“Are you comfortable with being horny here? It’s totally okay and understandable if not.”

“Yeah,” she gasps, “I mean, I already, uh…”

She swallows and squeezes her eyes shut, suddenly shy and unable to finish her sentence.

“Awww,” Ryan laughs, “does being stethed really have that much of an effect on you?”

“Mhmmm,” Jessie squeaks, her eyes still closed.

Ryan taps in time with each beep of Jessie’s pounding heart against her sternum. “Can I move my hand up, love?”

Jessie frantically nods her head, and Ryan’s heart skips a beat at the view - his girlfriend looking utterly adorable and flustered, her cheeks bright red.

He drops his voice to a low, quiet rumble. “Use your words, princess.”

“P-Please,” she murmurs, “please feel my heart racing for you.”

Ryan beams at her, and wishes she could see how precious he thinks she is.

“Open your eyes, baby,” he coos as he places his hand over her left boob.

Jessie does, and is flooded with complete overwhelm that sends a warm pool of pleasure straight to her lower stomach.

Her boyfriend’s bright blue eyes filled with love, the rapid beeps of her heart rate filling the space between them, his hand placed firmly over her heart… it’s all so much, making her involuntarily whimper.

And then they both feel it - her heart stumbles against his hand.

If they weren’t so caught up in the moment, they would’ve heard it too - a very messy beep-beep, beep.

Their heads both immediately snap over to the continuous ECG on the monitor, and there it is - a tall peak followed by a pretty little dip in the graph, along with a reading of 90 BPM.

Jessie’s cheeks burn at the sight - she feels like she’s just been caught doing something utterly filthy. Her boyfriend just gave her a PVC, and there’s undeniable proof in front of them both.

And he’s going to milk this to tease her with forever.

“What was that, hmmm?” he teases.

“Oh, God,” Jessie groans, burying her head in her hands. “At least it didn’t cause some kind of sound like I was worried it would.”

“Nuh-uh,” Ryan says firmly, gently pulling her hands away from her face, “you’re going to look at me and tell me what that was.”

“You know what that was!” she whines. “You’re so evil!”

“I want to hear you say it,” he grins.

“PVC,” she huffs in a hurry, unable to make eye contact.

“I guess I’ll accept that,” he chuckles, “what caused it, huh?”

“I-I don’t know! I just feel so…”

“Exposed? Vulnerable? Observed?” Ryan offers, repositioning their hands into Jessie’s lap.

“All of those,” she breathes, “how’d you know?”

He can’t help but smile. “Because if I were you, I’d be feeling the exact same way. I’m fucking dying to get home and listen to her beat for me.”

“You kinda already can, though.”

“I can hear how fast she’s beating, but I can’t hear her.”

“Put your head on my chest?” Jessie asks.

“That’s an offer I’ll never refuse.”

Jessie shuffles to the right side and Ryan walks around the bed to lay on the left.

“I wish the monitor was on the other side,” he groans as he gets comfy, “I’d love to see the electrical activity as I listen.”

“I think we should buy a portable ECG,” Jessie muses. “Hey, watch the electrodes! You’re not supposed to even be in this bed.”

“Sorry, baby,” Ryan laughs, “I don’t know where to put my head. I kinda forgot about these because they were covered.”

Jessie pulls up her gown, making Ryan accidentally moan at the sight.

He clamps a hand over his mouth. “I hope no one heard that,” he grimaces.

“So… you like?” Jessie asks, her voice coming out smaller than she’d have liked - she was going for sexy, and ended up seeming timid instead.

“Fuck, baby,” Ryan breathes, “I love. Can I take a picture?”

“You can take a video if you want. Of all of this.”

Ryan jumps up from the bed and grabs his phone from the chair. He stands at the foot of Jessie’s bed and nods as he hits record.

Ryan walks over to the viral signs monitor.

“86 BPM,” he hums, “babygirl’s been loving this. We witnessed a PVC on this a minute ago too.”

His phone pans over to Jessie who doesn’t know what to do with her face or her hands. She settles for a wave.

“Pull up your gown, princess. Show me how pretty you look with the electrodes on your skin.”

Jessie complies, her clit throbbing at his praise.

“So gorgeous,” Ryan murmurs, “looks like we’ll be buying ourselves a portable ECG.”

He then pans his phone down to the outline of the boner in his sweatpants.

