#i see people i love and respect on her blog | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writerunnamed · 13 days

Text

note: This is something I've wanted to write for a while but I am well aware that not everyone will be into it. There are a few stories I want to tell that aren't the norm so I decided to start this nameless blog to tell them. I am not tagging anyone, if you find it then you find it. xo Joel(stepdad), significant age gap, female reader. 18+ legal, reader is 20 (warnings: pov sex, Joel spits on the 😸, boobie play, really inappropriate dirty talk, an unused sex toy [will make an appearance in another chapter], female masturbation, daddy kink, unfit parent) 5.6k word count

He takes up so much space, and it wasn’t just physically. He took up space emotionally, mentally. Mentally most of all. Your thoughts always drifted back to him. Cyclical. An elliptical pattern making him the top of every list you’d go through in your head. He seemed to know it too, in a stoic, quiet, largely unsettling way. Older, attractive men tended to do that.

It started during that in-between time, when summer, losing your job, and having to move back home pushed you to figure out what the fuck you actually wanted to do with your life seemed to come together like the planets aligning. The precipice of a turning point, a ticking clock counting down the days until your childhood bedroom would be turned into a gym, or an office, or a guest bedroom. The lukewarm welcome from your mother would ice over and you’d really have to get your shit together.

Your mother was what people who didn’t know her would call ‘a free spirit’, what you called her, was a fucking mess.

Your earliest memories consist of having to remind her to buy milk or to pay the bill because the electricity had turned off while watching cartoons in front of the tiny, living room tv. You’d had to remind her, in not so many words, that she was the mother, and you were the child.

To your friends, she was the cool mom. The party mom. Your house was the place to be because she didn’t ask questions, she left her cigarettes unattended and didn’t mind if a few went missing. She kept the bar cart stocked, even if there was nothing but flies in the cupboard and nothing but half-empty condiment bottles in the fridge. Your friends loved it.

She flirted with the boys your age, she gave sex tips to the girls.

You smiled when they congratulated you on having the cool mom, and when they all went home, you retreated and pretended to be happy.

Joel settled her down. Met her in a bar and moved in quick. He came into the picture when you were fifteen and you were almost sure he’d be just like the rest of the lovers she’d taken over the years. You’d given the whole thing six months. Half a year for him to see what a fucking disaster she was. Six months to be a fucking creep, to cheat or get cheated on.

The only differences you could clock at first were that he was self-employed, and marginally better looking than his predecessors.

He was firmer though, less malleable than the others she’d brought around, he seemed immune to her charms and that only inflamed her. It made her desperate for his approval and his attention. She would throw a tantrum, or play one of her mind games but he’d never rise to her bait. He was patient for the most part, until he hit his breaking point and his temper reared its head. A temper only she seemed to bring out in him.

To you, it was pathetic.

He didn’t try with you though, there was no flattery or strong hand, only a silent respect. In a sense, he treated you as the adult, and her as the child. It worked for you, if he’d expected you to call him dad he would have been laughed at mercilessly and he seemed to know this.

The disturbing part was his respect and his healthy avoidance of you worked its own kind of magic. It made him an enigma, made you curious as to what he got out of the whole thing. A home, sure. A woman who was obsessed with him, yes. Sex–yes. You heard it enough for it to turn your stomach. By the sounds of it, he knew what he was doing.

The thought sickened the healthy part of your brain. The other part though, the part flooding your body with hormones, making it come to life with curiously intense sexual feelings, that part wanted to know what it was he was so good at. How could he pull those sounds out of anyone? It was easier to imagine him with some faceless woman.

It was shameful to imagine yourself.

The thought–although enough to fuel a desperate journey of self-exploration–always filled you with an insurmountable guilt.

For those first few years you could barely look at him. Your mother took it as a healthy dose of teenage rebellion. That only aggravated you more. She never asked questions, never dug to see what the cause of your obvious distaste for her partner was about and so again, you retreated. He, however, kept to the outs of your path. He followed your lead, he let you control any and every part of all of your interactions. He didn’t ask questions. He kept the lights on. He kept the fridge full.

He burrowed his way in, whether you liked it or not.

When you turned eighteen, you moved out. He helped, did his ‘fatherly’ duties and moved you into the apartment, he urged your mother to take you on an extensive grocery trip, spoke to your landlord about the safety of the building. You supposed you should have been grateful, you should have said thank you, given him some sort of acknowledgement that you appreciated his help but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Instead you said your mumbling goodbyes, and promptly closed the door on them. Neither of them complained.

The euphoria of venturing out on your own had lost its shine depressingly quick. A string of chronically unserious boyfriends came and went, the rent climbed higher than you could keep up with, and while already living paycheck to paycheck, you lost your job. Your cellphone had taken the brunt of your frustration at having to call your mother, begging her to let you come back home while you got back on your feet a little more than two years after you’d left.

Your teeth gnawed at your lips, your fingernails dug into the skin around your cuticles in the attempt to keep your voice sweet and pleading, in the end it was his voice that you’d heard in the background, telling–no, commanding her to say yes. That he would be your champion twisted at your insides. Maybe a small, healthy part of you hoped he’d put up a fight, tell you that you were too old to be coming back home and that you had to figure it out on your own like an adult.

A healthy part of you hoped that he’d save you again, only from yourself. Hanging up with a heavy, resigned sigh, you set about starting the trek home, ignoring the swirling mess of annoyance, confusion, and perverse glee in your stomach.

The first few days were spent in a depressive episode, a seemingly inescapable loop of sleeping in late, leaving your room only when the house was empty to raid the kitchen for something to eat, scrolling mindlessly–blindly–on your phone and then staying up way too late only to do it all over again.

They didn’t bother you, but if the annoyed sighs and narrowed eyes from your mother were anything to go by, the talk was coming soon. After the third day of the cycle, you circumvent it and wake up early-ish to shower and dress in something other than ratty old sweats long forgotten by an ex you couldn’t quite remember.

You came down to find Joel sitting at the kitchen table. His eyes tracked the lines of you, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

Your heart leapt. He should have been at work by now.

“Good morning.” It came out croaky, your voice almost reluctant to come out.

“Mornin’.” His hair was slicked back, the gray almost sparkling in the golden light. You fiddled with the hem of your shirt. His eyes were so intense, you found yourself stuck in place, like a deer in headlights and that ever present, deep-seeded anger reared its head. It was irrational that he should frustrate you so much with his calm presence.

“Coffee’s fresh, if you want some.” He jut his chin out to the pot, lowering his eyes to his paper once more. Once his gaze had shifted, you found you could breathe again. You mumbled a thanks and moved to pour yourself a cup, thankful, if unsure why, to focus on something concrete instead of abstract self-reflection.

“Your mama’s gon’ be late tonight. I thought I could pick up a pizza on the way home.” He says it offhand and again, your heart races.

“Whatever.” You scrunch your face up in annoyance, it sounded like such a bullshit, teen response. He doesn’t comment on it, and that somehow makes it worse. You beat yourself about it as you root around in the fridge for the milk. The cereal you liked was in the top cupboard, and you’re not quite tall enough to reach it.

You heard his chair scoot back and then suddenly he’s there, beside you, pressed up tight. You follow the long line of his throat as he stares up, reaching the box with ease while one big, warm hand lands on your lower back. He smells like the laundry detergent your mother insists on buying mixed with something else. Manly, smoky, with coffee laced through. Your cunt clenches nonconsensually as he stands there and stares down at you, his whole front pressed against your side, his hand still holding your lower back. Your mouth hangs open, stupidly, and he raises an eyebrow again forcing something to kickstart deep in your gut.

“You okay there babygirl?” The endearment feels unwholesome.

It triggers something strange, strengthening the underlying conflict for him. There’s a lilt in his tone you don’t like, maybe because deep down you like it too much. Maybe you don’t want to admit that, or analyze anything about what the fuck is happening in your body. In your psyche.

“Yeah.” You step out of his bubble, barely managing not to trip over yourself in your haste to get away and put a healthy distance between you.

“Yes. Thank you.” You take a deep breath, pressing your lips together tight in what you hope to God is a neutral expression.

He lets out a bemused huff through his nose, a mischief in his eyes shining out at you that you’ve never seen directed at you. You’ve seen it used on your mom. You’ve seen her go giggly and flirty whenever he looked at her like that. A half-formed escape plan starts to form but he saves you from the need, he puts his things in the dishwasher, and nods his head in goodbye.

You practically hold your breath until you hear his truck rumble out of the driveway, and down the street.

You manage to avoid him for a few days, staying out late catching up with friends, or feigning a need for rest. You’ve convinced your mother that your days are now spent job hunting, and for the most part they are. You leave in the morning, avoiding any and all contact and you get home late, creeping up the stairs much like you did in your teens even though you’d really never needed to. Your mother never enforced a curfew, and when Joel joined the picture, he didn’t pry.

The luck didn’t last though, you got over-confident. He was sprawled out on the sofa, up uncharacteristically late one night when you padded through the house.

“You’re up late.” You quickly check the accusatory tone, “Don’t you have to get up early?” Better, it comes out more concerned than annoyed and he nods. He wore a threadbare t-shirt, the fabric of it having been through the wash too many times to keep its shape. Light, gray sweats were stretched almost obscenely tight over his spread thighs, pooling at his crotch from being shoved up by the couch.

“Couldn’t sleep. Come sit, we can watch some tv.” He pats the seat next to him and despite the deep desire to retreat into the Joel-free haven of your bedroom, you cannot seem to disobey him.

You settle beside him on the couch, a little further away than was necessary. He chuckles softly.

“I ain’t gonna bite you, girl. Not unless you ask nicely.”

You pretend you don’t hear it, choosing instead to compartmentalize whatever game he’s playing and stare at the screen. He flips through the channels, settling on one thing for a few minutes before moving to something else until he finds a movie that’s already close to midway. There’s an electricity in the air, something about him galvanizing the space between you, charging it enough to make the hairs on your arms stand on end. You frown to yourself, barely paying attention while fighting an increasingly confusing mental battle. Why is it so hard to be around him? Why does he inspire such scorn? Is it scorn at all?

You rub at your eyes, scrubbing your hands down your face in a feeble attempt to wipe the slate clean.

He’s just a man, a man your mother had chosen and for better or worse they seem to work. She is happy with him and he is seemingly happy with her, why then is it so hard to accept him for what he is? Something slithers around in your brain, something that laughs darkly, something pulsing through the network of thoughts and ideas that threatens to crack open your subconscious and throw it right in your face.

“Well now, ain’t that somethin’?” You pull your hands away from your face to see a very explicit scene playing out on the screen. Heat floods every inch of your body.

“Almost looks like she’s enjoyin’ herself.” He leaves it on, and you feel stuck, your body betraying you yet again to see the way the woman on screen moans wantonly while under a very handsome man. You let out a non-committal sound, teetering on the edge of madness. You scold yourself, you are an adult, an adult that has had sex before and this isn’t even real.

“Looks like fake bullshit to me.” The strength in your voice lends credence to the illusion that you aren’t affected. He laughs, calm and completely at ease and that only pulls the anger to the forefront again.

“They can’t show the real stuff on these channels. If it were real, he’d be doin’ what she needs.”

“And what’s that?” It comes out before you can stop it.

“Well,” He smiles to himself, winning a duel you hadn’t even known you were fighting.

“If it were real, he’d be pressin’ on her clit, he’d be makin’ sure she felt every inch of him and make her take his cock like a good girl.” You let out a heavy breath, half shocked, half grateful it wasn’t a whimper.

Warning bells go off in your head, just as a heartbeat starts in your cunt because you can see it. You can see him. His face twisted up in pleasure but cocky, his hips moving, his thumb dipped into your mouth and then swirling around your clit. He smiles at catching you looking at his hands and you want to yell at him. You want to smack him across the face and kick him in the balls for saying something like that to you, his partner's daughter, but you don’t.

Your body almost catapults you out of your seat. Barely unintelligible words come out, something about needing sleep, about being tired and then you hightailed it out of there like a bat out of hell.

The shower was cold enough to make your teeth chatter, but it did nothing to cool the heat blooming in your core and it was with a terrifying desperation that you ground against your fingers. The slick pooling at the mouth of your pussy was enough to feel even with the water washing everything away except your shame.

You bit your tongue to keep from moaning out the taboo and entirely inappropriate name you were dying to say out loud. His firm thighs spread on that couch filled your mind, the calloused, work-roughened hands you could practically feel on your hips, on your thighs. You could feel them holding and spreading your legs open so he could make you make those same noises you’d heard over the years. Make you take it like a good girl, his good girl.

You came with a shudder, sagging against the chilly tile. You warmed the water with a sigh, disappointed and ashamed with yourself, trying, and failing, to put the whole thing out of your mind.

You doubled down on avoiding him after that.

Your mother worked most of the time but when she was home, things were easier. He reverted to the healthy avoidance, the proverbial disinterest that she didn’t seem to have a problem with. You still heard them some nights, the bed creaking, throaty cries, deep grunts but now they haunted you in a different way. Now you heard his words on that couch and couldn’t help but picture all manner of unsavory things that both disgusted and thrilled you.

Being unemployed didn’t help. There was nothing to keep you out of the house most of the day, and there were only so many places that would accept you looking for a job in person.

There was only so much time you could spend with friends too, they had their own lives and jobs and relationships. Too busy to save you from unwanted free time.

Old habits resurface, and you retreat within yourself while pushing yourself harder. A job would fix things enough to help, you could save up enough money to leave for good and take yourself out of the equation.

The powers that be momentarily take pity on you, and after what seems like a lifetime's worth of job hunting you blessedly get a call back. It’s a part time job, but at this point beggars can’t exactly be choosers. It’s a steady, if insufficient source of income that hadn’t been available to you before. Determined, you buckle down, you channel every guidance counselor you’ve ever had and ace the fuck out of that interview.

It’s not taxing work, but you put your head down and focus with the hope that if you worked hard enough, if you made a good enough impression, made yourself indispensable they’d throw you enough shifts to make up a full time job.

It helps. Time spent away from the house, from your mothers dried up welcome, from Joel altogether genuinely helps. You feel a bit lighter, less guilty, less prone to imagine the unimaginable. You find comfort in the absence of self-imposed temptation. There is peace in the mindless work, in the life outside of the house that no longer feels like a home.

It's a double edged sword though, because at the end of every shift, the luck–the peace–runs out. If being at work and out of the house is a respite, returning home only thickens the tension. Time spent outside the house only sharpens the discomfort, clarifies the glaring wrongness of it all when you enter it at the end of the day. What it all is, you won’t name. That way madness lies. Issue is, with every interaction, with every chance encounter in the hallway, or living room, every second spent with him in the kitchen watching his lips touch the rim of his mug the thing inside grows. Parts of him fill the corners of your mind. The curve of his shoulders filling out the flannel shirts he favors. The fullness of his bottom lip when he purses them, something he does while squinting at the paper that you’re almost sure he isn’t aware of. His neck, his hands, the dimple in his cheek when he laughs at something really funny.

These things jump out, innocent as they may be, but other not so innocent things start to creep in. The bulge in his jeans is a mental mine, it lies in wait and every so often when you think you’ve avoided it, it detonates and you catch yourself staring, both ashamed and so inappropriately curious it eats away at you like acid.

What you needed was something to fill the emptiness, both emotionally and physically. So you did what any modern, adult woman would do; you bought a sex toy.

Nothing too crazy, or expensive. After perusing the site for a while you finally settled on a plain, non-threatening dildo. Nothing too big, nothing noisy, just something to be able to focus on, something to use while imagining someone giving you what you need. You ignored that dark thing inside that hissed his name, shooed it away and ordered the package for express delivery. With your mom constantly working, and Joel keeping to himself you figured it wouldn’t be an issue. Neither of them would question a package addressed to you.

You still aren’t sure whether or not you’d do it all over again had you known the Pandora’s box that little package would open.

You all but rushed home after work. All day, you’d imagined the relief that toy would bring. You imagined yourself using it in the shower, steam swirling as you took your pleasure. You imagined yourself laying in bed in the safety of the dark, setting a towel down on your chair and riding it to your heart's content.

Joel’s truck is in the driveway when you pull in, but it’s secondary to the excitement at the chance to sequester yourself with your new best friend and so when you walk into the house, you don’t give him much attention. Until he opens his mouth.

“You got a package today babygirl. I put it on your bed.” He sits on his spot on the sofa, a funny little smile on his face. A bad feeling swells in your chest, and you look up the stairs before meeting his eyes again.

“Thanks.” You drop your bag on the little bench near the front door, trying, and failing to keep the nervous feeling out of your voice. He nods, and you make your way up, stopping yourself from taking the stairs two at a time.

Ice flows through your veins when you see the package is open.

He’d opened your package, he knew what you’d bought.

Blood pounds in your ears as you stand there, limbs cold and numb at the realization that he saw it. He saw it. He opened it, and he placed it here, on the very place you fantasized about using it. Sweat beaded on your brow, the bottom of your stomach fell out of your ass as you stood there, barely feeling the soft, worn carpet under your feet.

“Little small, f’you ask me.” His voice at the mouth of your room made your head twist fast enough to hurt your neck. You hadn’t heard him follow you up the stairs, hadn’t heard him open your door and lean against the frame, arms crossed in haughty amusement.

“Why would you open my package?” You clutched at it, as though he could forget what he’d seen if you held it tightly enough.

“I didn’t open it on purpose, I’m expectin’ somethin’ and I didn’t read the name.” He pushes away from the door frame, making his way closer and it’s like the air thins as the space between you shrinks.

“I mean, I could tell you been frustrated, but this doesn’t seem like it’s gon’ help much.” He reaches out, and takes the package from you. You watch him do it, watch him, frozen as he plucks it from your hands and takes the toy out.

“This all you can take?” He holds it, contemptuously–pityingly.

You wanted to snatch it out of his hands, the dimming voice of reason urges you to push him out of your room and remind him that he needs to keep a healthy distance but you say nothing, you stand there, and watch him. He puts it all down on your dresser, before stepping a little closer, close enough for you to have to crane your neck up to look into his eyes.

“No boyfriends around to give you what you want?” His hand comes up, the tips of his fingers sliding across the apple of your cheek, slipping down until his thumb pressed against the cushion of your bottom lip.

“No one around to give you what you obviously need?” He steps a little closer, until your bodies meet. This is wrong, your mind screams it but your body is frozen under his eyes, under his touch. That part, the frozen part is cheering, it’s running victory laps as it floods your cunt with slick in preparation for something unholy.

That same, writhing, traitorous thing whispers that this is your chance, the house is empty and your body obeys. You look your fill, you take in the curve of his nose and the furrow in his brow. His eyes are black as a crow's wing, lust-blown and completely focused on your parted lips and your shallow panting.

Adrenaline spikes and you do something you cannot take back. You rise on your tip-toes and press your mouth to his.

He hums into it, smiling and once again you get that feeling that you’d made the exact move he’d expected you to. A vague, but fleeting inkling that you were just a pawn on his chessboard.

At any other time you would have stepped away and repented, ate yourself alive with guilt but his hands pulled you closer, his tongue swiped at the seam of your mouth and you opened up for him. That only made it all the more real, the taste of his tongue in your mouth, feeling his hands lower to hold onto your ass.

The rational part of you shrinks down to nothing, and that other part, the wrong part–it swells and preens under his hands. He pulls away, and embarrassingly, you chase his mouth in a daze.

“Oh honey, you’re just dyin’ for it aren’t you?” He herds you towards your tiny bed, the twin mattress that has been the stage for every taboo fantasy about this man, your stepfather. You shoo the word away with a shiver.

“It’s wrong-” You almost whisper, but you don’t push him away, you let him lay you down in that bed and he laughs.

“It is, isn't it?” He pulls at the hem of your shirt, you raise your arms for him and the picture of it is wrong, daddy taking off your clothes. The thought, the word, should disgust you but it only pulls your hands to him. You join in, and pull his shirt up and off, biting your lip at the broadness of him. You take in each freckle, the sprinkling of hair on his chest, the dip of his throat calling out for your tongue like a siren.

He presses his lips to yours again, licking into your mouth obscenely. Unseemly.

“You been wantin’ this for a long time, haven’t you babygirl?” He pulls your bra off, and the shock of cold air hardens your nipples. He bites his lip to see it, unable to stop himself from flattening his tongue against a hardened bud. A sound you’ve never let yourself make out loud in this room fills the space between you and that slithering thing luxuriates.

He moves, languidly, unhurried to the other breast and holds the plump of it in his big hand and sucks at the second bud, sucks as much of the peak as he can into his mouth, breathing through his nose while you slowly spiral into madness.

When he lets go, he presses a kiss to your nipple and his facial hair tickles your skin.

He pulls your leggings off along with your underwear in one go and the reality of it all hits you when the air hits your soaked core. That’s when the urge to put a stop to it is the clearest, when he kneels between your legs and spreads them wide, stares at the place where he’s already filled a million times in your mind. The place that’s drenched at the mere thought of him.

“Joel-” You start, but he pushes your legs up, folding you and then he lets a glob of spit fall from his mouth slowly, aiming it, a bullseye right on the lips of your cunt. It’s too much, too filthy and you let out a whimper.

“I think you wanna call me somethin’ else right now.” He undoes his belt and his jeans, keeping his eyes on where his saliva slides down over the open mouth of your cunt, down towards your asshole. He pulls his cock out and part of you shatters. Your eyes flit to the toy sitting on your dresser, your eyes flit to the open door of your bedroom.

“Don’t worry, your mama ain’t gonna be home for a while.” He smiles, conspiratorially. It's too real, it’s too hypnotic, seeing him there with his cock in his hand while your legs already ache from holding them up and open. He slides the blunt end of it through the mess he’s caused, through his spit and he groans at the sight of it.

Your heart races so hard to feel him there, that you see the pulse of it in your vision.

“Deep breath baby.” he warns before slipping inside the tight fist of your pussy, the size of him making you gasp. This is it, there’s no coming back from this and right now, with him seated deep, his groin pressed up tight and the tip of his cock kissing your womb you cannot even think of why you’d ever care.

This is where he's meant to be. This is where you need him.

“Oh baby, that’s so good huh?” He thrusts shallowly, pulling out a little more than halfway before shoving his hips forward again. You don’t really know how to form words, you don’t know how to take in what’s happening. This is Joel, your step-dad, fucking you in the bed you grew up in. One hand sits heavy on your shin, holding it, the other slides up and holds onto your breast.

“Look how fuckin’ wet this little pussy is for me,” he moans the words, “you like daddy fuckin’ you?” He thrusts harder and you moan despite the word hitting you in the stomach like a big drop on a rollercoaster. He shouldn’t say that, shouldn’t call himself that, not now.

“No-” it doesn’t come out like you mean it to, it sounds wrong, like a caress.

“No? But I think you do-” He leans forward, keeping his pace while pressing his chest to yours, his mouth all but lining up and despite your bullshit protest, you hitch your knees high on his ribs to make room because if he stopped you’d probably die.

“I think you want me to be your daddy, don’t you baby, it’s okay, I want to be.” He speeds up and the sounds between your legs are so wet, so filthy.

“You can say it, I want you to say it.” He holds himself up, his elbows caging in your skull and before you can complain or moan or cry he sticks his tongue down your throat again. Your hands finally join the fray and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him tight to you.

“Come on baby, say it for me, tell me how good daddy fucks you.” You moan, closing your eyes while your cunt floods him with wave after wave of slick, enough to drip down your ass and onto your bed, down his balls. Enough for it to soak the curls at the base of him.

“Look at me when I’m fuckin’ you honey.” His hips speed up and it's hard now, his thrusts making your bounce, hitting a part of you that toy would never touch in a million years.

You open your eyes, and look at him above you, sweat beading on his hairline. Never has he looked more fucking appealing than he does right then. The word is there, in your mouth and you know it’ll taste sweeter than anything in this world.

The wrong thing wins.

“Yes daddy.” You moan it, and the shameful thing sets off fireworks in your being, he smiles, and tucks his head into the damp crook of your neck, feeding his lovely filth right into your ear.

“That’s my babygirl, that’s it, fuck baby you take it better than your mama.” Something inside recoils at that, but something else, another facet of that fucked up thing inside rejoices.

“Let me hear you say it again, say it when you come.” He licks a hot stripe up your neck. His words are a filthy groan, something to tuck away for later.

He reaches down, pressing his thumb to your clit just like he said on that couch and you keen, the slip and the pressure enough to toss you over the edge with an almost painfully intense orgasm.

“I’m coming, daddy.” It’s a shuddering whisper as your cunt clenches around him.

He moves quickly, kneeling between your legs to pull out and then he’s stroking himself over your cunt. It’s still pulsing when he paints it in his come. You catch your breath as he tugs at himself a few more times, milking himself against you with a disturbingly familiar groan.

The fog clears altogether too quickly. The lights are too bright, you’re naked, and he’s still got his jeans around his thighs while the guilt creeps into your veins, replacing the euphoria.

What have I done? What have you made me do?

#joel miller #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel x you #joel x y/n #pedro pascal #tw stepdad #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #unseemly #tlou #tlou fanfiction

786 notes · View notes

flawseer · 10 days

Note

In your last ask, you mentioned misgivings with Book 10's ending, and especially how it pertains to Winter. I absolutely agree, and I know why, but I wanna hear your thoughts on it, too: What's up with Book 10?

The following is a (very long) examination of my personal feelings with regards to the WoF second story arc finale. While it is based on what is in the text, this analysis will be interpretive and fill in blanks with my own thoughts. Keep that in mind.

Hahhhh... okay. Since mentioning it in my last post I’ve gotten several requests to talk about my feelings regarding the second arc finale. There’s probably no way around it then.

If you haven’t read that last post (it was admittedly very long, and so will this one be), I talked briefly about why I didn’t like that part of the story. I have to warn you now, this will likely be the most negative and dour post in the history of this blog. In a few parts it will sound like I hate Wings of Fire, and I want to say now, while I still have the chance, that I don’t. I love this series, thinking about its setting and characters brings me joy.

I also—very emphatically—want to make it clear that I have no ill will against Tui T. Sutherland. I’ve looked around other people’s stuff a bit and there are a huge number of posts wishing violence upon her or threatening her for doing things to her series that people don’t agree with. That is NOT what I am doing here, shit like that is NOT okay! While I will be critical of her choices, I still respect her effort of bringing this vibrant, wonderful world of dragons to all of us.

Also, obligatory last disclaimer: If you liked the finale, that is okay. You are valid for feeling that way. I’m here to share my point of view, not to demand people agree with everything I say. Just be warned that you most likely won’t enjoy what I have to say. If you don’t think you can handle that kind of criticism, this is your guilt-free opportunity to stop reading.

Otherwise, let's get into it.

CW: Discussion of parental abuse, depression, disease, and extreme acts of violence.

In defense of the finale

Before I start to systematically disassemble this narrative and get lost in a quagmire of negativity, let’s talk a bit about the circumstances that brought forth this part of the story. The plot of this arc was a mess from the moment animus magic was unshackled from the restrictions it had in the first arc, and from then on there was no longer any conceivable way to end this story in a clean way. Sutherland had created an invincible, unbeatable, omnipotent villain; he could read minds, see the future with perfect clarity, and anything he could imagine he could conjure into existence at any time with no cost to himself and no drawbacks. She was likely wracking her brain about how to resolve this impossible conundrum. What we got wasn’t good, but I believe nothing could have been. The foundation was rotting and by the fifth book it couldn’t bear the weight of the plot anymore.

The thing about animus magic in arc 2 is that it is so potent, so all-powerful, and so free of restraint that everyone who uses it also HAS to be a simpleton, or they would be able to break the plot immediately and become god. From the moment Darkstalker broke out of that mountain, he could have said “Any and all spells that are cast with the intention to harm me, interfere with my plans, or do something I don’t consent to will not work, from now on until forever”, and he would have instantly won. The strawberry would have fizzled out. The Darkstalker-blocking earrings would not have been created, and no one could have saved the Icewings. On the flipside, Turtle or Anemone could have said “I enchant the concept of animus magic itself to no longer obey Darkstalker”, and his threat would have been neutered. Point is, powers as potent and easy to use as this really need limitations, or they will quickly eat your plot alive.

I don’t envy the situation Sutherland was in at the time at all. If you’re an author, that kind of thing is a nightmare. It really is no wonder she decided to blow up animus magic for good in her next arc, even if I would have preferred it to get more healthy restrictions instead of killing it outright.

The Darkstalker age regression thing

Everyone has talked this part to death already, but if I am to write a thorough analysis of my feelings regarding this finale, I’m going to have to talk about it as well. I’m sorry if I end up repeating a lot of things you’ve already heard.

This final fate of Darkstalker, to have his memories wiped and be reset to an infant, is really uncomfortable. As far as I am aware, though correct me if I’m wrong, Sutherland said in an interview that she didn’t want Darkstalker to die because, in her view, he did not deserve to. We can debate here about the philosophical question of whether anyone is truly deserving of death, and the merits of “justice” and “punishment”, but in general, Wings of Fire did not seem to have any issues killing off its villains prior if they committed suitably terrible acts. That makes this moment stand out as noteworthy.

Who is Darkstalker then--and if we assume villains can be “deserving” and “not deserving” of death--what about him speaks in his favor, or against? The guy had a pretty crappy childhood, coming from a broken home (there is that inadequate parent theme again). He genuinely loved his sister and felt protective of her, and whenever he liked someone he wanted them to be happy and feel affirmed. The thing that Queen Diamond does to his mother is awful and he is justified in hating her for it. He is also portrayed as rather sympathetic in Moon Rising. When he asks Moon to find his scroll for him and not to leave him, he is not manipulating her, he is sincerely begging for her help. He is stuck somewhere underground, trapped in darkness, in a space so tiny that he can’t move. He remains that way for months, lonely and sad. If you just focus on these aspects, it’s easy to understand why he has so many fans who want him to see healthy and happy.

On the flipside, while he is dedicated to the happiness of his friends, he doesn’t always go for the most ethical way to achieve it. He tries to brainwash said friends without their consent whenever they exhibit behaviors he doesn’t like, or when he thinks he knows better and wants to “fix” them. He has very little regard for other people’s autonomy, lies to his loved ones with alarming frequency, and is unhealthily attached to the idea of power. Those things are certainly not good, but they are his character flaws. These are his demons; everyone has them and they make him a person. If this was all there was to it, he might still be a villain, but I’d argue he’d not be wholly irredeemable.

But there are things about him that take him beyond the pale. Things that go beyond the realm of just being misunderstood, or easily excusable.

He is possessive. He wants Clearsight and Fathom for himself, and for them to listen to him primarily. When Indigo makes it clear she doesn’t like him and cautions Fathom against trusting him, he deceives his friends and traps Indigo in a wood carving, just so he can isolate Fathom from his support network and manipulate him easier. He alters Clearsight’s mind to make her more agreeable and stop her from holding him accountable for his actions; while he thinks he loves her, he only loves an idealized version of her that is wholly devoted to and unquestioning of him. This is why, when he later forcibly overwrites Fierceteeth’s existence to recreate her (which is another horrific thing), he tries to excise the parts he finds undesirable to create a perfect version of his lover. But this caricature he has created in his head is not and can never be Clearsight, which frustrates his attempts.

He is vengeful. Not against people who have actually wronged him, like Queen Diamond. That would be questionable, but understandable. What makes this unacceptable is his frequent targeting of innocent people who just happen to be related to the person who wronged him in some esoteric way. He enchants a secret murder knife that kills random Icewings regardless of who they are or what they think about the Queen, just because the one who took his mother from him happened to share their tribe. He hates Turtle and wishes death upon him in Moon Rising just because he is a green Seawing, like Fathom was. And then there is the big one: He tries to kill all the Icewings who are alive in the present day, where Queen Diamond is long dead and none of them have ever even met her. Even his mother, who suffered from Diamond’s actions the most and has the most reason to hate her, is horrified and calls him out on that one.

And lastly, he is sadistic. He revels in torturing those he hates. He forces his father to disembowel himself, while the latter is fully aware and powerless to resist AND the man’s traumatized daughter is watching. Later he sends a magical plague to kill every single living Icewing sans one.

It should be noted that Darkstalker possesses virtually infinite magical power; whatever he declares, with very few exceptions, will happen. Even if he wanted them dead, he had the power to prevent unnecessary suffering. He could have said “Arctic, fall dead instantaneously”, or “Every Icewing will fall asleep and pass away peacefully,” but he didn’t. He wanted them to feel pain and pass away in the most wretched, agonizing ways he could imagine.

So what he chose to do instead is—and I want you to picture this for a moment—Darkstalker sat down, calmly, and said “Henceforth every living Icewing, excepting Prince Winter and those of hybrid blood, will fall ill with an incurable disease. This disease will cause heavy internal bleeding and make its victims cough up blood and waste away for a few days, followed by certain death.”

This spell does not discriminate with regards to who its victims are. The book glosses over the implications, but imagine the ramifications. Young children are notoriously frail, how many newborns got infected and died because of this? How many families were torn apart because they couldn’t get the magic earrings fast enough? Or accidentally got one earring less than there were family members and had to decide who has to die?

Most of the Icewings were physically cured by the earrings, but an experience like that sticks with you for the rest of your life. Somewhere surely, a dragonet watched as his mother put the earring on him and then slowly wasted away because she didn’t have one for herself.

It’s really easy to overlook how horrific this spell is because it isn’t shown or dwelt on. But the trauma, grief, and suffering it caused must have been immeasurable.

And none of those victims have ever even met the person Darkstalker wanted to get revenge on. None of those deaths meant anything to anyone.

The attempted death toll and scale of the calamity here puts even Scarlet to shame. The ones who come closest to it were Queen Battlewinner and Morrowseer with their attempted Rainwing extermination. All three of those died for what they did. Gives you some food for thought for sure.

Peacemaker’s burden

Despite just airing all of his dirty laundry and declaring him an irredeemable villain, I actually do have a lot of sympathy for Darkstalker still. His story is really sad. He was a child born with an amount of power that nobody should possess, and it corrupted him to the point where it destroyed his life before it began. His parents were always fighting and no matter how good his intentions were, he was unable to understand why he couldn’t hold on to his friends and relationship. He kept making mistakes, then made bigger mistakes to fix those, until his hands were covered in blood and he couldn’t stop anymore. My belief is that, after he wakes up in the present and realizes Clearsight is dead, he loses his reason for living and becomes completely lost in his grief.

Therefore, my opinion is that it would have been appropriate for him to die. If not to punish him, then to finally grant him reprieve from all that rage and pain, and let him rest. I think that would have been a dignified end.

But instead he got turned into a baby. ... And then they decided to magically erase his father’s blood from him? I don’t know what it is, but something about that Icewing erasure makes my skin crawl?

The thing that turns this baby twist from weird into highly unsettling is the context. Darkstalker’s mind is erased, then modified into a new person via animus magic. This is the technique a lot of this arc’s villains used to victimize Hailstorm, Queen Ruby, Peril, Kinkajou, Fierceteeth, and Winter. The same technique is now used again, by the heroes, which is a dangerous thing to have your protagonists do if you want them to remain morally upright.

It is also very reckless, because in almost all of these instances, animus mind alteration has been shown to be very unreliable. The spells seem to wear down over time and are susceptible to partial breaking upon encountering certain strong stimuli. Hailstorm—while trapped as Pyrite—seems to retain trace amounts of his former memories, which is why Pyrite is subconsciously drawn to Winter and clings to him all the time. Ruby is able to ignore half of her conditioning because her familial love for her son partially overpowers the magic. Qibli is just straight up able to reason his way out of it.

The thing to note here is that spells of this nature require a very meticulous approach; you can’t half-ass your reprogramming or the victim will just think their way past it. If you alter someone’s mind, the wording of the spell must be ironclad, lest you risk it wearing down over time and even break.

Luckily we have nothing to fear in that regard, because the spell that created Peacemaker was written by a Rainwing with a total of four days of literacy training. No one better mention the name Clearsight to the new baby Nightwing, or next month is going to be rather interesting.

But that’s just speculation on my part. Let’s assume that, somehow, this spell isn’t as unstable as all the others. Somehow Kinkajou threaded all the needles, and masterfully dodged every conceivable pitfall to pen the perfect incantation, despite having been illiterate just a few weeks prior. This one is built to last and Darkstalker is sealed away really thoroughly, for good.

That is still absolutely terrible and morally dubious, because now you have Peacemaker, who for all intents and purposes is a COMPLETELY innocent little kid, saddled with this huge burden of being the certifiable reincarnation of a genocidal ancient wizard. He’s gonna grow up thinking things like “Mommy gets real quiet whenever the topic of the Icewing tragedy is brought up,” and “Why does Auntie Moon look at me like that? One time she accidentally called me a weird name, who is Darkstalker?” “What is this ‘Clearsight’ name my mind-reading friends from the village found in Mommy’s mind?”

In a village that will be full of mind-readers soon, eventually the secret will come out, and Peacemaker is going to learn what was done to him. A huge, messy load of undeserved baggage was forced onto this completely separate, innocent entity. He will be devastated. Whether he then chooses to forgive them for this remains to be seen. To be honest, he would be well within his right not to, and turn resentful.

Poor kid.

Qibli’s callousness

I love Qibli, he is one of my favorite characters. This happens to be his book, and the fact that I fundamentally dislike half of it makes me rather sad. If anything, I hope this tells you that I’m not just hating on it for my personal amusement. I really wanted to like this. I tried to, and I couldn’t.

Qibli is really weird in this one, to be honest. He is suddenly made to be co-dependent on Moonwatcher, fawning over her every third paragraph, saying how much he loves her, how he is an incomplete and dysfunctional wreck without her, how it physically pains him to be apart from her, oh if only the stars would grant his wish and split the mountains apart so that he may fly to his princess, his muse, his goddess of ebony wit. It gets so old.

And it’s not Qibli. He never acted this clingy towards Moonwatcher. It’s more intense than even Winter gets about Moon, and Winter was actually depicted with a crush on her in book 6. Qibli was always just a supportive element, eager to befriend Moon but never desperate, like he is going to keel over if he is separated from his true love five minutes longer. These very frequent love declarations feel so forced coming out of him. It strikes me like it was just written in service of the love triangle. Maybe if we make him confess his love every four seconds readers will overlook the fact that they had no proper romantic build-up.

You might rightly accuse me of bias. I have previously admitted I am fond of Qibli/Winter as a romantic pairing, on the surface this seems like I am just not happy with my pet ship being blocked by Moonwatcher. But I assure you, I am actually pretty flexible and accommodating even towards pairings that contradict my preferences. I have no issues with Winter/Moonwatcher, for example, because the possibility was properly established and they have good romantic chemistry in Winter Turning. In theory, I would have no problem with Qibli/Moonwatcher either if it was ever set up as an interesting romantic dynamic. But to me, it seems like Qibli is written as a good, supportive friend to Moon for four books, only to pivot hard into “Moon moon moon moon moon moon swoon” at the last second, and it just reads to me as obnoxious.

I got distracted. This section is called “Qibli’s callousness”, and I haven’t even talked about the main part.

Qibli and Winter have excellent chemstry together, whether you read it as romantic or platonic—both of these interpretations have merit and are set up. They’re always the highlight of any scene they’re in. Throughout the story arc you get the impression that these two really get on each other’s nerves, but they bond and grow into really strong friends who bicker a lot but have each other’s backs when it counts.

Then there is a scene where Qibli casually tells Winter that he wouldn’t object if someone wanted to mind-control away some of Winter’s more objectionable traits.

This is genuinely a terrible thing to say to your friend. Like, it crosses a line and ceases to be harmless banter; you’re just telling them that there is something you hate about them so much that you wish they were someone else. Winter actually WAS mind-controlled earlier and felt (and proably still feels) guilty about having attacked Qibli in that state. And now Qibli says “Hey, I wouldn’t mind if someone did that to you again! Hue hue!”

It is awful, BUT I don’t necessarily object to Qibli saying this here. Qibli is in the middle of his character arc at this moment, so he is expected to be flawed. He is making a mistake by thoughtlessly telling Winter this horrid thing, and it seems like a believable continuation of his current character track. This is a reasonable development as long as the plot acknowledges that it’s a mistake.

Spoilers: The plot doesn’t acknowledge that it’s a mistake. Qibli never has a scene after where he reflects upon what he said and apologizes to Winter. When Darkstalker has Qibli trapped in his mountain jail and mind-wipes Qibli’s grandfather into a toddler (hey, wait a minute), Qibli gets visibly disturbed. Like, this is so off-putting to him that he gets queasy and Darkstalker hastily changes the spell. That could have been a great way to bring this back. Like in the epilogue, have Qibli track down Winter and tell him about disturbing baby grandpa theater and how he realized that wiping people’s minds is actually messed up and should have never said that to him.

But he doesn’t. He just lets Winter go, allowing him to believe he is broken and needs magical intervention to be tolerable. It leaves me to think that maybe he’s still okay with it, and fantasizing about rewriting his friend’s mind. Great.

Moonwatcher’s character death

You will find as this goes on that, I get the impression that the second half of this book takes all of the wonderful, endearing characters I have learned to love throughout the story and replaces them with really mean, or stupid, or otherwise inaccurate caricatures.

Moonwatcher’s relationship with Darkstalker gets plenty of setup and development in Moon Rising. You get the sense that these two could be great friends if their circumstances were a little different. It does a great job at making you think maybe Darkstalker is just misunderstood; maybe Moon should free him from his predicament.

Then at the end of Escaping Peril comes the emotional gut punch. Darkstalker actually IS a villain. He callously admits to Moonwatcher that he used his magic to make his own father gruesomely disembowel himself. Moonwatcher is horrified and disgusted that he would do that. There is no circumstance in which something like that would ever be okay. She ends the scene awash in tears because the person she thought was her friend is a murderer and a sadist. This is good, that is a natural reaction to what she was just told.

A few hours from there, in Talons of Power, Turtle finds Moon again and she is completely cool with Darkstalker walking free, despite crying her eyes out after feeling so betrayed earlier. That may seem strange, but this is still good because later, Darkstalker’s mind control plot is discovered. This scene was obviously written to set that up, Moon is mind-controlled into forgetting that Darkstalker could do something that morally reprehensible, and thus forgives him. This is also completely in line with his characterization in Legends: Darkstalker. It’s a kind of stunt he would pull to get Clearsight to shut up about him slipping into villainy.

In my earlier post I alluded to a moment where Moon is set to narrative auto-pilot and says something so rampantly off-kilter that it does irreversible, permanent damage to her character. It happens here, in the second half of book 10. Qibli gives Moon the Darkstalker protection earring, and Moon, somehow, says “I’m not being mind-controlled, Darkstalker really is my friend.”

I get what the plot tries to do here. It’s taking this concept of mind-control and adding a nuance, in an attempt to flesh out Darkstalker and give his character depth. He is ready to control everyone in the world, but for Moon, who is his best friend in this era, he wants her to remain herself. Perhaps this is his attempt at attonement for playing with Clearsight’s mind and driving her away from him. It is very touching in a way, viewed in isolation.

Unfortunately, it does not work with the full context of all the books. Because Moon is in auto-pilot mode right now, her main character trait is “Darkstalker=Friend,” so naturally she would speak in support of him. But this revelation has devastating retroactive consequences. The earlier scene that was written with Moon under mind-control is now altered into her having been in her right mind! She is completely okay with Darkstalker’s admittance to cold-blooded torture and evisceration, within hours of being so shocked by it that it made her cry and ready to denounce him. That is such a quick turnaround it’s giving me whiplash. And what’s more it turns Moon from a principled, upstanding girl into a sociopath who casually accepts gruesome torture and murder if it is committed by someone she likes.

Did Sutherland forget about the scene two books ago, where Darkstalker’s actions were so inconceivably horrid for Moon to learn of that she started crying? It baffles me that this made it into the final version. Her saying she was never mind-controlled makes Moon come off as so awful. This torture-excusing lunatic is not the same kind-hearted and insightful character I followed in all the other books.

Kinkajou’s character derailment

The world is a sad place when I have to question the way Kinjajou is written. Fortunately she is mostly fine, despite her having the biggest excuse to act out-of-character since she’s the victim of a mind-altering spell. Her only real moment of “what!?” comes at the end.

I already talked about her role in casting the spell that regresses Darkstalker into an infant. But I didn’t mention how her being the source of it is questionable in itself.

The clue is in the first paragraph of this section: She herself has experienced the effects of invasive mind-alteration. She was cursed by Anemone in the previous book to be in love with Turtle, and kind of half-struggles kind of not with it, it’s really strange. Turtle is appropriately horrified and acts like really awful things are happening, but then it’s mostly played lightly for some reason. My assumption is that Sutherland introduced this plot point, but then realized how uncomfortable this premise really is and tried to downplay it until the story got to a point where it could get done away with.

But I think the takeaway is still supposed to be that this was a horrid thing to do (which it absolutely is), and that Kinkajou will have to spend a lot of time trying to untangle her real emotions from the fake ones the spell created.

The point is: Kinkajou knows first-hand how awful it is to do something like that to another person. Ideally she should never even conceive of the idea to cast a spell like that, but if we’re really set on this Darkstalker baby thing and it has to happen, she should at least be a bit hesitant about it. And afterwards she should struggle with the guilt of having resorted to it. Not celebrate it and be proud, like it’s funny.

The assassination of Winter’s future

Now we come to the part I’ve alluded to previously; the part where all of these threads converge to utterly destroy one character and drive him to the brink of ruin. Let’s talk about Winter.

Prince Winter is the son of Tundra and Prince Narwhal, hatching in the same clutch as his sister Icicle. He spent his formative years being unfavorably compared to said sister—who easily took to traits that Icewing royalty considers desirable—whereas Winter struggled greatly to embody those same ideals. He was just a little too kind, too merciful, too gentle. As a result he often had to endure abuse from his parents, who made him feel like he was defective.

Because he was young and didn’t have any other frame of reference, he embraced this abusive narrative and began to drive himself with a vigor unreasonable for someone of his age. He scraped and cloyed for every bit of credit he could get, obsessing over advancing up the circle rankings in an attempt to “purge” the wrongness out of himself. To make his parents as proud of him as they were of Icicle.

This never worked. He was always seen as the runt, poised to embarrass the family name. Whatever he did, no matter how hard he strived, there was always something he could have done better.

The only real source of love and affirmation in his life was his older brother, Hailstorm. Where everyone else only saw what Winter wasn’t, Hailstorm embraced his brother despite of his “failings” and was openly affectionate with him. When Winter was with him, it was okay to not think about rankings all the time, and just be himself for a bit. I assume Hailstorm fulfilled a similar role for Icicle as well, which is why both of them love him dearly, and Icicle destroys her own life to bring him back.

Winter also has a fascination with scavengers, possibly because they are small and perceived as useless, like he himself is. He likely feels a kinship with them and observes them being craftier and more adept than everyone else sees them. This is therapeutic for him, to see that a thing can have merit even if no one wants to see it.

One day, he and Hailstorm sneak into Skywing territory so Winter can catch a scavenger as a pet. This excursion turns hostile when they are discovered by a roaming Skywing troop and faced with the prospect of capture, possibly execution. In a gambit to save Winter from this fate, Hailstorm mirrors the words of his parents, calling Winter pathetic and useless, so the Skywings will not think of him as a threat and show mercy. His act succeeds in convincing the Skywings, but it also convinces Winter, who does not understand Hailstorm only said these things to save his life. He returns home—believing his brother hated him all along—to face the wrath of his furious family for losing them “the desirable son”.

For all of his life, these themes have repeated themselves and haunted him. “I was born wrong and defective,” “I am unlovable,” “No one wants me.”

A few months after the war ends, Winter is one of the five Icewings enrolled in the newly founded Jade Mountain Academy. Shortly after departing, he unexpectedly returns home, having successfully rescued his older brother and bringing him back. He is made to believe that this erases his mistakes, his mother even pays him a backhanded compliment, an uncharacteristically “nice” gesture. He is promoted to the top of the rankings, finally his parents are proud of him.

But of course it is all a trick. The “adoration” afforded to him was all a ploy. Secretly, his parents abused power and tradition to arrange for Winter’s death. They force him into a lethal trial they intentionally rigged against him, all to finally erase that stain on their family’s honor.

Winter finally realizes the true nature of his parents’ opinion of him. Even when he succeeds, and does everything right, he is still defective, unlovable, and unwanted. He will never be anything else to his family. And so he leaves his homeland, pretending he is dead, resigned to live in hiding forever.

During this time, while at the brink of despair, Winter is able to draw strength from one source: His new friends from the academy. He vocalizes that, for all the abuse he suffered at the hands of his birth family, he fervently believes that THEY would never do anything like that to him. They chose to stuck with him, even when he was awful, and told him he was not hopeless. He was not a mistake; he could be deserving of love.

So naturally, he returns to them; they accept him readily, are willing to be his new surrogate family. When he almost burns to death at a later point, they fear and weep for him. When Qibli sets out to confront his own abusive family, Winter, despite being mind-controlled into a placid potato at the time, feels concerned enough for his friend’s safety to insist to come along (returning the favor of them accompanying him in his time of need in book 7). When Darkstalker’s mind control forces Winter to attack Qibli, he is shown ashamed and guilty of it once the control wears off again.

They bicker and struggle, and make mistakes, they break up but always come back together again. Time and time again the one thing that is always reinforced: When the cards are down, Winter loves his friends, and they love him. They would never intentionally hurt each other, or give up on each other.

I want you to keep in mind how wholesome, and loving, and mutually supportive this ramshackle band of misfits has been portrayed to this point... Because we’re moving on to the arc 2 finale, and it will do everything it can to corrupt all of it and consign Winter to a life of misery.

We arrive at aforementioned scene, where Moonwatcher receives her earring. Just a little bit prior, Winter had learned that Darkstalker unleashed a magical plague onto his people in an attempt to wipe them out. Now here is Moonwatcher, revealing that she is not under any spell, and has aligned herself with this guy willingly, speaking fondly of him as if he was a dear friend who never did any wrong. Winter takes this badly and accidentally breaks a vase; the narrative lingers on this moment and really tries to sell us on how unreasonable Winter’s reaction is, how he is overreacting, but let’s examine that interpretation for a moment.

Moonwatcher doesn’t yet know about the attempted Icewing genocide, but she DOES know about Darkstalker being okay with casting spells to inflict immeasurable torture upon those he hates. WE know that she knows this, so her stance here is already suspect. Yet she goes on to praise Darkstalker and refer to him as a friend. Look at this from Winter’s perspective. This “friend” of Moonwatcher just tried to kill his entire tribe, and he actually succeeded in killing his aunt, Queen Glacier, a person Winter greatly respects. Winter is currently unable to return to his homeland for fear of being branded a traitor. Even if he could return, he knows his obstinate and spiteful family would prevent him from attending the funeral, meaning he is not even afforded the basic dignity of saying farewell to his aunt. The aunt whom Darkstalker murdered by making her vomit her own blood until she withered away in her bed. And here is Moon, absolving the person who did this to Glacier from his appalling actions, despite knowing full well what Darkstalker is capable of and choosing to look away.

I don’t know about you, but I think I can forgive the grieving, emotionally overwhelmed boy for shattering a little pottery after hearing his trusted friend—who held his hand when he was dying—say that the guy who makes people disembowel themselves and wipes out entire countries may be misunderstood and not so bad. I think I would have a similar reaction. In fact, I would never want to talk to her ever again.

There is no way I can read this scene in which Moon doesn’t come off as either an absolute lunatic, or critically stupid and callous. In fact, based on her earlier behavior I half-expect her to get over the news of the attempted Icewing massacre in a couple hours, saying “Eh, it’s kinda bad, but you just have to do these kinds of things sometimes, you know? I’m sure he had his reasons.”

Then there is the part where Qibli makes his off-color comment about how Winter’s brain could really use a good wash. I already went into how it could have worked but didn’t. But with the timing here, we’ve already had Moon spit on their friendship, so as Winter’s other closest friend, it naturally follows that Qibli also craps on his feelings.

Consider the context: Winter comes from an abusive household where his parents forcibly tried to change him away from who he was to purge the “wrongness” from him. When they betray him and he narrowly escapes their attempt on his life, he re-affirms his belief in his friends, and the knowledge that they wouldn’t treat him like that gives him the strength he needs to keep going. But now, Qibli asserts that Winter DOES need to be altered, thereby AGREEING with Winter’s abusive parents, rendering Winter’s affirmation from book 7 erroneous. Qibli WOULD treat him like that if it made Winter less “intolerable”.

Neither Moonwatcher nor Qibli ever make an attempt to repair this rift. Winter is left betrayed and alone.

Stuff happens, and the forces of the Nightwings and Icewings come to blows over Jade Mountain. With his two closest friends having written him off and his support network eroded, Winter relapses into thinking he is worthless, seeks validation in unquestioning patriotism, and realigns himself with his abusive family by throwing himself into the battle. Nobody wants him to, in fact his parents still hate him for it, but whatever. His father dies and his mother blames him for it.

Meanwhile Turtle, Anemone, and Qibli are cooking up a solution to the battle problem. They have the idea to make everyone’s minds connect in a huge empathy wave for a few moments, which I think is a pretty interesting idea for what it’s worth. But then they teleport both armies back to their homes, and the spell sweeps Winter up with them, taking him out of the rest of the finale and bringing him to the Ice Kingdom. The characters say “whoops” but aren’t further concerned with the situation. It’s all a big laugh.

Let me remind you that Winter is currently considered not welcome on Icewing territory. His family, whom he was sent back with, is extremely abusive and vindictive. His friends know this. Said parents have previously arranged for him to be killed, and are still on record as wanting him dead. His friends KNOW this. And now he is alone with them and a gaggle of other royal Icewings who all are extremely pissed off at him for ruining their sacred trial site.

It is very possible that he is being torn apart and mauled by an enraged mob right now. He could be forced into captivity and flayed. Maybe the interim regent is sentencing him to death and getting the rope ready. There is a million different horrible things that could be happening to Winter right now, while he is trapped alone with people who hate him, things his friends would be reasonably able to anticipate. And nobody is doing anything to get him out of there, to suggest bringing him back, even though it would only take a single spoken sentence to do so! They aren’t even concerned!

Then the climax happens, strawberry thing and all, and we get the coup de grâce. After all is said and done, the group decides that Winter is untrustworthy, and that they must protect the secret of Darkstalker’s fate from him, because they fear if he knew he would kill Peacemaker.

Moon, who read Winter’s mind in book 6 and reached out to him about how the “ruthless Icewing warrior” persona in his head is a facade and how she sees he has a gentle and good heart... Moon, who in book 7 finds out about Winter’s secret deal to kill Glory and STILL trusts him, who calls out his bullshit to his face because she KNOWS how kind-hearted Winter is and that he would never resort to murder... Moon who, again, held his hand while he was dying... thinks that the dragon she has reminded of his compassionate nature time and time again would kill an innocent child.

This is disgusting. Moon believing that is so far off the mark with regards to anything this group has embodied or done for any of the last 4 books, that my only conclusion can be that these are different characters. Maybe the Nightwing library collapsed on top of original Moon, and when Darkstalker magiced her back to health she came back wrong or something. I don’t know.

So after all of this, Winter is left alone. He somehow escaped from the Ice Kingdom; luckily there is a timeskip so we can just gloss over the horrible situation he was put in by his friends. He thinks about Jade Mountain. He reflects on everything that happened, how his parents never really loved him... How they hated him so much they tried to kill him... How he despaired, but found solace in his friends who loved him for who he was.... How those friends then betrayed him too and magiced him away... How they didn’t care about what happened to him... And he decides he is done. He won’t bother going back. A few people, probably Sunny, reach out to tell him he is welcome back, but he says “it wouldn’t be fair to other Icewings if an exile took up a bed”. The decision isn’t hard to make, after all there is nothing left for him there. Everyone has written him off, moved on and left him behind.

Kinkajou visits sometimes, tries to stay in touch, but that’s just how she is. Maybe the others sent her to check on whether he’s going to become troublesome. They don’t trust him. Better to keep an eye on him, he might kill the baby.

With nowhere else to go, Winter moves to Sanctuary, a place for rejects like him. I picture him standing there, at the edge of a cliff staring blankly into the distance. He is completely alone; no one wants to go near him or talk to him beyond the bare necessities. He could probably make new friends with the Talons of Peace if he tried, but there is no point. Why should someone like him have friends? It wouldn’t work. They’d just decide he is too inconvenient to be around. Sooner or later they would just tell him to leave anyway. It's better not to try, so he doesn't get hurt again.

And slowly it dawns on him. His parents had been right all along. It was never them, or the others, it was him. He is the problem. The Icewings said it, Qibli said it, Moonwatcher said it. There is just something fundamentally wrong with him.

He is defective. He is unlovable. Nobody wants him. He will never be anything, or have anyone. And so he stands at the cliff, looking over the broken vase fragments of his life... This is who he is. Prince Winter. A mistake.

And quietly, where no one knows or cares, he does the only thing he has left to do... he begins to weep.

As it is written, the tale of Winter is the story of a boy who is told he is wrong for being alive. He closes his ears and tries to keep walking forward, desperate to prove that he is not an error, that he has merit. But this book comes out and it unmistakably says that he doesn’t. He is nothing, and he deserves to have nothing.

And I just cannot accept that.

Why did this have to happen?

I think that the author was really struggling with the ending of this book. I’ve said before how much of a corner she wrote herself into with such an invincible villain. I think she came up with the strawberry idea as a solution to this problem. But as she was writing it, the characters kept fighting her. It was not a natural solution, not a decision the characters—as they were established—would ever make.

So concessions had to be made to force the issue. Established traits had to be bent slightly to make this plot work. The farther she went, the worse it got. The concessions piled up and turned into contrivances. Eventually the characters were no longer acting like themselves. Their bonds got stretched too far and some snapped. It’s a very tragic pitfall that occurs with long-running series.

I think Sutherland must have also been tired. Writing an entire book is a monumental task, and writing 6 connected ones even moreso. She also comes out with these things really quickly. Maybe she was burnt out? Maybe she wanted to be done and her attention lapsed. Maybe that’s why she forgot that Moon knew about the disemboweling. It seems reasonable to believe when you consider that the next story arc would make a relatively clean break from the problems of this arc, especially with regards to the magic system.

But I don’t know what ultimately happened, so I can only speculate. I reiterate, I bear no ill will against Sutherland for writing this. Even if I kind of hate everything about this finale, and very vocally wish it would be different, I don’t want this examination to generate (or reawaken) any hatred towards her, or to attack her personally. I understand the pain of an artist who gets trapped with something for too long and has to find the means, any means, to see it through to the end. I criticize the story, but I could never hate anyone for that.

But for me, I do not consider this half of the book as part of the story. The characters act too unnaturally for it to have happened. So to me, it didn’t. We don’t know what happened, maybe Darkstalker is still out there. Maybe they dealt with him. Maybe what actually happened is my crappy and self-indulgent rewrite of the ending which I will never show to anyone because it would be really embarrassing.

But whatever actually ended up happening, I am sure Winter never ended up at that cliff, pondering how worthless and meaningless his life was. He is currently at Jade Mountain, surrounded by friends who love him, and bickering with Qibli about the correct solution to their advanced calculus assignment that is due tomorrow.

Is there anything left to say?

Probably.

I didn’t talk about Anemone yet. You know, in the epilogue she enchants herself a bracelet that makes her “not be so mean all the time”. I find that creepy. To me it reads as Anemone voluntarily brainwashing herself with magic to erase her negative traits instead of growing past them naturally because she finds them undesirable and wants to work to change for the better. I would ordinarily assume that this is an overreaction on my part, and I’m just reading the scene wrong. But no, we just got through a part where the heroes brainwashing someone is treated as an unequivocal good and worthy of celebration, so I think my reading may actually be spot on. Why are we letting the little kid alter her own brain without supervision? Hello? Tsunami? Someone intervene maybe? This cannot be healthy.

Turtle stands out to me as the one bright spot in all of this. He (and Peril, but she’s mostly out of focus) remain as the only main characters of this arc who don’t have any mind-boggling out-of-character moments or sudden streaks of uncharacteristic callousness. I really like the part where Qibli goes to free Turtle from his captivity and plans to give him an earful about the comically unhelpful messages he’s been sending him. But when Turtle asks if what he did was helpful, Qibli sees how beaten down and exhausted Turtle is, and wordlessly drops his frustration to tell him “Yeah, they were helpful.” That is the true Qibli shining through for a moment, showing that he cares about the well-being of his friends.

Do I hate the pairing of Qibli/Moonwatcher? No. Well, I DO hate how it happened in the book, and how the story tried to assassinate Winter’s character to resolve the love triangle and make it happen. I don’t hate it on principle though. If you are a fan of Qibli/Moonwatcher and want to write fanfics about it, please do! I absolutely encourage you to do that! Maybe you can fix this mess and turn it into something that’s actually properly handled!

Mightyclaws keeps the power that Darkstalker granted him past the finale. That means all the spells that Darkstalker cast are technically still active. Does that mean the Icewings have to wear earrings for the rest of their lives? Do they get sick again if they take them off? Is Peril forever cursed to think of Darkstalker as a cool old uncle and has to somehow reconcile how everyone else thinks of him? How did the Nightwings relinquishing their powers work, do they have to wear the earrings forever too now?

And there is one more thing to mention.

My confession

You may have already intuited this, if you’ve been following the content of my blog. It is very heavily skewed towards the first and second arcs of the series. I would now like to confess something.

When I read the second half of book 10, I found it so disillusioning, Winter’s fate so upsetting... that I put down the series then and there. And I haven’t picked it back up since.

That’s right, I have not read arc 3. I don’t know if that makes me a fake fan. I know pretty much everything that happens in it, the controversial twist at the end, Pyrrhia coming back into the story later, Snowfall getting brainwashed by a piece of jewelry until she cares about a plot that had nothing to do with her or the fate of the Icewings, etc..

It’s not out of malice, or because it’s a new continent. The opposite in fact; I would have greatly prefered a clean break with a new setting—Bug-themed dragons in a slightly more contemporary, developed environment sounds fascinating and full of potential. I don’t hate Pantala or the new characters.

I just... I can’t really do this again. I can’t handle the thought of Pyrrhia coming back post-Darkstalker, with Winter showing up and talking to these guys again like nothing happened, seeming like a different person, joking around with them like his entire character wasn’t dragged through a mountain of manure to make the plot bend a certain way. I think as long as this is the ending that the story is continuing from, seeing that would just make me miserable.