“I’ve been loving all of this too,” he says, dropping his voice to a whisper, “I wish we could listen to her heartbeat as she cums for me.”

Ryan locks his phone, throws it on the chair and climbs back into bed next to a speechless, blushing Jessie.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

Jessie gasps and nods, already breathless.

His hands cup her cheeks as he pulls her head towards his.

Jessie wishes she could focus on both the rapid beeping of her heart rate and how soft and warm his lips are, but the latter seems to be winning.

Ryan softly sucks on her lower lip, and Jessie gasps into his mouth.

“You like that, baby?” he murmurs against her lips.

“I’m so wet,” she whispers, “I need you so badly.”

“Not today, princess, I’m sorry,” he whispers back, “you have to be a good patient, don’t you?”

Jessie shivers at “good patient” - somehow it hits just as much as “good girl” does for her. Probably because she’s spent countless hours fantasising about Ryan being a pervy doctor who rewards his good cardiophile patients with lots of praise and attention on their hearts.

“Can we roleplay this? When we buy the portable ECG?” Jessie asks, eyes still closed and lips still touching Ryan’s.

“If you’re a good patient.”

“Fuck,” she breathes, “stop calling me that.”

“Why?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement, “will you have another PVC for me?”

“Maybe,” she giggles, before closing the distance again.

One of Ryan’s hands travels up to Jessie’s neck - a safe place to feel her pulse, since there’s no electrodes there. He pushes his pointer and middle finger against her carotid vein in classic fashion.

Jessie can’t help but whimper at how awfully clinical that, and all of this is.

Ryan pulls away and admires the mess he’s turned Jessie into - her parted lips slightly swollen, heavy breaths escaping them, and her eyes wide and desperate, screaming I need you.

“I’m not risking us getting caught,” he laughs, fondly. He glances over at the vital signs monitor and smiles.

“20 breaths a minute, huh? Do I really make you that breathless, baby?”

“I guess so,” Jessie pants, both loving and loathing his constant (and secretly successful) attempts at flustering her.

“Well, you know what I say - good girls get to breathe, so breathe for me, sweetheart.”

“I already am!” she laughs.

“No, no,” Ryan playfully tuts, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Look into my eyes and breathe when I tell you to, like a good girl.”

“Fine,” Jessie whines, squeezing her thighs together.

“Breathe in and keep looking at me,” he says.

Jessie complies, butterflies swarming in her stomach.

“And out.”

Jessie exhales, but Ryan tuts again.

“That was too quick of an exhale, my love. We want to slow your breathing down, don’t we? Try again.”

Jessie breathes in again and waits for Ryan’s instruction to breathe out, but it seems to be taking a while.

He has a cheeky grin on his face, almost testing his girlfriend’s ability to be obedient. The longer she’s holding her breath, the more prominent each of Jessie’s heartbeats are, which doesn’t help with her horniness.

“And breathe out.”

Jessie tries her best to exhale for as long as possible, but she really wants to complain, so she second she thinks she’d exhaled for long enough, she groans.

“Fucking hell, Ry, I’m not a swimmer! I can’t hold my breath for that long.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I was only messing with you, I like you alive and breathing, and you could’ve breathed whenever you wanted. But look, it worked.”

Jessie looks at her respiratory rate, which now reads 12 breaths a minute.

“Much better,” he says softly, “good girl. That heart rate is looking better now too - 68.”

“You know that talking about it makes it higher, right?”

Ryan can’t contain the massive, cheesy smile that stretches across his face at her cuteness. “I love you so fucking much.”

He never thought he’d find someone like him - someone with such a niché turn on. But he did, and she’s his, and she’s okay.

“I love you too,” Jessie purrs, “I wish you could always see just what you do to my heart.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Whose heart?” he jokingly asks.

“Oh, yeah,” Jessie giggles, “my bad. Your heart.”

Suddenly, the curtain opens again.

“What’s all this about hearts?” the nurse from earlier asks.

“Oh, you know,” Ryan says, trying to play it cool, “the usual romantic shit, nothing medical.”

The couple lock eyes, Jessie’s sending a silent plea of my heart rate’s about to go up if he steths me again and Ryan’s saying I hope you’re getting discharged.

[witerh]

01 HEADCANON! || boyfriend re2r!leon — car mechanic/ sfw

lunch — every day you visited him at work for him with lunch, knowing that he would always forget it early in the morning even with a reminder. Your carefully prepared food has always been praised for your cooking skills, proud of you for such delicious masterpieces.