Maybe I will just stay in the parts of the story that I fell in love with. And imagine a version of reality in which Pantala is allowed to exist on its own, where Swordtail was the fourth POV character of arc 3, where Queen Wasp stayed the villain throughout, and Snowfall got her own legends book about how she reformed Icewing society and fixed all the shit that poisoned Winter’s life, so future generations don’t have to suffer through the same stuff he did.

~~~~~

If you’re still with me, thank you for reading this far. I think this is everything I ever thought about the finale of the second story arc, so now I never have to talk about it again. Writing this was difficult. I found it crushing at times. This will probably stand as the only overtly negative post I have ever made on this blog. I love Wings of Fire, and I want to celebrate it. To add to it, not tear it down.

I hope this wasn’t too boring, or painful, or frustrating, or soul-crushing to read through. I’ll see you later, hopefully with a more constructive post.

#wings of fire #dragon #wof #digital art #wof art #flawseer art #flawseer talk #flawseer reply #wof winter #long post #long winded

404 notes · View notes

lorelune · 9 months

Text

cicatrix

|| jing yuan x reader || E/18+ || hurt/comfort, cathartic smut || wc: 21.5k || ao3 ||

Both you and Jing Yuan are known to put well-being aside for the sake of others. You reckon with it.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

notes: i've been COOKING!!!! please enjoy this very cathartic, gooey oneshot 😩💕!!!!! jing yuan is so beloved and getting to chew on him and his character makes me wanna roll around and scream (positive). thank you so much to bee (@suguwu) for talking this piece out w me each step of the way and andy (@andypantsx3) for a so helpful final read through 🥺🩷 read and enjoy loves!!!

CW: reader is referred to with they/them pronouns and afab anatomy, author-created lore & worldbuilding, reader visibly loses weight due to bodily stress, general talk of weight and bodies, reference to pain during intimacy, a single pregnancy joke made entirely in jest

“You should go see him.”

This is not the first time Diviner Fu has told you this. It’s actually the third time. It’s her third time attempting to have this particular conversation with you, one which you are becoming increasingly adept at parrying around.

“Who?” You lie. You already know who.

“The General?” Fu Xuan sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “He’s awake, you know. Barely. But he has asked for you. Both while he was mostly unconscious and since he’s regained his lucidity. Go see him.”

“I’ll pass.” You shift on your knees with a heavy thump. Bone on metal. “Besides, can’t you, of all people, see I am hard at work here? I don’t exactly have the time for personal visits at the moment.”

That is not a lie. That is a steadfast truth. One both you and Fu Xuan, as the Master Calibrator and the Master Diviner respectively, fully understand.

Fu Xuan has sought you out deep within the Luofu’s inner structure. Far below the sprawl of metal-plated cities and neighborhoods, are the catacomb intestines you’ve been toiling in for... sometime now. Since whenever the Lord Ravager harnessed the Arbor, and the roots of a dead tree powered by an Aeon mutilated the Luofu’s most delicate innards. Innards you need to fix, rather than having frustrating conversations with Lady Fu.

You tap around on the interface on your wrist-bound jade abacus and curse. Your fingers are newly calloused, irritated at the tips from all of the poking and prodding you’ve had to do. You dip your hands into one of the opened buckets fastened to your belt, pulling forth when you’re sticky with iridescent sludge that slowly drips down your wrist like thick syrup.

Returning to the utility panel you were previously working on before being interrupted, you tinker with a few of its delicate dials. All thrown off by the overabundance of... Abundance and the physical impact of the roots growth, deeper in the Luofu’s structure. You concentrate and thread quantum with the sap on your hands, trying to coax the machines into a more stable stasis.

“At least consider it.” Fu Xuan says. Technically, she could order you, as she is on some administrative level, your superior and (from what you last heard) the acting General of the Luofu while the Divine Foresight has been indisposed. And yet, she does not force you.

“Fine. I’ll consider it— if and when the Luofu is running diagnostic assessments with an average above fourty.”

“That’s— somewhat agreeable. But, I do think you’re being entirely—”

“Foolish?” You interrupt her with a laugh.

“Childish.” Fu Xuan taps her foot. The sound bounces around the narrow passageway, rattling into your skull. “Can the two of you not talk like adults and settle things?”

“I’m not sure what there is to ‘settle’ with him, Lady Fu.” You twitch your index and pinky finger at the same time. The internals sing, a hymn you know, the chord is a step or two too low— fucker. “He did something supremely stupid, and I am working.”

“That’s an obtuse way to look at things, and you know it.”

“In what way?” You crack open your eyes. You hadn’t realized you’d shut them. You’re sure they’re bloodshot. “What do you think about the General’s actions in subduing the Lord Ravager, Lady Fu?”

“I do believe he was reckless— as reckless as that man allows himself to be.” Fu Xuan has clearly thought about this before. Frustration pinches in her voice. “But it was not without the results.”

“So calculated recklessness is fine if, in the worst case, you end up as the Luofu’s next Arbiter General?”

“You’re putting words in my mouth.”

“I am.” You say, sighing. Anger prickles under your skin. This is all easier to deal with (read: ignore) if you focus on the ship and its internals. Its stupid, destroyed, obliterated internals. “I apologize.”

“When was the last time you slept?” Fu Xuan asks.

“... Yesterday? Probably?” There’s no daylight. You conserve battery life on your various devices by keeping screens dim, so you don’t know the hour. Time has felt liquid for some time now.

“I could take over.” Fu Xuan suggests.

“You still have a ship to run, I assume. Unless the Divine Foresight was so eager to get back to work already.”

“... Tasks can be delegated accordingly.”

“It’s not necessary.” You shake your head. “I mean this as no slight, but the rate at which you would be able to complete repairs and calibrations would be at the same rate at which the ship’s fail-safes and functions are degrading. It isn’t worth it.”

Perhaps, under different circumstances, Fu Xuan would squawk at you for discounting her skills as a calibrator so quickly. She is trained, not to your degree or expertise, but in a pinch, she can complete repairs, hear the chords, see the quantum maps required to keep the Luofu and its many delicate parts and pieces functioning accordingly.

However, the Luofu’s current circumstances do not constitute a ‘pinch’ and rather a ‘once-in-an-era disaster that nearly killed the long-lived, beloved General, destroyed the longstanding Creation Furnace, revealed the previous disgraced High Elder of the Vidhaydara, nearly reawoke the Ambrosial Arbor’. And, as Jing Yuan had told you in confidence— “It’s a Stellaron.”

And hence, you and your expertise are best-suited for the task of repairing the insides of the Luofu.

“... Even still.” She says somewhat gravely. “This is unsustainable.”

“I recognize that.” And you do, childish avoidance of the General aside. “Once the ship’s up to forty percent attuned, the diagnostic algorithms attached to the internal citrine abaci should stabilize and begin to re-establish a self-healing cycle. At which point, my manual diagnostics and repairs will no longer be necessary at the level at which I’m completing them now.”

“What percentage attuned is the Luofu at, as of now?”

“... Twenty-seven.” This is, technically, the truth.

(However, you have little confidence in that number, as it fluctuates heavily based on time of day and your own location within the tunnels and mechanical catacombs. You imagine this may be due to any number of things— there may be a gamma leak down deeper, where the radiation sponges are not as effective. There could still be creatures and roots of Abundance, alive in the passageways, wreaking havoc on the systems in real time. The diagnostic systems themselves could be failing, or at the very least damaged, which means that prescribing a number at all to the Luofu’s condition is a stupid idea to begin with—)

Fu Xuan says your name sharply.

“Yes?��

“... I’m worried.”

“That’s probably for the best.” You wish there was more sympathy in your voice, but it sounds cold and outside of your body.

(You’re so tired.)

Fu Xuan sighs, and drops to her knees next to you, peering in one the copper box you’ve been wrist deep in for the better part of ten minutes. Distractions slow down the process so immensely.

“Your reasoning is sound, and I understand that this isn’t entirely some ploy to skirt around the General’s requests to see you.” Fu Xuan hands you a small pendant, cut of purple stone and lit from the inside out. “Please, wear this. It will transmit your vital signs and location to a monitor on the surface.”

You blanch, “Is this for you, or the General?”

“For the Divination Commission on paper.” Fu Xuan loops it around your neck. “You’re the only Master Calibrator on the Luofu. To lose track of you, or lose you, would be dire. It will also assuage some of the General’s anxieties and keep him from pestering me about you.

“The general, anxious?” You throw back your head with a laugh and withdraw your hands from the paneling. The sludge has liquified further, more mucus-y now as it drips down your forearms. You wipe away what remains with a well-used rag from your belt. “I’ve never known Jing Yuan to be anxious.”

“He is now.” Fu Xuan says simply. “Or, as much as he allows himself to be. I am not interested in delving into the General’s psychology, but I am interested in keeping you in decent condition. That pendant has an emergency function. If you tap it three times, it’ll send a distress signal with your location.”

You want to say that that’s ‘unnecessary’, but you know that’s your bad mood. There’s a reason why Fu Xuan made this journey, alone, and is speaking to you so frankly. There are bags under her eyes too.

“Thank you, Fu Xuan.” You say, softly, kinder than you have been.

Despite your grime, perhaps mutual, you wrap your arms around her shoulders and squeeze. She hugs you back and deflates, if only for a moment.

...

The Luofu’s utility organs are built downwards, filling what would be considered the ‘hull’ of the ship, until you hit the Hall of Karma. There’s insulation between the ship’s most vital part and the weary souls of the departed, which provides you some comfort as you must descend deeper and deeper.

The Luofu is as much a ship as it is a planet— a live ecosystem, adapted to fit the various immortals who call it home. The bowels of the Luofu are truthfully a combination of metal and plant matter— dirt and mechanical roots meant to hold the ground in one piece around you. Much of the organic matter of the ship is covered behind metal plating, lest risking a collapse.

Most of the damage you must tinker to fix occurs in the small, delicate panels that are placed in the walls every ten meters or so. They’re nondescript, mostly. Surrounded by a few various dials— a few circular meters are faded and out of use (relics from when the Luofu left its parent civilization, millenia ago), and a port to sync up a jade abacus to for more detailed readings.

Most of the data is slop to someone without training.

Even with training, your exhaustion is making the various numbers, symbols, and graphs feel like slop.

The panel can be disconnected with a small, quill-looking tool (there’s only a small amount left on the Luofu, maybe twenty in total. The head of the tool is carved from an old, red stone, burnt in an old fire by a forgemaster long dead. You keep track of your handful diligently, lest you lose them without another smith to make them.) Once the utility panel is pried off, it reveals a suspended layer of liquid, far deeper than it looks. If you really tried, you probably could fit your entire arm in and still have depth.

Suspended in the liquid are the mechanisms that truly run the Luofu. It’s hard to describe how they fit together. It takes an affinity for quantum, a century (or three) of training, to make sense of how to parse together the ship's parts. The parts are various small machines, crystals, living ecosystems bound into balls and sustained by astrosynthesis beyond this world.

You’re used to the awe of it.

Along your waist, you carry several pots of stellar lubricant. The grease provides... some amount of slip when poking around in it yourself. It resonates with the quantum and allows you to see the stretches of energy that allow the ship to run as it does. Tender leylines, woven threads, songs and hymns that are of many familiar beats and melodies.

Everything slips together as you pull yet another panel from a wall. The mechanisms sing out of tune, in dissonant chords, off-beat in the wrong time signature.

You dunk your hands into the lubricant, ignoring the slowly erupting burns on your forearms from over-exposure.

You shove your hands into the wall. You work. You fix.

...

Not so long ago, you and Fu Xuan were not the only two Calibrator on the Xianzhou Alliance’s Luofu. There had been an apprentice in the Divination Commission who was studying, seeking mastery, just as you yourself had. They were more skilled than Lady Fu in the arts of calibration. You think they hailed from the Yaoqing. They were soft, gentle-hearted and young by the standards of Xianzhou natives.

So perhaps, this is why they became Marastruck in the mouth of one of the utility tunnels after seeing footage of the Divine Foresight being dragged unconscious and limp into the apothecary. Gingko leaves tearing their skin, an unholy sob turning to a shriek to cut the air. You were lucky the transformation occurred while you were above ground, and a patrol of Cloud Knights was nearby.

You’re probably lucky that you hadn’t (haven’t) succumbed to Mara. If you were a few centuries younger and less trained in the arts of meditation, you might have been swallowed up like the apprentice had been.

Jing Yuan, for all of his many games and schemes and tricks, radiates the air of someone almost infallible. He is not perfect; he has never been one for edges that are too manicured. He’s far more content dozing the afternoon away or taking a stroll through one of his gardens than hosting war-meetings. He prefers to wear plain clothes to the market in hopes he will not be recognized (though, he always is).

But, he is strong and remarkably difficult to phase or bother in any setting. On more than one occasion, you’ve spent the evening trying to rile him up and get him to pounce, but the General is always content to watch your attempts with a lazy smile on his face. Content to sweetly watch you struggle in getting under his skin. He may be affected, but he is hard to break. If he does, it is with such grace that you wouldn’t have any idea he did break, and it feels as if you’ve somehow slipped, rather than him. He is cunning and sure-footed in a way that you can’t help but admire.

You’re not the only one to feel that way.

(Though, you’re the only one who shares a bed with him. So.)

The Xianzhou has little place for legends, yet Jing Yuan is old enough and well-thought of enough to have become one. So, you cannot blame the apprentice for falling to Mara. Not when they, and the rest of the Luofu, saw a legend buckle at the knees.

...

You were right about diagnostics being inaccurate. However, the reason was a mix of your two initial hypotheses.

Parts of the diagnostic system, deep and low within the Luofu’s internal organs, had been damaged. Radiation leaks from the core of the ship, usually held back by sponges and filters, was drifting upward to damage any number of sensors and organic processes keeping the Luofu operational.

(All useless details really, none of it makes sense anymore. The ship is fucked. You must fix it.)

And you have been fixing it.

You reek of stellar lubricant, skin stained pearly and glittery under the fluorescent lights that dot the tunnels. Your eyes ache; it’s gotten quite difficult to focus them. You’re lucky that there’s occasional spigots tapped into the walls, with some type of freshwater flowing from them, even if it does take awhile for any liquid to run. They probably haven’t been used in decades— maybe centuries. Most of the internals of the Luofu heal and repair on their own.

A calibrator would only need to step-in in the case of a calamity.

Time has gotten slippery. Though you send up status reports (of varying quality) through your wrist-bound jade abacus, you can’t say it’s on a schedule. You do them when you have the mental fortitude to craft something acceptable for the Divination Commission to scoff at.

You’re tired, maybe.

There are some mediary chambers between levels. Old, dust-covered rooms with a cot and some rations. Though you raid the ones you come across for emergency food stores, you don’t stay to sleep. You usually keel over on the metal flooring with your outermost robe thrown over you like a blanket. Your pillow is your own folded hands.

It’s viciously uncomfortable, but you find sleeping difficult regardless. The offensively bright grow lights are sensitive to flesh life, and will not turn off in your presence. The floor is sometimes searingly warm, sometimes ice cold. If you stop working, your own thoughts threaten to swallow you whole. You only achieve sleep in brief moments, perhaps a few hours at a time, when you’re entirely spent.

It is unpleasant sleep. A mix of recent horrors and faraway comforts.

(You initially heard from Fu Xuan what Jing Yuan had done.)

(Shortly after, footage was posted of the Divine Foresight, unconscious and being dragged across the Luofu for medical attention. Jing Yuan was entirely unresponsive and cradled in the arms of the Vidharayda’s... reawoken? Returned? (You stay out of Lizard Politics.) (Regardless, it still burns.))

(There’s chaos in the sounds captured on the video, the shocked, disbelieving voices.)

(You had turned off your phone (you have still yet to turn it back on) and dragged the apprentice to the tunnels. You ignored their crumbled expression and all of their disbelief. It would not serve either of you— anyone— in that moment. This was foolish of you.)

(You remember your apprentice and how their panic grew to Mara so quickly. How they looked sick to their stomach, braced against one of the entrances to the tunnels of the catacombs, clutching their skull. You urged them forward, begged them to hurry— that the diagnostics were grave. You could see the gnarled roots of the arbor already having penetrated some of the ancillary walls.)

(They looked so scared as they were swallowed by Mara. Eyes flashing scarlet, gingko leaves spilling from their mouth as they screamed. Flesh tearing to be healed wrong seconds later. Beautiful silk robes torn to shreds, body mutilated from the inside out.)

(They’d lunged at you, howling, and you’d barely side-stepped them. You ran to a patrol of Cloud Knights, overworked and clearly battleworn themselves and exhausted. Regardless, they took down your apprentice. Cut them at the back of the knees, called a Judge, dragged them off to the Hall of Karma.)

You dream of Jing Yuan often.

Sometimes, these dreams are awful.

Lady Fu had told you to visit him, prior to your initial descent into the catacombs. She said he was unconscious and battered. He would certainly recover; the General is particularly hearty. She urged you to see him in the Alchemy Commission. She said this as if Jing Yuan hadn’t just thrown himself in front of a being that rivaled some Aeons. She said this as if the Luofu wasn’t a few mechanical failures away from ceasing function and you were the only one aboard the Luofu able to stop it with any efficiency.

You dream of Jing Yuan being lanced through with his own guandao. You dream of him falling to the stone of Scalegorge Waterscape, eyes blooming red, and ginkgo leaves erupting from his shoulders. You dream of him mutilated beyond belief by beings so much more powerful than either of you. You dream of having to watch a patrol of Cloud Knights pin him to the ground as Mara consumes him.

Sometimes, the dreams are pleasant.

The worst are those where you think you have woken up in bed with him. Mimi purrs at the foot of his stupid, indulgently large bed. Your cheek is pressed to his chest, warm and alive and okay, and he rumbles some laugh when you seem confused. He asks if you’d like breakfast. A bath. You should go to the markets together, shouldn’t you?

You dream of his body next to yours. Well and whole and intertwined.

You prefer to be awake; it allows you to feel like you have some semblance of control over your own mind.

Horrors crop up into the forefront of your mind without warning often. Staying focused on your repairs helps you. Grounding yourself in the sting of the lubricant over your skin keeps your thoughts closer to the material, rather than the intangible fears that threaten to swallow you whole.

Leaving only you to your work. Fixing.

You wipe sweat from your brow, uncaring of the grease that smears across your skin and clumps in your hair. The panel in front of you is being particularly fuzzy. The parts are old. The impact from the Arbors sudden growth had damaged the delicate nature of the mechanisms.

So, you tinker away.

Quantum threading, weaving, unraveling, trying again. And again, and again.

Your head pounds.

...

At some point, when checking your jade abacus, the diagnostic percentages have stopped going down. They’re actually going up, steadily and on their own.

You don’t believe it at first, but after... a while of keeping an eye on it, it doesn’t appear to be a fluke. Functionality is hovering around thirty-three percent, unfailingly, and rising a percentage every day or so. The panels you check appear to be healing themselves as well, albeit slowly. Thin, vermillion tendrils snake around in the oil to poke and prod as you have. Albeit, it’s not enough, but it provides a kernel of respite nonetheless.

Coincidentally, you run out of stellar lubricant around this same time as well.

The only option (as you’ve already pilfered the stores you’ve come across) is to ascend back to the surface of the Luofu and fetch more from the Artisanship Commission.

You feel delirious when you rise fully and stretch your arms above your head. Your hands knock into the metal ceiling as your back cracks in at least four different places. Your knees ache. Your legs have long since cramped up. You feel stiff down to your bones, but you separate from the feeling. You must, there’s more important things to worry about.

Ascending the catacombs is difficult. You hadn’t... realized quite how deep you’d gone for repairs. It takes quite some time to climb the thin utility ladders and weave the correct path upwards. You’re slowed by gravity and your own lethargy. The exertion takes its toll quickly, but you ignore it. You have a task to complete.

(Your body's slick with sweat. Your vision threatens to tunnel.)

Perhaps you’ll pick up some proper rations as well. The nutritional power you had pilfered from the tunnel’s stores probably isn’t meant to be consumed in the long term.

You come to surface through a shrouded doorway in a residential neighborhood. It’s warm, temperate as the Luofu usually is. There’s a pleasant breeze and the smell of grass and water in the air. It’s a sharp contrast to the metallic tang of oil and lubricant that you’re slicked with.

You try to think little of it. Artisanship Commission.

On your way, you get the occasional odd stare. A child points at you. You, perhaps, are covered in grime and attribute any gawking to that. Maybe? You’re due for a bath. Though with all the errands it appears you need to run, do you really have time for one?

There’s a shop on the edge of the Artisanship Commission you duck into. The shopkeeper is speaking to another customer at the counter, but goes silent when you give him a friendly wave. You’re a regular here, after all.

You grab as much of the lubricant as you can carry in your arms and place it on the counter, poking around in your pocket for your... phone. It’s probably out of battery.

“Could you put this on the Divination Commission’s tab?” You ask him. “It’s being used for official business.”

The shopkeeper is still looking at you, wide-eyed. Mouth hanging open. He stiffly nods and rings you up.

Odd.

You think little of it. He slowly loads your jars into an old crate and hands it to you.

“Be well.” You say on the way out. The shopkeeper does not reply.

The interaction leaves you with a vague sense of unease.

That feeling mounts the more you realize that people are looking at you, as you make your way to Aurum Alley for rations. One woman even tries to stop you, but you wave her off. You need to—

Get rations. Maybe take a shower. Descend again because there’s no way the systems can be sustained and heal fast enough on their own. You must work, you must toil.

And you mustn’t visit Jing Yuan.

Not yet. Not until you can forget how he looked, slack and half-dead in the arms of his men. Perhaps you should forget the face of the returned High Elder as well. You’ve— you’ve put together that he and Jing Yuan have some type of history. You know from the whisperings that the man saved Jing Yuan.

(You can’t ever save him. You are not a fighter. You’re a well-paid mechanic.)

Rations.

You’re stopped before you ever are three steps into Aurum Alley by a group of Cloud Knights.

“Halt.” One of them says, raising her weapon.

“... Pardon?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. The crate in your arms is too heavy for this. “Can I help you?”

“Please wait,” the tip of her guandao shines, “you are the Divination Commission’s Master Calibrator, correct?”

“... Yes?” You sigh. “I apologize, but I must get past you. I’m on official business. Supply run.”

The Knight rotates her blade to the butt of it against your chest, applying light pressure. Holding you there, tucked between several buildings and fairly out of sight. Your stomach drops.

“I can’t allow that.”

“... Excuse me?”

You’re about ready to snap at the nervous-looking knight once more, but you’re interrupted. The sound of quick feet over stone stops behind you and frigid air begins to spill down your neck. You turn your head painfully over your shoulder.

Yanqing, the fierce little thing, is poised behind you, spitting steam and frost. His gold eyes are angry, teeth bared. He looks exhausted.

“You are being detained,” he says, angry and sharp.

“What?” You snap, turning to face him. He looks ready to raise his blade against you, hand twitching at his waist. That’s not your concern at this moment. “Yanqing— what are you—”

Yanqing’s eyes are shiny and wet.

Oh.

“You’re being detained by order of the Divine Foresight.” He says, voice unwavering despite the tears beading against his lower lashes.

...

Yanqing seems like he’s seething as he leads you to one of Jing Yuan’s personal gardens. It’s on a terrace, high above most of the Luofu, far-away from any of the Commission's that may bother him when he is attempting to relax.

You know this garden well; it’s your favorite spot to relax in with Jing Yuan.

He leads you directly to Jing Yuan who is standing on an overlook, hand behind his back as he stares out over a roiling sea. The waves crash far below, the sound a mere echo. His shoulders are slack. He hardly looks angry. It’s rare that he ever does.

“General.” Yanqing says— he is angry. “I’ve brought them.”

“Oh?” Jing Yuan turns, a pleasant smile stretching across his face. “You found them?”

“Yes, in Aurum Alley.” Yanqing salutes and steps to the side.

You cross your arms and try not to cry.

Jing Yuan looks fine. He’s clearly in one piece. Whole. Whole. No visible injury, no new limp as he steps closer to you, examining you just as intently as you examine him.

It’s a horrible relief to see him fine— even if you should scold him. If you had the energy, you would. You would rake him over the damn coals for endangering himself as he did. You will, later. Maybe. But for now—

“Am I done being detained?” You ask, malice in your voice. “I have work to do.”

“No hello?”

“Fine. Hello.”

“Hi,” Jing Yuan says more gently, beckoning you to a lovely looking pile of silk pillows and a thick mat. The perfect spot for a midday catnap. “I’m afraid I do intend to keep you for a bit longer. Sit, please.”

You don’t budge.

“Jing Yuan,” You say his name. Your voice doesn’t wobble, and you’re grateful for it. “I do not have time for this.”

He hums, “You do.”

“You must know the Luofu’s internals are shot.” He must, right? You need to get back. You need to keep fixing. “I do not have time for tea and a chat. Be forward with me, please.”

Jing Yuan, who has already sat down on the silks, looks up at you. He’s perfectly poised, relaxed like a big cat, but with sharp, watchful eyes. He’s choosing his words carefully, albeit quickly.

“Did you know the Matrix of Prescience resumed function earlier today?” He tells you. “Early this morning, it awoke. Diviner Fu says the function is still minimal, but improving by the hour.”

There’s a wave of relief hearing that— at least the Divination Commission can resume somewhat normal activity. Fu Xuan is probably overjoyed. Maybe. You should check— you need to check. There may be calibrations to reconfigure on the surface. Aeons, there probably is and you’re foolish for not addressing those yet. You should.

Jing Yuan says your name, gentle but unyielding, “Stay with me.”

“I’m— I’m glad the Matrix is working. But, there’s still much that needs to be addressed Jing Yuan. The Luofu’s fail safes— the vitality transmitters— the gamma diffusers—”

You feel overwhelmed and nauseous. You want to lay down and cry. You want to run away to the nearest hidden entrance to the tunnels and work. So badly do you want to flee, hide, and toil and fix this stupid ship.

(Because, you can’t look Jing Yuan in the eye for too long. He’s safe, but the memory of him half-dead is still living in your mind. It’s murky, but there. You need it to die. You need it to stop. You need—)

Jing Yuan takes your hands in his own. It shocks you out of your spiral as his thumbs graze your knuckles. It hurts. You wince without thinking to muffle it. Chemical abrasions and hives litter the skin of your hands. It tracks up your arms to your elbows, you see now.

You flinch and try to pull away, but Jing Yuan keeps you there. Suspended.

“I had a meeting with the other Arbiter-Generals, just the other day.” Jing Yuan sounds wistful. “I was surprised to find out that every other ship in the Xianzhou Alliance’s fleet has at least four Master Calibrators. They were shocked to find the Luofu only having one.”

“That sounds embarrassing.”

“It was, perhaps,” Jing Yuan laughs in a good-natured way. “The other Generals were quite kind, and have sent a handful of Master Calibrators to the Luofu to assist with repairs. They’ll be here in the next day or so.”

“... Really?”

“Yes.” Jing Yuan sighs. “I’ll owe a favor or two, but it’s more than worth it.”

You don’t know what to think.

“I have to—”

“You’re actually being placed on a somewhat indefinite leave.” Jing Yuan then yanks you down into the pillows, to the thick mat, and into his arms. “I’m afraid I’ve missed you terribly. You’ve been incredibly difficult to track down.”

“I was just in the tunnels.” You try to push away from him. “Fu Xuan gave me this little tracker.”

You tap the pendant on your chest.

“You went deep enough into the Luofu that this pendant only pinged your location every few days.” Jing Yuan raises you up, so you’re perched in his lap. You steady yourself on his chest. His living, breathing chest. “At one point, it didn’t register your vitals for a week.”

Jing Yuan says this quietly. It’s admission, given the tone of his voice. He sounds a bit stricken, almost pained. His brow is scrunched as he rubs up and down your shoulders.

“... A week?”

“Indeed. You scared me quite badly, you know.”

Something in you aches. Guilt rises up your throat, but you don’t give yourself much time to examine it. Not yet.

“You’re one to talk.” You murmur, hitting a fist against his chest angrily. “You threw yourself in front of a Lord Ravager?”

“A necessary blow that ensured victory.” Jing Yuan says simply. As if he is speaking about a feint during a sparring match, or a risky move in a star chess game. “A worthwhile opportunity, really—”

“You could have died.” You snap at him, finally looking at him down your nose, baring your teeth. You are tired and angry. It feels like you could swallow the sun and you would be fine with exploding.

“I could have.” He hums. There’s more that he wants to say, you can tell. You can imagine what he could wax on about—

(“It would have been worth it if it guaranteed the Luofu’s safety.”

(“Am I not going to die already? I would think it be better to give my life for the safety of the people, rather than be decimated by Mara.”)

(“There are worse ways to die.”)

“You’re so foolish.” You want to cry. Maybe you are. Your head is pounding and your eyes hurt. “You can’t do that.”

“Ideally, I wouldn’t—”

“No, stop, just—” You grab his cheeks in your hands and bring your nose to press against his. You meet his eyes, gold and molten. “You cannot sacrifice yourself in such a way. I beg you to be selfish. If for no other reason than to give me a proper goodbye.”

(Jing Yuan had been distant in the days leading up to the Arbor’s reawakening. He’d been dodging your calls, ignoring pre-scheduled outings, and skimping on sleeping in your bed. When you’d seen the videos of his limp body and heard from Lady Fu that he was still unconscious, there was, perhaps, a moment where you believed that that was it. You wouldn’t get a goodbye. You’d only see a ragdolled corpse to mourn.)

What you’re asking of Jing Yuan is a siren song of Mara. You know this. To yearn is to suffer. To be attached is to suffer. To cling is to suffer. And suffering is to mara. You both know this. You dance with the stars and their weavings often enough to be suspended somewhat above other immortals— such things seem small in avenues of Aeons and destiny.

Jing Yuan, however, is a master of separation. Meditation. He is quiet about the skills he’s cultivated. You notice them though— the way he measures his breathing, the conscious effort he makes to keep himself loose and slack. The way his memory is diced up, not from incensed Mara sprouts, but from missing pieces. Tragedies that have either been removed or blotted out from his own practice.

To save him from being swallowed by Mara.

And yet, you beg him to remember you.

You almost retract, recoil, and run. This is too real. You have been in the General’s bed for who knows how long. It doesn’t matter that you have been his partner for the last several decades. You’ve never asked him to keep you in his thoughts— keep you like this. It has always felt too unfair of a thing to ask.

“You,” You spit through tears, “Cannot leave me so cruelly. Not like that. Let me be precious to you, Jing Yuan, if only for a short time.”

There is no such thing as being endless without consequence, but perhaps the General can spare you his affections, truly, for a brief moment. Maybe it’s a pipedream. Maybe you’re delirious from lack of sleep and hunger and the high of feeling Jing Yuan solid and whole beneath you is simply too much.

Jing Yuan coaxes you to keep your head up when you try to duck into his neck. He buries a hand in your hand that quickly slides down to your nape. He holds a wide, warm palm there to steady you.

“Dear,” Jing Yuan strokes down your cheeks, rubbing away tears you can’t stop from falling. His smile is melancholy, his eyes crinkled at the corners with a broken smile. “I’m quite remissed. Have I not made it clear that I already think of you in such a way?”

You swallow.

“Probably not.”

“I apologize.”

“Don’t apologize— just— say it.” Not on his deathbed, or Mara-struck in chains and gnarled with Ginkgo leaves.

Jing Yuan pauses, rubbing away tears from under your eyes and squeezing his hand that lingers on the back of your neck. He opens his mouth, flounders, then closes it. Then speaks.

“Beloved,” He begins and you’re already breaking. “I am sorry that I haven’t made it clear to you that you are dear to me. There are certain things that I cannot promise you as they are outside of my control as well as yours. But what I can assure you is that you are so incredibly dear to me. If I must continue to live as I do now, I would like to do so by your side. I apologize for not being forthright.”

“... So, no throwing yourself in front of Lord Ravagers?”

“... Sacrifices must be made.” Jing Yuan says, though his voice is, perhaps, more mournful.

“You are not a sacrifice.” You swallow, the words burning you as well. “You are much more than just foder. You are— you’re dear to people. Dear to me. You are not to throw yourself in the line of fire as part of a convenient plan.”

“I will not make you a promise that I cannot keep.” He is too duty-bound; it’s a practiced thing. You’ve heard he was once laze-about oaf who could barely handle a sword. You try to appeal to any remnants of that man.

“Then at least tell me.” You urge, beg. “Maybe there are other options you haven’t thought of. You get stuck in your head, you know.”

“Do I?” His smile turns mischievous and teasing.

“You—!” You headbutt him lightly and he rolls you into the silken blankets.

The moment your back touches the softness below you, skull cushioned in the palm of Jing Yuan’s hand, you can feel exhaustion catching up with you.

“You must heed your own rules, love,” Jing Yuan tells you, covering your body with his. Silver hair falls in a veil around you. It’s like starlight. The memories of oil and machine parts feel far away. “No more running yourself ragged. Or hiding in the utility tunnels for a month.”

“... A month?” Your words slur. There’s no way you were down there for a month.

“Actually, a month and a week.” Jing Yuan says. His hand smooths over your front with a front. “You’ve lost weight. And as effortlessly radiant as you are, you do look quite poorly. I’m sure it’s nothing an indefinite, relaxing, extended, paid-leave can’t fix, hm?”

“Thas’ so long,” You say, your eyes rolling back into your head. You’re slipping.

“I know.” Jing Yuan kisses your forehead and remains there. “I missed you terribly.”

You want to say more. How desperately do you want to tell him, “I missed you too. I couldn’t stop thinking of you dying. I dreamed of your bed and warmth and wanted nothing more.” But your body is simply too tired. The... month of exhaustion catches up with you within the silks and you have to fight to keep your eyes open.

Jing Yuan hushes you when you whine, grabbing at him to drag him closer.

“Rest now.” He tells you. “You need it. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Jing Yuan holds you in the soft blankets, flush against downy pillows and the plush of his chest. One of his hands finds home around your waist, the other over the crown of your head.

You are tugged down— not in the bowels of Xianzhou’s Luofu, but into the arms of a lover and the hold of a deep and inexorable sleep.

The next time you’re awake, you’re swathed in buttery linens and pleasantly warm. Your world is fuzzy and unfocused, and at first you think you are dreaming.

It’s simply too pleasant.

Your cheek is pressed against Jing Yuan’s bare chest. You can tell from the softness of your cheek squished against the softness of his pectoral, along with the bit of silver fuzz that tickles your nose. He smells like you remember— notes of cedar oils and herbs, mixing with the scent of his own stale sweat from whatever training he completes with Yanqing.

It’s comforting and familiar. This is why it must be a dream.

So you cling to Jing Yuan. The arm thrown over his chest constricts. The leg you have loosely thrown over his own tangles and hooks him closer. You shimmy higher to press your nose to the underside of his jaw and inhale.

Jing Yuan chuckles, a rumbling thing that’s hoarse with sleep, “Good morning to you too.”

You do not open your eyes. Rather, you squeeze them shut, and cling to the dream.

His hand glides up your back, finding home on your waist once more before giving you a squeeze, “You can sleep more, you have quite the deficit to make up for.”

You grumble. You’re practically on top of him, like it would prolong the pleasant illusion your mind is creating.

Your own palm rests over his chest, and you pause. There’s a texture that’s new. Scar tissue beneath your finger tips that runs little rivers over his flesh. Jing Yuan’s breath hitches as you trace them. You pull away from the safety of his throat to peer down at his chest. New scars litter his chest, all connected webs of damage. The skin is puckered and freshly healed.

This is not a dream.

“Oh,” you say, softly.

“I apologize. Your favorite canvas has been a bit marked up.” Jing Yuan sighs.

“Jing Yuan.” You squeak and bat at his chest. “Don’t speak of your body and condition in such a way.”

“Why not? I so have missed your marks on me, you know. It’s been a lonely recovery period—”

“Jing. Yuan.” You tug at his hair playfully. “It is too early for you to be teasing me.”

“I don’t think it’s ever ‘too early’ for such things.” Jing Yuan laughs. “Besides, I think you quite like it.”

“Cruel man.”

“You wound me.” There’s no bite to either of your voices. Just something warm and underused.

You press a kiss to his cheek and nudge your nose into the pudge of it, “Truly?”

“No.” Jing Yuan pulls you up by your waist, holding you flush to him as he turns to face you. You are chest to chest, nose to nose. “There’s no need to worry about the nips of a kitten, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You awful, awful man—” You say with a burgeoning smile that you can’t help but wear.

Jing Yuan cups a large, warm palm against your jaw and presses his lips to yours.

It’s indulgent, just like the ridiculously-sized bed you’re entangled in and the silken sleep pants you can feel him wearing. Your smile into it— you missed this.

Why did you miss it—?

Oh.

You pull away, eyes widening, “Jing Yuan, the ship. I have— repairs. I have to—”

He silences you with a quick kiss, racking his nails down your back and you gasp.

“The repairs are being taken care of by a few honored guests from the Xuling and Yuque. Diviner Fu is their point of contact and guide for the duration of their stay. They will be completing the remaining restoration while you enjoy your leave.”

“I mean—” You flounder, panic is bursting in your chest. “They can contact me— I know what needs to be fixed, I can at least make a list—?”

Jing Yuan hums, grip getting tighter around your hips. It’s a shadow of something you’ve seen in him before— it’s a bit possessive.

“Once again, dear, you are on indefinite leave by order of the Seat of Divine Foresight by the Arbiter General himself.” He reminds you with a glint in his eye. “You needn’t make any lists or instructions for our guests. Diviner Fu is more than capable of directing them as necessary. Actually, I believe she’ll quite like it.”

“You’re pulling rank on me?”

“As I have every right to do.” Jing Yuan doesn’t relent. More sweetly, he continues. “As your lover, I would also be much happier to see you recovering in bed than anywhere else.”

“… Are the gardens off limits?”

“No, though I’d recommend giving yourself a few days of minimal activity.” Jing Yuan frowns then. “I don’t believe you realize it, but you are quite weak at the moment.”

“... Really?”

“Lady Bailu’s cloudhymns are quite advanced these days.” He rubs a thumb below your eyes, over what must be a dark circle. “But, her skills mostly lie in healing flesh wounds and disease. You are malnourished, dehydrated, and... overall rundown.”

“... The Dragon Lady is going to give me an earful, isn’t she?”

“In time.” Jing Yuan laughs. He brings one of your hands up to his face to press his lips to your knuckles. No longer covered in burns and irritated hives, but still bearing light scarring.

Neither you nor Jing Yuan escaped unscathed.

“Do I need to prepare?”

“Perhaps not as much as you think.” Jing Yuan hums, pulling the sheets over your heads. “She examined you while you were asleep a few times. She has already scolded you plenty, even if you don’t remember it.”

“Did I wake up at all?”

“Barely. It was almost concerning.” Jing Yuan tugs you closer and tucks your head under his chin. “I did manage to have you sip some water and give you a wipe down though. Admittedly, you do need a proper bath.”

You nearly moan.

The idea of a bath is downright erotic. Though you don’t feel as greasy and as sticky as you could, given Jing Yuan had kindly gotten the worst of it off of you, the idea of being truly clean sounded pornographic.

Especially, given you were at Jing Yuan’s residence, and in addition to his indulgently large and comfortable bed, he also had an indulgently large and opulent self-heating bath. The idea of having a long soak and scrub has you burying your face into Jing Yuan chest and squeezing around his middle.

“I want it.”

“A bath?”

“Yes. And you. And a meal. Lots of things, actually.” Enough to make your head spin. It feels like your slowly waking mind is all out of sorts.

“Let’s start with a meal and a bath, then.” Jing Yuan offers. “Perhaps after a nap?”

You don’t need to be persuaded.

It’s a kinder sleep you sink into. Less bottomless and far warmer. Jing Yuan kisses you breathless and a bit stupid as you drift off, chuckling against your lips as you grumble and grouse at him, before being tugged down into sleep once more.

...

“How are you feeling?”

You ask Jing Yuan this as you give yourself a pre-bath rinse behind an ornate screen. The wet cloth clutched in your hands drips fat droplets of water onto the polished, glass tile beneath your feet. Soap clings to your body, falling into little rivulets, taking the worst of your grime down the nearby drain. Watching the iridescent bubbles distracts you from the weight of your own words.

You’ve been wanting to ask Jing Yuan this for—

(Weeks, probably, actually, in the time of the Xianzhou Alliance’s calendar. At least you since you saw him nearly lifeless in the grainy cell phone footage.)

Since you have woken and were sleepily led to Jing Yuan’s opulent, resplendent private baths, at least.

From the other side of the screen, Jing Yuan answers, “I feel fine, dear.”

“Physically?”

“I’ve had more than enough time to recover.”

“... Mentally? All over, Jing Yuan.”

You hate asking this, but you know it’s necessary. You’re sure Jing Yuan is being monitored for Mara-onset symptoms; there’s no way he couldn’t be. You don’t see any obvious ones. But, Mara is the most extreme of afflictions.

He laughs again, and you can feel him shaking his head like it can shake off your concern, “I assure you, I’m more than fine. Having to be responsible for so much paperwork again is painful, but doable.”

He’s dodging your question, albeit with less finesse than he normally would.

“Would you blame me if I doubted that answer?”

“No, not at all.”

You sigh and rinse the last of the suds from your body. It’s tedious, this roundabout game with Jing Yuan, but he is rarely forthcoming with personal information. Whether that’s memories of his life before you entered it, political stratagem, or his own mental state— it’sall veiled. You’ve gotten more adept at playing his games, but you truthfully don’t know if you have the energy to try.

You rub your hand over your face. One thing at a time.

You pluck the robe Jing Yuan had supplied from the top of the screen and wrap yourself in the (thin, wispy, objectively indecent) garment. It’s not doing much to cover you at all, as the light, silken fabric clings to the wet curves of your body. You appreciate the attempt at modesty in the same way you appreciate Jing Yuan idling on the other side of the screen.

You feel like a doe on uneven ground still. Jing Yuan probably expects this.

He guides you to the bath, steering into more light-hearted chatter. He tells you what Yanqing has been up to since he has resumed his office, once again asking for swords and seemingly training with a new vigor and intensity. He has been begging the General to spar with him all hours of the day. Or, call back his newfound friends from the Astral Express for a round or two. Qingzu will be taking a much-needed vacation in the coming weeks. Jing Yuan’s carmelias and bluebell astrums have begun to bloom.

You nod along, only half-there.

Jing Yuan eases your robe off your shoulder as he speaks. His voice is low and a bit rough from his own nap. The broad planes of his palms and fingers smooth over your shoulders and peel the fabric down. His thumb worries the marred skin of your forearms.

“We’ll make sure your next meals are particularly hearty. These should heal up quickly, wouldn’t you say?” He coaxes.

You nod, staring at the burns. They’ll be nothing but worn-looking scars in a matter of weeks.

Your robe is slung over a cart, filled with a collection of luxurious bath oils and soaps. Jing Yuan only has a few indulgences— his sprawling, soft bed, his many gardens, and his opulent, resplendent private bath laid with emerald green glass tiles and a sunken tub that could’ve been counted as a pool given its size. You’re grateful for it— though you’ve only used it a handful of times. The General has a habit of taking quick showers, unless he has the better part of the day to lounge in the perfectly-warmed water.

You try not to linger on your own nakedness, though you can feel Jing Yuan surveying you. There must be bruises on your waist from the heavy belt you were wearing. Visible weight loss too. You busy yourself by untying the sash of Jing Yuan’s robe and pulling it from his shoulders. It had already been somewhat open, revealing the marred expanse of his chest. Thin, spidery scars that clearly stretched over most of his body.

Typically, Xianzhou Native bodies heal with little scarring. But, these wounds were carved by a Lord Ravager. You’re unsure if they will follow the same logic.

You will love Jing Yuan, obviously, regardless of any lasting marks. But the thought still makes you sad— something in you aches. You trace the scars leading down from his chest to his softened tummy to the v of his hips. His cock is soft between his legs. It’s too dark in the bath to tell if the scars extend there as well.

“You look troubled.” He says, pausing his stories.

“I worry for you, so much.” You tell him.

Meeting his eyes is difficult. The honey-stone color of them looks darker in the dimly-lit chamber, but you can easily see the crease between his brow. There’s clear concern, perhaps a bit overwritten by his need to conceal his hand.

Perhaps he is too tired himself to be as careful as he usually is.

(Good. If there’s anyone who he can let his guard down around, Aeons, let it be you.)

Jing Yuan helps you into the tub. First, he enters, sliding into the steaming water with a shudder. He extends his hand to you as you take unsure steps onto the slick tiling. The water is the perfect temperature— not too hot, but pleasantly warm in a way that won’t lead to overheating. You hide your body under the water and sink up to your chin and sigh.

It feels heavenly.

Jing Yuan chuckles as you do and smoothes a hand over the top of your head. He’s already reaching for a few bottles on the nearby cart, pouring a few under the steady gurgle of water that flows from a wide tap. It’s entrancing to watch— equally as entrancing is the breadth of Jing Yuan’s shoulder, marred by the scarring. He’s beautiful in a way that makes your stomach knot.

You end up settled with your back pressed to his front, laid in his lap, almost dozing as he massages shampoo into your hair.

“I’m filthy, aren’t I?” You ask.

Jing Yuan hums, “I’ve never seen you this unkempt, no.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He kisses the back of your soapy skull. “You needn’t apologize for anything. I’m not upset with you.”

“... Okay.” You concede. He goes back to dutifully washing your hair, then follows it with conditioner and securing your hair up and out of the water as necessary. His idle talk has stopped, the space filled by the running water and your own breath.

“May I wash yours?” You ask.

“You still have your body, love.”

“I know,” You reply sheepishly. “At least let me get your conditioner in?”

Jing Yuan laughs, and coaxes you to turn with his big hands wrapped around your waist under the waist. You spin his lap, straddling him. It’s a precarious position, but you... missed it. Nudging yourself closer, you lean into him, chest to chest, and deflate.

He laughs, something rich and warm that radiates from his body into your own, “It really is hard work, bathing, isn’t it?”

“No,” You muffle your words into his collarbones. “Just give me a minute.”

“Of course,” His arms wrap firmly around your waist, locking you together. He’s hot— he runs like a furnace even when not in a toasty bath. There’s a bit of sweat dripping down his neck and you’re tempted to lick it away.

Maybe later, for now you bask.

You bask in the fact that Jing Yuan is here, warm and alive. You want to commit him to memory— better than you have. If it forsakes you to Mara in a few decades, you do not care. You had forgotten the softness of his chest, the curve of his waist and the point of his nose. The details of Jing Yuan had become so fuzzy in such a short time. You’re sure Lady Bailu would assert it had something to do with your ‘chronic sleep deprivation’, but you’re not sure if you agree with that potential diagnosis.

Spending too much time attuned to immaterial quantum fields erodes your psyche, probably.

“So deep in thought.” Jing Yuan runs a head down your back. “Take a break to rinse, hm?”

“I haven’t gotten yours in yet, though?”

“We can take our time. Besides, I bathed this morning. This is all for pleasure.”

“... Pleasure, huh?”

Jing Yuan flashes you a grin burgeoning on mischievous, “Yes, pleasure, in whatever form that may come. Is that what’s plaguing you, dear?”

“No, not at all.” You sigh and lean back from him, cupping his cheeks. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Jing Yuan says. His cards are showing— his voice is straining, pitched in a way that indicates he’s sad in his chest. The thing between your ribs aches.

“I was worried.”

“So you have said.” Jing Yuan cajoles you down, slipping your head half in the water to rinse away your conditioner. He suspends you with a single arm. His musculature is obscene.

“How could I not be?” You clench your jaw. “I saw videos of you being taken to the Alchemy Commission— you— you looked—”

Half-dead.

Corpse-like.

Steps from death’s door.

On your way to the grave.

Dead.

Jing Yuan calls your name, rubbing soothing little circles over the small of your waist, “I’m well now, dear.”

“But you almost weren’t.” Your voice breaks. You don’t mean for it to. You tuck yourself into his neck and hide.

You don’t want to cry, but you can feel something welling up from within your guts. It’s the thing you pushed down relentlessly in the bowels of the Luofu. As you tinkered and toiled in the depths of the ship, you never let this ache spill over, lest you drown. Whether that’s in Mara or a less permanent type of suffering, you do not know.

“But I am.” Jing Yuan assures you. “I am here now, aren’t I? Whole and in one piece.”

You know this. You know this. But— You drag your fingernails over his shoulder blades. Jing Yuan shudders as you do.

“It’s hard.”

“I know.”

The hands around you squeeze hard enough to bruise.

“I thought you were going to keel over in the gardens when Yanqing first brought you to me.” Jing Yuan confesses. “I’d been pestering Lady Fu on the hour for any updates about your whereabouts and communications.”

“... I wasn’t communicating with anyone, though.”

“I know.” Jing Yuan has a thread of... contempt to it. “I wish you would have.”

“What could I have said?”

“I’m not sure,” Jing Yuan tangles a hand in your washed hair and tilts your face to meet his. “But, I’m sure you would’ve found the right words.”

He kisses you. Or you kiss him. Who’s to say.

You don’t have the right words— you may never. Certainly not in your mind or on your tongue now. The thing that rises in your throat is carnal and old and writhing— want. Verging on need. You struggle to keep the kiss chaste, closed lips pressed together after so long apart

Perhaps Jing Yuan has a similar depth that’s clawing at his insides.

He tilts his head, dragging you closer. Close as can be. He kisses you in a silently desperate way. You accept his advances and tangle your hands in his hair. Tug him closer and closer and closer.

(Don’t go. Please don’t go. Not yet.)

(Not until we’re both split apart by gingko roots and dappled in noontime sunlight.)

You gasp his name as you break apart for breath, smoothing your thumbs down his cheekbones and jaw. His pupils are blown and desperate.

“Can I touch you?” He asks, always so polite.

“Please—”

Jing Yuan kisses you again, deeper and pulling you into the depths of the bath. His hands trail down to your thighs, squeezing along the way. Calloused and wide, familiar. The feel of them is coming home, you hadn’t realized how much you missed this.

You keen against his lips and Jing Yuan laughs— the gall of that man.

His flips you easily, caging you against the edge of the pool. This way, he has height over you. He looms, casting a flickering shadow in the amber light of the beeswax candles scattered about. You swallow as you watch droplets of water slide down his throat, chest, tummy. His forearms make you feel dizzy.

“May I have you?” He asks, once again. “Not yet— but I don’t want to progress if you’re not feeling fit for it.”

“N-No,” You feel desperate, you sound desperate. Sensitive and clawing, the beast that you buried in the depths of the Luofu crawls out of your throat and wraps itself around you. Tears spring to your eyes. “Please? Just— be slow—”

Jing Yuan must see your eyes water. He softens.

He thumbs over the fragile skin beneath your eyes, as if wiping the stray tear could wipe away the dark circles punched there as well.

“Of course.” He assures you and presses his lips to your forehead.

...

Jing Yuan takes ‘slow’ both seriously and literally. You are both grateful and horribly frustrated by this. You almost regret not telling Jing Yuan to simply bend you over the lip of the bath and fuck you senseless, though Jing Yuan probably would not have granted you that even if you had asked. He loves to savor when he can. Bedding you is no exception— even under more typical circumstances.

And these aren’t typical circumstances.

Perhaps you should’ve known Jing Yuan intended to break you apart and stitch you back together.

He doesn’t escalate things much further in the bath, despite petting down your sides and seeming to always have his lips on you. You wash his hair as you’d ask to, scratching at his scalp and relishing the almost-purr he lets out as he wraps himself around you. When you start to just barely grind in his lap (squirm, more than anything), he is quick to still you with an iron-like hold on your hips, pinning you down and over his thighs.

“Not yet,” He tells you, nipping at your jaw. “Be patient.”

You huff.

Jing Yuan takes charge of finishing washing you, using gentle touch and a soft cloth from your ankles to the crown of your head. His touch lingers, starting some low burning flame low in your gut that you have a feeling won’t be quenched for quite some time.

It’s tortuous. It’s wonderful.

After you towel each other off, he leads you back to his rooms, only in the damp robes and undergarments he’d dutifully remembered to bring along. The silk clings to Jing Yuan’s bulk as he walks beside you. His hand is on your lower back. Little bugs chirp in the courtyard gardens you pass. There’s the gurgle of a fountain. The soft breeze that Luofu always keeps, even on the most temperate days of summer. It’s all so different from the acrid smell of lubricant and the ambient machine hum you had become so used to.

“I’m only on leave, not house arrest, correct?” You ask as you enter his wing, to his bedroom.

He locks the door behind you as you step inside.

“No, no house arrest.” Jing Yuan hums as he strips off his robe. You want to bite him. “You’re free to roam within reason.”

“Does ‘within reason’ include the nursery that outlander keeps in the Exalting Sanctum?”

“Of course. Though I may assign you a chaperone.”

“Really? Would you send Yanqing with me for a quick run to grab a new shrub or two.”

Jing Yuan laughs, something rich and full that rolls over you like a fleeced quilt, “I figured that I would be your chaperone, dear. If you’d allow.”

“... You’re making this sound like a date, General.”

“Am I?” Jing Yuan smiles so honeyed, it makes something in your chest begin to crack. You lay your hands on his bare chest and hold your ear to his chest. He laughs when you do. “I’d like it if it was. If you’d have me.”

“Of course I would.”

You say it so simply.

You want to crawl into his body and live there, and break any spindly seedlings of Mara away with your own two hands.

Jing Yuan kisses you, walking you back into the door. His lips are soft, a bit chapped in a way that’s familiar and comforting. You run a hand up and down his chest, stopping to squish one of his ample pecs. You muffle a laugh into Jing Yuan’s lips as he stutters out a groan. Sweet, sweet man.

“I missed you,” You tell him once more, hoping your words seep past the seam of his lips, down his throat and sink into his guts.

Jing Yuan responds by pressing you into the door, using the warm line of his body to flatten you to the wood. His kiss verges on desperate, tongue insistent at the seam of your lips, hands tugging you close, close, closer. You yield to him, whining as his tongue licks into your mouth, the taste of him so familiar it makes you ache.

You tug at his hair and urge him closer, if that is possible.

His touch is searing as he breaks away, panting, eyes hot. Scalding. His hair is down, drying to a fluffy, untamed mane around his cheeks and shoulders. It’s charming. You thumb over his cheeks with a smile. He leans into your touch while giving you a soft smile.

“The reign you have over me.” He sighs. You don’t get a chance to question him— his thigh slots between your own and your breath catches with the contact.

You haven’t been touched in so long.

You cling to his shoulders and just barely grind on his thigh— as much as his hold on your waist will allow. Jing Yuan’s kisses trail from your lips to over your cheeks and down your throat. He stops at the juncture of your neck and shoulders, nosing into the spot.

“Such a lovely scent,” He hums.

“I-I bet I smelled horrible before, h-huh?” You laugh as he begins to worry a patch of skin. Tender and fragile, perfect for bruising.

“Hm, I wouldn’t say that.” His teeth graze your throat and your head falls back into the door with thud. Jing Yuan shields your skull with his hands a beat later. “You’d be surprised how many times we’ve shared a bed and you’ve reeked of your favorite brand of astral lubricant.”

“Jing Yuan!” You shriek with a laugh and bat at his shoulders. “You’re so cruel.”

“What, do you not like when I tease you?”

“Scoundrel.”

“I think you do like it.”

You missed bantering with him.

“I love you.” You tell him. He knows— you know this. Declarations of love are rare for the long-lived. At least so directly— to care so deeply is to damn yourself to a faster descent into Mara. Though, to live and deprive yourself of companionship and love is to be dead while living. There’s a tender balance between connection and detachment. Both you and Jing Yuan are intimately familiar with it and indulge together.

Jing Yuan bites down on your neck.

It hurts, enough that you jolt and squirm against his body. Jing Yuan holds you into place, sucking on the skin he’d sunk his teeth into. It’s higher on his neck than he’d usually mark you.

(He’s leaving it to be seen. You are Jing Yuan’s, loved and held.)

(What a wretched man.)

By the time he pulls away, you’re panting. Tears have welled up on your lash line. It hurts and it hurts even more when Jing Yuan runs a high thumb over the quickly rising skin. You gasp and Jing Yuan catches your chin in the wide palm of his hand.

You meet his gaze, intense and lighting-vibrant. You’re panting with an open mouth.

“How lovely.” And he presses a kiss to a corner of your mouth.

Jing Yuan guides you to his ridiculously large bed (that could surely fit up to five bodies and a fully grown, white lion.) The sheets have been changed, though you have a feeling they’ll be dirtied again by the morning.

It’s gentle, the way he hastens you higher up the mattress before giving you a light shove into a mound of pillows. You hook your legs around his waist, drawing him as close as he’ll allow.

He massages the meat of your thighs. His gaze goes long, and a bit unfocused, though it's trained on you.

(You wonder what he’s thinking. Jing Yuan is so careful, always so ginger and measured in his steps. Still, there’s a fire in him that you often overlook. It’s the part of him that keeps a lion as a housemate, raised a young boy into a champion, and... you suppose urged him to become the Luofu’s sacrificial lamb in the face of the Destruction.)

You gulp, throat bobbing. Perhaps, you know your General to be a docile, indolent man who prefers naps and board games too much else. Perhaps you have overlooked, or rather forgotten, that you once saw the Divine Foresight as a warlord, given what you’d read about him in the data banks during your studies on the Yuque.

Jing Yuan’s hand drifts down your front. You’re still wearing your robe. Gentle touch peels it away, leaving you in just a pair of thin panties. They’re a soft, breathable fabric— the kind that will surely show your interest in the General. (You have a feeling Jing Yuan picked them out for that reason expressly.)

Jing Yuan presses the pad of his thumb over your clit through the fabric.

You aren’t expecting it, and arch your back with a squeak. His hand lays hot at the innermost part of your thigh, at the fragile skin where it meets your more sensitive parts.

“I-I thought you said you’d go slow.” You squirm.

“Of course.” Jing Yuan remains unmoving, applying just enough pressure to be maddening. “I intend to.”

With how sensitive you are, you need him to be slow. Your body feels tender out of the bath— cooked and raw all at once. Your muscles still ache from your time in the tunnels and you feel... atrophied, if anything.

Jing Yuan must know this, and you trust him to keep his word.

He makes his way home between your thighs, laying over your front to kiss you once more. This is slow, every lick and nip thoughtful, every barely-there roll of his hips is intentional. You’re not sure where he finds the restraint.

You pet through his hair, softening incrementally with each soft touch he gives you.

He pulls away, lips kiss-bruised and cheeks flushed. It’s cute to see the General so disheveled. He’d never look this out of it and starry-eyed outside of this shared bedroom. It makes you giddy. You smother his cheeks with kisses and let him muffle laughter into your skin.

It’s all soul-splitting.

It’s good. The proximity is warm and inviting. You missed the richness of his bed, the scent of incense and the candles you stock the room with. You missed the roll of his muscles underneath your fingertips and the mirthful glint that flashes in his eyes whenever he thinks he has you on the ropes.

You were so scared of losing this.

It hits you in the chest, caving you in, breaking rib and bone. You were so scared— terrified that this dance you’ve become so adept at sharing with Jing Yuan would end before you were ready for it too. You know that you’ll both fall to Mara, it’s inevitable— but you don’t want it to happen yet. You’re not ready for the final flourish. You weren’t ready for Jing Yuan’s cradled, near lifeless body to be the dying gasp of the partnership you had.

You know it's foolish to think this way. Things— all things, are bigger than mortal minds. Paths cut by the stars, brushstrokes by Gods and Aeons that dictate the lives and destiny of all. You are one mind, one body, one tender spirit. You cannot fight against such forces. You will be crushed.

But, for now, you savor. Take each moment and be grateful even as it slips, honey-warm and molten, between your fingers to be replaced by another in the next instant, equally as lovely. Piled on each other. It is enough.

You crush Jing Yuan to you, hard and fast enough that the wind is knocked out of him, “Please be more careful with yourself.”

I can’t lose you just yet.

“I will try.” His voice is a comforting curl over you. He strokes over your temples and forehead.

“N-No, you must.”

You don’t know the words yet for what you want to tell him. The feelings are too large, too unmanageable. Maybe attuning to the Luofu’s quantum fields has rotted your brain. You’ve lost your words.

With some cajoling, you flip Jing Yuan onto his back.

Sitting up over his hips, you set upon his neck. First with soft kisses, just as he gave you, then with nips and stronger bites. Then a chomp below his jaw. His hips crest upwards, his hands spasming around your waist as he holds you steady. The sounds that leak from him make you want to crawl down his throat.

You suck and bite at the mark until you’re satisfied, pulling away to see his pale skin bruising darker by the moment. You admire the popped blood vessels with what must be a dreamy expression on your face.

“Leaving your mark on me?” Jing Yuan asks, breathless and light.

“It’s only fair.” You kiss his smile, sharing it, “Just as you did to me.”

Running your hands down his chest, you frown at the scars.

“What if I joined the Cloud Knights?” You ask him.

Jing Yuan looks a bit... surprised, “Why would you do that? Though, perhaps, giving up your position as Master Calibrator would be reasonable, given recent events.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” You watch the rise and fall of Jing Yuan’s chest with an ache in your own. “If I was stronger, I could protect you, couldn’t I?”

Tears well up in your eyes.

Jing Yuan opens his mouth to speak, you hear his inhale, but you cut him off, “I-If I was a fighter, or just a Diviner, couldn’t I help more? Could I— could I have stopped this? Or stop something horrible from happening in the future? I don’t want to see you hurt like this.”

It should be a bit funny, maybe, that you’re sitting on the waist of the half-hard Divine Foresight, in tears, asking him if you could protect him. A man treated as nearly infallible, a legend amongst people who so rarely have them. He has an eternal spirit gifted by an Aeon tied to his very being.

And yet you, something of a mechanic and professional tinkerer, beg to protect him.

“Oh, [Name].” He says, mournful.

You swallow down a sob and tears drip from your eyes to splatter on his chest. Your vision blurs and you rake your nails down his chest. More raised marks— yours struck on him this time. Jing Yuan winds a hand in your hair, strokes down your neck, tries to calm you but it's hard. You can’t catch yourself.

“I’m s-sorry—” You tell him between gulps of air. You’re supposed to be being bed right now, fucked stupid and more brainless than you already are, but you’re crying and the panic welling up in your chest feels bottomless and vast.

“No apologies,” Jing Yuan hushes you, rubbing away tears. “You’re alright. I understand.”

“You do?” You snort. It’s blotted out by a proper sob that you hide in Jing Yuan’s chest.

“How could I not?” He rubs over your dark circles under your eyes, then the bruising around your hips. The softness around your waist that’s not as plump as it was a month ago. “Do you think I didn’t contend with traversing the tunnels myself and pulling you out by your scruff?”

“... You did?”

He pauses.

“Everyday.” Jing Yuan admits after a moment. Any admission from him is hard earned.

“Oh.”

You blink, and cry all over again because you feel silly and foolish all over. He hushes you, petting over your cheeks, back, hips— anywhere he can reach. He’s good at soothing, knowing what strokes to provide and where.

“Did you think I didn’t worry?”

“I—I don’t know,” You shake your head. “You had more important things to worry about, right? And— and you were recovering.”

“I asked to see you, you know.”

“... I was told.”

“What did you think that meant?”

“... I don’t know.” You don’t. “I just— I was being a coward. I was scared to see the extent of your injuries before the ship was repaired fully. I wanted— I wanted things to be okay. I didn’t want to go to the surface and see that Vidyadhara who saved you.”

“... Dan Heng?”

“Sure.” Lizard. Fucker.

“... You’re jealous?”

“No.” Oh, yes. Entirely. “I just— he got to carry you. I have to join the Cloud Knights and get strong enough to do so myself. It’s only fair. You’re mine, not some lizard’s.”

Jing Yuan looks startled, then his expression softens.

You besmirch the not-quite outlander easily. You do not know him— you’ve heard whispers. Nothing from Jing Yuan, and you do not pry at his past (and he doesn’t pry at yours.) You know they have a connection from before your time on the Luofu. You don’t fully know its nature, but judging by the passing... grief that Jing Yuan wears, if only for a moment, you can guess. Infer.

(Something of lovers. Almost lovers. If nothing else, Jing Yuan cared for him very much.)

“You needn’t worry about Dan Heng, dear,” he gently. says. “Such things are in the past now. He has moved onto a different shore, and is quite happy on the Astral Express.”

“... He’s not coming to steal you?”

“No,” he laughs, looking mournful again. “I’m certain he has no interest in such things.”

He speaks so sadly. Not heartbroken, it’s not that fresh. He speaks through a wound with a type of melancholy that resonates in your chest like a minor chord. You resist the urge to say, ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’

“Do you wish he would?”

Jing Yuan pauses.

“No.” He shakes his head, “Not anymore. We have both grown.”

And he pets over your cheek before kissing you. You know he’s telling you the truth.

...

Jing Yuan does not allow haste, and neither do you. Perhaps, you both are feeling fragile. You keep breaking each other open, only to help the other reassemble their pieces a moment later.

Jing Yuan enjoys savoring physical contact, regardless of circumstance or propriety. He steals touches in public in a way that’s indulgent, but never overt. He licks into your mouth with the pace like cooling honey. Each does is meant to brand. You’re meant to feel it, feel him, for as long as the moment will allow. He savors you with hitches of his own breath, a desperation of his own bubbling under his surface.

You can be a bit shy when he truly gluts himself this way. It’s so overt. It tears something in you, and reveals a squishy, softer center that you’re anxious to show anyone. Even a lover like Jing Yuan who has shown you time and time again there is nothing to fear, other than his own foolhardy decisions.

Jing Yuan probably likes it when he gets to be this slow. Peeling back layer after layer of you, forcing you to luxuriate in the unfamiliar warmth, and be reminded that he is there and sturdy.

Jing Yuan is laid between your thighs, your legs over his shoulder. His thick forearm is braced across your navel, your hand held in his. Your fingers are intertwined. His other hand pets at the back of your thighs as you shudder.

You’re sensitive.

Jing Yuan eats your cunt with the pace of a man who has nothing to lose, no phases of the moon to observe, and something to prove. He laps at your center, squeezing your hand with each jolt of your hips against his mouth.

The stroke of his tongue is slow and unhurried. He’s enjoying himself, savoring your taste, humming and groaning when you inadvertently grind against his mouth. During a more routine fuck, Jing Yuan enjoys when you anchor yourself with a grip in his hair and fuck his face. Any impulse you could have to indulge in such a way tonight is quelled. His grip is unyielding on your hand. Your free hand is tangled in the sheets, occasionally shakily pushing Jing Yuan’s mane away from his forehead so you can watch him tongue fuck you with the pace of the lazy, sunbathing cat.

You drop your head to the nest of pillows behind you with a groan and throw your arm over your eyes.

Jing Yuan chuckles against your cunt and flicks his tongue over your clit. He sucks and you want to sob. He hasn’t let you built up to any release— it’s long form teasing, it’s torture. You can feel how wet you are between your thighs, sticky from your own slick and his saliva. You’re messy.

(This is how Jing Yuan prefers it anyways.)

Jing Yuan had made a point to tease you in your thin panties before putting his mouth on you at all. Stroking over the fabric, barely dipping his fingers under the thin, lace waistband. He kissed your covered pussy until you were almost tearing the sheets in your balled up fists.

Jing Yuan still hasn’t put anything inside of you. You know it will be— tight. Jing Yuan has large hands and a proportionally large cock (that most Xianzhou Alliance gossip forums still undersize). Part of his slowness is necessary.

The tip of a finger teases your hole and you kick at his back in surprise.

“F-Finally giving in?”

“I’m not giving in at all,” Jing Yuan pulls away from your cunt to speak, wet and sloppy around his mouth. Eyes half-lidded and so, so content. “I’ve never had anything other than the intention to open you on my tongue and my fingers. What gave you any other impression?”

“Bastard.”

He nips the apex of your thigh and you yip.

“Yours.”

You smile, stupid and a little love drunk, and stroke his hair, “Mine.”

Jing Yuan’s gaze darkens for a moment— something passes there. A thought you can’t read from him or glean anything from. The headiness of the moment temporarily breaks, and for an instant you think that something is wrong. You almost push yourself off the bed in a fit of concern—

But Jing Yuan begins the slow press of his finger into your cunt.

You gasp and squirm, flinching almost. Jing Yuan bears his weight on your waist and keeps you in place as you do, intently watching your expression and parted, wet lips. You’re flayed. It’s just a finger, but it feels big. His fingers are big— a bit calloused, but softer than you’d think.

As he sinks the digit into you, you pant. He kisses your clit, encouraging you to open up for him, murmuring little words of praise that sit in your brain pleasantly but are hard to make distinct. You go slack into the mound of pillows as his mouth returns to your cunt, the single finger fully inside you, resting as you tremble.

With a suck to your clit, he crooks the finger up.

It feels good. The spot is tender. Jing Yuan knows just where to apply pressure, the pace and angle are so, so good. He’s memorized this part of you. A month apart isn’t going to remove that knowledge.

He teases you like this— never letting you rise too close to release. The roiling tendrils of arousal in your gut stay there, like stoked embers without tinder to light anew. You take it— you take what he gives you. You relish each touch, lick, and kiss.

“Jing Yuan—” You gasp his name as he removes the single finger to begin to stretch you with two.

Two is— it’s a lot. Normally, it wouldn’t be. Maybe, you’d beg for more, and beg for more faster. But now, two stings and aches on your insides. You claw at his hair and whine in the back of your throat. Jing Yuan hushes you and spits on his fingers, the extra bit of lubrication helping somewhat, but you’re tight and wound.

“Are you alright?” Jing Yuan asks as he massages the most sensitive spot in your cunt. He asks genuinely, not as a tease.

“‘S tight,” You squeeze out, wiggling your hips.

“Am I being gentle enough?”

“Uh-huh,” You pet over his forehead. “Thank you?”

“Of course.” Jing Yuan chuckles. “Does it feel good?’

“Y-Yeah,” You whine as Jing Yuan curls his fingers, thumb pressed against your clit and rolling the pearl of itl. “I-It’s unfair.”

“What’s unfair?”

“That you make me feel s-so good,” You don’t know how else to articulate it. The feral thing in your chest crawls over your body once more, and jerks your hips for more of his touch. You urge his fingers deep, wordlessly beg for more pressure against your cunt.

“You’re so sweet,” Jing Yuan coos, rising to his knees and taking one of your legs with him. Your middle falls open. It feels... vulnerable. You feel exposed and sliced. Your stomach churns for a moment. You nearly ask Jing Yuan to stop.

(Except, Jing Yuan has fucked you enough times to know that you don’t enjoy the physical vulnerability of your sensitive core. It sets you off. He knows that you prefer to cuddle with his massive hand against your belly. He knows you even wear clothes that provide some protection, billowing fabrics and belts. You’re a sensitive thing.)

He slides his broad hand over your belly, and presses down as he leisurely pumps his fingers in and out of your core. The pressure of it burns— scalds you and your arousal feels white hot. He’s prodding you from the inside and the outside, and you feel something bubbling up.

“You’re close,” Jing Yuan says with a catlike smile. “Would you like to come?”

“P-Please—”

Jing Yuan hums, slowing, almost ruining the impending crest, but clicks his tongue and continues. It’s a farce, a little game he’s playing, and much to your (enjoyed) frustration, you’re his other player.

“I would love to hear you beg,” Jing Yuan croons, leaning over your form, bending your leg at an angle that is unfair in all regards. “But, I’d also like to be kind tonight. I think you deserve it— you need it, don’t you?”

“I—” You do. His hand quickens and with his other, he braces behind one of your knees. He ducks down to retake his place between your thighs, eating your cunt with a persistence and vigor that has your eyes roll back in your head. He drills your insides with a deep, steady rhythm that. Maybe could get you pregnant.

Who's to say.

“I’m—” You gasp, ready to beg regardless of what Jing Yuan wants or expects from you. You want to give him everything.

“That’s it. Let go.” He beckons you and you break.

Your orgasm slams into you. The teasing and playful edging made you sensitive and like a livewire. When you finally cum, you choke on your own breath, eyes rolling back into your head, and you shove your face into a pillow to muffle the half-sobbed moans that spill from your lips out of your control.

Jing Yuan continues his ministrations through it. Dutifully. Unyielding, even as you twitch with oversensitivity and wisps of exhaustion.

He gently lowers your trembling leg with a sweet smile. He pets you like a cat.

“You’re beautiful.” He says, softened in a way you only get to see.

“Thank you.” Your words slur as he settles beside you, tucking next to you.

He’s hard— so hard that there’s a wet patch on his bottoms from pooling pre. You can feel the length of him against your thigh, and you reach for him. You should really grab some oil—

Jing Yuan stops you with a gentle hand on your wrist.

“Slow, remember?” He reminds you with a grin that is mischievous. “Let’s take a break, just for a moment.”

“Are you sure?” You look down.

The bulge of him makes your mouth water.

“Entirely.” He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a reverent kiss to your wrist. “How about a quick snack, hm? I can fetch some fruit to cut.”

“... That would be nice.”

“Would you like peaches?”

“P-Please.” Your voice is watery and small. Jing Yuan looks smitten to hear the tone. “... Meldberries too? And apples?”

“Of course,” Jing Yuan looks happy. Relieved. Deflated in a way that makes you realize that he had been so tense before. Since you met him in the gardens, haggard and exhausted.

(You’re in his bed, sated and watery and being taken care of.)

“Can I come to the kitchen with you?”

“Are you sure you can walk?” Jing Yuan teases, thumbing at your trembling inner thigh, littered with fresh bruises.

“I can now—” you huff, playfully indignant. “We should bring some back. For... later. When I can’t walk. Hopefully.”

“Hopefully?” Jing Yuan tilts his head, eyes half-lidded and amused.

“Oh, don’t act so innocent!” You laugh and headbutt him lightly. If you had more energy, you’d play fight with him and ruffle the sheets up more than they already are. “I’m sure you’d like me immobile by the time you and your ridiculous cock are through with me.”

“... Ridiculous cock?” Jing Yuan can’t hide the laughter in his voice, or the flush on his cheeks. “So cruel.”

“I— I forgot how big it is.”

“I’m still covered, dearest.”

You gesture, panicked, below the covers to the bulge and still growing wet spot, “Your dick is close to the size of my forearm, Jing Yuan. I can see it without... seeing it.”

“You’re so complimentary.” He practically giggles. “So sweet. I had forgotten how sweet orgasm makes you. Or, is this your fatigue talking?”

“... Both? I missed you.” You say, using your un-held hand to pat Jing Yuan’s covered cock with a smile. “Missed this too.”

Jing Yuan almost squeaks at the unexpected contact. He apparently is just as sensitive as you. He hides his light blush in your neck, and you can’t help but laugh, and think about how sweet the peaches will be when cut by your lover’s hands and shared from the same plate.

...

Jing Yuan keeps his word. The early evening stretches into late evening, every touch and sensation coaxed and unhurried. Slow-stretched sugar, lest it shatters.

In the kitchen, Jing Yuan cuts you a plate of peaches while you rest on his lap, watching the hypnotic carving of his knife with half-lidded eyes. He feeds you slices on a small fruit fork while sending off a message or two from his jade abacus. He carries half a dozen other fruits back to his bedroom and prods you for a more substantial meal order at some point.

You finish off the last few slices while draped in his robe, dazed from your previous high. You feel— out of it. Raw and scraped out. Not much different from how you felt during your time in the utility tunnels, but instead of feverishly working, you’re in the warmly light room of your lover. His warm hand is splayed on the small of your back, rubbing little circles.

You want to ask him:

“How do you do this?”

And Jing Yuan, mirthful, would say:

“Do what?”

And you would say:

“This.”

This:

The way your mind resists fullness, empty by familiar nature. You’ve been cored, like the apple Jing Yuan dutifully cut and fed to you. Your thighs continue to shake. You’re bruised, marked, all his, in a way that cows and strokes the feral part of your mind still half-convinced this is all an elaborate illusion.

How could any of this be a fabrication? When Jing Yuan is so warm behind you, happy to bask in your presence while you bask in his. Jing Yuan’s contentment is infectious, it always is— but so quickly, he has stripped you of your ability to parry it. You can’t hold concern. You can barely hold your body upright. You want to fall into him, ask to take more, and hold him until you simply can’t anymore.

You do not ask Jing Yuan how he undoes you. Predicting the conversation seems— easy. Too easy. (Probably because calibrating a machine meant to sustain a civilization for weeks on end does damage that’s yet to be fully healed. Prediction is a symptom of overuse, divination a side effect. A cumbersome one.) You can imagine the way Jing Yuan would dance with his words, effortlessly sparring in a way that you simply couldn’t keep up with. You are already disarmed. You need his candor, and nothing is more honest than the General’s body.

“Come here.” Jing Yuan beckons you into the sheets to lay with him properly.

(It’s uncanny how he can predict your needs like a diviner himself.)

You follow his direction and let him tug you into his side. Your cheek rests over his chest, soft and a little rounder than it was when you first met him. He’s gained weight since then— which is good. He’s always been bulky under his uniform and regalia, toned muscle from centuries of training and sparring. But there wasn’t much else to him— he used to skip meals if it was too inconvenient to eat. If you were sharing a plate, he’d offer you a larger portion.

It was something so slightly self-deprecating. At first, you hadn’t noticed it. Jing Yuan is not a proud man, he is keen and clever in all regards— but his ego has stayed in check for as long as he’s been Arbiter-General. He commits this quiet act of self-harm, so miniscule that most wouldn’t bat an eye. His lack of appetite was a manifestation of some burden— as he will continue to live and slowly waste away, why should his body not as well?

You’d like to think you’d broken him of his destructive eating habits. Or, at least contributed. Warm meals, arm-in-arm snacking on street foods at night. Vendors are always happy to give the Divine Foresight a free treat, even if he offers them strales every time. He eats well around you, and you know it extends farther. He takes lunches with Yanqing at least once a week. There’s a stash of homemade honey oats and dried apricots stowed in his desk.

You are glad he eats. That he is full.

You appreciate the feel of him under your fingertips, how he has softened and grown a bit less worn during his own leave. He deserves a vacation. Maybe, you’ll sit on his cock and beg him to fucking retire with the promise you’ll be happy to stay that way for as long as he pleases if he does. Anything to keep him this lax and soft. You want to commit it to memory, but you still feel fuzzy.

“Enjoying yourself?” He laughs as he speaks, busying himself with the tacky skin on the nape of your neck. He pets you there.

“Yes.” You grab his chest, thumbing dangerously close to his nipple. “You feel nice.”

“I’m glad.” Jing Yuan says, tone curling and smitten. You feel drunk with it. He hums. “You seem a bit lost. May I guide you back here?”

“I don’t think I am.” You pout. “I’m here.”

“Are you sure?”

“... Fairly sure.”

“May I try anyway?” Jing Yuan asks. “It would make me very happy too.”

There’s no harm to it, really.

“I’ll be good.” He adds and holds your wrist so tenderly in his palm. “I’ll be gentle with you.”

Jing Yuan drags the thin skin of your wrist over his lips, kissing the flesh as he does. It’s reverent, slow as he promised. He peeks up at you as he does, a curtain of his silver hair almost obscuring the warm gold of his eyes. There’s want there, so caramelized that it makes you ache.

Jing Yuan rolls you, so that he’s above you, sitting over your hips. It’s— not too heavy. The weight of him is comforting if nothing else. The heat of him is grounding as he hovers over you, nosing at your jaw, nipping bruised skin. He licks the brutal bite he left earlier and you yip. You don’t have it in you to chastise him for it— you— you maybe like it too much to do so.

Like this, it’s easier to notice how Jing Yuan wants. How his hand is sliding between over your sternum, between your breasts, down the soft line of your belly and navel, and back up again. It’s slow, radiating a yearning that sinks down into your organs heat from a hearth. He thumbs over the line of your throat and kisses you.

He’s more insistent now, licking into your mouth immediately, keeping his rhythm slow and actions drawn out.

Jing Yuan pulls back just enough to speak, warm breath over your lips, “You’re doing so well.”

You feel warm in your cheeks and tug him closer. If only you burrow in his flesh bones, flush the marrow out to replace it with yourself. You’d do it if it meant keeping him upright for longer.

“I’m right here.” Jing Yuan hushes you, gathering your wrists in one hand. You hadn’t realized desperate little keens were leaking from your throat, soaking the room. Jing Yuan doesn’t seem to mind. “No need to fuss. You’re alright.”

“You’re sure?” You ask, you feel out of your body.

Jing Yuan knows this and he tethers you to him with a kiss and firm touch, “I’m sure. You trust me, don’t you?”

“So much,” you admit.

Jing Yuan looks down at your softly, expression beginning to shatter. He is a difficult man to work with— he wears many faces, several hats, and speaks in riddles more often than not. To receive his honesty is— a fucking gift. You want to hold it in your hands and swallow it. His hair falls over his face as he peers down at you, thumbing over the lines of your throat.

“You’re so good.” He says gently, quiet. Like it’s a secret for the two of you. “You’d do anything I’d ask you to right now, wouldn’t you?”

You nod, then think about what he asked. You still would. Probably. Maybe give him some grief along the way, “As long as you’re not too mean about it.”

“Oh?” He teases. He teases, even now. Even when your core is exposed and you’re bare and he’s stalling despite being hard against your thigh. “You’re still so sweet when I’m a bit mean. I think you enjoy it.”

A broken, nearly-pathetic noise drips from your lips. You clutch at his arms and try to bury your face in the sheets. Your face feels so warm, it's making you dizzy.

“No need to be shy,” he sounds smitten, a smile bleeding into his tone. He kisses you with it, again and again until you’re breathless and stupid once more. He pulls back until you’re nose to nose, hand drifting to the apex of your thighs.

You squirm, bucking your hips, urging him closer.

“Patience, love, I’ll give you what you need.” He tells you and kisses the corner of your mouth. You believe him.

Jing Yuan settles himself between your thighs, holding them open with his own. He is not a small man, and it leaves you very exposed. More exposed than you would like, and it makes something in you writhe. Jing Yuan hushes you, soothes you as he’s so good at doing as he drenches his fingers in oil.

(The first time you fucked, you did not do this step. Oil and any type of lubricant was skipped, and you paid the price the next morning with a bit of light bleeding and an ache that would send Jing Yuan to the Alchemy Commission to fetch some specialty painkillers. He was very apologetic the morning after, guilt-ridden even. At some point, he started carrying little vials on his person and insisting lubricant be used regardless of how impromptu of a lay it was.)

(That is all to say that Jing Yuan’s cock is huge and has the capability to break you.)

He presses a finger into you— it goes in easily, slides with the aid of lubricant and your own slick.

“Oh,” Jing Yuan breathes, gaze drifting from your parted lips to the finger he sinks into you. “You’re so wet.”

You want to be snarky. Of course you are, he’s already had you on his tongue earlier in the day— now, he’s been teasing you, playing with you, and being sweet with you. How could you not be? It’s the only natural response to your lover treating you in such a way.

However, you do not get a chance to show him any sass as he crooks his finger upwards and rubs the pad of his thumb in a familiar pattern, little circles over your clit. A gasping moan spills from your lips and Jing Yuan holds you down with his free hand on your hips. He pets you when you shake and yearn for more too quickly.