You pass a warm container with food into his hands, watching as he opens it and the fragrant smell of food hits his nose, and his mouth is already full of drool. He eats casually and hastily, telling you about the differences between halogen headlights and xenon ones. His speech seems to be an endless stream of technical terms that only he can understand. You sit opposite, with a look full of tenderness and tenderness, watching him «purr».

No matter how much time passes, he remains as spontaneous and sincere as on the first day you met.

You reach out with a napkin to clean the food from his lips but his fingers wrap around yours and he does it himself: "You know, your lunches make my job more enjoyable." he quietly tells you kissing your cheek and thanks you for caring about him.

touches — his strong arms will lift you onto thе cold metal bumper while fingers soak into your thighs, gently massaging; he will lean closer to you until you feel his tickling breath on you. With Leon’s clumsy movements, the strap of your dress falls down, exposing your curved shoulder completely for his gaze. The redness on your face cannot be avoided while your hand is in a hurry to correct it, but it made him amuses. A small smirk played on his lips until his nose nuzzled into your neck; fleeting and unnoticeable kisses were left on your collarbones while you sighed and giggled. Lips tenderly press against your delicate skin, which you coat with cream every evening, making it so soft that you want to kiss it forever. A light squeak leaves your lips when he lays you down on the hood of a black BMW that the owner brought for repairs.

"Don't worry, we have plenty of time just for us", he coos for you, pointing with his gaze at the sign that was on the window: «Closed»

dirty clothes — Leon was not one of those who was very bothered by motor oil on the hands, because his white short sleeve tank top was completely saturated with this smell. Sometimes he could sneak up behind you and hug you; caress your waist through your polka dot dress. He was too tactile and he didn’t care whether his hands were dirty or not until you started to sulk at him for such an act.

“Well, it will wash off, princess", he smiled slightly, ignoring your words of anger, grabbing a rag and wiping the dirt from the motor oil off his hands. "Stop being offended, I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Every time he promises not to do this, but he forgets to wipe his hands, and you are always angry with him. Again soak the dress in washing powder in hopes and prayers to all the gods that it will wash off.

you and help for him — Tirelessly responsible and immensely passionate, he loved to delve into the depths of automotive mechanisms but sometimes he did not have enough hands for his work. A slight rustling sound came from under the car while he was working on the car that had been delivered recently while you were sitting on a wooden stool. He was a car repair shop worker, he invariably demonstrated his best sides and there should be no mistakes either.

"Princess, there's a tool next to the motor, see, right? Give it to me, please," his outstretched hand closer to you was waiting for the instrument.

bath time — "Princess, can you get me a new towel?" he shouted to you coming out of the bathroom. He didn't care about his naked position; there is not a drop of embarrassment in him. He rubs the back of his head with his hand, having already forgotten in the bathroom that his towel was in the trash because of being a victim of his wiping his hands at his job.

You always thought his muscular and tanned body was cute and now you embarrassedly covered your face with your hands, realizing that he was naked. The light stripes on his shoulders were due to wearing different T-shirts and tank tops. Light steam emanated from his hot body adding a little intimacy to it.

leon and cleanliness in the house — There are no spare parts or wrenches in the house because there is a garage for that. Everything is stored there, even cans of gasoline, just in case.Leon, with the liveliness and attention of a stock analyst, followed changes in gasoline prices, paying more attention to this than to his own well-being, and he did not even pay so much attention to important dates.

"Do you see? I put all the parts in the garage as I promised!”

"You're well done, honey."

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Absolute Submission to the Queen

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors.

Emma: *coughs, coughs*

Silvio: "Hey, what's wrong!?"

Silvio hurriedly approached me and placed his hand on my back.

Despite feeling guilty, I forcefully grabbed his shirt and pulled his handsome face closer.

Silvio: "!?"

Then I lightly kissed him, causing his face to turn bright red.

Even though it had been a while since we got engaged, it seemed he still wasn't used to being touched like this.

(I'm sorry, Prince Silvio.)

Emma: "If you don't do what I ask, I'll humiliate you even more."

Silvio: "You...!"

Emma: "Want me to help you change your clothes?"

I started unbuttoning his shirt, and he quickly distanced himself.

Silvio: "Fine, I’ll turn around, damn it."