“‘S okay?” You ask.

“Very.” Jing Yuan smiles, beaming, almost purring. “I’ll tell you if it isn’t.”

“Okay.” You nod, feeling wrung out already. Beads of sweat rise between your breasts and drip down your skin.

Jing Yuan must notice too, as he ducks forward to lick a firm strip over your tacky skin, groaning as he does before moving to one of your nipples. He kisses around the bud, nips just enough to make you fuss, before wrapping his lips around it. He bites, sucks, and groans into you as he does.

You pet through his hair, scrapping your nails down his neck and back. Marking him however you can.

Jing Yuan pulls away from you, panting, and kisses you hard on the mouth. It’s a clash, really. Harsher and more desperate than he usually would give you. He’s usually not this messy, but your teeth clack together awkwardly and you swallow around the discomfort. Jing Yuan is quick to correct himself, deepening the kiss more sweetly as if to apologize.

He slips a second finger inside your cunt, next to the first, drenching your hole in slick and lube. It’s— messy. It is wet. The sound is obscene, even if Jing Yuan is being slow and gentle with your most delicate parts. Arousal pools in your gut, and want makes you feel like a sinking puddle, spreading out over the sheets like you’re going to absorb into Jing Yuan’s lavish mattress.

You open up for him, relax with the contact and let him take care of you as he wishes.

He presses another finger into you— this one stings, despite the preparation and slick drenching you down your thighs and the sheets below you. He moves slowly, kissing your cheeks and hushing you when you whine.

“I’ve got you,” He smiles, and drags his lips over your cheeks. It’s reassuring, and something blooms from the base of your spine up to your throat. He gives you playfully chomp over the apple of one and you let out a little laugh. It bubbles up out of you and Jing Yuan shares it with his own deeper one.

He fans out his fingers inside you, slowly, with each thrust. It’s measured, practiced. Despite the time apart.

Jing Yuan is hard against your leg. You can feel him, though Jing Yuan is still wearing his own robe and silks which simply will not do. Tugging, you drag it off him, and push yourself half up. You attempt to reach for his cock, you want it— him. But Jing Yuan stills his fingers inside you, clicks his tongue, and knocks you back into the mattress with a gentle (albeit firm) shove.

“Not yet.” He scolds, though there’s no bark behind it.

You frown. “But I want you.”

“And what if I want you too?” Jing Yuan asks.

It’s something he’s never raised directly before.

He’s made such a fact known, however. You know he wants you. Jing Yuan was happy to complete a number of courting gestures, prior to becoming something of an official couple. He keeps you close, he is kind to you, he even tells you a secret or two. He fucks you like he loves you and wants you close. He leaves marks all of you, from your neck, all the way down to even your ankles and calves on occasion. He shares drinks with you in his gardens, offers you a place in his bed and somewhere in his heart, even if you’re still (after decades) understanding where that is.

But, so rarely does he state that he wants you so plainly.

Want is dangerous. Yearning and all. Yearning must be a passing emotion if one is to resist Mara. If anything, Mara is accumulated and rotting yearning.

Jing Yuan has lived a long life due to how he copes with yearning.

To admit to it— it is an act of vulnerability. To admit a weakness, a thing that could tear him full of undying roots and strike him down. It is the danger of the Divine Foresight finding a partner and becoming coupled. It invites such feelings.

You had assumed Jing Yuan hadn’t entertained such notions directly. To give them time in his mind could bring rumination. Which— could easily go sour.

“... You want me?”

Jing Yuan tilts his head cutely, “Yes, of course. Was that not obvious?”

“I inferred,” You feel sticky and sloppy as Jing Yuan withdraws his fingers.

He climbs off the bed, only for a moment. He shucks off the last of his clothing, leaving him bare. Candle light casts shadows over the contours of him. His cock looks— painfully hard. As he climbs back into bed, it bobs, swollen and dark red at the head. Almost purpling. It’s slick with pre that is still beading from his slit.

“... Can I suck you off?” You ask, a bit entranced. “Please?”

“Not now,” He tells you with a laugh. “Later, if you ask me nicely again.”

“Okay.” You can do that.

Jing Yuan huffs out another laugh with a shake of his head, “Insatiable thing.”

“I missed you.” You tell him. Your voice is watery. Your own admission.

Jing Yuan flips you by your midsection, coaxing you to raise your hips enough to sandwich a few silk pillows between your hips and the bed. His hands linger over the bruises on your hips, then slide down the swell of your ass to the backs of your thighs. He pets you until you’re relaxed, boneless.

He parts from you over for a moment, rummaging through a nearby cupboard for oil. You hear him slick his cock. The sound makes you squeeze your thighs together and bury your face in the sheets.

Jing Yuan surprises you by pressing a finger into you from behind. A sound rips from your throat as he finds your sweet spots, adding another finger quickly, then a third. You’re drenched between your thighs, so slick you feel drunk. Jing Yuan positions your legs a little wider and settles between them.

“D-Don’t aggravate your injury,” You remember, beginning to push yourself up. A moment of lucidity as you can sense Jing Yuan lining him up. “Not on my account.”

“I won’t.” He promises, running a hand down your back from tailbone to nape to coax you back against the mattress. He presses a kiss to the base of your spine. “Always so caring and diligent.”

“I—” You cut yourself off as the head of his cock teases your folds. Rubbing. “Jing Yuan—”

“I want you.” Jing Yuan tells you, doubling back, bumping against your clit as you moan.

“Y-You can have me,” You want to see his face, rub his cheeks. “You do have me. You’re mine and I’m yours.”

Damning yourselves.

Can’t the General be selfish in lieu of his looming retirement? Can’t the Master Calibrator enjoy the company of others, and not the mechanical hum of a God Ship?

“I have you?” Jing Yuan asks, beginning to push into you.

You can’t reply— you can’t. Despite the prep, and oil, and arousal all together, it’s still tight. Jing Yuan is thick enough that it’s outlandish, and you’re feeling every inch of that girth as he enters you. You clutch your balled-up hands in the soft sheets near your head. You try to keep your breathing even but it’s hard. Jing Yuan pets down your sides, leaning over your back, whispering little words of praise and encouragement as you take him.

“You’re so lovely. Look how well you’re doing.”

“You’re going to take all of me.”

“I’ll be gentle. I’ll be good to you.”

He is, and you don’t mean to cry, you don’t, but you do when he bottoms out, and you can feel him so, so deep, it’s in your throat. The heat of him inside you is searing. You’re changed. You’re being carved out by him anew, and he wants you.

“You h-have me,” You tell him. You scrambled a hand behind you, shaking as you brace yourself against the bed. You manage to get a handful of his head and drag him down over your back. “Jing Yuan, please have me.”

You’ll beg for it; shame has been lost.

You want to stay here. In his bed. By his side. You want him to want the same with you. Not with old flames. You don’t want Jing Yuan to deny himself pleasure in the face of duty, as if the two cannot exist. As if rules cannot be bent or changed by the hand that rules them or the Calibrator who tweaks the vessel that you both live on. Things change. It is the nature of life and starshine.

Even with the Xianzhou Natives' lifetime, they are bound to grow, endlessly.

Jing Yuan pauses above you, stills so deep in you. You’re worried for a moment you’ve crossed a line. That your desperation has spurred him away, rather than closer. It terrifies you. It grips you so hard that it feels like your heart could shatter to pieces.

(Your worry is misplaced.)

Jing Yuan lets out a shuddering sigh, pulling out almost completely. You panic (“no, no, no, don’t, ‘M sorry”) and nearly flip over to try and recover the situation. However— you’re mistaken.

He groans as he slams back into you, curling over your back, gathering you up in his arms, and rolling his hips. He’s scraping the insides of you. You’re raw.

“N-No apologies,” His voice breaks. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Y—You offer me yourself so sweetly. I only feel guilty that—”

He cuts himself off with another deep thrust that punches a broken sound out of you. Tears begin to drip down your cheeks.

“No guilt—”

“I feel guilty,” Jing Yuan punctuates his words with a cant of his hips that has you going slack in his arms, ragdolled by pleasure, “that you think you must beg to be had. I feel immensely guilty that you could have any doubt toward me as a lover.”

He guides you back down to the bed, steadying himself with a searing palm on the back of your neck and a hand leveraged on your lower back.

You really won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

“I don’t doubt y-you like that.”

(It’s less about some nebulous insecurity you keep as his lover, and more about the solid knowledge that Jing Yuan is so careful with his connections. You cannot believe yourself to be the exception.)

(Sometimes, you doubt that he has any tether to anyone. Like he’s waiting to die. No matter how fond he is of you, that this will supersede it. It damns his well being. It damns the future. But, how steadfast does it make the present? You’d like to think its enough for him to keep you as company due to legitimate desire and care, rather than balming of some wound as your insecurities tell you it could be.)

In retrospect, you’ll feel foolish for thinking so little of Jing Yuan’s feelings toward you.

He grabs you by your cheeks in one hand, craning your neck back to face him the best you can on your tummy. He levels his face with yours, nose to nose. Eyes alight. He looks... almost angry. Jaw tight, seated and still inside you to the hilt. You’re full— bursting at the seams, but you have enough lucidity to focus your vision and see how pained he looks. Pained and enraptured, loving and loved. He’s bound up with it, the same way that you are.

“If I could, I would keep you in this bed. If not this bed, then the gardens I would follow you into your tunnels and learn the harmonies and chords you know, even if I couldn’t keep a tune. I would keep you full like this. I would cut you stone fruit whenever you’d like something sweet.”

It’s a declaration. It might as well be a proposal.

You don’t get a chance to reply. Your breath is knocked out of you, like every thought and fear and insecurity that you’ve been shouldering. Jing Yuan fucks you with the full force of his hips, thighs bracketed with your own. It hurts— barely. Enough that you’ll feel it for days and carry a limp for just as long.

His pace is quick and deep. He’s not chasing— he’s creating. Marking a spot inside you that’s just for him. Only him. It makes you feel giddy and stupid and you laugh through the tears streaming down your cheeks. It’s— all a lot. Jing Yuan keeps you tucked so close, pressing you into the silks sheets. He breathes through his mouth, panting against the back of your neck , sucking more marks into the skin, darkening the preexisting ones. Claiming, in a way that feels different from the hickeys he had given you in the past.

You sob as he tilts your hips up. He drills downward, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. You’re— you’re going to explode. The friction of the pillows below your hips isn’t enough to come,but Jing Yuan drilling your insides is getting you close to something. It feels like a peak you’re not meant to climb, and you sob at the sensation. Like you’re free falling.

Jing Yuan holds you closer, wrapping an arm around your midsection, and the feeling disappears.

He sneaks a hand to your cunt. First he feels where you’re joined. The sticky, sloppy mess of pre, slick and lube that you’ve made. You’ll need another bath. Maybe two. He runs gentle fingers along the seam of your cunt, where he’s slowed his thrusts so he can feel where you’re practically tethered together.

“Taking me so well,” Jing Yuan is breathless. He rubs your clit, bracing himself over your front, and fucks you so wonderfully that your vision begins to darken at the edges.

It’s unfair how quickly he gets you to your peak, touching you like this. He knows your body, and you squeeze down around him with a cry as you crest. Your cunt clamps down as the knots in your gut unfurl. You jolt back with the sensation, overwhelming and all consuming. Jing Yuan moans behind you, a beautiful sound you want to have so committed to memory so that even when you’re riddled with mara, you’ll remember the sound.

Jing Yuan doesn’t chase his relief, he lays over your back like a blanket as you shake through the aftershocks of your orgasm and fucks you slow and deep. He only hastens when you let out a warbling little sound, something hurt from your bruised insides making themselves known.

He quiets you with a soft, dragged out whisper of praise. He thrusts harder— faster— and moments later there’s a gush of warmth in your guts that makes your eyes roll back into your head. You want to come again, and you can’t help the temptation to reach down and get off, just once— more.

Jing Yuan nearly growls as you do. He bats your hand away, flips you so you’re belly up. Your hips are raised on the mound of pillows and it hits you what he intends to do.

To have both of you.

He throws your legs over his shoulders. Your thighs shake around his cheeks as he gives them a quick kiss, before diving into his meal. He moans and groans into your cunt, out of breath from fucking you still, but no-less diligent. He fucks his cum back into your with a thick finger for a few thrust, just barely— you’ll be too sore and he knows it.

He eats his release from your cunt. It’s— debauched. It’s so, so much and you can’t do anything other than writhe and tug at his hair. Your hips hurt, but you still find it in you to grind against his mouth. It’s— one of his favorite things. He likes to be used sometimes. This is one of his favorite flavors, when his tongue is inside of you and you drag him closer by his hair and let the friction bring you to orgasm, however long it takes.

You, truthfully, do not have much left in your body to chase this.

Jing Yuan must know this, or he is feeling similarly— or both. Probably both. You’re too floaty and gone to tell. You’re still crying as he moves to your clit, licks and sucks until you fall apart on his tongue once more, full and sated with him.

Both had by each other.

You fall into the bed sheets as you finish, dragging a sweaty Jing Yuan closer. So close. He keeps you closer still, over his chest, cheek pillows on the swell of his pec (breast) and a dusting of silver hair. You’re shaking from the high— so is he. You feel like you’re going to fall into a million pieces.

(It reminds you, briefly, of how it felt when you first dropped into the utility tunnels, after the calibration apprentice went Mara-Struck. How you felt so— alone— gone. How fragile you felt sprinting through the tunnels with the knowledge that your world was being torn apart by forces beyond your control.)

(You felt small and helpless.)

The feeling is quickly extinguished— or maybe made to feel pleasurable. Jing Yuan practically purrs underneath you, petting you, stroking over your new bruises and marks. You keep a hand buried in his hair, petting over his cheeks. Staying lucid— is hard. The last thing you clearly remember was hopelessly fond, adoring, gold eyes, gazing back at you so lovingly, that they could remake you.

Perhaps, they already have.

It’s sometime later, in one of Jing Yuan’s gardens. This one is nestled, lush, in the large courtyard in the center of his home. A pond gurgles with the bubble of fat fish that swim near the surface of the water. You fed them earlier and they’re still looping, searching for an extra snack.

You lay some distance away from the pond on a blanket that Jing Yuan has designated as your ‘outside blanket’ as it is particularly large (tall enough for him to sprawl out on and more than wide enough to fit the both of you) and thick. Your head is pillowed on Jing Yuan’s arm as he is curled toward you, legs tangled with your own. It’s late afternoon, and the General is taking one of his beloved naps. You’ve taken to combing a hand through his hair, scratching along his scalp and behind his ear and contenting yourself with the little sighs and almost-purrs he lets you.

It is good to rest.

Your leave has, overall, been quite restful. Mostly. Aside from the times that Jing Yuan cannot keep his hands of you and you end up fucking whereever is convenient before retiring to your (now shared) bedroom. The bouts leave you tired and worn, but in a satisfying way. Jing Yuan has been particularly dutiful and attentive post-fuck, always handing you chilled water to sip and offering a treat. Sometimes a fruit or a candy he has apparently been stashing away. He gives you as many kisses as you can bear, and you return the gesture as much as you’re able.

Jing Yuan has become... handiser. Needier. You’d say clingier, but as much as he tends to cling when he’s around his estate with you, it never feels overbearing. He indulges in closeness with you in a way that feels shameless in the best way.

It’s the same in public. You’ve gone to the night markets, once or twice to indulge in street foods, and Jing Yuan is equally as touchy, albeit it’s more subtle. A hand on your lower back, standing behind you while he orders with an arm wrapped around your waist. You hold hands when you walk, or you loop an arm through his elbow if it's particularly crowded. He did these things before, but they seem more... necessary. Like he has to keep you close. The contact he shares with you is firmer. Richer, even. He’s always been intentional with you, it's his nature, but now his actions have taken on a different shape. Intentionally showing want, rather than showing closeness.

It creates both a softness and an edge to him that you are thoroughly enjoying.

There’s softness in how lax he is next to you, dozing the afternoon away after completing the bare minimum of work for the day. His cheeks are rounder, and a bit rosy. It’s warm today. It’s the softness of skinship, how you’re both seeking out each other’s barest parts, even if it's only for a moment or two of skin-to-skin contact. It’s how his care is so explicit these days.

The edge of it is how the General is anxious, perhaps. It’s a possessive flavor that Jing Yuan has, perhaps, always has, but is simply more apparent now. His touches in public flaunt the fact that you’re clearly a couple, nevermind what gossip magazines and street whisperers will say. It’s the consistent marks he leaves on you— those visible hickeys on your neck, down to the dark, sore ones he leaves on your inner thighs and the softness of your stomach. It’s the way he commissioned a set of earrings, one for each of you to wear.

(He had looked a bit melancholy, just for a moment, when he first presented you with them. Like a memory had surfaced but then was quickly let go and set adrift in favor of the present.)

The set is crafted with gold connected with a flat, rectangle of stone that dangles down from it. The stone is red, inlaid with gold veins. Some alloy that was probably mined on an asteroid— a rarity. They’re beautiful. You hardly know what to say when you receive yours; Jing Yuan had presented you the gift while already wearing his.

Marking each other as each other’s.

It’s brazen— and you like it. The beast of feeling that tore you to shreds in the utility tunnels feels far away, lately. Your extended leave has been good and you’re... grateful Jing Yuan has been quite official (and strict) about keeping you away from work.

You run the pad of your thumb under his eye. The skin is delicate, wrinkled just the slightest. It’s a tragedy, for many reasons, that you both are long-lived and cursed with Abundance. You’d like to see the crow’s feet Jing Yuan would have, if his skin did not keep itself so elastic and young.

Apparently awake, Jing Yuan grabs your wrist and brings it to his lip. He sets upon you with a lazy smile. His eyes open, just halfway, and he looks at you, so adoring.

“Are your thoughts entertaining?” Jing Yuan asks, gentle as he holds you closer. “You seem quite lost in them.”

You hum, kissing his jaw with a drag of your lips, “Not lost. Just reflecting.”

Jing Yuan hums himself, nosing into your temple. Then your hairline, where he leaves a line of kisses in his wake. You shudder with the feather-light feeling.

“Would you like to share?” Jing Yuan asks. “Or, perhaps take a rest with me? Though I am very appreciative of the head massage, I do believe you could use a rest. Unless you wish to take a stroll, and turn in early?”

“A stroll sounds lovely in a bit. I don’t mind sharing, though,” you answer.

Jing Yuan smiles against your skin. You wish it could brand you, “I’m listening, whenever you’d like.”

You gather your words for a moment. It takes— a second. A long one. The Dragon Lady says that you’re experiencing some lasting effects from being attuned to the Quantum fields for too long in the wake of the Stellaron Crisis. She seemed confident your impairments would heal but your mind is that of a mortal. It will take time.

Jing Yuan is ever patient with you.

“I suppose I’m grateful,” You tell him. “I am glad I have a space in your life, and I am grateful that you show it to me in the ways that you do. I would be— very sad, if I was not by your side, I think.”

It is a simple way to put something much larger.

Jing Yuan seems to understand regardless.

He takes a deep breath, then squeezes you to his chest. It forces the air from your lungs in a way that makes you light-headed.

“How kind are you.” Jing Yuan sighs, nuzzling into your hair. “To think of me so sweetly, without prompting. I’m very fortunate to have you as a lover. I hope you know that.”

“I try to remind myself.”

“Do I need to remind you more myself?” Jing Yuan asks, his smile turning a bit mischievous. He rolls himself over you, caging you. “I’m happy to.”

“You’ll spoil me!” You laugh and bat at his chest, slipping your arms over his shoulders, locking your hands behind his neck.

“I quite like having you spoiled.” Jing Yuan contends with a cute tilt of his head. “I should resolve to spoil you more, actually. Do you have any ideas on how to do so? I’m happy to listen.”

“Jing Yuan—” You huff with an uncontainable grin. Your heart is going to burst from your chest. You would let it. You’d let Jing Yuan take its place. You practically already have.

“I think,” Jing Yuan whispers in your ear, breath warm and sweet. “I ought to keep you in bed for the afternoon, perhaps pause the plan for a stroll until later in the evening. Starfire flies have been gathering in one of the gardens near the Exalting Sanctum— what do you say to a post-coital jaunt?”

“I mean—” You flush and bump your nose into his cheek, like a cat giving ample affection. “I don’t think I’ll be properly spoiled if I can still walk after you’re through with me.”

“So, I’ll carry you? That’s doable.”

“No— I mean— You can—”

“I’m teasing you,” Jing Yuan murmurs with a tone so sweet and warm, you could melt into the soft blanket and soil below you. “Whatever you’d like. We can decide along the way.”

You smile.

“Yeah,” Your chest feels tight and warm and lovely all at once. Jing Yuan pulls away, and the earring that twins your own dangles, catching the falling sun in its veins of gold. “I’d like to decide along the way with you.”

It means more than this instance, it’s encompassing. To be long-lived and coupled is to tread the shallows of what could be Mara. To wear the mark of another is to dare to swim closer to the roiling beast of Abundance that none of the Xianzhou Natives can truly outrun.

But you think that, perhaps, you and Jing Yuan will be alright until that day, whenever it may be. You will spoil each other, hold each other, and take your steps while extending a patient hand to the other if they’d like to take it. You’ll listen to echoes together and learn to forget them. You’ll harmonize with stardust and Jing Yuan will play his games of many dimensional chess until he (hopefully soon) retires.

The smile that grows on your face is warm like a hearth, honeyed like a spiced tea, and kind. It splits the both of you open, and Jing Yuan kisses you like he can’t help but to do anything else. You don’t lose your grin, and you give it to him against his lips, laughing together as you share breath.

It’s sweet and lovely, you think, as Jing Yuan touches your foreheads together. You have this, and you’ll be happy to have this for as long as Fate and Aeons allow. You think that Jing Yuan will be happy too— with a coveted smile so kind given to you and a bed, shared.

You bask in it— this. The gardens and the heat of him and the warmth in your chest, for however long you’re given.

#lore writes #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan reader insert #hsr x reader #cooking complete. meal on the table :'^)#enjoy loves!!

1K notes · View notes

kwanisms · 10 months

Text

» ateez masterlist | collab masterlist «

➮ yunho × fem!Reader

wc: 21.4k

summary: All throughout her formative years, Y/N has always harbored a bit of a crush on her best friend’s brother, Yunho. Having not seen him for years, she doesn’t expect those feelings to come back when she joins the Jeong’s on a family trip to a cabin in the Alps for the holiday. When she meets Yunho and his girlfriend, she’s hopeful that she can finally move on.

genres/themes/au: angst (if you squint really hard), fluff, smut; holiday travel, holiday, best friend’s brother; non idol au, holiday au, best friend’s brother au, friends to lovers au

warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, alcohol consumption, thoughts of infidelity (no actual cheating), physical injury, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

special tags: @millennial-fangirl @twisted-tales-of-all @staytinyville @skyechild

permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @wonderfulshinee @candidupped @dejavernon @violagoth @tigermoonbiss @katsukis1wife @luvsooby @surveilenceysystem @salty-for-suga @devilsmatches @dmnspiit @simeonswhore @yangracha @atinypurr @aikyubi @labyrinthonmymind @bintificreads @toxic-babexe @plutoneu @prestineaugstine @sunwoosbaby @lilramennoodle @deadgirlwalking3 @tigerhoshi25 @chocolate-scoups @spilled-coffee-cup @aaniag @ayoo-bangtan @walkingtravesty97 @yevene

ateez taglist: @2hodefender @cixrosie @pyeonghongrie-main @starlitmark @sanjoongie @anyamaris @stardragongalaxy @kpop-stories-21 @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @mlysalt @cinnamoon-belle @briannabk22 @is4b3ll3s @hyukssunflower @vampiirose @0325tiny @ateezstanforever @justiny @jeongwangjessmina

join my taglists: permanent | group

Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.

MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED.

AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: here I am with the kick off to this holiday collab! I had a fun time writing this and really enjoyed how it turned out. She's kind of lengthy but are we really surprised? That's pretty on point for me lmao Thank you so much for reading and if you like this please consider reblogging! Also make sure to check out the others as they come out! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: lots of heavy petting, unprotected sex (wrap it up), fingering (f receiving), size kink, praise kink, use of pet names (baby, angel, kitten, etc), choking kink (f receiving), daddy kink, dirty talk, soft dom!Yunho, sub!Reader, Yunho is smitten, like head over heels for MC and she is too. They’re just obsessed with each other. If I missed anything please let me know!

═══════════════════════════════════════════

For most people, the one constant in their lives is their best friend and for you, it was no different. Meeting Yumi on the playground in elementary school would bring with it not only a friendship that would last but it would also bring with it your first love.

Yumi was the middle of three children. She had a younger brother, Gunho, who always annoyed her whenever you came over, wanting to join in on whatever the two of you were doing. Typical kid brother stuff she told you. Gunho wasn’t as insufferable as Yumi made him out to be and he was nice enough so you weren’t really that bothered by his presence.

Yumi also had an older brother, Yunho. He was in middle school the first time you met him, though you and Yumi weren’t that far behind him. Yunho was polite and friendly towards you while simultaneously teasing and taunting Yumi, something she said was also typical brother behavior.

You first realized you had a crush on Yunho when you started middle school and saw him in the hallways between classes. You could feel it whenever he smiled or laughed at something his friends said, or the way he went out of his way to make sure you made it home safe before walking Yumi home.

Your crush on him blossomed and grew even into high school. Even when it became clear that he didn’t see you that way, you still hoped in the back of your mind that Yunho might notice you or that he felt the same way but then he graduated and was off to college.

You hoped that with him gone, you might finally be able to move on and for a bit, you did.

Until he came back from college for winter break.

Seeing Yunho even more grown up stirred up all the old feelings you thought you’d buried, and you were reduced to a bumbling mess when you walked in on him, shirtless, in the kitchen in the middle of the night when you were looking to get a bottle of water.

As quickly as he came back, Yunho was gone again, off to college. When you graduated, you and Yumi chose to attend the same college, one Yunho didn’t go to. Another year and another winter break, Yunho returned once again bringing with him a girlfriend this time.

Seeing Yunho with someone who wasn’t you gave you the final push you needed to move on.

Or so you thought.

When Yumi asked you a week ago to join her family on a trip to the Swiss Alps as your family decided to spend the winter in the heat of Australia, it didn’t dawn on you that a family trip meant Yunho would be there too. You were mad at the way your body betrayed your years of repression, heart skipping a beat upon seeing him now, years later.

He’d matured into a very handsome man, taller than you remembered with broad shoulders. His hair had finally returned to its natural color after he experimented in college with bleach and bright colors. You fondly remembered the time he came home during break with bright blue hair and nearly gave his mother a heart attack. While you thought he looked good in any color, you’d always had a soft spot for his natural hair.

As you approached the group, you saw Yunho wasn’t alone.

He’d brought a new girlfriend who you learned was named Seomi.

You smiled politely when you greeted the pair and had you been paying attention at all, you would have noticed the way Yunho’s eyes lingered a little longer on you as you turned to greet your best friend’s parents. It had been some time since you’d seen the brothers and even Gunho had grown up and was starting to look a lot like Yunho, tall but not as tall as the giant of the family.

The flight to Zurich was a long one and thankfully, you had one layover in Istanbul which was an experience in itself but after a few hours, you were back on a plane bound for Switzerland. The first flight, you sat between Yumi and Gunho but the second flight had you seated next to Yunho by the window while Seomi had the aisle seat.

To say it was awkward was the understatement of the century. You spent most of that leg of the flight trying to sleep or listening to music downloaded to your phone. Whatever you could do to avoid speaking to or looking at Yunho.

Arriving in Zurich made you feel like you were part of a traveling circus; Yumi lost her luggage, Gunho left his carry-on in the overhead compartment and had to go back for it, Seomi misplaced her passport but found it in Yunho’s bag. It felt like you and your best friend’s parents were the only ones who had it together.

From Zurich, you were to take a bus to the village of Siebnen. The bus ride was mostly quiet, the sun coming up as you drove through the empty streets and slowly made your way out of the city. The village was at the base of the Alps and you’d never seen such tall mountains before.

The sight of the perpetually snow capped mountains looming over the city as the bus headed closer and closer to the next stop had you more and more excited for the trip. You were practically bouncing in your seat next to Yumi who was taken aback by your sudden enthusiasm.

Once you reached the village, your travel group disembarked from the bus and made your way to a car rental place to pick up a van to take up the mountain roads. You were in the very back with Yumi and Gunho with Yunho and Seomi in the middle seats.

The ride up the mountain was just as exciting for you as the bus ride had been and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring out the window, taking in the grandeur of it all. The rolling farmland was interspersed with forests as the road wound up the side of the mountain, climbing higher and higher as the road got steeper.

As you passed a small farm, you were whisper-shouting to your best friend about the cute sheep when the van turned onto a road that led into a vast forest. The forest grew more and more dense as you climbed even higher still. There were remnants of snow from the most recent winter storm and before you could ask how much longer, the van turned onto a dirt road, driving a little slower.

You twisted in your seat, trying to catch a glimpse of the lodge where you were to be staying. Yumi’s family had rented a massive lodge for ten days and you’d only learned during the layover that Yumi’s extended family would be there as well.

It dawned on you that this would be your first time meeting her cousins, aunts, and uncles.

As the van rolled to a stop, you were far beyond the reaches of your normal excitement as Yunho and Seomi first climbed out, followed by Gunho, Yumi, and finally you were the last to be let out, stumbling as your foot caught on one of the seatbelts. Yunho managed to catch you before you went down.

“Whoa,” he said, chuckling. “Someone is excited.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, making him chuckle again. “Don’t apologize for almost falling,” he replied. “Just be careful,” he added with a wink. You thanked him again and awkwardly scurried away to join the others at the back of the van to collect your luggage.

The lodge was mostly empty, save for a few family members. You followed Yumi to the room you would be sharing for the next ten days which happened to be next to the room Yunho and Seomi were sharing. On the other side of their room was the room where one of Yumi’s aunt and uncle were staying.

Once you had dropped off your luggage, Yumi dragged you down to the main living area to meet the rest of her family. Her aunt and uncle were on her maternal side and they had three kids as well.

The eldest was a girl with waist length hair named Haneul. Yumi had told you she was in college. The middle child was a boy named Jun-seo who was in high school, wore glasses and carried his Nintendo switch everywhere. The youngest was in his last year of elementary school and his name was Ju-won.

You greeted them politely but the moment Yunho introduced Seomi, all attention was on her and you were able to breathe easily. You hated attention more than anything and now that the attention was on someone else, you felt a lot better. At least until dinner.

Attention was divided with some focusing on Seomi and wanting to know every little detail about her and Yunho’s relationship while a few were more interested in Yumi’s best friend from childhood. You answered all the questions thrown at you despite feeling like a blinding spotlight was on you.

The next day brought with it more snow and more family.

This time from Yumi’s father’s side. His sister and her husband and their two kids. Twin boys named Kang-min and Jang-min. You learned they were around your age and while being nearly identical, they had vastly different views, opinions, and interests. Kang-min was more the quiet type. He loved sports and academics and was a model student in college. After graduation, he found work as a nutritionist.

Jang-min on the other hand was much louder, more boisterous, and loved a good party. He landed a job as a journalist, writing for an advice column. His interests were more in the home. He loved to cook and bake, and you learned when he had a little too much wine, he got overly friendly.

You found him to be very funny and found his shameless flirting harmless.

Everyone else thought it was kind of funny, too. Well, almost everyone.

Yunho made his distaste of Jang-min’s actions known pretty quickly when he noticed Jang-min’s hand lingering on your knee a little too long. He didn’t even hide it, instead calling his cousin out in front of the whole family.

“Is it really appropriate for you to be touching her like that?” he asked his cousin as the latter leaned against you, his hand perched on your knee as he laughed at a joke you made. The laughter subsided almost instantly and Jang-min looked at his cousin with wide eyes.

“What?” he asked. Yunho glared at the younger man. “Just keep your hands to yourself,” he retorted. “She’s not your family. You can’t just touch people like that.” You felt your heart sink, not for yourself but for Jang-min who recoiled, crossing his arms over his chest immediately.

“Yunho,” his mother chastised. “Jang-min didn’t do anything wrong,” she continued. “And Y/N didn’t say anything about it bothering her,” Yumi added, turning to look at you. “Was it bothering you or making you uncomfortable?” she asked softly. You shook your head. “No,” you replied.

“Jang-min’s just a touchy person. I get like that sometimes when I drink,” you added.

Yunho said nothing, instead excused himself and got up from the circle, heading upstairs, Seomi on his heels.

That wasn’t the first time Yunho had told off one of his cousins for getting too close to you. He did the same thing a couple days later. The parents had all gone to bed as had the young ones leaving you, Yumi, Yunho, Seomi, the twins, Haneul, and Gunho sitting around the fire pit outside on the patio.

Instead of wine, Yumi and Haneul had gotten into the liquor stash and made drinks while the others had opted to drink beer. After Jang-min had gotten another scolding from Yunho for his behavior, the younger man had picked a spot furthest from where you sat, putting you between Gunho and Yumi. You were nursing your drink when Haneul spoke up.

“Why don’t we play a game,” Haneul said, looking around the circle. You glanced at Yumi who nodded. “What did you have in mind?” she asked excitedly. “I swear if you say Truth or Dare, I’m out of here,” Yunho grumbled, Seomi flashing him a smile.

“Truth or Dare is so juvenile,” she added with a nod. You looked away from them to Haneul who seemed to be deep in thought. “What about Paranoia?” you offered, regretting it the moment seven pairs of eyes landed on you. “What’s that?” Kang-min asked, leaning forward to see you better around his twin.

“It’s a party game,” Jang-min answered quickly. “You sit in a circle and one person whispers a question into another person’s ear and then that person has to answer the question out loud for everyone to hear. It has to be a question about someone in the group like ‘who do you think gives the best hugs’ or something similar. And then if you want to find out the answer, you have to drink and then ask. If the person doesn’t want to tell you the question, they also have to drink,” he explained.

“Sounds complicated,” Kang-min murmured. You wracked your brain for another game. “Oh!” Yumi said quickly. “What about Ring of Fire?” You let out a laugh. You knew all too well what Ring of Fire was as you had both played it a lot back in college. “If we want to play that, we’re gonna need to go inside,” you reminded her. “We have to sit at the table.”

Yunho glanced up at you and then to his sister. “I’m down,” he replied, looking at Seomi. “You want to go in? It is kinda getting cold out here.” Seomi nodded. “Yeah,” she answered. “Let’s go in.”

Once the fire had been dealt with, the group moved inside, sitting around the table while you and Yumi worked to set up the game. You found a pack of cards in one of the end tables in the living room while Yumi hunted for a large cup. Once you had your supplies, you started setting up.

“Has anyone played this before?” Yumi asked as she set the cup in the center. You noticed everyone shaking their heads as you cut the deck and set the cards in piles face down around the cup in the center. “Everyone is going to need full drinks,” you explained.

There was a brief pause as everyone grabbed refills. Once they were all sitting back down, you and Yumi took turns explaining the rules of the game.

“If you draw an Ace, that’s ‘waterfall.’ Going around the circle clockwise,” Yumi explained, drawing a circle in the air with her finger. “Each player starts drinking their drink consecutively and you have to keep going until the player before you stops.”

“If you draw a two of any suit, that’s the ‘you’ card. You point at someone else to take a drink. Likewise, if you draw the three of any suit, that’s the ‘me’ card and you have to take a drink,” you continued. Yumi nodded and continued the explanation. “If someone draws a four, that’s the ‘girls’ card and all girls have to take a drink.”

“That’s kind of sexist,” Haneul complained but Seomi waved her off. “It’s just a game,” she replied. “Five is the ‘thumb master.’ Whoever draws this card has to discreetly put their thumb up which everyone has to copy. The last person with their thumb up has to take a drink,” Yumi continued.

“How many rules are there?” Kang-min asked. “As many types of cards there are,” Yumi said with a shrug. “Six is the ‘boys’ card and all boys have to take a drink. Seven is the ‘heaven’ card, which is similar to thumb master only you have to point up to the sky. Last one to do it has to drink,” you continued.

“What’s eight?” Seomi asked. “Eight is ‘mate,’” Yumi answered. “What’s that?” Seomi asked, tilting her head to the side like a curious puppy. “You pick someone to be your ‘mate,’” you answered. “If you have to drink, so do they for the rest of the game.”

You didn’t miss the way Seomi flashed Yunho a mischievous grin.

“Nine is the ‘rhyme’ card: if you draw this card, you have to pick a word and then we go around the table and everyone has to come up with a word that rhymes with that word. Ten is the ‘category’ card. You pick a category and everyone has to name something in that category, anyone who can’t come up with something for either nine or ten has to drink,” you added.

“Okay, so what is Jack?” Yunho asked, looking up at you. “Make a rule,” Yumi answered. “You get to make up a rule or forfeit that has to be obeyed throughout the game. It’s sort of a power card,” she explained. “And Queen?” Yunho asked again, his eyes still on you. “Question Master,” Yumi answered quickly. “You have to ask the others questions and they have to answer with a question. Whoever doesn’t answer with a question has to drink.”

Yunho nodded, eyes still on you. “And what about King?” he asked. “Fill up the cup,” you answered, nodding at the cup in the middle. “Pour some of your drink into the glass and whoever draws the fourth king has to chug the entire contents.”

Yunho’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Okay,” he said, sitting up and looking down at the cards in front of him.

“Let’s play.”

The first round was a mess, trying to re-explain the rules of the game each time a card was drawn that you resorted to writing the rules down for each person who asked for clarification. The second round was a lot better. You drew a six and laughed, pointing at Jang-min who playfully glared at you as he took a drink.

When it got to Yunho, he pulled the 8 of diamonds. Seomi glanced up at him, expecting him to pick her but was surprised when Yunho instead picked you. “Now you have to drink every time Yunho does,” Yumi said as Seomi picked up a card. She drew a two of Hearts and immediately pointed at you.

You raised your glass and took a drink without complaint. Yumi had mixed something together and it tasted amazing. It was so good you weren’t sure if there was even any alcohol in it. “Your turn Kang-min!” Seomi said, positively beaming as she smiled at him.

Kang-min drew the first King of the night, grimacing as he reached over to pour some of his beer into the glass. “Ugh, this is gonna be so gross,” Gunho said when he pulled a king from a different pile and poured some of his drink into the cup.

Haneul drew a ten of Clubs and pondered for a moment before calling out her category. “Christmas movies!” she said excitedly, turning to look at Yumi. “Elf,” Yumi answered, turning to you. “Jingle All the Way,” you said softly. Gunho said Miracle on 34th Street and it continued back around to you.

“Die Hard,” you blurted out. Seomi pointed at you. “Drink! That’s not a Christmas movie!” she said excitedly. “Yes it is,” you replied. Seomi shook her head. “No it’s not! It’s an action movie,” she argued. “That takes place during Christmas,” you added. “It’s a Christmas movie.”

Seomi turned to Yunho for help but he merely shrugged. “She’s got a point,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s also listed as a Christmas movie on Hulu,” Jang-min offered. “It’s your turn Gunho,” Yunho said, looking at his younger brother. “Home Alone,” he said without hesitation. “Nightmare Before Christmas,” Yunho said, turning to Seomi who hesitated.

She took too long because Yumi, Jang-min and Haneul all pointed at her. “Drink!” they said in unison. Seomi begrudgingly took a drink and glared at Yumi who shrugged. “Them’s the rules,” she said, unphased. “It’s just a game, babe,” Yunho said softly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

The next couple rounds had Gunho pulling thumb master, Yunho drawing the Me card which you had to drink with him. Yumi drew the third king and poured half of what remained in her cup into the center cup. You held your breath as you drew a card and sighed with relief at the little nine looking back at you.

“Nine,” you announced, flashing the card. You pondered for a moment, trying to come up with a good word to make everyone rhyme with. “Dime,” you said, looking at Gunho who stared at you. “Like, the currency?” he asked, making sure he heard you right. You nodded. “Lime,” he continued, turning to Yunho. “Crime,” he stated, turning to Seomi. “Grime,” she said, looking you directly in the eye.

“Chime,” Jang-min chirped, turning to his twin. “I’m,” he said, looking proud of himself. “Mime,” Haneul said excitedly, turning to Yumi. “Prime!” Yumi shouted, apologizing when several shushed her. “Climb,” you said, turning to Gunho. “Rhyme,” he said smugly. Yunho chuckled and shook his head. “Sublime,” he continued. “Time,” Seomi said quickly.

It continued back around to you. “Thyme,” you said softly. “The herb,” you added. “Lyme,” Gunho said. “Like the disease,” he clarified, making you and Yumi burst into laughter. Yunho fought the urge to laugh as he stammered out “slime.” It fell to Seomi again who froze. “Oh shit,” she cursed softly, lifting her glass to take a drink. “We kind of exhausted all the options,” Jang-min said with a laugh.

Gunho pulled the eight of clubs and pointed at Yunho. “Doesn’t that mean whenever I drink, Yunho and Y/N have to drink?” he asked, looking past you at Yumi. “Like a chain reaction or something?” Yumi nodded. “It does!” she answered. “Sorry Y/N,” she added with a smirk.

When it came around to you again, you luckily pulled the eight of Hearts and smirked at your best friend. “Alright, mate,” you said with an evil grin. Yumi groaned loudly. “I knew you’d do that,” she grumbled as Gunho pulled the three of Diamonds. “Alright drinking buddies, let’s go,” he said, taking a drink. Yunho followed, as did you, then Yumi.

Yunho pulled the four of Spades and laughed maniacally. “You have to drink twice, Yumi,” he said, sticking his tongue out at his sister. She glared at him but did as he said. Seomi pulled her card and stared at it for a solid six seconds before Yunho glanced at it and gasped.

“She pulled the last king,” he said softly. “Oh… looks like you gotta chug the drink in the middle!” Jang-min said excitedly while Kang-min looked on with mild curiosity and disgust. Seomi took a deep breath but as she reached for the cup, Yunho took it instead. “I’ll drink it for her,” he said, lifting the glass. “She’s got a weak stomach. I don’t want you getting sick,” he added in a soft tone, looking at her.

Yunho downed the contents quickly, grimacing as he set the glass down. “Alright,” he said, coughing. “Is that game?” he asked, looking around. You glanced at Yumi who looked back and shrugged. “We could keep going,” she suggested. “Until all the cards are gone.”

You shook your head. “Let’s just call it there,” you suggested. “The King’s cup is gone,” you added. “We could always shuffle the king cards back in,” Jang-min suggested but you shook your head. “It’s okay,” you said as Seomi started to get up. “Let’s call it a night. We have plans tomorrow anyway,” Yumi said.

The group split up, heading to their respective rooms to get ready for bed.

The next morning, Yumi woke you up early so you could shower before the trip into the nearby town. According to her, it was a small picturesque town, already decorated for the holidays. You both dressed in silence, heading down to the dining room for breakfast.

Yunho was already sitting at the table, Seomi sitting next to him with her arms crossed over her chest, a slight pout on her face. “Morning,” Yumi said as she took a seat, leaving an open seat next to Yunho. Rather than taking it, you sat on the other side of your best friend.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the family to join you, Haneul sitting beside you while Gunho took the seat between his sister and brother. Breakfast went by in mostly silence as everyone was still waking up and eating. After eating, you followed Yumi back up to the room to finish getting ready for the day.

Once everyone was ready, you all piled into the vans outside and headed for the village. The drive down didn’t take that long and soon, you were looking out the windows, catching glimpses of the architecture, roofs blanketed in snow, and holiday decorations everywhere.

You were in the very back again, this time with Yunho and Seomi while Gunho and Yumi sat in the middle seats. Yunho sat in the middle, you on his left, and Seomi to his right. You opted to stare out the window the whole time as to not stare at Yunho or make eye contact.

Last night, the way he stared at you while you explained the rules of the game stirred something inside you and you didn’t really want to revisit whatever it was that was coming back to life inside. Not to mention the way your heart jumped into your throat every time his thigh brushed against yours on the bumpy mountain road.

Once you were in town, vans parked, You scrambled out with the others and gathered around so the older adults could explain the rules. You were allowed to go off on your own and explore but everyone was to meet up for lunch at a specific location. Once this was explained, you were free to go off on your own. You took off with Yumi, Haneul tagging along so she didn’t have to go with her brothers or with the twins and Gunho. Yunho and Seomi obviously went off on their own and you were able to breathe easily.

Yumi ended up dragging you and Haneul to a little boutique that caught her eye and although there was nothing you were interested in, it was still fun to watch Yumi and Haneul shop and try things on. After the boutique, you wanted to step into a shop full of crystals and glass to check it out. There was even a demonstration of glass blowing near the back that you couldn’t seem to pull yourself from.

Eventually Yumi and Haneul dragged you away and the next shop you stumbled into was a jewelry shop. You were looking at the necklaces with Haneul when you heard her gasp slightly. You looked up and followed her line of sight, spotting what she saw.

Yunho and Seomi.

The latter was looking at rings and you felt your heart stop, bile in your stomach rising as you tasted something sour in the back of your throat. You looked away, not wanting to witness whatever was going on over there as Haneul waved frantically at Yumi, drawing her over so she could point.

Yumi stared in awe before grabbing both you and Haneul and dragged you out of the shop onto the sidewalk to peer through the window. “Is Yunho going to propose?” Haneul asked softly as she stared into the shop. Yumi shook her head. “I have no idea. I don’t even know how long they’ve been dating,” she answered. “It can’t have been long because I’ve never heard about her before.”

You tore your gaze from the couple inside the shop, your eyes landing on a bookstore nearby. “Hey,” you said softly, tapping your best friend on the shoulder. “Isn’t the twins’ birthday coming up soon?” you asked. Yumi turned to look at you. “Yeah. Which reminds me, I need to get them gifts.”

You pointed at the bookstore. “Kang-min likes books, right?” you asked. Yumi nodded. “Yeah, mainly manga but he also likes horror books,” she answered. “Let’s go in there. Let Yunho and Seomi have their privacy,” you suggested. The other two thankfully listened and the three of you headed across the busy street to the bookstore.

After the bookstore, the three of you stopped by a small courtyard with all kinds of statues. Yumi wanted to take some pictures and you obliged as the three of you squeezed together to fit in the camera’s view. As the day wore on, your stomach started to rumble and Haneul complained of being hungry. Checking her watch, Yumi saw that it was almost 1 pm and looked at her phone.

“We should probably head for the restaurant,” she said softly. The three of you headed back, walking down the busy sidewalk, chatting. It was mostly Haneul and Yumi chatting as you couldn’t get the image of Yunho and Seomi in the jewelry shop out of your head.

You thought you were past this. The fluttering of your heart when he was around was one thing, but getting so jealous it made you nauseous was another thing entirely. You’d never once felt that way before. It made you wonder what was wrong with you. Yunho wasn’t yours and he never would be but you still couldn’t let go of these feelings.

“Y/N?” you heard Yumi’s voice pull you from your thoughts. “You alright?” she asked. The two of them had stopped and were looking at you with concern. “I’m okay,” you murmured. “Just feeling a little nauseous,” you added. “You want to go back to the lodge?” Yumi asked. You shook your head.

“I’m sure it’ll go away when I eat.”

You didn’t want to ruin the trip because of your unbridled jealousy so for the sake of your best friend, you’d swallow it and suck it up. You’d have to at some point.

The restaurant was a cozy place with a lot of nordic patterns. The three of you were shown to a backroom where the rest of the family was already gathered. The only three seats left were between Yunho and Jang-min. Before you could ask Haneul to switch you, she sat down next to her cousin while Yumi took the seat next to her.

‘Fuck.’

You moved and sat between your best friend and her brother, trying not to look at him.

Immediately, you picked up your menu and looked over the options. “What’re you gonna get?” you heard a voice ask. Looking up, you met Yunho’s gaze. “I’m not sure yet,” you replied softly, turning your gaze back to the menu. “Maybe the chicken.”

“Chicken is always a good choice,” Yunho murmured with a nod as he looked over his own menu. I might get that too,” he added. You said nothing, instead looking at the menu as if you hadn’t decided yet. You were just trying to avoid conversation or eye contact with the man next to you.

When the server arrived, you took turns ordering your food and drinks. Once the menus were taken away, everyone fell into comfortable conversation. Everyone except you.

“So Y/N,” a voice said, snapping you from your thoughts.

You looked up to see half the table’s eyes were on you. The speaker was Haneul, Jun-seo, and Juwons mother. “How long have you known Yumi?” she asked. You turned to your best friend before looking back. “Since we were in elementary school,” you answered. “We’ve been friends for years.”

“What do you do for work?”

You sat there, answering mundane questions about your life, letting the family get to know you a little more. Most of the questions were tame, consisting of inquiries about your work, your life growing up, your friendship with Yumi. Until someone brought up a question that made you want to sink into the floor.

“And you aren’t seeing anyone?”

You thought you felt Yunho tense up beside you but it had to have been your imagination. You shook your head. “She’s been on a few dates here and there since college,” Yumi offered, trying to take the attention off you. “But she hasn’t met the right person yet.”

You were thankful when the conversation shifted to talk about Yumi’s love life, or lack thereof. You had settled back down in your seat and were patiently waiting for your food to arrive so you had an excuse to not answer anymore questions.

“Are you okay?” you heard Yunho ask softly. Looking up, you met his gaze and nodded wordlessly, looking away from him. “I’m fine,” you lied with a forced smile. Whether or not Yunho bought your act you wouldn’t know because before he could respond, the server returned with a few others, bringing your plates out.

The arrival of the food meant most of the party was eating rather than talking. It was a nice reprieve and you hoped soon that you could return to the lodge and call it a day. Seomi and Yunho were speaking in hushed tones before Yunho shook his head and Seomi got up, excusing herself to go to the bathroom. Yunho excused himself and got up to follow.

You exchanged glances with Yumi who shrugged and went back to her food, you following her lead not long after. Yunho returned moments later and sat back down, looking mildly annoyed at something. You took it upon yourself to check on him this time.

“Everything alright?” you asked softly, making sure not to draw any attention. Yunho gave you a smile and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he said just as softly. “It’s nothing,” he added. You chose not to push it and resumed picking at your food, most of your appetite having left soon after your food arrived.

“You want to get it to go?” Yumi asked as the server eventually returned with the check and to go boxes. You nodded and thanked her as she handed you a box. You said nothing as you scooped your mostly uneaten chicken pasta into the box and closed the lid, setting the plate aside and waiting for the group to start making its way to the exit.

Seomi finally returned and declined to take her leftovers, leaving her meal mostly uneaten at the table.

Once the bill was settled, you followed the group out the door, Yumi at your side and slowly made your way back to the parking lot where the vans were sitting. The ride back out of town and to the lodge was quiet and you chose to sit in the middle seat with Yumi while Yunho, Seomi, and Gunho sat in the back.

Upon arriving back at the lodge, you followed Yumi inside, putting your food in the fridge and headed upstairs to shed your layers and put on some more comfortable clothes. Once you were done, you joined the group downstairs as they sat near the fireplace while Mr. Jeong got a fire going.

You watched the younger boys play before Mrs. Jeong and Haneul’s mother called out that the hot chocolate was ready. Yumi offered to get you a mug but you declined before telling your best friend you had to use the bathroom. On your way to the room, you passed Yunho and Seomi’s room and heard them arguing in hushed tones. You weren’t sure what was being said but you didn’t stick around, walking to the bathroom and shutting the door quickly.

After finishing your business, you opened the door and bumped into Seomi who glared at you. “Watch where you’re going,” she snapped. Before she could push past you into the bathroom you stopped her. “Then don’t stand in the middle of the door when I open it like some sort of creep,” you snapped back and walked past her, passing Yunho who stared at you as you walked by.

You didn’t see the way he looked after you as you reached the top of the stairs before you headed back down, nor did you see the way he glared at Seomi. Back downstairs, you took up your previous spot beside Yumi. “Everything okay?” Yumi murmured as you grabbed the blanket on her lap and pulled some of it over you while nodding.

Soon, the parents were rounding everyone up to play charades. You were put on a team with Yumi, Yunho, Seomi, Gunho, and Mr. and Mrs. Jeong. You weren’t entirely in the game and after the first round, you excused yourself, getting up and heading upstairs with the excuse that you had a headache.

Only a few minutes later, Yumi joined you, asking once again if you were okay. You lied and said you were and that you just wanted to rest and get some shut eye because of your headache. She offered to get you some water and aspirin which you thanked her for.

Once you took the medicine and drank some of the water, you settled down in your bed and closed your eyes, drowning out the sound of excited yelling downstairs.

At some point, you passed out and when you awoke, your phone told you it was nearly midnight. You heard Yumi groan as she rolled over. “Really? This is a family vacation,” you heard her grumble in the dark. It was then you were made aware of the squeaking sounds and slight knocking that you assumed was from a bedframe hitting the wall and you felt your stomach churn.

It sounded like it was coming from the next room over which was… Yunho and Seomi’s room.

“Gross,” Yumi grumbled. You pulled back the covers and got up slowly. Yumi turned over and looked at you from the moonlight filtering between the curtains. “Where are you going?” she asked suspiciously. “Water,” you croaked, grabbing your empty glass and got up, pushing open the door and shutting it behind you out of respect.

In the hall the sounds were a little louder and you hurried down to the first floor, trying not to imagine what exactly was happening in the room next to yours only to freeze upon seeing Yunho standing in the kitchen, light from the fridge illuminating his figure. He turned and noticed you standing in the darkness.

“Hey,” he said softly. You forced yourself to move, walking around him to the sink. “I thought you were…” you trailed off as he grabbed the milk out of the fridge and moved to pour some over his cereal sitting on the counter. He put the carton back and shut the door before moving to turn on the light over the sink. “Thought I was what?” he asked, grabbing a spoon and sitting at the counter.

You shook your head and moved to get some ice from the fridge. “I heard noises,” you admitted. Yunho snorted and you turned to face him. “That’s coming from my aunt and uncle’s room,” he admitted. It woke me up and so I thought I’d come down here and have some cereal,” he added.

“Hoped they might be done by the time I finish and head back.”

You nodded and turned away to get some water. Silence fell over the two of you as you sipped on your water and Yunho ate his cereal. Finally he spoke, breaking the tension. “You’ve really grown up,” he muttered and you looked up to find him staring down at his bowl.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he added with a chuckle. “I was going to say your boyfriend is a lucky guy until it was revealed earlier that you don’t have one,” he continued. You said nothing instead holding your glass firmly as he continued to eat his cereal.

The only sounds that could be heard were the heater working to keep the house warm, the crunch of Yunho’s cereal and the slight squeaking and knocking coming from upstairs. “You really don’t have a boyfriend?” he asked finally, looking up. You shook your head.

“No,” you replied.

More silence followed your admission. You fought the urge to add that no man ever compared to him but you knew that would be crossing a line and you could never come back from that. Better to just let it go and move on. Let him propose to Seomi in peace and move on with his life and be happy.

He deserved that.

“What about a girlfriend?” he asked, throwing you completely off guard. He looked up to meet your gaze. You stared back at him in stunned silence. ‘Girlfriend? Did he think you were…?’ You shook your head. “N-no,” you replied. Yunho shrugged. “I wouldn’t judge you if you did,” he added.

You shook your head more firmly. “No,” you replied. “It’s not like that,” you continued. “I’m just not interested in anyone right now.”

‘Anyone who isn’t you.’

“Oh.” Yunho said, getting up from his seat. He’d finished his cereal and the sounds upstairs had finally subsided. How long had you been standing there in silence? How much time had passed since you came downstairs?

Yunho stopped in front of you, reaching around to place his bowl in the sink. “So there’s really no one?” he asked softly. You shook your head, looking up at him. He smiled softly. “Good,” he said firmly, making you tilt your head slightly.

“Boys suck,” he added and you couldn’t help but laugh at this. It was a sound Yunho hadn’t heard in a long time. A sound that he didn’t realize he missed dearly. How much of a fool he’d been for trying to stay away from you these last few years.

“We saw you today,” you blurted out suddenly, taking both yourself and Yunho by surprise.

“Saw me?” he asked. “Where?”

You’d already blurted it out, you might as well be honest.

“In a jewelry shop,” you answered. “Yumi wanted to look at something in there and we saw you and Seomi. She was looking at rings…” your voice trailed off. Yunho stared at you, unable to read your expression. “I was looking for a gift for my mother for Christmas,” he admitted.

You suddenly felt very small and stupid for saying anything. “Of course,” you answered. “Sorry for assuming,” you said softly before downing your water and turning away. Yunho grabbed your arm gently. “Seomi assumed as much, too,” he admitted. “She thought we were there for that as well.”

You looked down at his hand gently but firmly holding your arm. “That’s why she was looking at rings but I told her I wasn’t planning on proposing any time soon and that I was there to buy a gift for my mother, and that’s when she got upset. That’s why she was so distant at lunch,” he added.

You nodded silently. He didn’t need to tell you any of this. Why was he telling you this? Yunho let go of your arm. “Sorry,” he apologized suddenly. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” he added. “Maybe it’s because I’ve always felt comfortable with you.”

You glanced up at him, finding him already staring down at you, the dim light over the sink casting him in a low glow. “I’ve always found it easy to talk to you,” he added, stepping closer and closing the distance between you, trapping you against the counter.

“I’ve always felt like I could tell you anything and you wouldn’t judge me,” he explained softly, resting his hands against the edge of the counter on either side of your waist. “Like I could be myself and you’d accept me.” Your heart was hammering in your chest, blood pounding in your ears and almost drowning out his words.

Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned closer, his lips inches from yours.

A door opening upstairs broke the silence and Yunho took a step back immediately. “I should probably get back to bed,” he said as he turned away from you. “We have a busy day tomorrow,” he added. You watched as he turned to glance back at you before turning away and heading for the stairs, leaving you in the kitchen clutching your water glass as you stared after him.

‘What the fuck just happened?’

——————————————————————————————————————————

The following morning was the ski trip and you were dreading going to begin with. You weren’t the best with athletic activities, especially in the snow but Yumi had begged and begged the night before while you lay in your beds until you finally caved.

Now as you were in the back of the van with Yumi and Haneul, you were regretting your decision and would have rather stayed at the lodge and done nothing. The ride to the ski lodge wasn’t far thankfully for those that wanted to go skiing but unfortunately for you.

You chose to try skiing with Yumi, Haneul, Yumi’s mother, and Haneul’s mother. Kang-min chose to ski instead of snowboarding with his brother and the others. As you strapped in, you glanced up to where Yunho was helping Seomi into her snowboard boots, making sure they fit.

You were finishing strapping your ski boots on when Yumi sat next to you. “Are you sure you wanna do this?” she asked, a little louder than you would have liked. Yunho and Kang-min both looked up. “You begged me to do this,” you hissed back. Yumi nodded thoughtfully. “And I’ve thought about it but I remembered you aren’t the most coordinated on snow or ice.”

You glared at her, cheeks burning. “It’s fine,” you hissed. “You begged me to come and now we’re here. I’m not backing down now and ruining the mood.”

You got up and walked over to the instructor to get your skis. You weren’t sure why all of the sudden Yumi was asking if you wanted to do this when she was begging you the night before.

Once everyone had the correct gear and was ready, you headed outside and over to the lift that would take you to the top of the slopes. There was an orange partition between the two sides. One side was where the skiers were, to the right the more advanced skiers were flying down the hill whereas to the left, closest to the orange fencing, was where the beginners were.

On the snowboarding side it was almost the same set up but mirrored. You rode the lift up with Yumi and Haneul, holding onto your ski poles nervously as the lift climbed higher and higher. Behind you sat Yunho and Seomi with Gunho and in front of you was the twins and Haneul’s mother.

Your best friend’s mother chose to stay at the lodge for the time being.

Once at the top, you scooted off the lift and awkwardly shambled over to the side to wait for the instructor. Kang-min skied over and stopped beside you. “You okay?” he asked softly. You nodded, staring at the slope. “Just take it little by little,” he offered.

“You will fall,” he added. “But it doesn’t hurt. The snow is really soft.” You watched as he patted the snow with his ski. “Very powdery. Good skiing conditions.” You smiled at him as the instructor finally arrived. You watched as he explained the basics and let Yumi and Kang-min go first.

“Go slowly,” the instructor said as you moved to the edge of the summit. “Take your time.” You finally took the plunge, pushing yourself over the edge and started sliding down the slope to the first stop. The instructor joined you, commending your form but telling you to uncross your skis.

You tried again, heading down to the next part, cursing as your skis crossed again.

This continued until you reached the bottom.

“You’re doing really well,” the instructor said. “But you keep crossing your skis,” he added with a chuckle. “It’s so weird to try and hold them straight,” you admitted. He nodded as he started towards the lift. “You wanna go again?” he asked.

You weren’t looking at him. Instead you were watching Jang-min slide down the slope next to the one you’d just skied down on his snowboard. “Could I switch?” you asked, turning your head. “Maybe snowboarding might be better for me.” The instructor nodded and beckoned you to follow him back to the lodge and inside where you removed your skis and boots. He brought over a pair of snow boots to check the fit before helping you lace them up and make sure they were snug.

Afterwards, he grabbed the snowboard and handed it to you. “You can put it on at the top,” he said before grabbing his own board, having also switched the skis out. The ride up was silent as you looked around. Yunho and Seomi were at the top, off to the side chatting. When you reached the top, you hopped off the lift and walked over to Jang-min who smiled at you.

“Changed your mind, eh?” he asked as you set the board down and stepped on, watching the instructor make sure your boots were secure. “I couldn’t keep my skis straight,” you admitted with a grimace. “You joined us?” Yunho asked, scooting up to the other side. You nodded as Seomi also joined. “Alright, you three go ahead. I’m sure she doesn’t want you watching her as she goes down,” the instructor said, waving them on.

You watched as they took turns. Jang-min went first and you could see he’d done this plenty of times before. Seomi went next, looking every bit as graceful as Yumi did on skis. Yunho went next, stopping at the peak to look back at you. He gave you a salute. “See you at the bottom!”

You watched as he went next and you were in awe. You had no idea Yunho was so skilled at snowboarding, pulling tricks you’d only ever seen on TV. You were suddenly very aware that it was your turn next. The instructor had you go first and you half expected to lose your balance and tumble but you were surprised how much easier this was than skiing.

It didn’t take you long to get the hang of it and soon you were zooming past the instructor as he laughed. “You’re a natural at this!” Jang-min complimented as you joined him at the base of the slope. He held up his hand for a high five and you reciprocated as the instructor checked his watch. “I have a class soon,” he announced, looking up at you. “Will you be alright on your own now?” he asked.

“Yeah, she’s got us,” Jang-min said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“We’ll keep an eye on her!”

And just like that, you were no longer in need of an instructor. You spent most of the time with Jang-min who was content to join you on the beginner slopes while Yunho and Seomi continued down the intermediate side. Kang-min eventually swapped his skis for a snowboard as well and joined the two of you, taking turns between you and Jang-min

Half the morning had gone by and you were really getting the hang of snowboarding. Yunho called break time and the group headed into the lodge for lunch, shedding your gear by the door. You ordered half a sandwich and a cup of soup, sitting next to Jang-min and Yumi as you excitedly told your success story to your best friend. “Maybe I’ll switch too,” she said with a smile.

“You’ve never even stepped foot on a snowboard,” Gunho said with a snort. Yumi glowered at him. “Neither had Y/N before today,” she snapped back. You nodded. “There’s no way I believe that,” Yunho said suddenly from the other side of the twins. “You’re a natural at this.”

Your cheeks grew warm at his compliments and you busied yourself with your soup. “She really is,” Kang-min chimed in, looking at you with a smile. “Skiing didn’t seem to be your strong suit but snowboarding definitely is.”

Heat spread from your cheeks to your ears at the sudden increase of praise thrown your way. Although you typically hated attention, you had to admit that it felt nice to be praised like this from time to time.

After eating, you sat by one of the fires, warming up while letting your food settle.

“I think Kang-min likes you,” Yumi said softly as she sat next to you. Glancing up at your best friend you knitted your brows together. “What?” you asked incredulously. She smirked at you, settling back in the seat beside you. “Kang-min. He’s been all over you today,” she said softly. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” You shook your head slowly.

“Not really,” you admitted. You glanced over where Kang-min sat with his twin, playing a card game with Gunho and Yunho. You looked away quickly and turned back to your friend. “I’m sure he doesn’t,” you replied finally. Yumi shook her head. “He’s totally into you,” she whispered as Haneul walked over and sat on the ottoman in front of your chair.

“Who’s into who?” she whispered, looking between the two of you. Shaking your head, you tried to play it off but Yumi jumped at the chance to get a second opinion. “Kang-min,” she said flatly under her breath. “I’m pretty sure he’s into Y/N.” Haneul’s brows rose and she looked at you quickly.

“He is?” she asked, more to you than to your best friend. You shook your head. “I think Yumi is imagining things,” you replied. Your best friend groaned softly and turned to face you. “You want me to go ask him?” she asked and you slapped her leg. “No,” you hissed. “I don’t want you to ask your cousin if he’s into me. That’s so weird!” you hissed.

Yumi shrugged and looked at Haneul. “I don’t think it’s that weird but okay,” she replied.

After warming up for a bit, the group decided to head back out again. You pulled your gear back on, slipping into your feet into your boots. As you were lacing them up, Yunho knelt down by your feet. “Make this a little tighter,” he murmured, undoing your work and redoing the laces. “You want it to be completely tight and snug. Otherwise you could twist your ankle, get blisters, or even break your ankle” he explained.

“Th-thanks,” you murmured as he looked up at you with a smile. “No problem,” he said, getting up and heading outside. You stood up, following him with Jang-min and Kang-min behind you. You decided to ride up with the twins while Yumi and Haneul rode up behind you with Haneul’s mother.

At the top, you waited for Jang-min to go first before following him. You wanted to ease back into it so you went a little slower. Kang-min flew past you laughing as he made a beeline for his brother, making you chuckle as you finally reached the bottom.

You headed back up, this time letting both Kang-min and Jang-min go first before you started down the hill with Yunho waiting at the top. You decided to go down the big slope like before and were gaining momentum when your eyes caught sight of something sticking out of the snow. Before you could evade, your board struck whatever it was and you went tumbling down with a yelp.

“Y/N!” you heard Kang-min yell. Your ankle was throbbing as you tried to roll over. “Y/N!” said a panicked voice. “Are you hurt?” You groaned in pain as they grabbed your arm and pulled you up into a sitting position. “My ankle,” you groaned, the pain shooting up your leg from your ankle.

You felt someone fumbling with your helmet before pulling it off. You looked up, squinting in the bright light at Yunho as he set your helmet aside and looked you over. “You didn’t hit your head did you?” he asked. You shook your head. His hands moved down to unclasp your boots from the snowboard.

“Where does it hurt?” he asked as Seomi came to a stop nearby. “Is she alright?” she asked. Yunho waved her to go on. “I got this, babe!” he called as he looked up at you. “Which ankle hurts?” You pointed to your right foot. Yunho was quick, calling for Kang-min and Jang-min to get your gear on their second pass down before unlatching his own snowboard.

“I’m gonna carry you down to the lodge,” he announced. “Come on.”

He knelt down, back facing you so you could climb on. You were hesitant but in the end, you leaned against his back, allowing him to pick you up and carry you on his back down the mountain. You heard Yumi call your name from the base of the ski slope and looked over.

“What happened?” she called as she made her way over. “She took a tumble,” Yunho called back. “I’m taking her inside.” Your cheeks burned as Yunho carried you into the lodge. You were carried inside and taken to the side where Yunho gently set you down and guided you to sit on one of the stools against the side wall. You did as he instructed, watching as he unlaced and carefully pulled your boot off.

Yumi had removed her gear and was moving to sit beside you as Yunho pulled your sock off. “Don’t you think a medic should look at her?” Kang-min asked, peering over his cousin’s shoulder at your ankle. “What do you think I went to school for?” Yunho huffed as he carefully rolled your ankle.

Seomi was standing nearby, arms crossed over her chest. She didn’t look happy.

“Without x-rays,” Yunho started as you winced. “I can’t say for certain but it seems to be sprained,” he said softly. He rolled your ankle in the opposite direction and you let out a whimper. “Sorry,” he said softly. “But it’s definitely sprained at the very least.

You watched as he pressed against the joint gingerly. “I don’t feel any popping,” he murmured. “Can you move it yourself?” he asked, smiling slightly when you were able to roll your ankle yourself. “It’s definitely not broken,” he finally said. “We’re gonna need to stabilize it,” he added.

Jang-min hurried off to find an employee and ask for the first-aid kit. They returned and Yunho looked through it. “There’s nothing in here to stabilize it,” he murmured as he sifted through the contents. “Does it need to be stabilized?” Yumi asked as her brother looked around. He nodded.

“It really should be so she doesn’t hurt it any further,” he answered. “Will this work?” you heard Yumi’s mother ask and looked up as she pulled out a wooden stick from her purse. “It’s a back scratcher,” she explained. Yunho smiled up at his mother. “This is perfect,” he said. “Thanks, mom.”

You watched as Yunho worked, using the scratcher to stabilize your ankle, wrapping the joint with as much gauze as he could before taping it off and covering the whole thing with your sock. “She should probably go back to the lodge,” he added as he cleaned up his mess. “I can take her back,” he offered, looking up at Yumi who shook her head. “I’ll do it,” she replied.

“You should stay,” you interjected. “I don’t want you to miss out because of me,” you replied softly. Yumi waved her hand. “Nonsense,” she replied. “I don’t care. You’re my best friend. I’d be a horrible friend if I stayed while you went back to the lodge alone. Besides, I’m done skiing anyway,” she added.

Yumi turned to her mother who offered to drive back anyone who was done for the day. Haneul agreed to finish for the day as did her mother. The twins, Gunho, Seomi, and Yunho agreed to stay and Yunho would drive back when they were done.

Yunho helped you out to the van and to get in with Yumi’s help. “Don’t put any pressure on it until I can properly wrap it. Make sure to ice it for twenty minutes. Then put heat on it for twenty. Back and forth with the temperatures,” he instructed before closing the door and backing up to watch the van reverse.

You watched him until the van turned and he disappeared from your view. “Are you feeling okay?” Yumi’s voice asked softly from beside you. You turned to look at her and nodded. “Yeah,” you admitted. “It doesn’t hurt that much now.”

The ride back was silent as you stared out the window of the van, watching the scenery change and pass by. It felt like no time at all had passed when you were pulling up to the lodge. Yumi and Haneul very carefully helped you out of the van, helping you up the steps into the lodge and Yumi made sure you got upstairs to your shared room. Yumi took a shower first, cleaning off before coming out.

“The others are back so you might want to take your shower now before they do and all the hot water is gone,” she announced. You got up and limped over to the door with your toiletry bag, towels, and clean clothes. As you limped towards the bathroom door, the bedroom to Yunho and Seomi’s room opened and Seomi exited, glaring at you as she exited and walked down the hall with an annoyed huff, entering the bathroom and slamming the door.

You let out a sigh and started to turn back to the bedroom when Yunho appeared. “Oh, Seomi just went in there,” he said, noticing your toiletry bag and towels. You nodded. “I know,” you replied. “She rushed past me to get there,” you admitted. Yunho frowned at your words. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “You can go before me,” he offered. “Thanks,” you murmured and started to make your way back.

“How’s your ankle?” he asked, looking down. “S’okay,” you shrugged. “The gauze seems to be coming loose.” Yunho nodded silently, looking back up. “After your shower, I’ll wrap it again. We stopped on the way back to get some stuff from a pharmacy,” he explained. “Thanks,” you mumbled and limped back to your shared room with Yumi who frowned as you entered the room.

“I thought you were going to shower,” she said as you hobbled over to your bed and collapsed onto it. “Seomi beat me to it,” you muttered, rolling onto your side, facing the wall. “That bitch,” you heard your best friend grumble and rolled back to look at her. “I thought you liked her,” you said.

Yumi shrugged. “I did but when I saw the way she glared at you when Yunho was carrying you into the lodge, it just rubbed me the wrong way. And when I was walking back here, I could hear them arguing. It wasn’t very loud but I could still hear it,” she explained.

“Then you were in the hall, holding your bathroom stuff and she just walks in there cause she’s not slowed down by an injury. That makes her a bitch.” You snorted and rolled back to face the wall, closing your eyes. Maybe you would just wait until everyone else had gone so you wouldn’t be in the way.

You weren’t sure how much time passed before Yumi was gently shaking you awake. “Seomi is done in the shower,” she said softly. “And I think they’re fighting again so hurry up and get to the bathroom before someone else does.”

You scrambled to get up and hurried out of the room as fast as your ankle would let you, passing the door to Yunho and Seomi’s room which was ajar and like Yumi had said, you could hear them bickering back and forth. Seomi definitely sounded angry but Yunho was surprisingly calm.

You dared not stay and eavesdrop and instead hobbled down to the bathroom. You closed the door behind you and turned the lock before moving to start the shower and undress, unwrapping your ankle and setting the gauze and backscratcher aside before stepping into the scalding water with a sigh.

You went about your business, washing off the events of the day and allowing the hot water to soothe any aches and tense muscles in your body. After you were finished washing and you had rinsed the last of the conditioner from your hair, you stepped out of the shower, wrapped yourself in a towel and started to dry off.

You sat on the toilet, lid down, so you could dry off without putting unnecessary pressure on your swollen ankle. Once your body was dry, you pulled on your clean clothes, snatching up the dirty ones and carefully started to hobble back to your room.

Once inside, you tossed your dirty clothes in the hamper in the room and sat on the bed, starting to dry your hair with the extra towel. Yumi had disappeared, no doubt downstairs. You wondered if you should make the journey downstairs for dinner but one look at your ankle told you that was a bad idea.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a soft knocking at the door. You turned as the door cracked open and Yunho peered in. “Is it okay to come in?” he asked and you nodded, watching as he pushed the door open further and came in, holding in his hand an ankle brace.

“I got this at the pharmacy,” he said as he moved to kneel in front of you. “You already got your socks on, good,” he noted as he carefully took your foot and inspected it. “Does it still hurt?” he asked, looking up at you. Shaking your head you looked down at his hands.

“Just when you put weight on it?” he asked. You nodded wordlessly. “Good,” he noted with a nod. “Means it’s not as severe as I initially thought.” You said nothing as he put the brace around your ankle, making sure to strap it tightly. “There,” he said softly. “You should have no problems walking,” he added as he looked up at you. “But just be careful. You should rest before dinner,�� he continued.

You nodded silently as he got up and moved towards the door. “And sorry again about Seomi,” he added quietly. “Sometimes she’s… a little tough,” he said, hesitating for a moment. “Get some rest,” he repeated. “See you at dinner.”

You watched as he exited, pulling the door shut behind him.

You were left alone for only a moment when the door opened and Yumi entered, Haneul and Kang-min on her heels. “Are you okay?” Kang-min asked, sitting beside you on your bed. You nodded. “I’m fine,” you replied. “It’s just a little sore at this point.”

The four of you froze as you heard a slam next door followed by muffled shouting. Haneul moved to close the door, drowning out some of the noise. “I don’t think they’re gonna last,” Haneul murmured, moving to sit on Yumi’s bed. “And good riddance if they don’t,” Yumi muttered, drawing Haneul and Kang-min’s attention.

“I thought you liked her,” Haneul whispered, looking shocked. “I did until she cut Y/N in line for the shower,” Yumi grumbled. “She’s also weirdly overly possessive of Yunho. She got mad at Y/N because Yunho was carrying her after she got hurt,” Yumi explained. “Like, what did she want her to do? It’s not like Y/N could walk.” Their words fell to the back of your mind as you zoned out.

You were feeling tired from the events of the day and yawned. “Are you tired?” Haneul asked, noticing. “Do you want to nap?” Kang-min added. You nodded. “Yeah, sorry guys. I’m just really worn out.” Kang-min immediately got up as did Haneul and Yumi. “We’ll go talk outside. You get some rest. I’ll wake you up when dinner is ready,” she said softly as the other opened the door and exited.

You thanked Yumi and laid back down as she shut the light off and closed the door with a soft click. Not long after, you were out like the light.

Yunho closed the door and started for the stairs. He was getting sick of this. He was tired of the fighting and the arguments. And over what? Seomi wouldn’t even tell him why she was upset, only that she was and that it was his fault. How could he apologize for something if he didn’t even know what he did?

At first, he gave in and apologized the other night after the drinking game just to keep the peace but this time around, he wasn’t going to apologize until she told him why he was apologizing. He reached the bottom of the stairs and noticed Yumi, Haneul, the twins, and Gunho sitting outside around the firepit.

He walked over, pulling open the door and stepped out. Whatever conversation they were having died the moment he stepped outside. “I think I’m gonna help mom with dinner,” Haneul muttered, getting up and walking past Yunho and back inside. The twins exchanged looks and got up. “I think dad said something about needing help with firewood,” Kang-min said to Jang-min who nodded.

They disappeared inside the house and Yunho was left with his siblings sitting quietly as they avoided eye contact with him. Yunho looked between them before moving to sit down. He glanced back at the door first before speaking. “Alright,” he started.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “Why are they avoiding me?”

Yumi glanced at Gunho who looked back at her and shrugged. Yumi narrowed her eyes at her younger brother before sighing. “It’s because of your girlfriend,” she replied. “Because of Seomi?” Yunho asked. “What? Why?” Yumi sighed again, looking towards Gunho for help but the younger merely shrugged again. “You’re no help,” she snapped.

“Seomi is kind of…” Yumi trailed off. “A bitch,” Gunho mumbled, earning a smack from Yumi. “She’s kind of a lot to handle. She’s been pretty nasty to Y/N for no reason,” Yumi clarified. Yunho looked between his siblings. “What are you talking about?” he asked. Yumi sighed heavily.

“First time I noticed it was during the drinking game. I think when you chose Y/N as your mate, Seomi got mad which I don’t know why. If you had picked her, she was gonna have to drink every time you did,” Gunho mumbled, picking at his sleeve. Yunho snorted.

“That’s exactly why I didn’t pick her. I didn’t want her to have to drink every time I did.” Yumi nodded, shifting in her seat. “And we get that. Hell, even Y/N gets that but Seomi must have thought you were picking Y/N because you like her or something which is, again, dumb. Y/N is my best friend and you’re my brother. If it hasn’t happened already, it’s probably never going to happen,” Yumi said softly.

Yunho forced a smile.

It’s not like he hadn’t thought about it before; being with you. There was something different about you. Something Yumi’s other friends lacked. You were funny, intelligent, confident, and you didn’t really seem to take shit from anyone. You had your head on your shoulders which was more than Yunho could have said for some of Yumi’s other friends at the time.

Yunho was also well aware of the fact that he was your first crush, possibly even your first love, though he never actually heard it from you directly. He had only heard it second hand from a friend of his who claims to have somehow overheard you telling someone else. Someone who wasn’t Yumi.

When he initially heard it, he wasn’t sure what to make of it. You had never made it obvious that you liked him so he thought maybe his friend was pranking him. After all, he was in high school and you were still in middle school at the time, but he would be lying if it didn’t cross his mind again when you finally started high school. Or when you came back from your first year of college. He never wanted to cross that line, in case you had moved on and gotten over your crush.

If it was even true to begin with.

Despite whether or not your feelings for him were real, his for you were definitely real. So he forced himself to move on, forced himself to date people who weren’t you and hoped that by doing so, he might actually get over the silly feelings that lingered in the back of his mind. Only it didn’t actually work.

When he brought his first college girlfriend home for winter break, he was certain he’d managed to move on but when he saw you coming out of Yumi’s room, all grown up yourself, his confidence that he’d finally managed to move on soared out the window.

He was back to square one.

It was after this that he stopped coming home during breaks as often and focused more on spending time with his friends. He and his girlfriend at the time had broken up after that trip, and it wasn’t until Yunho met Seomi that things seemed to start getting easier.

Whether that was because you weren’t around or because of Seomi herself, he couldn’t say for sure.

His relationship was far from perfect but he really did like Seomi. He thought he might even love her but when he saw you show up at the airport for the trip, he knew he was screwed. He couldn’t tell if your indifference towards him was because you’d truly moved on or if it was you trying to avoid him.