Silvio: "But don't you dare stand up and change!"

His ears were still red as he turned away.

(..........)

(I might be able to tame him more than I thought.)

Silvio: "This profit margin is too low. We're overspending."

Merchant: "But the key to this business is to target the rich with high-quality..."

Silvio: "That market is already saturated by existing businesses. Investing in it won't lead anywhere."

(They're having a serious conversation, and yet...)

Silvio continued to examine the documents with one hand while readjusting his hold on me with the other.

(What the hell is even going on here!?)

He regularly hosted business negotiation meetings to invite promising entrepreneurs for business matchmaking.

However, I felt out of place in such a serious meeting, both physically and in terms of the surrounding gazes.

(Of course, I didn't want to interfere with his work, but I never expected him to carry me around like this instead of leaving me in the room.)

Even when I asked him to put me down, he flatly refused.

Seeing how worried he looked, I couldn't bring myself to refuse either, and as a result, I found myself in this embarrassing situation.

Silvio: "Emma, if there's something on your mind, just tell me."

After finishing the business meeting, our eyes met from a close distance.

Emma: "The current situation is what's bothering me the most."

Silvio: "You're still saying that?"

Silvio: "You injured your leg, so there's no helping it. Just stay quiet."

Emma: "Don't you get tired of carrying me like this?"

Silvio: "This is nothing."

Emma: "..........."

Silvio: "You look dissatisfied."

Emma: "You understand the reason, right?"

Silvio: "I dunno."

(I need to do something about this. Their stares are getting to me!)

I looked around, hoping to find something useful, and my eyes landed on the dishes laid out on the table.

(He's a bit of a shy one, so maybe...)

Emma: "Prince Silvio, I'm hungry."

Silvio: "Come to think of it, you didn't eat much this morning."

(I couldn't taste anything because you kept me on your lap the entire time.)

I swallowed the urge to say that and smiled.

Emma: "Could you please let me sit in that chair over there?"

Emma: "I'll sit still and behave."

Silvio: "Alright."

(He's surprisingly compliant.)

He quickly closed the distance and sat on the chair.

(Hm?)

I blinked in surprise when he suddenly placed me on his lap.

Silvio: "What do you want to eat?"

(Wait, wait, wait!)

Emma: "You're not planning to do the same thing as you did during breakfast, are you?"

Silvio: "Isn't that what Her Majesty the Queen desires?"

(Doesn't he realize people are watching!?)

(No, he's a tyrant, so maybe he doesn't care about being watched in the first place.)

Ignoring my frozen state, he skillfully cut up the seafood dish on the table and brought it to my mouth.

Silvio: "Here you go."

Emma: "I want to eat by myself."

Silvio: "Denied."

Emma: "I see."

(If that's the case, there's nothing I can do.)

I opened my mouth wide and let him feed me, deliberately brushing my tongue against his finger.

Silvio: "!?"

Emma: "It's delicious."

Silvio: ".........."

(I'm really sorry, but this is for my dignity.)

Emma: "What's wrong? Weren't you going to feed me?"

Emma: "Or have you decided to listen to my request?"

Emma: "A simple request to let me eat by myself."

Silvio: "You might actually have the Queen's talent in you."

Emma: "It's embarrassing to be praised by a tyrant."

Silvio: "Don't get embarrassed. Haah."

Exaggeratedly sighing, he sat up and gently helped me back into the chair.

Silvio: "This should be enough."

Emma: "Thank you."

When I received the plate handed to me, he looked at me with some dissatisfaction.

I felt like he would pounce on me the moment I put any strain on my legs.

(He really cares about me. He's just overly protective.)

I couldn't help but smile, and in response, he tousled my hair affectionately.

Even though it was a bit embarrassing, his care and concern made me happy.

Surrounding merchants: "..........."

I should have been concerned about how that scene looked to others, but I only heard the rumors a few days later.

Rio: "Damn it, I'm so jealous!"

Silvio: "Sorry about that."

Rio, frustrated, knelt on the floor and pounded his fist into the ground, leaving Silvio looking down at him in bewilderment.

Just like before, Silvio carried me with one arm.

Emma: "No, wait."

Emma: "Rio, what did you just say?"

Rio: "Are you making me say those cruel words to him again?"

Emma: "No, that's not it. Let me repeat."

Emma: "Did you just say Prince Silvio has completely become a dog tamed by me?"