He just didn’t know. And how could he when the two of you barely spoke this trip. You had seemed uninterested in him, in what he’d become and done with his life. He thought if you were really past it, then maybe he could actually move on with Seomi but his resolve was further put to the test when you injured yourself. He was down the slope before you even fully came to a stop.

He had been mid conversation with Seomi one second and the next he was rushing down the slope to get to you. To make sure you were okay. He could chalk it up to being a concerned physician but he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. It was clear from the moment you showed up at the airport that he wasn’t truly over you and he might never be.

“She also got too excited when she thought Y/N had fucked up on the Christmas movies and then again when you took Y/N’s side,” Gunho continued, pulling Yunho out of his thoughts in time to see Yumi nodding. Yunho laughed this time, surprising both his siblings.

“Because Y/N was right. Die Hard is a Christmas movie. Just because it’s not some cheesy Hallmark movie doesn’t mean it doesn’t count,” he explained.

“And then again today,” Gunho continued, ignoring his brother. “When Y/N got hurt and you carried her into the lodge, Seomi looked pissed,” he added, looking at Yumi who nodded again. “I saw that firsthand. It’s stupid. It’s not like Y/N could walk. She just twisted her ankle. She was injured.”

Yunho shook his head. “Why would she be mad at that?” Yunho asked. “I’m a physician. I help injured people at work all the time!” Yumi and Gunho shrugged simultaneously. “Does she ever get really upset when you’re around other women who aren’t family?” Yumi asked.

Yunho wracked his brain. “Now that you mention it…” he trailed off, noticing the way Yumi and Gunho exchanged glances. “And she’s been upset most of this trip because you’ve been around a girl who isn’t family. Picking her in a drinking game, helping her when she got injured, picking her side when she was right about something,” Gunho listed. “She’s clearly jealous of Y/N,” he added.

“Why would she need to be jealous?” Yunho asked, looking at his younger brother. “She’s not jealous,” Yumi said, shaking her head. “She’s insecure. She thinks that Y/N could pull you and she feels threatened by her.” Yunho stared incredulously at his sister.

“Seomi is my girlfriend. Not Y/N,” he retorted. “She has no reason to be insecure. I’m with her.” Yumi shrugged. “In her mind, that doesn’t matter,” Yumi replied. “In her mind, you’re going to leave her for someone better. Someone like Y/N.”

Yunho’s heart skipped a beat but he played it off with a scoff, leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s just dumb,” he muttered. “Has Seomi said anything?” Yumi asked, Gunho turning to look at his older brother with mild interest. Yunho shook his head. “No,” he answered. “She’s upset, I know that, but when I ask why, she refuses to tell me. She just wants me to apologize. I did the first time, but I’m not apologizing again until she tells me why.”

Yunho watched Yumi shake her head. “She’s expecting you to read her mind which is never going to happen. She…” Yumi trailed off, averting her eyes to the firepit. “She what?” Yunho asked. Yumi looked back up. “She sounds exhausting and to be honest, I think you deserve better. You deserve someone who isn’t going to treat you like this.”

Yunho’s brow rose at Yumi’s admission. He looked to Gunho who said nothing, instead staring blankly into the fire. “You think Seomi and I should break up?” Yunho asked. Yumi nodded. “As your sister, yes. I think you two aren’t good for one another. But in the end, what I think doesn’t matter. What matters is what you think. It’s your relationship after all,” she replied.

Yunho watched as Yumi got up and walked around the firepit towards the door. “You have to think about what makes you happy though, Yunho. Not what makes other people happy.”

Without another word, Yumi opened the door and entered the house, leaving Yunho and Gunho by the fire. Yunho turned to the younger who sighed and got to his feet as well. “I’m getting a little chilly out here,” he announced. “See you inside,” he added walking past Yunho, leaving the eldest sitting there, stunned into silence.

Was this really how his family perceived his relationship? Was this how you perceived his relationship? Did everyone think he was some sort of idiot, dating Seomi without realizing the kind of person she was? Yunho sat for a moment longer outside before getting up and heading inside.

He and Seomi had some talking to do.

You woke up to total darkness, groaning softly as you rolled over.

“Morning sunshine~!” you heard your best friend say in an amused tone. You looked over to her side of the room to see she was sitting up in bed, a small light clipped to her book. “What time is it?” you grumbled, voice cracking. “Like eight,” Yumi answered, checking her watch for verification. “Did I miss dinner?” you asked looking back at her. She nodded, turning on her bedside lamp, casting a dim yellow light around the room.

“But I brought you food~!” Yumi said in a sing-song voice, getting up as she set her book aside. On your bedside table was a plate covered with another plate. “We just finished so it should still be kinda warm,” Yumi said as she got up and walked over. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted so I brought a bit of everything.”

You looked up at your best friend with sparkling eyes. “Thank you,” you whispered as she uncovered the plate and handed it to you. “It looks so good,” you said, holding back the urge to groan. Yumi snickered at your reaction, picking up the utensils and handing them to you.

“Just eat, you weirdo,” she mumbled, patting the top of your head and moving back to grab her book. Instead of getting back in her bed, she moved over to climb into yours, snuggling up next to you as you ate. “You want me to read to you?” she asked, looking up. You nodded as you took a bite.

You ate in silence as Yumi read aloud from her book.

As you were finishing your food, you could hear hushed voices on the other side of the wall. They grew in intensity and you could tell it was Yunho and Seomi. You glanced at your best friend who had stopped reading to listen, her eyes meeting yours.

“Wonder what they’re fighting about,” you murmured, turning back to your food. “Probably because Yunho offered to bring you dinner earlier,” Yumi muttered nonchalantly. You turned to look at her. “What?” you asked. Yumi looked up at you. “Yeah. You were sleeping so I didn’t wake you and then the twins asked where you were so I said you were asleep and I didn’t want to bother you ‘cause of your ankle. So Yunho offered to bring your food to you, like I’m not sharing a room with you,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Seomi’s been mad at him for other things too but I think this just kind of set her off.”

As soon as Yumi said that, you both jumped as you heard a door slam shut and someone stomping down the stairs. You looked at Yumi who looked back just as wide-eyed. “What was that?” you wondered out loud. Yumi shrugged and got up as the door to Yunho and Seomi’s room opened and more footsteps were heard running down the stairs before the front door opened.

Yumi rushed over to the window to see what the commotion was. “It’s Seomi and Yunho!” she whisper-shouted at you. “What are they doing?” you asked. “I think they’re yelling,” she replied. “Standby.” She set her book aside and carefully unlocked and opened the window a crack.

The distant voices of Yunho and Seomi could be heard arguing but you couldn’t discern what they were saying. “You’re being unreasonable,” Yumi whispered to you. “That was Yunho.”

“I’m not being unreasonable. You’re the one that’s in love with someone else,” Yumi continued to whisper the entire conversation to you. “I wonder who she’s talking about.”

“I’m not in love with her! How many times do I have to say it?”

“It’s written all over your face. You’re bad at hiding it. You’ve probably been cheating on me with her--”

Yumi frowned. “Oh hell no,” she hissed, pushing the window open some more. “Yumi!” you hissed, throwing a pillow towards her but falling short. “Hey!” Yumi yelled out the window. “People are trying to sleep here! Take your lover’s quarrel somewhere else!” Yumi shouted.

“Stay out of this, Yumi!” you heard Yunho’s voice shout.

“I’m trying to sleep!” another voice shouted out the window and you recognized it as Gunho.

“Stop shouting! People are sleeping!” yet another voice shouted.

“They’re getting in the car,” Yumi whispered to you, watching the van no doubt drive off into the forest before she turned to look at you, shutting the window. “I wonder where they’re going,” Yumi continued as she moved back to your bed. “Who knows,” you muttered, resuming picking at your food. Yumi noticed and sat up. “Are you done eating?” she asked softly. You nodded and thanked her as she took the plate.

“What are friends for if not to bring you food and take the plate away when your leg is all gimpy?” she asked, chuckling as you cursed at her. Yumi returned and grabbed her book, moving back to her bed. “I’ll let you go back to sleep,” she said as she climbed back into bed. “Thanks, Yumi,” you said again and she smiled up at you. “Any time,” she replied, turning the light off and plunging the room back into darkness.

——————————————————————————————————————————

The next morning, you woke to a light knocking on your door. Yumi was still in bed so you weren’t sure who it could be. The door cracked open and Haneul peered in, smiling at you. “Breakfast is ready,” she announced. “Do you want to come down or if your ankle still hurts, I could bring something up?”

You shook your head. “I’ll come down,” you replied, pulling back the covers as you sat up. “Thank you, Haneul,” you added. She shut the door and you grabbed a pillow, flinging it at Yumi who whined in protest. “Breakfast is ready, dork,” you called, pushing yourself up.

Your ankle wasn’t as painful today but you still couldn’t put all your weight on it.

You pulled on a pair of sweats and walked over to Yumi’s bed, grabbing your pillow and hitting her twice with it. “Come on,” you mumbled. “If I’m up, you need to be,” you said but she refused. “Get up or I’ll eat all the bacon,” you grumbled and she sat up quickly. “Don’t you dare,” she growled.

Once Yumi was dressed, you headed downstairs. Yumi waited while you took it easy, one step at a time. The rest of the family was already sitting around the table, save for Yunho. You wondered where he was and hoped he was okay.

Luckily, you didn’t have to wonder for long because Yumi asked for you.

“Where’s Yunho?”

“He’s in his room,” you heard Mrs. Jeong answer. “He had a hard time last night,” she added. You glanced over at your best friend who stared blankly at her mother. “So he made it back?” Yumi asked, drawing Mrs. Jeong’s attention. “He did,” she replied plainly.

“Alone?”

“Yumi,” Mr. Jeong said suddenly. “Knock it off. Your brother doesn’t need this right now.”

“It’s fine,” another voice said and everyone looked up to see Yunho had joined the group and was moving to sit between Gunho and his father. You looked away, busying yourself with your breakfast. It was a simple congee but you added a fried egg and some bacon to yours.

“Seomi left,” Yunho continued, addressing not only his sister but the entire table. “We broke up,” he added. “I’m sorry dear,” Mrs. Jeong said softly. Yunho forced a smile. “Why?” Jun-seo asked, looking up from his game. “It wasn’t working out anymore,” Yunho answered.

You glanced up in time to see his gaze pass over you and linger before he looked away. “Well, maybe some time in town will help,” Mr. Jeong said as he continued to eat. “We’re all going,” he added. “Dad,” Yumi said suddenly. “Y/N can’t walk. She twisted her ankle yesterday, remember?”

Mrs. Jeong nodded. “Oh, that’s right,” she said softly, looking at her husband. “I can stay here,” you said quickly. “You all go. Don’t stay back on my account. I’ll just stay in our room or something.”

Mrs. Jeong looked worriedly from you to your best friend. “Alone?” she asked. Yumi shook her head, opening her mouth to speak but Yunho beat her to it.

“I’ll stay behind,” he announced. “I’m not really feeling a trip to town. I’d actually rather stay here.” Yunho looked down at his plate while his parents exchanged glances. “Are you sure?” his mother asked. Yunho nodded, forcing another smile. “Of course,” he replied. “And who better to stay here with her than a physician?” Haneul’s father chimed in.

It was settled and after breakfast, you leaned against one of the wooden posts by the front door as the rest of the family headed out, Yumi stopping to make sure you were sure you wanted to be alone with Yunho. You nodded and told her to go have fun. Once they all piled into the vans and drove off, Yunho shut the door and turned to you. “So,” he said softly. “What do you want to do?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I’m not sure,” you replied. “But I think I want to rest upstairs.” Yunho nodded wordlessly, moving over to where you stood. “You want me to carry you or you want me to just spot you as you climb the stairs?” he asked. Your cheeks burned and you looked away from his face.

“I’ll climb the stairs,” you murmured and moved to the base. Yunho followed, making sure you got to the top safely. Once you were back in your room, he waited by the door. “If you need to go downstairs for anything,” he said, hand on the doorknob. “Just call out. I’ll get you whatever you need,” he added before leaving.

You tossed and turned in your bed, trying to will yourself to go back to sleep but you struggled. As you lay there, you could hear the wind outside pick up, howling and rattling the windows in their frames. You carefully climbed out of bed and limped over to the window, pulling back the curtain to peer out and find that snow was blowing around. ‘A snow storm?’ you wondered silently.

You headed back to your bed, grabbing your earbuds from your bag and lay back down, plugging your ears and starting some music. Closing your eyes, you let the music lull you back to sleep, thankful the music was able to drown out the whipping wind.

When you woke up again, it was darker. You checked the time and saw that it was almost 5 pm. It got dark a lot faster than it did back home and you weren’t used to it yet. You sat up, reaching up to rub your eyes before swinging your legs over the side of the bed and getting up carefully.

You limped over to the door, pulling it open to peer out into the hall. “Yunho?” you called out. You were met with silence and decided not to bother him. You decided you could make it down the steps. You’d just have to be careful. You exited the room and made your way down to the main floor, taking it one step at a time and hobbled into the kitchen to get some water.

As you were opening the cabinet, you heard the back door open and turned to find Yunho carrying an armful of firewood. “You’re up!” he said as he moved to set the firewood by the fireplace and hurried over. “Here, let me,” he said softly as he stopped behind you, easily reaching the glasses and picking one out for you. “Why didn’t you call me for help?” he asked with a chuckle.

You moved to get some water from the fridge. “I called out but you were outside so I figured I’d just be careful coming down the stairs,” you explained. Yunho removed his coat and moved to hang it up along with his scarf and hat. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Yunho asked as he moved back to where you stood.

You took a sip of water and nodded, setting the glass on the counter. Yunho stared at you, eyes searching your face. “Is it still snowing?” you asked suddenly. Yunho nodded wordlessly. “Yeah,” he finally said. “My dad called,” he added. “Said if the snow doesn’t stop soon, they might have to stay in town.” Your heart jumped at the thought of having the entire place alone with Yunho.

“So we’ll be here,” you said plainly. Yunho nodded, looking at you but not quite seeing you. “Alone,” you added to which he continued to nod. Silence fell over the two of you but it wasn’t awkward. It was full of tension though. After a few moments, you finally broke the quiet.

“Sorry about Seomi,” you whispered. Yunho’s snapped up to meet yours. “What?” he asked softly. You cleared your throat before speaking again. “I’m sorry about Seomi.” Once you clarified what you said, Yunho’s expression softened. “It’s alright,” he replied. “It was never going to work out anyway,” he added.

“Why do you say that?” you asked curiously. Yunho smiled more to himself than to you.

“I think deep down, she was just a replacement for something,” he explained. “Or rather for someone.”

You watched him carefully as he no doubt was thinking to himself. “What do you mean?” Yunho looked up at you, lips parted but before he could say anything, your phone rang in your pocket. You sighed, pulling the device out. The screen read Yumi’s name and you held up a finger. “Hold that thought.”

You swiped the answer button and held the phone to your ear. “Hello?” you asked.

“Y/N, it’s Yumi,” you heard your best friend say. “Yeah, what’s up?” you asked, glancing up at Yunho who was leaning against the counter across from you, a small distance between you as he watched you carefully. “The locals said the storm isn’t stopping any time soon,” Yumi started.

“We’re gonna have to stay in the town tonight,” she continued. Your heart started to hammer in your chest. You were going to be all alone tonight. Alone with him. With Yunho. You glanced up at him, his expression growing more and more concerned. “Okay,” you managed to squeak out.

“Be safe. And hopefully we’ll see you in the morning,” you added. “Oh,” Yumi said suddenly. “Dad said to tell Yunho to bring in more firewood in case the power goes out up there. The stoves are gas so you should be fine on that.”

You nodded though your best friend couldn’t see you. “Got it,” you answered. “Be safe,” you repeated. Yumi repeated the sentiment and hung up and you set your phone down on the counter. “That was Yumi,” you started to explain. “She said the storm isn’t going to let up until tomorrow,” you continued.

Yunho nodded, waiting for you to go on. “She said they’re staying in town so we’re on our own tonight.” Yunho seemed to relax visibly. “And she said your dad said to bring more firewood in the house, just in case the power goes out.” Yunho nodded towards the fireplace. “I brought in three armfuls,” he explained. “That should be enough,” he added.

You nodded slowly as the conversation with Yumi started to fade away. “So,” you said softly. “What were you going to say before Yumi called?” You swore you saw a mild panic flash over Yunho’s face before he laughed it off. “Oh that? It’s nothing,” he murmured. “Just me rambling.”

“Forget I said anything.”

You reached forward, grabbing his wrist. “No,” you replied. He turned to look at you. “No?” he asked. You shook your head. “No, I’m not going to forget it. So just tell me.” Yunho hesitated before swallowing thickly. “Deep down, I think she was a replacement for someone,” he finally said softly.

“For who?” you asked, looking up at his eyes staring back at yours. ‘For you,’ you imagined him saying. Yunho hesitated a moment longer before speaking. “For someone I can’t have,” he finally said, your heart sinking into your stomach. You let go of him quickly and pulled back. “Oh,” you said shortly.

“I see,” you added, turning away from him. “I thought…” you trailed off. ‘Don’t,’ you told yourself. ‘Don’t do that. Don’t tell him that.’ It was Yunho’s turn to speak. “You thought what?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you said quickly. Much too quickly. You hoped that like your childhood crush on him, he wouldn’t notice but you should have known better. Yunho noticed almost everything about you, even if you didn’t know it.

“Tell me,” he said softly. His voice was somewhat closer as he spoke. “What did you think?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter,” you said, choking back a sob that threatened to escape.

“It does to me.”

The dam holding back your tears broke and you let out the smallest whimper, ducking your head. “Y/N?” Yunho whispered. You felt his hand on your arm as he turned you slowly. “Talk to me,” he said as you fought to not face him. “It’s n-nothing!” you stammered.

Before you could move away, Yunho turned you to face him, taking your face in his hands and making you look up, meeting his gaze. “Why are you crying?” he asked, thumbs brushing your tears away. “It’s stupid,” you sobbed. “Don’t ask me.”

Yunho leaned closer, pressing his lips against your forehead.

The action was so intimate and unexpected that it caused your brain to short circuit. “If it’s upsetting you, it’s not stupid,” Yunho whispered, lips brushing against your skin. “So, tell me.” You shook your head rather than answer.

“Is it because you thought I was talking about you?” he asked.

You froze again. ‘Did he know this whole time?’

You slowly raised your eyes to meet his brown ones. “Is that it?” he asked softly.

Without a word, you nodded, maintaining eye contact. Yunho hummed, caressing your cheek slowly.

“You idiot,” he said softly with a smile. “I was talking about you.” Your eyes widened. “You were?” you squeaked. Yunho nodded. “Of course I was. I thought I had been obvious before but I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Y/N,” he murmured.

“Y-you have?!” you squeaked again. Yunho nodded. “I tried to move on, date other people but none of them lasted because they weren’t you. God, this whole time, I wanted you. I didn’t want anyone else but I thought you’d never go for it. Yumi is your best friend and she’s my sister. Dating your best friend’s brother? She’d never allow that. She’d hate me forever if I ever hurt you. So I stayed away. I tried to forget about the way I felt about you but each time when I thought I’d made progress I would come home and see you and everything would fall back to square one.”

You stared up at him as he rambled.

“I tried so hard not to love you. To let you go and move on. I tried so fucking hard,” he said, his voice breaking as he held back tears. “But I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t go on pretending I don’t want this,” he said, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs again. “Pretending that I don’t want you,” he added.

“Pretending like I’m not completely in love with you.”

Your hands reached up to grab his shirt, pulling him down and crashing your lips against his, catching him off guard. His brief pause passed and he melted into the kiss, one hand moving to the small of your back and pulling you against him as he kissed you deeper.

You let out a quiet moan as his lips parted yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth and finding yours. Your fingers loosened their grip on his shirt as he pressed further against you. Without a word, he scooped you up, setting you on the counter before his lips were back on yours, hands wandering as he slotted himself between your thighs.

You moaned as his lips moved down the side of your neck, hands gripping your waist tightly. “God, you sound so pretty,” he murmured against your ear. “I’ve thought about what you sound like,” he continued. “Wondered what you taste like, what you feel like.”

You felt a chill run up your spine. “I’ve wanted you so bad,” Yunho continued, lips brushing against your pulse point. “So many times, I wanted to take you to my room when you were spending the night and drown in you. Pin you to the bed and make you beg for release,” he continued, groaning when you whimpered in his ear.

“What’s stopping you now?” you whispered. Yunho groaned, pulling back to take your face in his hands firmly. “Tell me you want this,” he said urgently. “Tell me you want me. I need to hear you say it.” You looked up at him, searching his face before finally answering him. “I want you,” you managed to say in a shaky voice.

Yunho let out a growl, pulling you into another kiss, parting your lips, his tongue meeting yours in a frantic dance for dominance. You started to pull at Yunho’s shirt, pulling it out of the way so you could fumble with the ties of his pants. “Wait, wait,” Yunho mumbled, grabbing your hands and halting your movement. You looked up to meet his gaze.

“What?” you asked, worried you might have done something wrong. He shook his head. “Not here,” he mumbled. “You deserve better than to be fucked in the kitchen like some cheesy porno,” he continued. You opened your mouth to protest but Yunho was gone before you could stop him.

He disappeared up the steps leaving you alone in the kitchen. You heard him rushing around on the floor above, his footsteps echoing through the floor before he started to descend the steps. You turned to look over your shoulder as he came into view, carrying an armful of blankets and pillows.

“What the--” you trailed off as he tossed the linens down in front of the fireplace before moving around behind the sofa. You watched as he pulled the sofa back, the wooden legs making a slight screech as they dragged against the wooden floor.

Next to move was the coffee table before Yunho started fumbling with the blankets and pillows. You started to move over to where he was kneeling to get a better look. As he came full into view, you could see he had created a sort of bed on the floor in front of the fireplace. You stared incredulously at him as he worked quickly before he looked up and met your gaze.

“Hey,” he pouted. “Back in the kitchen,” he ordered. You chuckled as you hobbled back over to wait for him. Once he was satisfied that the nest was comfortable enough, he was back by your side in the kitchen, guiding you back onto the counter. “Where were we?” he murmured, leaning in.

“Before you so rudely ran away?” you whispered as his lips brushed against yours. “Hey,” he whined. “I had to improvise. I didn’t want to try to force you to climb the stairs and besides,” he added, pulling back to look at you. “And if the power goes out in the middle, at least we’ll still have the fire for warmth and light,” he continued. Your hands moved up his chest to rest on his shoulders.

“Hmm,” you hummed. “We’ll have more than the fire for warmth,” you retorted. Yunho leaned in closer. “Only if you want to,” he answered. “I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t-” you cut him off, pulling him into a kiss, smirking internally as he groaned against your lips.

And just like that, the brief pause so he could set the mood in front of the fireplace was forgotten as you felt his hands wander, one moving to the small of your back and pulling you against him as his tongue explored your mouth again. “Fuck,” you heard him groan as he pulled back, lips trailing down the side of your neck. “Can I mark you?” he groaned, pulling away to look at you.

You nodded silently, chest heaving. “Just not my neck,” you admitted. “Yumi might see,” you added. Yunho’s fingers toyed with the hem of your tee shirt, eyes searching yours for permission to remove the article. You nodded and allowed him to pull it off you with ease. His eyes scanned your frame, taking in parts of you he’d never seen before, only imagined.

You resisted the urge to cover yourself even if you were wearing a bralette. Yunho said nothing, instead bringing a hand up, hesitating as he looked up at you through his lashes. “May I?” he asked, waiting for your consent. You nodded wordlessly, wanting to feel his hands all over. You want to feel him everywhere.

“Please,” you finally croaked out. “Please touch me.”

Yunho’s hands were on you in an instant, one cupping over your chest as the other moved to the back of your neck, pulling you into a heated kiss, one that took your breath away as he guided your movements. “Come here, angel,” he murmured, sliding his hands under your ass as he stepped away from the counter, carrying you from the kitchen to the living room.

He carefully set you on the couch before kneeling in front of you. “Tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable,” he started, looking up at you, the light from the fire dancing over the both of you. Slowly, you cupped his cheek, almost melting when he leaned into your touch.

“Don’t stop,” you simply said. “I want this. I want you,” you reminded him. “I’ve always wanted you.”

Yunho gently pulled you from the couch, sliding you under him on your back against the blankets. “God, I don’t even know where to start,” he murmured, his hips slotting between your thighs as his hands held him up. “I want to touch you everywhere, kiss you everywhere.” Your fingers fumbled with the hem of his shirt. “We have all night,” you reminded him.

“Take your time.”

Yunho did just that, kissing you slowly as one of his hands moved along your side, squeezing your hip and moving down to your thigh, pulling it against his hip and grinding against your core. You could feel the weight of his cock in his pants press against you, almost throbbing with the need to release.

“Yunho,” you moaned as he kissed down your neck to your collar. “Hmm?” he hummed against your skin. “Please touch me,” you whined. He chuckled lightly, his breath hot against your skin. “I am touching you, baby,” he replied. Your heart skipped a beat at the nickname.

Hearing it come from him was something you’d always wanted but never expected. He wasn’t holding back anymore. “Please, Yunho, please,” you begged, trying to wiggle your hips but his weight held them down. “Shush,” he mumbled, planting soft kisses against your collar. “Be patient, baby.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as you felt Yunho’s lips move over your chest, feeling his breath through the thin material of your lacy bralette. “This is in the way,” he grumbled, pulling back and slipping his fingers under the fabric. “It needs to come off,” he added.

You allowed him to pull you up to pull the offending article off and toss it aside.

You laid back slowly, cheeks burning under his gaze as he took in even more of your form. It wasn’t an entirely new experience for you, being topless but being topless in front of your best friend’s brother who you happen to be in love with was certainly a unique experience.

“God,” he murmured, tearing his gaze from your exposed skin to look up at your face. “I’ve never told you how fucking beautiful you are, have I?” he asked, leaning down to press a kiss against your cheek. “I’ve thought about this moment a hundred different ways,” he continued, whispering into your ear.

“About what it would be like to have you underneath me like this. To have you laid bare for me,” he continued, kissing back down to your chest. “To be able to take my time and kiss your body over and over. To taste every inch of you.” You let out a gasp as you felt his tongue against your nipple, taking it into his mouth with a gentle suck. Your fingers combed through his hair as he teased the sensitive nub, his hand moving to cup your breast and knead it softly.

“Y-Yunho,” you whimpered as he pulled back, his mouth moving to the other side and repeated the same actions, taking your pert nipple in his mouth and teasing it with his tongue. Each flick had your back arching, quiet moans slipping past your lips and your panties starting to stick to you.

Yunho started to kiss down your stomach, stopping to nip at your hips. You moaned louder as he sank his teeth into your skin. “Shit, Yunho,” you gasped as he pulled back and continued kissing down to the waistband of your leggings. “May I?” he asked again and this time you nodded fervently. “Yes,” you answered quickly. “Please.”

Yunho moved slowly, pulling your leggings down past your hips before sliding them down your thighs and pulling them off completely, leaving you in your panties. Your cheeks burned as he took in the sight before him, his hands moving to your knees to hold your legs apart.

“Yunho,” you whined, closing your eyes. “Don’t stare,” you continued. You heard him chuckle softly. “This is the first time I’m seeing you like this,” he replied. “Let me savor it, baby.”

Your cheeks continued to burn under his gaze as he studied your body. Finally, his hands moved up your thighs, stopping at your hips. “Look at me,” he said softly. You did, eyes snapping open to meet his gaze. “There you are,” he added, making you whine and try to cover your face with your hands.

“Don’t,” Yunho warned, taking your wrists and pulling your hands from your face, leaning over to pin your wrists against the blankets as he hovered over you. “Don’t hide from me. Let me see all of you,” he continued, one hand moving down to your cheek before sliding over your neck, marveling at the size difference between the two of you.

“Fuck, you’re so tiny,” he murmured, fingers lightly closing around your throat. You let out a whimper and Yunho’s brows rose up quickly. “Oh?” he asked softly, squeezing just a little more, making you choke on your own words. “Really?” he asked, mildly amused. “Choking, huh? I never would have guessed.”

You tried to glare back at him but couldn’t hold the seriousness in your gaze as he squeezed gently again, your lips parting as a shameless moan slipped out, making his lips twitch as he fought against a smirk that threatened to spread across his face.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, pulling his hand from your neck. “For later,” he added as he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. You moaned as you felt him grind against you again, the gusset of your panties covered in your own arousal and sticking to you uncomfortably.

Yunho noticed you shifting under him and looked down at you. “Is it uncomfortable?” he asked, lifting his weight off you. Shaking your head, you grabbed him but the hips and pulled him back down, resting the weight of his cock against your core. “My panties are just…” you trailed off.

Yunho cocked his head to the side curiously. “They’re just what?” he asked almost innocently. Your cheeks and ears burned in embarrassment. “Sticky,” you finally managed to get out. Yunho said nothing, instead keeping his eyes trained on your face as he rolled his hips, grinding against you.

“Would you like me to change that?” he asked softly, maintaining eye contact. You hesitated. Did you want him to remove your panties just yet? Were you ready to be that exposed to him? You were almost entirely naked under him yet he was still clothed. You shook your head. “It’s not fair for me to be the only one exposed here,” you said.

Wordlessly, Yunho sat back, reaching behind and grabbing the neck of his shirt before pulling it off over his head and setting it aside, leaving him in just his sweats. You allowed your eyes to sweep his frame, taking in the sight. You’d seen him shirtless before, spending many nights over at Yumi’s when you were younger but you never allowed yourself to really look, always averting your eyes in the past.

He was muscular but in a lean way. His shoulders were broad as you remembered and he’d filled out even more since the last time you’d seen him without his shirt. Your eyes continued to travel further and further, catching sight of a light trail of hair that started under his navel and disappeared into the waistband of his sweats.

“Better?” he asked, his tone amused as he watched you stare at him. You reached up, grabbing his shoulder and pulled him down to meet your lips in a rushed kiss. He’d spent so long working you up slowly and now you were more than desperate to have him.

“I know I said we have all night,” you murmured between kisses. “But I really need you right now.” Yunho chuckled against your lips, hands sliding down to your hips. “You’ve been very patient,” he agreed. “I think you deserve a reward for that.” Without another word, he dragged your panties down, discarding them rather quickly.

You waited with baited breath as his eyes wandered, taking in the sight of you completely naked under him. His eyes stopped briefly at the spot between your thighs before he looked back up to meet your gaze. You kept your eyes trained on his face as he leaned over you, his hand moving between your legs and groaning as he collected your wetness. “I’ve barely done anything,” he noted as he looked down, seeing his fingers already coated.

“S’because it’s you,” you murmured. Yunho looked back up, pressing his fingers further between your lips and easily finding your clit. You let out a gasp as he slowly started to draw light circles, watching your face as he explored. He was clearly experienced but it was still a new experience; a new lover.

He moved faster, still keeping the same pressure. It was teasing. It was enough friction to keep you on the edge but not push you further. “Yunho please,” you begged. It only took one plea for his fingers to move down and sink two into your entrance, making you moan loudly.

“Like that?” he asked softly, curling his fingers against the spongy spot inside you, making you gasp and your thighs try to close around his arm. Yunho pushed your thighs apart, leaning against one to keep you spread open for him. As he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you slowly, he inspected you, keeping his eyes on the place where his fingers disappeared.

Your thigh tried to close and Yunho grumbled, moving his free hand and taking yours, moving it to your thigh. “Hold your legs open before I tie you down,” he growled. Your walls clenched around his fingers as you did what he instructed. “Good girl,” he murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your stomach before scooting further down.

Before you could ask what he was doing, you felt his tongue against your clit. It was slow, deliberate, and hot. “I’ve wondered what you tasted like for years,” he murmured. “It’s better than I imagined.” With renewed vigor, Yunho’s tongue lapped at your sex, flicking against your clit as his fingers continued to move inside you. The stimulation started to build tension and you felt your orgasm approaching.

Yunho must have felt it too because he pulled away, his fingers slowing to a stop. You whined, feeling defeated as your climax ebbed away. “Shush,” you heard him whisper. “It’s okay, baby,” he continued. “I just need you to hold off a little longer for me.”

Yunho gave your sex a light lick before he pulled away, fingers continuing to move and curl, scissoring you open slowly. “Yunho, please,” you pleaded, unshed tears filling your eyes. “Just a little more, kitten,” he murmured, kissing the inside of your thigh.

“Just a little more,” he repeated. Your thighs shook, your impending orgasm slipping away once again when he stopped. You were about to protest when you felt him add a third finger, groaning as you felt the stretch against your walls. “You’re just so tight,” Yunho groaned as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. “I have to take it slow or I might hurt you.”

Despite your begging and pleading, Yunho took his time, opening you up until he was satisfied. You were an incoherent mess as he finally removed his pants and underwear, moving between your thighs and groaning as the underside of his cock rubbed against your wet folds.

“Look, angel,” he instructed. You opened your eyes and pushed yourself up onto your elbows to look down between your thighs. Yunho had rested his cock on you and you felt your stomach churn slightly at the sight. You knew Yunho was a big guy in general but the sheer size of his cock had you already seeing stars. The tip reached just under your navel and you were certain there was no way he’d fit all of it in you.

“So big,” you commented. Yunho chuckled slightly, carefully pushing you back onto the blanket. “I’ll go slow,” he reassured you, pulling back and taking himself in his hand. “Just tell me to stop if it hurts,” he added. You nodded as you felt him press the tip against your slit.

“Deep breath,” he added. You inhaled slowly and as you exhaled, you felt him push the head of his cock past your folds. You groaned as you felt it start to fill you. Yunho took his time, massaging your hips as he slid in slowly, inch by inch.

You winced slightly, prompting him to stop and whisper words of praise as you tried to relax. “That’s it baby,” he murmured. “Just relax. I’ve got you,” he added. You willed your body to relax, sighing as he continued. It felt like ages before he stopped.

Your body has seized up again and Yunho was coaxing you through it. “It’s okay angel,” he whispered, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your hips. “Relax, baby,” he added. “Relax and let me in.”

You groaned as he slid further and further, his size filling and stretching your walls. You tried not to clench but subconsciously, your cunt fluttered and constricted around him, making him groan as he tried to bottom out. You were certain he’d never fit it all in but to your absolute surprise, he did.

His hips met yours and he stilled, groaning as he dropped his head into your chest. “Fuck,” you heard him curse, his voice muffled. “You’re so fucking tight, Y/N,” he groaned. You felt him give a tentative thrust, as if to make sure his cock was fully buried in your pussy.

“So f-full,” you stammered, the tears flowing freely now. “So big,” you added. Yunho lifted his head and cupped your cheek tenderly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Feels good?” he asked and you nodded quickly. “Feels s-so good,” you moaned.

“So fucking good.”

Yunho chuckled, his breath fanning over your skin as you felt him start to retract slowly before snapping his hips forward and filling you in one thrust. You gasped out at the feeling. “Does it hurt?” he asked suddenly, stopping. You shook your head. “N-no. Feels so good,” you answered. “Keep going, please.”

Yunho pulled back and thrust into you again, setting a slow, heavy rhythm. Your walls constricted, trying to keep him from pulling out and sucking him back in with ease. Moans and mumbles slipped from your lips as he moved. You looked up, meeting his intense gaze.

“God,” he groaned as his hips stuttered for a moment before he was pounding into you, one hand holding your thigh open, the other keeping him from collapsing onto you. “Fuck!” he swore, eyes fluttering shut as he continued to thrust, his hips meeting yours.

You could feel him deeper than anyone had ever been, moaning with each thrust.

“So small and yet you take me so well,” Yunho groaned. “Like you were made for me.” You whimpered in response, unable to form a coherent sentence. “Does it feel good, baby?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly. “Do you like how good my cock feels inside you?”

You nodded wordlessly, moans slipping out instead of words. “Oh shit, do you see that, little one?” he asked, his eyes now glancing down at your stomach. You raised your head to see what he was looking at. You could see a slight bulge every time he thrust into you. “It almost doesn’t fit,” Yunho said with a smug tone.

“My cock is almost too big for you, kitten.”

You moaned as he took your hand, placing it over the spot halfway between your navel and sex. You moaned, feeling the tip nudge against your hand. Yunho groaned, pushing your palm down as he thrusted into you. You moaned loudly.

“Fuck, you sound so good, baby,” he murmured, hips slowing as he pushed himself up. You groaned as he grabbed your waist, pulling you up so your ass was resting on his thighs as he thrust further into you. “Hng! Yunho!” you gasped as the tip of his cock hit your cervix.

“Oh shit,” he cursed. You felt him pull out entirely, making you whine at the empty feeling. Yunho rolled you onto your stomach, grabbing one of the pillows to put under your hips, propping you up for him as he re-entered you from behind. You moaned into the blankets as he bottomed out, the tip of his cock pressing against your cervix.

“That’s it, baby,” Yunho groaned, holding your hips in place as he pulled out, snapping forward and filling you with one stroke. He set a much faster, more unrelenting pace, thrusting into you to a beat only he knew. You grabbed onto the blankets, trying to ground yourself against the power of his movements as he pounded into you, the sound of skin against skin drowning out the crackling of the fire and your whimpers.

“Yuh-Yu-Yunho,” you moaned, walls clenching repeatedly around his cock and pushing both of you closer and closer to the edge. “Gonna fuck you so good you forget anyone else ever existed,” you heard him growl. “So you know you’re mine and mine alone.”

“M’gonna make you scream my name, baby,” he added, leaning over your back, one hand moving around to grab your throat firmly. You moaned, walls squeezing around him as your orgasm washed over you without warning. “Fuck, fuck, that’s it kitten. Cum on this cock like a good girl.”

Yunho continued to fuck you through your orgasm, enjoying the way you whimpered and whined as he continued to thrust into you, keeping a firm grip on your throat. “You gonna cum again?” he murmured in your ear. “Y-yes,” you whimpered, walls already fluttering around Yunho’s cock, gripping him tightly.

“Gonna let me fill this sweet little cunt?” he asked in your ear, giving you a hard thrust. “Y-yes, daddy,” you whined. Yunho let out a growl. “Daddy, huh?” he asked, rolling his hips and making your eyes roll back. “That’s a new one,” he continued. “Alright, baby. We can go with that.”

“You like it when daddy fucks you from behind?”

You nodded vigorously. “Yes daddy,” you repeated. “Say it,” Yunho growled, pounding into you, burying himself to the hilt and making you squeal. “I like it!” you cried out. “Say it. All of it,” Yunho repeated, pounding into you once more. “Yes, I like it!” you almost screamed. “I like it when you fuck me from behind, daddy!”

You felt him sink his teeth into your shoulder, making you whimper as his cock pistoned in and out of you, making your eyes roll back again, stars filling your vision. “That’s right, baby,” he growled against your skin. “This pussy is mine. You’re mine.” You nodded wordlessly but that wasn’t enough for Yunho.

“Say it.” he ordered. “I’m yours, daddy,” you answered.

“And who does this pussy belong to?”

“It’s y-yours, daddy,” you choked out, tears flowing freely and streaming down your cheeks.

“Good girl,” Yunho groaned. “Oh fuck, you’re such a good girl. You’re my good little girl, aren’t you?” he moaned. Your second orgasm was approaching, your cunt convulsing around Yunho’s cock as his thrusts grew more erratic and sloppy. The sound of his cock thrusting into you was audible over the crackling of the fire.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you heard him curse. “M’gonna cum,” he warned you. “Where you want it, angel?” he whispered. “I-inside me, daddy, please,” you moaned. “Please cum inside me!” Yunho let out a low growl, hips slapping against your ass with renewed eagerness, groaning into your ear as he came, filling your cunt with his release.

You felt more and more of it pump into you, filling you almost to the brim as he continued to fuck his cum into you. “Oh fuck,” he groaned. “Oh, god, I love you,” he whispered as he continued to thrust, his movements slowing. “I love you so much,” he continued. “Tell me you love me, too, please,” he murmured against your shoulder.

“I love you, too,” you moaned as he finally stilled, burying his cock deep inside your walls with a huff.

The only sound other than your ragged breathing was the crackling of the fire as you both came down from your respective highs. You didn’t dare move until Yunho did and for a while, you were certain he’d fallen asleep on top of you until he finally shifted.

He pushed himself up and slowly pulled out of you, grimacing as some of his release spilled out of you, running down the insides of your thighs. “Don’t move,” he instructed and got up, grabbing his underwear and pulling it on before walking over to the kitchen and grabbing a towel.