Rio: "That's right. The merchants who were present at the last meeting are spreading the rumor that this flirt is your dog."

Rio: "Not just the merchants, even the servants in the castle are all saying the same thing, calling him a dog."

Rio: "But it's true, right? Lately, this guy has been clinging to you constantly, never leaving your side."

Rio: "He's been doing everything for you like a dog."

Rio: "I'm so jealous. I want to become your dog, too!"

Rio: "Hey, can I also become your pet?"

Silvio: "Idiot. I'm not generous enough to allow multiple pets."

Rio: "Stingy!"

Silvio: "Shut up! You better go do your official duties!"

Rio: "Don't get carried away just because you became Emma's dog!"

Silvio: "Stop barking, you damn dog!"

(...........)

(What should I do!? If Silvio continues to be ridiculed like this, I don't think I can tolerate it.)

Part 1╎Premium╎Epilogue╎Special Story

[twstthing]

[A quick change of clothes(kin).]

Minecraft Single Player! Yuu AU

Summary: Yuu(rmom) has a really weird concept of clothing, Deuce and Professor Crewel figure that out the hard way and witness transmutation.

In NRC, every student gets uniforms. It’s only natural that they get enough from their ever so kind headmage.

Crowley, the said headmage, gets Crewel to tailor a uniform for Yuu as a thank you for doing unintended and unpaid repairs for the Ramshackle dorm. The event was bound to come up, having enrolled them as a half-student alongside Grim. 

Making a uniform for a student isn’t as intensive as creating fashion pieces, however both are pieces of art that require the utmost focus and precision. What kind of professor, let alone MAN, would Divus Crewel be if he let himself slack on providing basic needs for a pup? At the very minimum, he swears upon himself to never stoop down to a level of air-headedness that his boss, unfortunately, has. 

To be honest, Crewel has been itching to get Prefect Yuu a new set of clothing for a while now. Ever since that pup landed in NRC, they have been nothing but trouble with an outfit that gives him one of the strongest eye sores he’s ever felt. A plain, loose cyan blue t-shirt with an equally saturated pair of indigo trousers that have no pockets. Not only is it poorly colored, it lacks function.

Perhaps the lack of function could be explained away with how the pup has their own magic storage, pulling stacks of items in and out of thin air with no strain. But those colors? Crewel is a cunning, logical man, but not everything can be reasoned with nor justified.

Additionally, Yuu(rmom) is due for a good shaving and trim. He’s not sure how the teenaged pup has a fully grown (and very well-styled) goatee, but perhaps it’s just genetics. 

Naturally, there are procedural steps to making a set of clothing for someone, and the first and foremost is to gather measurements. It is one of the faster paced processes, but key to executing all other parts. 

Crewel really should have expected that anything dealing with the new prefect would never go normally.

“Yuu, you need that uniform! I promise it doesn’t hurt at all, it’s actually kind of fun!”

Deuce is on his tiptoes in the Alchemy Laboratory, shouting like he is cooing a cat to come down the tree it ran up. In a sense, he is doing exactly that but the cat is actually a person with extra-stiff limbs and reality-altering powers beyond magic.

Said person looks down from their oak wood block tower, doing several impossibly fast 120 degree hip bends while swinging their arm. Deuce knows this version of gestures, recalling Riddle’s presentation on Yuu’s mannerisms with the assistance of Rook and Iida. If Yuu individually does several hip bends first and arm swings second, it indicates “I am here.” and something along the lines of a declaration depending on the context. 

In this context, Yuu is currently on-guard and firmly standing their ground which means Yuu does not want to do measurements.

Inwardly, Deuce gives himself a pat on the back for remembering all of that and reaching a conclusion. But there’s a slightly more pressing matter at hand that he does not have a method or conclusion to, and that is how to convince Yuu to get down from their tower and get their measurements done.

He’s done everything he could, really! 

Deuce truly thought that his cauldron summoning spell would work in knocking Yuu down to ground level, but the moment the cauldron made contact with Yuu you wanna know what happened? The cauldron DID hit Yuu, eliciting a very manly, “OOF!” from them as their body flashed red, but it didn’t even knock them down. After making contact with Yuu, it shrank into one of the pixelated slabs that Yuu creates and fell to the ground with a light clack.

Magic coercion didn’t work, and his words don’t seem to reach the Prefect’s head either.. Sure;

Turning to Professor Crewel, Deuce bows a into a straight 90 degree angle and shouts, “Professor! I apologize in advance for the.. Un- Uh, seemingly display I am about to do!”

Casting aside his blazer and rolling up his dress shirt sleeves, Deuce takes a deep breath. The oak block tower was 5 blocks high, which means it wasn’t unreasonably tall. A lot of things can be overcome so long as you just try to do it, that’s how Deuce learned he was particularly skilled at hurdling during club practice. Just like how he warmed up at practice, Deuce gives two experimental hops, remembering the feeling of how to make himself spring up.

Professor Crewel is no stranger to the reckless activity of teenage boys having been one himself, so his eyes widen as he realizes what Deuce is about to do. 

Three steps backwards and an inhale is all he needs to sprint straight to the oak block tower, and when the moment is just right—not too close, but not too far from the wall—he leaps once. Deuce reaches to just about 3/5ths of the tower, but he closes the gap between him and the top as his left foot pushes off of the tower and launches himself higher. 

Being face-to-face with Yuu wasn’t necessary so long as he could just get them down, so in the moment that Deuce reached his highest point his arms would shoot out to grab onto Yuu’s legs. Deuce can only smirk in triumph as he shouts, “Gotcha!”

From that point on, gravity could do the rest of the work as it pulled him and Yuu downwards. Deuce is completely ready for the fall, but Yuu seems even more flustered than him as their arms flail around and make the fall much more uncertain.

Though, it was only in that moment that Deuce realized he couldn’t make a stable landing when there is another body of weight that he’s holding onto. He can already feel a sore backache or a rolled ankle coming into play as he falls, but the expected pain does not come even after he squeezes his eyes shut.

Instead, he feels a gentle gust of wind below him, lowering him and Yuu close enough to the ground before completely dissipating and letting him land on his butt. The relief of having no injuries sustained is completely overwritten when he feels the piercing gaze of a very furious Professor Crewel towering about him.

“Yuurmom and Deuce Spade.” Crewel practically seethes out, “Both of you pups. Reckless, unruly behavior that would have gotten you both a nice trip to the nurse’s office. Not only will this be reported to your Housewarden, but I also expect a two-pager reflecting on your actions. Deuce Spade, you will write about the dangers of acting before thinking. Yuu, you will be writing about why listening to authority and following instruction is necessary.”

With a heavy sigh, Professor Crewel settles himself down before declaring, “Now bark if you understand my instructions!”

Deuce spends no time in shouting back, “Yes Professor!”, but Yuu remains silent much to his panic. Yuu’s face is just about as neutral as ever, though the slight crease in their eyebrows is indicative of their immense dissatisfaction with the situation. While Deuce really does want to consider his friend’s feelings here, he would really rather not face any more paperwork and reprimanding from Housewarden Riddle, so he jabs Yuu(rmom) with his elbow. 

Two beats of silence afterwards, Yuu utters out, “Yes.” much to Deuce’s relief. 

Professor Crewel lightly massages the crease between his eyebrows, muttering something along the lines of “stressful pups”. Not too shortly, he turns to Yuu and gestures to them, “Now let’s get your measurements done. I don’t know why you have such an aversion to removing your current clothing, but rest assured that the process will not take long and you can put them back on right afterwards.”

To that, Yuu(rmom) launches out of their seated position to stand and rapidly shakes their head, body following behind their head movements. 

Deuce inwardly sighs, ‘Now we’re back at square one.’

“Pup, is there some kind of connection you have with your clothes? Start speaking, because I am not a mind reader.” 

Yuu takes a moment, eyes scanning Deuce and the professor. It’s a bit jarring to Deuce to see Yuu express this much discomfort at anything. Asides from their overall lack of expression, they typically march to their own beat regardless of the situation. If Yuu(rmom) was 100% human like he and Ace were, perhaps they would be breaking out into a sweat. 

“.. I can’t remove my skin.”

“I don’t think clothes are skin, Yuu.” Deuce states without missing a beat. 

Shaking their head, Yuu replies, “Everyone wears skins.” They wave an arm at Deuce, gesturing to his current outfit, “That’s your skin.” then look down and wave an arm, referring to themselves, “This is my skin.”

Professor Crewel is looking up at the ceiling, hoping to find an answer to why he must explain what clothing is. Pushing past the frustration, he thinks to himself. 

Every day, Yuu shows up with the same set of eye-straining blue clothes. Despite how much farming and tussling they do, their clothes do not appear tattered or even remotely affected by the things its been put through. Even when doused in water, Yuu appeared as dry as sand. 

It doesn’t seem like they have a whole closet of the same clothing either, because Ramshackle’s plumbing bill falls much further below average. While it would be possible that the Prefect could just do their laundry by hand or with one of their otherworldly gadgets, Crewel highly doubts that their arms have the.. articulation, to properly wash clothes by hand. 

If he’s on the right track, Yuu’s current clothing might actually be attached to them.

Looking back down, Professor Crewel gazes at Yuu, “Pup, if I give you a uniform—no, a skin—will you be able to put it on?”

Yuu stares back at him, many figurative cogs turning and churning in contrast to their ultra-still body. They slowly turn their head down and up, which seems to be the closest they can get to doing a hesitant nod, letting Deuce and Professor Crewel sigh in relief. 

Deuce leans into Yuu’s space and nudges them, “See? It wasn’t THAT bad.”

From his own spatial storage, Crewel spins out the reference uniform he would have used after acquiring Yuu’s measurements. It is a men’s size large uniform, based on the speculated height of Yuu(rmom) who appears to be around the same height as the especially loud aide of Draconia. The blazer, vest, tie, dress shirt, and pants are folded into a crisp, square-like shape much to the pleasure of Yuu who draws closer to the stack of clothing. 

Crewel hands the clothes to Yuu, who manages to hold it upright without using their fingers at all. He remains straight-faced for professionalism, but Crewel wonders to himself when his brain will stop trying to make sense of the illogic that is Yuu(rmom).

And for a moment, Yuu simply stares at the uniform. The next, Yuu’s silhouette dissolves into pure static along with the jarring din of buzzing noise emitting from them. Deuce lets out a shout of shock that is ultimately drowned out by the noise of static, and both he and Deuce plug their ears to block out the cacophony. 

Professor Crewel still subconsciously tries to make some sense of what he’s seeing, and he sees the shifting silhouette of Prefect Yuu. It goes from the average four-limbed human that he’s familiar with, then phasing into a two-dimensional figuration of various rectangular shapes, and then a three-dimensional cubic rendition of the human body. 

As suddenly as it began, the static ends, and Yuu has returned to a human figure. The uniform is perfectly fitted on them and worn correctly, however something more significant changed with the Prefect.

Deuce exclaims it first, “Yuu! Your hair! YOU SHRANK??!! What the heck just happened??”

While Deuce furiously pats Yuu down for changes while asking a barrage of questions, Professor Crewel notes the most obvious changes to Yuu’s appearance.

The awful clothes are gone in place of the NRC uniform, Yuu’s goatee is completely gone, and their short-cut brown hair has been replaced with longer, green shaggy strands. Not only that, they gained a pair of eyebrows and had their rectangular eye sockets replaced with ones that aligned more closely with a normal eyeball. Though, it appears that the square-ness didn’t completely disappear with their pupils still square-shaped.

What concerned Professor Crewel the most was the change in build and physical age. Yuu(rmom) was taller than the average student, but now they’ve been reduced to a height similar to Ruggie Bucchi. Their previous muscle mass has also been reduced to that of the average teenager's, and their face has regained the kind of residual baby fat that students would have.

It was already known that Yuu(rmom) was not human based on their behavior and supernatural abilities, but they have literally shape-shifted into a first year NRC student which brings into question just exactly how old they are. Were they actually a 16-17 year old masquerading as a more mature person or are they a mature person who can change their appearance at will?

Though, it seems like malicious intentions don’t seem to be on Yuu’s mind considering their previous behavior on demanding farmland and an extreme desire to build cubic buildings. Additionally, behind their unwavering behavior lies a familiar sense of immaturity that blends right into the NRC population. 

It might not be a worry for now, but Crewel decides to store this information for the upcoming staff meeting in two days. 

Crewel lets out a loud “Ahem!”, drawing the immediate attention of Deuce and the now more human-looking Prefect Yuu. 

“Continue your celebrations after you two finish writing your reflections. I expect them to be done by tomorrow afternoon and on my desk before I begin teaching the third year pups.”

The reminder visibly knocks into Deuce as he drops his head down in mild shame, and displeasure is now visible on Yuu’s face as their new eyebrows slightly furrow.