You heard the water run briefly before he returned, wiping the insides of your thighs and carefully wiping your skin clean of his cum. “Are you okay?” he asked as he helped you roll over onto your back. “I’m great,” you said, your voice almost far off, a dazed expression on your face.

Yunho chuckled as he continued to wipe you down before grabbing your shirt and helping you into it.

Once he was certain you were clean, he tossed the used towel onto the coffee table and laid down next to you. “Did you mean it?” you asked finally as he pulled a blanket over the two of you and pulled you into his arms. “Mean what?” he asked, watching as you turned in his hold to look at him.

“When you said you love me?”

Yunho’s expression softened and he pressed his lips against yours tenderly. “Of course,” he answered. “I do love you. It’s always been you, Y/N. I only want you,” he continued. You snuggled against him, listening to his heart beating in his chest. “Did you mean it?” he asked after a moment and you nodded immediately. “Mhm, I’ve loved you for a long time, Yunho,” you replied.

“For me, you’ve always been it.”

You pulled back to look up at him. Yunho’s lips spread into a grin before kissing you again, a bit more passionately. “Yumi isn’t going to like this,” he added softly. You shrugged, no longer caring now that you knew your feelings were reciprocated. “I think she’d rather us be happy,” you said softly.

“We’ll just have to break it to her easily. We were both stupid and in love,” Yunho replied. Your eyes fluttered shut as you started to drift off.

When you awoke it was to the slam of a distant door. You opened your eyes slowly, bright light pouring into the room. You were still lying in Yunho’s arms on the floor in front of the fireplace. You relaxed as Yunho snored softly. The next moment the front door opened and your eyes snapped open.

Before you could scramble away from Yunho who was starting to stir, you heard an all too familiar voice.

“What the hell is all this?” Yumi shouted. You sat up quickly, rubbing your eyes as you looked up at your best friend who was glaring down at the two of you. Yunho pushed himself up. “We can explain,” he said quickly. Yumi narrowed her eyes before her expression softened.

“Oh you don’t need to explain,” she said, chuckling.

“I’ve known for years that the two of you were hot for each other. Just waited for it to come out.”

You turned to look at Yunho who looked just as stunned as you.

“Just do me a favor,” Yumi added, making the two of you look at her.

“Keep the fucking to a minimum, or just keep it down,” she asked.

“I forgot to buy earbuds.”

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

#16 days of smutmas 2023 #cultofdionysusnet #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez x reader #yunho scenarios #yunho imagines #yunho fanfic #yunho angst #yunho fluff #yunho smut #yunho x reader

2K notes · View notes

sukunas-wife · 7 months

Note

the Dadkuna series is great!!! Sukuna isn’t my main character that I like in jjk but this series has me SAT and WAITING for the next upload! I’ve always wondered though what momkuna and dadkuna’s relationship dynamic is. We get that sort of in how they met but what about when their relationship is established? I get the sense that obviously dadkuna would quite literally do anything for her but what exactly goes through his mind when he thinks about her?

Oh? Guess whose back 😎🤧

Me- I’m sickly too 🤭 but! The blog is picking up 🥺 and I’ve been working on this for a good time so here you go 🤍🤍🤍

(Indentions are thoughts, things he didn’t actively say out loud 🥺🤍)

Lord Ryomen Sukuna, though emotionally stunted and constipated, loves his wife. Would level cities and kill men easily if she didn’t have such a strong hold in him.

But he’s a misogynist at heart to an extent. He wants you at home with his kids being his cute little wife that he knows he can always come home to. It was your overwhelming passion for helping women who couldn’t bear children that convinced him he could let you live your life, as long as he knew he had people there to look over you when he couldn’t.

He appreciates the fact that when he’s tired, covered in blood that’s not his own, and carrying the exhaustion of his war ridden day, there you are rushing to him when he enters his temple. Disregarding your fine silk robes and the blood partly way on his body. The way you cling to him, always so happy and relieved to see him come home.

The first time he came home after being gone for so long, he remembers how you cried and held on to him, your anguished filled cries when you cried about how you thought he was never coming back, how you were scared he’d left you alone. He remembers how his hands found your waits holding you a bit away, another hand coming to cup your face, thumb wiping away your tears when he looked at you with tired eyes, “It would take the militia of this land's greatest sorcerers to even consider preventing my way back to your embrace.” Your teary eyes softened before you buried your face in his chest again hugging him and clinging to him.

He longed for that feeling of your embrace whenever he would leave you behind, he could deny it but on his way home to you, his heart ached and longed to feel your embrace and hear your praises of how he had returned. You cried no more because you were filled with that confidence he would always return.

——————

He’s a traditional man with his one form of values, not once did he long for sexual pleasure or was he consumed with lust. Misery, pain and the screams of his victims fueled him and filled him with an immense pleasure no woman’s body could ever possibly offer him.

They were all the same, sultry, scandalous, attention seeking harlots, prostitutes and women. Thinking they could better their lives if they could slip into his bed. They were wrong, every woman who he allowed to enter his bed chamber under these pretences had walked in with starry eyes and ambition. Only to cry and scream for their life while he slowly dug his nails into their flesh tearing them all apart, slowly and agonisingly. That was until he saw you that one day, any girl of age would’ve started to present themselves to him in shy or subtle ways hoping to catch his eyes. There you were kneeling out of respect in his presence, scared you had offended your lord.

‘Oh? Is this little morsel afraid?’ Fear filled and humbling yourself before him. You couldn’t look at him, there wasn’t an ounce of “I want to sleep with this man.” And yet these feelings caused a sentiment in the depths of his chest, something stirred inside him, you head captured his interest (non sexual at this point). ‘Hmm?, this will be a fine pet to break.’

You were a phenomenon in the temple, one he wanted to study, to take into his clawed hands and mould, twist, stretch and push to the edge and then just over the point of breaking to see what would become of you. Yet, once he had you in hands reach, once you were close enough for him to graze your skin with his nails… he didn’t treat you like a common daisy or water Lilly, no he took you into his hands like a Lotus floating on the water's surface. Making elegant work and taking care of your delicate bloom. You would be his delicate lotus that no one else would ever take the joy in having.

——————

“My gratifying queen, My delicate lotus, My benevolent wife.” Words he doesn’t speak so freely, he whispers them against your skin whenever you’d sleep by his side.

Delicate words and honeyed names had never once crossed his mind in his existence. Yet here he was, allowing himself to indulge in the smallest amount of vulnerability with these words. The press of his feverish kisses against your neck and cheeks between every word.

‘My little beloved pet, so tired, sleeping away the wares of today. How could something so small and insignificant like you cause this shift in my existence hm?’

The back of his hand brushing hair away from your face, nails grazing the side of your face lightly, he held you in his embrace watching you. Two arms securely around you, one supporting his head, the other kept grazing your skin. You’d stir in your sleep when he shifted slightly away from you to lay on his back. You’d become so used to his body heat even on the hottest days you’d search him out half awake.

‘My little lotus,’ he closed the space between you, pulling you into his side again, ‘rest your weary head without worries of tomorrow, I’m here to hold you now.’

He wouldn’t admit it, he didn’t even know it at that moment, but he was absolutely smitten with you in ways he had yet to comprehend. But it showed in his subconscious movements. A hand on your lower back or waist guiding you, knowing you’re close and safe.

Bringing home little jewels and trinkets he’d usually never spare a second glance . That is until a stone sparkles in the light of his flames and he stops briefly to take a close look.

My queen would look Devine with these adorning her neck. These stones would make fine pieces for my wife.

It was a shock when he came home one night waking you when he sat on the bed. You sat up sleepily while he handed you a bag of precious stones and jewels telling you he had brought you a gift, a free hand of his brushing your hair back and bringing you closer by the back of your head so he could kiss your lips.

——————

It was your wedding, there you were standing beside him in the Ceremonial Robes. You stood on his right, his eyes looking down at you.

Hmm, What an enticing display, to have my little pet dressed up so exquisitely for all to see and admire.

Even more enticing to know soon you’ll be round with my child, what an ethereal sight you will be laid out in silk robes and swollen carrying my legacy

My delicate little lotus, my malevolent queen, my gratifying and honourable wife. Perhaps these thoughts never be spoken aloud with heavy sentiment. But I vow myself to you in this instant, that I will do all to assure our future, our health, our children and our endless lives.

I will assure your hand never be left cold nor alone as long as I can take it. nor will it ever be lifted in vain or to labour. Your stomach is never empty as I will assure you have the finest wine and a feast every night if it’s what your little human heart desires, your head will always have a place to rest even if it is only on my chest. Your nights will never be cold, your days will never be short, your loneliness will exist no longer, and your heart will be mine, and mine will be yours.

It wasn’t all he told himself, but it was in the moment you felt a warm sensation against your skin, on your chest below the centre of your collar bone but above your breast was the same mark you’d seen on his tongue very few times.

Ryomen Sukuna DID NOT enjoy the thought of staining your teeth black, instead he took your hand, as if vowing and brains you, the ring finger of your left hand, the base faded to a black band, above it a snark mark matching your chest and another thin black bank, just below your nail was another black band. That’s how your little husband decided to present you as his.

Tag List: @sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks

@bofadeezs

@sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira

Broken :( @simpforyoubitch @domainofmarie @ilovemybabies378 @anyaswlrd @cyder-puff

720 notes · View notes

aajjks · 7 months

Text

The Conqueror (XXI)

Synopsis: He had conquered everything, anything but your heart.

Pairings: Yandere!King Jungkook x Commoner!servant Reader.

warnings. yándèrè thèmès, därk trïggèrïng thèmès, jüngkôôk ïs crâzy, öbsëssïön, mêntïöns öf kïllïng, yn ïs gèttïng ströngèr, a BÏG STÖRM ÏS CÖMÏNG.

series masterlist.

note. plz hi, forgive me for the delay xx send asks for tc characters, send feedback n ENJOY! Please share your thoughts about this chapter because I’m excited. Also, I’m removing the people from the tag list who are not taggable anymore. So if you want to be tagged, just reply to this post.

taglist: @mageprincess7 @starsggukk @koremis @minshookie29 @sana-b @oonaaurora @jeonsweetpea @sugaslittlekookies @outro-kook @kthyg @lunaashes @debicaptain-saturn @laurynne5 @captainsjoongs @myblackconfessions @namjooncrabs @natalie-rdr @angelicasdre @mermaidtea @foulnightharmony @ungodlyjoon @quechulitaaa @telepathytae @j3alous-ang3l @bunzom @1-in-abillion @breadgeniedope @jiminie-08 @artgukk @lovesthetword @bunijmin @pinkcherrybombs @afangirllikeme-blog @twilight-love-nochu-main @wedarkacademia @hollxe1 @bighitfics @darkuni63 @golden-thv @investedreader @sweetempathprunetree @koocreampie

You couldn’t sleep last night. But it’s not like you have been able to sleep peacefully without nightmares haunting you or the thought of Jungkook- the monster taking over your mind every time you try to sleep.

But this time it wasn’t just his thoughts, but rather his words- what was he talking about when he said that he was going to tell you the truth about your father, and you’d start to would hate him?

You have nothing to do here, all you have to do is sit around, and… dread the thought of him coming back to you. This chamber is so large but all you feel is suffocated.

The golden chandeliers, the silk bed sheet and the sherbet right next to your bed, it all feels too much- you’re in a golden cage.

And you cannot escape.

Yeah, all you can do is sit around, but you’re not willing to do that anymore. If you cannot escape, you just might as well try to walk around this palace, so maybe you’ll feel a sense of control over your own life.

You decide to get up from your bed you take a few steps you look at yourself in the mirror that’s standing, right in front of you, you look so different in these royal clothes, but.. you don’t feel good about yourself.

What did he even see in you? Sure you’re attractive, but there are a lot of more attractive women than you, especially his consorts.

You are nothing when it comes to them- they are the most gorgeous women in Goryeo.

You would feel insecure, but you don’t care- you want him to leave you so you can escape and leave your life freely but in the few days you have realized one thing: that’s just not possible anymore.

This king will never leave you.

You sigh, crying anymore will do you no good, last night, you even came to a conclusion that you have to face your destiny now.

And fearlessly.

As you open your chamber’s door and walk outside you hear commotion. The guards guarding your chamber immediately hear your footsteps, and they bow their head to you and respect.

You visibly cringe.

You lower your head in embarrassment and just make your way through the golden wing. You keep walking the noises become clearer.

“The Kings wedding is in a week. Can you believe this? I thought he would never marry- at least not someone like her.” a court lady is talking to her fellow and you cannot help but listen..

What wedding? And in Less than a week?

Your heartbeat rises because you know they’re talking about you, especially when they mention someone like her with a scoff, and the hint of jealousy, and disgust in their voices, of course you can see their faces.

“yes I cannot believe that it’s not one of the consorts-especially considering their background.. I don’t know what the king is doing, but it’s a foolish move.”

You Cannot help but feel a little insulted at their remarks, you clear your throat and as soon as the maids notice you, you can feel the color from their face drain. All staff stand in alert as you make your presence known.

But you’re not even a queen yet, so why are they behaving like this?

“M-My lady- I’m so sorry… what are you doing here? Do you need anything?” One of them stutters out while the other one is avoiding eye contact with you.

you want to roll your eyes because you’re done with everyone walking all over you like you won’t do anything and now you’ve decided that you’ll fight back against everyone that will disrespect you.

Including Jungkook.

It’s not your fault that he chose you. “what were you guys talking about? What wedding?” The real question is what the fuck they’re talking about.

They gasp, and one of them finally gathers the courage to look into your eyes.

“Y-Your wedding with the- Baby, they’re talking about our wedding.”

Goosebumps.

You tilt your head to look behind you, and you see him standing. With a smirk on his face, but he looks visibly livid. You’re not surprised because he always looks so crazy.

But what the fuck is he doing here? He must be walking here to bother you once again, but this time you’re here.

“Y-Your Majesty!!” The whole staff present cower. Soon you see them all bow again, but this time all of their heads hang low.

Jungkook is right here- speak of the devil, and he shall appear-or more likely? think of the devil, and he shall appear.

Delusional. He’s delusional if he thinks that you’re going to marry him.

“what wedding?” At this point you sound like a broken record, but he doesn’t mind that, instead, he chooses to focus his attention on the two court ladies that you were talking to just now.

“what were you saying about yn just now? I would like to hear it from your own mouth or I cut off your tongue right here.”

Your eyes widen when he threatens to cut off their tongue with a huge smile on his face. He heard the whole conversation like you.

They both start to shake, you can even smell their fear from here, what the fuck is he doing? All he does is traumatize people. “W-What- no- DO NOT INTERRUPT ME YN.” His voice booms as he cuts you off.

You can hear a few whimpers, people are scared.

You want to roll your eyes but it won’t really bring a difference and he always does what he wants

Jungkook is still glaring at the two, “COME ON NOW, SPEAK UP!” he commands, and his author voice, you go silent, because how could he scream at you like this?

He cannot be serious about cutting their tongue.

He’s got his hands folded behind his back and he’s standing tall, all intimidating. His dark curly hair makes him more intimidating. His figure is definitely huge.

He’s quite literally a beast.

“Y-Your majesty pl-please forgive us. It was an honest mistake.. we are so sorry please- please forgive us!” You watch them as they fall to their knees and bow to Jungkook- their shaking bodies make you pity them.

No one should ever have to beg for their life like this. no matter what they have done and even though they have insulted, you definitely felt stringed but you still don’t want them to die.

The fear in their voice will haunt you forever- they are about to die because of you. You have to stop this.

So you decide to swallow your pride, before he can say anything or take out his sword, you can see his hand reaching for it.

Come yn speak up!

“J-Jungkook.” You call out his name, oh, your heart is going to burst for sure, all of this is so overwhelming and intense but you have to keep your composure if you want to save their life.

You’ve never called him by his name.

And he knows that because the way he looks at you immediately has you a little creeped out, he looks starstruck, “J-Jungkook please don’t punish them..”

Your tongue feels bitter as you say his name. “please.” You say once again. It’s so hard for you beg to him but if you have to save someone’s life, you will do it.

“J-Jungkook.”

Did you just call out his name? Oh, he must be hallucinating. Because you would never call out his name like that so softly. You haven’t even said his name.

And even if you have, he doesn’t remember.

“J-Jungkook please don’t punish them..”

It’s like you can hear his thoughts because you decide to call out his name once again, and all of his anger melts down, he looks at you in surprise.

Fuck.

He feels his knees, go weak as you call out his name- he’s been dying to hear you say it. His hand from his sword attached to his pants loosens.

You’re so kind- they and they deserve to die but here you are begging for their life, even though he doesn’t agree with you, but since you asked so nicely, who is he to deny you?

“Oh baby…” he coos, walking towards you, He cannot focus on anyone right now because you just called out his name so kindly for the first time.

He wants to hear you say it again

He can move the mountains for you. “Yn- YOUR MAJESTY I’M SO SORRY FOR INTERRUPTING YOU LIKE THIS, BUT THERE’S SOMETHING YOU SHOULD KNOW.”

Oh he’s really going to kill someone now, jungkook scoffs as he halts his steps. “what the fuck is wrong with you? How dare you interrupt me?”

Jungkook looks at the guard instead now, glaring him and if looks could kill he’d be six feet under now. “BARK!” He screams.

“T-There’s an intruder in the Palace! H-He’s asking for the Chief Consort… He is calling her name out like a crazy man.”

What the fuck, he feels his eye twitch and Jungkooks jaw clenches with anger, All of the people are confused and you gasp.

Someone is definitely going to die tonight, Jungkooks sure because he knows for a fact that he is here for you, even though he has no idea about this man.

Without uttering a word, Jungkook storms off.

This man has just come to his own death.

406 notes · View notes

cosmicdream222 · 3 months

Text

Welcome ✨

Call me Cosmic. she/her. Millennial.

I blog about manifesting, loa, reality shifting, the void, etc. If that isn’t your cup of tea, peace out 👽 Asks & DMs are open as long as you are kind & respectful but please read through the FAQ before asking anything!

★ About me ★

I started making aff tapes & subliminals for myself & sharing them here on tumblr in the fall of 2023, and began posting on yt in April 2024.

YouTube channel 📌Previous pinned

Void, shifting & loa stuff compiled from others

The void explained in an old reiki book

An interview with a shifter who has been time-leaping since 2001

The void explained by a lucid dreaming instructor

Near-death experience & manifesting

Misc inspiration from loa twitter

More motivation from loa twitter

Just desire, intend & know it's possible

The universe is a giant hologram

You already have it all

Master Shifter Love Remix Series

How shifting works (the whole package)

Shifting is a law - so treat it like one

Shifting is the least special thing in the world

Shifting/manifesting is not your job

You deserve everything you want

Vanilla explains: Past Lives, Death & Afterlives

Resources, Challenges & Methods

DMT breathwork to enter the void

Wake up with your dream life: affirm & relax challenge

EFT tapping script

Manifesting is not a process challenge

What is Psych-k?

The Phase Basics

SSILD for lucid dreaming

Tips for lucid dreaming

Dream life script Google doc template

My OG void concept aff tape

My Void state subs on Google drive

Full desired appearance & beauty sub

Saturating session with my cats

FAQ: Read these before sending a question!

"Can I manifest...?"

YES. It doesn't matter what it is: the answer is always yes. You can manifest anything you want. Anything!

I will no longer be answering any questions about deadlines/time

About me & my personal experiences & successes

The time I entered the void before I knew what the void was

How do you personally manifest?

Have you entered the void?

Backstory about me and this blog

A quick example on affirming to combat negative thoughts

Success: reconnected with sp after 8+ yrs NC

My mom got super fast subliminal results?!

Manifesting/shifting/void 101

What is the state of the wish fulfilled?

A reminder not to create stories around unwanted circumstances

What is the void?

How do we manifest?

States are not a method

Persisting does not mean repetition

How do I persist properly?

Does robotic affirming work?

What is a saturating session?

Is birds before land a thing?

How do I improve my visualization skills?

How can I manifest in a scientifically proven way?

Doubts/fears/troubleshooting

The void is hard for me, any tips?

How can shifting be simple when it’s so hard for me?

Is shifting real?

What happens to my current self after shifting?

When we manifest are we shifting to a new reality?

When I manifest something, will other people see it too?

How long does it take to see results?

How can I stop obsessing about results?

I’m scared I’m abandoning/betraying people in this reality when I shift/enter the void

Why do some people fail?

What am I doing wrong?

I have doubts, what if this doesn’t work?

How do I convince the logical part of myself?

How can I ignore my toxic/negative circumstances?

What should I do if I’m overthinking?

Funnies :)

The affirming carrot

Me not reacting to 3D circumstances like

#masterlist #faq #manifesting #reality shifting #void state #loa #affirm and persist

267 notes · View notes

nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 4 months

Text

HBCU CONFESSIONS.

Part Four

One entire month.

Valencia wanted nothing to do with Erik. He had come to terms with that after many failed attempts at trying to talk to her. She blocked him, she hadn’t been active on the blog in weeks since her last message, and every time he would see her around campus or in the dorms, she would turn a blind eye or walk in the opposite direction. She even stopped studying in the library to avoid him. And the thing is, she didn’t look sad, hurt, or angry. She walked around campus with a pep in her step and she smiled brightly.

Moving on wasn’t hard for her apparently. Erik can respect that. He fucked up, even if he hadn’t intended to. He didn’t plan on rekindling anything with Jeanette. EVER. At D9 parties, it’s a routine to get a sexy dance from a SOROR, but Erik didn’t expect to be the chosen one. She hopped up in his arms and locked her legs around him in a vice grip. His brothers circled him and cheered him on. Erik dropped her and she went in for a kiss. Valencia was gone within two seconds.

She hadn’t seen the part where Erik laid into Jeanette’s ass about that. Everyone thought it was hilarious. He was pissed. The dancing, he could have told her no, which he knows he fucked up on, but that kiss was unexpected and DEFINITELY not what he wanted. He apologized many times, tried speaking to her in person, and even asked her roommate, Brielle, to relay a message to her. Her socials were private and she didn’t accept outside messages from people she didn’t follow.

He wasn’t going to invade her personal space and corner her. She wanted to be left alone, he’ll give her that. No more texts, no more blog messages, no more trying to talk to her in person. He wished her well although he still really liked her. He really wanted another shot. But it would take a lot of work because Valencia would not let up. Erik respected that. He loved it actually. Maybe he needed the wake up call. He’s so used to things being easy. Nothing challenged him. But this? She wouldn’t budge.

After an exhausting class, Erik decided to make a stop at Andrea’s office and get some insight from his friend. On his way there, James was leaving her office. He was in the middle of fixing his tie and looking really sneaky. Erik snorted and shook his head. It was obvious what they were doing in there. James turned towards Erik’s direction and he smiled. They dabbed and bro hugged.

“You lookin’ stressed, my nigga. What’s good?” James questions with a chuckle.

“Lady trouble,” Erik replied with a monotone voice.

“You? Lady trouble? Since when?”

“Since now, fool.”

James didn’t believe that for a second.

“Not Mr. Suave himself. Listen,” James clapped Erik on the shoulder, “Whoever it is, she’ll come around, bruh.”

“I can never take you serious, Yo’” Erik shakes his head with a smirk, “Drea still in there? Should I giver her some time or?”

Erik jokingly pointed to the door causing James to crack up.

“Knock first.”

James backed away, saluting Erik before making his way down the hall.

“Come in!”

Erik twisted the knob and peeked his head around the door cautiously.

“Is it safe to enter, or do you still need some time?”

“Erik!”

He laughed before opening the door further. Andrea was in the middle of fluffing her voluminous hair into a ponytail. She cut her eyes at Erik and gave him a look. He sauntered over to her desk, pulled out the chair, and proceeded to take a seat while cuffing the crotch of his slim fit slacks.

“What can I do for you, best friend?”

Andrea folded her hands on her desk, tapping into her professor energy.

“I figured I could come to you for some advice. Before we get into that though,” Erik sat back in his seat, folded his arms across his sturdy chest, and arched a brow, “I see things are moving along with you and Jay.”

“They are,” Andrea cleared her throat, “Rather nicely actually…”

“And all that worrying was for nothing. I told you it would work out, girl.”

“Thank you for being so supportive!” Andrea replied with an overzealous tone, “Enough about me. What’s going on?”

“…Valencia.”

Andrea sat up straighter. A smile slowly crept up her face.

“I know that you know that I KNOW,” Erik pointed his finger like Denzel, “who my crush is.”

Andrea chuckles, “Of course I know. Don’t I use the blog too? I saw what she sent weeks ago…”

Erik propped his elbows up on her desk.

“Tell me I fucked up.” Erik said.

“You fucked up. And Jeanette is a fucking nuisance.”

Erik exhaled, “The car wash is tomorrow afternoon. She’s gonna be there—”

“Then tell that ho to leave you alone, Erik! You know it’s harder for me to get buck because I work here and I can lose my job, but she needs a reality check. I mean…did you want to get back with her?—”

“Hell nah. I wasn’t expecting all of that. I’m interested in Valencia. I wanna make it right so we can continue getting to know each other.”

Andrea raised both of her brows and grabbed her drink tumbler, sipping her tea. Erik gave her a strange look.

“And yet you allowed that girl to throw herself all over you in front of her.”

“I didn’t allow—okay, okay…I should have been more proactive in stopping her. I see that now. What should I do?”

Erik was desperate. If nothing else worked, he would leave her be for good this time. He was tired of the mental turmoil. One second he wants to leave her be, next second he’s trying to figure out how to win her back. This shit was driving him crazy. He had this on top of school to worry about.

“You’re known to be that guy, right? And you’re such a romantic, right? Romanticize her. Do it for everyone to see. Be your most vulnerable self. Show her that you will do anything to get her back.”

Erik drummed his fingers against her desk and twisted his thick lips in deep thought.

“…All I’m saying is, she’s a really nice girl. She’s such a sweetie pie. She didn’t deserve that mess. Do whatever you gotta do, Daka, seriously. I like you with her,” Andrea smiles, “I want this to actually work.”

Erik bowed his head and smiled. Even that knowledge made him feel like complete shit. Even after she told him how she’d been mistreated in past relationships. Andrea was right, he needed to go all out with his approach to this.

_______

It’s an abnormally hot day, the sun beating down on all those melanated bodies in the parking lot. Erik makes his way over to his group, shirtless and wearing athletic shorts that showed off his muscular legs. He wore Adidas slides on his feet, polarized aviator sunglasses, and purple paint streaks beneath his eyes like a proud Que Dog. Three Omega branded scars were on his right bicep.

His chest and toned stomach with skin golden brown made the gold chain hanging around his neck pop. Throwing up the hooks in greeting, his Bruhz handed him a bucket full of sudsy water and a sponge. Today was the yearly charity carwash. They hosted the event at a local lot in Houston and booked a DJ, grilled food, and offered pouch drinks. All sororities and fraternities from TSU banned together. The turnout was always big, and cars were already lining up.

"Where the hell is Isaiah?" Erik protests.

A fellow Omega, Travis, shrugged his shoulders.

"He already in hot water with the shit that happened last weekend. He keep this shit up, he's getting cut."

Erik slaps hands with all his boys, even men from other fraternaties, grinning excitedly to be at the function. Just then, Isaiah came strolling over wearing nothing but purple basketball shorts, his Nike slides on his feet with a gold fanny pack with his letters on it hanging loosely across his chest. He had a crisp line-up and all like he'd just gotten out of the barber chair.

Erik inclines his head, pulling his sunglasses off and approaching the neophyte, "You're late, Static. Get your narrow ass over there and help those cars."

Erik shoved the soapy bucket and sponge in his hands.

"Chill, Poet, I had to grab some supporters," Isaiah tilts his head and jerks his thumb behind him, a group of pretty women in a neon green Jeep Wrangler waving over at them from their open window. They honked their horn and shook their titties at them.

"Hi, Poet! you lookin' real good!" One of the girls shouted.

Erik couldn't help that he was good-looking. He's a tall man with caramel skin that was a shade darker due to the southern heat. His athletic shorts hung low off of his hips and gave anybody that looked hard enough a preview of what was beneath. He was a walking thirst-trapper.

"See? they want you, Poet," Isaiah slapped his chest with the back of his hand, "I'm lookin' out for you."

Erik put his shades back on and walked away, Isaiah throwing his hands up.

Andrea and her line sisters were wearing fitted tanktops with their soro colors and letters on it. They had black biker shorts on and different types of black sandals. The Zetas wore their soro t-shirts and little denim shorts. Majority of the ladies were mostly covered up but when the AKAs arrived, it was a scene straight from ATL. Bikini tops and booty shorts. Andrea shared a look with her sisters and rolled her eyes. It was known for the AKAs to pop out and do the most, which made them the popular ones. Jeanette wore a pink bikini with her bundles in a ponytail covered with an AKA trucker hat.

Erik locked eyes with her through his sunglasses and Jeanette blew a kiss at him. Ignoring her, Erik jumps in to help, motioning for the next car to pull up. A middle-aged black woman with her toddler in the backset gave Erik heart eyes out of the window of her Honda Odyssey. Erik gave her a smirk, sponge and bucket in his hands.

"How much to clean my whip, handsome?"

"Twenty dollars, ma'am."

"Here you go..."

The lady boldly slipped the twenty in Erik's waistband. He shakes his head, Ignoring the laughter from everybody who caught that. He placed the money in a collection bucket before cleaning her car off.

"Get it extra clean for me baby!" She shouted with a wide smile.

While Erik cleaned, a Zeta walked over offering free water and the option to park and grab some cookout food or a mixed drink pouch. Erik grabbed the hose when he was finished and the woman rolled up her windows so he could rinse it down. When he was done, his shorts were soaked. He knew that it was only a matter of time before his big boy made an appearance. The woman drove off and Erik motioned for the next car. Erik spotted Isaiah running game so he whistled, Isaiah turning in his direction.

"Static, you better get to work boy! making your brothers look bad! us Nupe's are known for being clean!" A Kappa brother teased.

"Nah, G, we ain't letting a dirty dawg show us up! Poet! you better get yah boy in line! making ya'll look worse than he already did!"

Erik shot a pointed look at Isaiah. Isaiah walked over and got back to work, motioning for an all-black, 2019 Ford Focus to pull forward. Meanwhile, Erik took a water break and after drinking it all down, he used the hose on mist to spray his body. He could feel eyes on him and when he looked up, Jeanette was eye-fucking him while sucking on a Bomb Pop, the cherry lime of the popsicle dripping to her chest from her sloppy slurping. She made her way over and Erik shot a glance at Andrea.

"This is the first time in weeks that I've been this close to you," Jeanette licked her popsicle, "You avoiding me again?"

Erik threw a towel over his shoulder and shut his eyes before opening them to stare down at Jeanette.

"You're not still upset about that kiss are you?"

"I am. Because you don't know when to chill the fuck out." Erik argued.

He walked around her and Jeanette marched right after him. He waved his hand for a car to pull forward and they rolled their window down. The driver handed Erik some money and he placed it in his pocket before cleaning the car off.

"You act like what we had wasn't real! you said so yourself that we could make it work again. Or did you forget?!"

Erik agressively scrubbed the car, his annoyance towards Jeanette growing, "I never said that shit to you. You wasn't thinking about none of that with that nigga dick in your mouth." Erik quipped.

Jeanette and the driver had to look at Erik in disbelief that he even said that. Jeanette was so shocked that she dropped her popsicle. Erik continued cleaning the car like he didn’t just say what he said.

“Fuck you! I wasn’t going to wait around, Erik! Don’t act like you weren’t doing whatever it was you were doing!”

“I wasn’t though,” Erik glanced back at her over his sweaty shoulder, “Look, I’m not doing this with you. Why don’t you pitch in and help.”

Jeanette was fuming. She stomped away, grabbing the water hose out of a soro’s hand, turning it on the highest pressure before spraying Erik in his back. He flinched and dropped the bucket and sponge. He turned to her with rage. That was painful, especially since he hadn’t expected it.

“THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM, GIRL!”

Erik really wanted to call her a bitch but he had to bite his tongue. She laughed right alongside her AKA sisters. Others snickered and laughed as well, not fully comprehending that Erik was seriously angry.

“What? You deserved it, Erik!” Jeanette yelled.

Erik grabbed an extra hose and sprayed the car down. He shook his head and flared his nostrils, heart thumping in his chest. When he finished, he walked over to Andrea and the other Deltas. She met him halfway and he turned for her to examine his back. The water hoses were attached to a fire hydrant. She could see that the middle of his back was bright red and irritated. James strolled over to look as well.

“You good, E?” James questioned.

“Jeanette is doing too fucking much. Look at her.”

Three pairs of eyes fell on Jeanette twerking on the hood of some guys car. It worked, because he gave her fifty dollars instead of twenty.

“I’ll be aight. She just needs to stay far the fuck away from me.” Erik spoke angrily.

“I’m here if you need me,” Andrea said.

Erik walked away and picked up his sponge and bucket. After refilling the bucket, he made his way back over. He kept cutting his eyes at Jeanette. He wanted his lick back for that. So much for ignoring her. Taking the bucket, while her back was turned, Erik dumped it over her head. She screeched and flailed her arms.

“OH MY GOD!!!! MY HAIR!!!!!”

Jeanette snatched her hat off and rubbed soap from her face. She turned a rageful gaze towards Erik and he laughed in her face. Laughter echoed across the lot.

“You started it!”

“Awww! Now you’re mad!”

“Get her ass, Poet!”

She pushed Erik and stormed past him to grab a towel. He made a crybaby motion with his hands as if he were rubbing his eyes. Some of her AKA sisters rushed to her aid and they didn’t hesitate to shoot Erik dirty looks. That’ll teach her ass not to fuck with him again. Erik refilled his bucket with a smirk on his face as he watched Jeanette drying her weave. She noticed and gave him the finger. Erik returned the gesture.

Some time went by, everyone working hard and raising money. The next car, Isaiah motioned to pull in and when they did, he recognized them and spoke their name. Erik heard and his head whipped in that direction so fast he could have twisted his neck. His once sour mood was no replaced with anticipation.

“Valencia, what’s up girl?”

Valencia was sitting in the passenger side of Brielle’s white 2019 Nissan Altima. Skai and Cindy were in the backseat. Brielle was wearing a yellow tube dress and her braids down and flipped to the side. She accessorized with octagon-shaped silver hoops and Y2K shades with butterflies.

“Hello,” She gave him a wave before passing him a twenty, “This is my donation.”

Brielle, Skai, and Cindy handed over their money.

“You ladies wanna stick around for some good vibes? Just pull in after I’m done.” Isaiah said.

“Will do. It looks lit out here,” Brielle looked around with a smile.

Isaiah couldn’t stop staring at Valencia. She glanced up at him with a straight face.

“Aren’t you gonna clean the car?” She questioned.

“Yeah but I’m tryna see what’s up—”

“STATIC!”

All four ladies and Isaiah followed their gaze towards the source of the shouting. Erik walked over with his usual gait. He paused in front of Isaiah and pointed to the car behind them.

“Get yo’ ass back there and clean that Jeep pulling in.” Erik ordered.

Isaiah kissed his teeth but before he walked away, he grabbed Valencia’s hand that was dangling out of the car window, kissing it before giving it an affectionate squeeze. She jerked her hand away, staring at him with her nose turned up.

“I love it when you play hard to get, girl!”

Erik put the sponge in the bucket and placed his hand on the hood of the car, leaning in towards the open window to peek inside. He still had his shades on, so Valencia was staring at her reflection through the lenses. She looked visibly tense, toying with her hair and jerking her leg.

“How’s everything, ladies?”

“They all said ‘good’ in unison, all except for Valencia. Erik caught Brielle trying to be discreet with bumping Valencia with her arm. Valencia shifted in her seat.

“…I’m doing great, you?”

This was the most she’d said to him in a month. He parted his lips but no words came out. Erik furrowed his brows and cleared his throat.

“I’m good. Been busy…”

He tapped the hood of the car. If only she were alone.

“…Are you gonna clean us off?” Brielle asked.

The awkward tension between them was palpable.

“Yeah, I gotchu, arms in and roll up the windows tight.”

They did as they were told, Valencia and Erik staring each other down. He went to work sudsing up the sponge and then he started with the back of the car first. He then moved onto the hood of the car, taking his time to get every spot. He walked around to the drivers side to clean the front and back doors and windows, and then he made his way around to the passenger side. Erik scrubbed the back down, then he was right at Valencia’s window again.

She focused her eyes forward while he cleaned but when he made it to the front window, Erik watched as her eyes scanned his body. He titled his head towards her, licked his lips, and flashed her a grin. She quickly averted her gaze to her lap and Brielle’s eyebrows disappeared behind her curly ginger bag. Skai and Cindy were giggling in the backseat. Erik retrieved the hose and started spraying the car down. He stood at the front of the car again, smirking at her through the window.

Erik walked over to Valencia’s side when he finished and Brielle eagerly rolled the window down. Valencia shot her a look and then she turned her attention to Erik who was leaning into the window. Valencia inhaled slowly and then exhaled a shaky breath. Removing his sunglasses, Erik kept his gaze pointed at Valencia. Now, she had no other choice but to look him directly in the eyes.

“…Got you ladies all cleaned up. Why don’t ya’ll stick around for a while? Grab some food, dance a little…”

He was really asking Valencia.

“Oh, we will. Right V?” Skai said.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Brielle replied, fighting the urge to laugh.

Erik waited anxiously for her to speak.

“…sure. We’ll hang out for a little while.” Valencia said.

“Bet. Say less…”

Erik stood at his full height, his lower half in her face. He slowly backed away and Brielle pulled off.

——————

They’d just finished the last few cars and by then the lot was filled with people having a good time. Erik slipped on a cropped golden yellow muscle tee that had Omega Psi Phi printed on the front in purple letters and the fraternity logo in the center. He sipped from a Blue Raspberry drink pouch that had some Hipnotic in it. He took pictures with his bruh’s and other fraternity buddies as well as the ladies

Valencia was leaning against the side of Brielle’s car, drinking a watermelon mixed drink. Erik kept looking over at her, wanting to approach her badly. Jeanette hadn’t bothered him since the hose incident and he was grateful. They were too busy putting on a performance, doing an AKA stroll to entertain people. Like clock work, Isaiah approached Valencia to talk to her and Erik noticed that he had one too many drinks. He kept grabbing Valencia’s arm and Erik could tell that she wasn’t asking for any of that attention.

Erik jogged over and yoked Isaiah up by the collar of his T-shirt. Valencia looked up at Erik with wide eyes. Others started paying attention as well.

“The fuck you doin’, Static?” Erik barked out.

“We were just talking, right, Valencia?”

Isaiah looked at her expectantly. She cut her eyes at him to Erik and then Valencia shoves him out of her way before storming off. Erik let go of Isaiah and pushed him back, causing him to stumble.

“Yo, what the fuck is your problem, Erik?!” Isaiah questioned with frustration.

“You don’t know what no means, nigga? And how much have you been drinking?”

“I only had two drinks, relax. You got a thing for Valencia or something? Every time I try and talk to her, here you come cock-blocking.” Isaiah fired back.

A few Bruhz came over to see what was going on.

“All good?”

“It’s cool. Poet can’t stand it when it ain’t all about him, that’s all,” Isaiah jokes.

Erik cut his eyes at Isaiah, one of their brothers clapping him on the shoulder to calm him down. He tried to get Erik riled up with some barking and goofing around and Erik gave in. The party continued and then the sky turned a deep orange. Erik could see Valencia walking towards a trash can to throw away her plate. It was now or never. Erik walked over towards her with his hands in his pockets and before she could walk away, he took a hold of her hand and she looked up at him.

“Valencia, can we talk? Please?”

“No, Erik—”

“I’m sorry, okay? Look,” Erik let go of her hand, “I know that I fucked up. I should have stopped her from jumping on me like that. The kiss—you ran away so fast you didn’t see how pissed I was that she kissed me. I don’t want her…I wasn’t planning on rekindling anything with Jeanette…”

Valencia looked down at her feet. She kicked at the ground with her arms folded. She finally looked up at him, her eyes searching his. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and feel those lips again. She looked so damn sexy in that dress.

“Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to come thru at Poetry Live tonight? I’m gonna recite some new shit and…I’d really like to see you there. Will you think about it?”

Erik tilted his head down at her. She pondered, her cafe noir eyes looking heavenward. Valencia exhaled, staring up at Erik through her lashes. He waited with bated breath. She parted her full lips to speak.

“I’ll be there.”

Erik cracked a dimpled smile. Valencia gave him a small smile and then a quick once-over before walking away. Erik made it back to his group and he spotted Valencia and her friends leaving. It was definitely a step into the right direction. Erik was happy about that. Andrea made her way over to him with a knowing smile.

“I saw that, Daka. So, is she coming?”

“She’ll be there. I’m a lil’ nervous. Not gonna lie.”

Andrea laughed, “you got this!”

“I just wanna make it right. I want us to get back to how things were, you know? I was just getting to know her in so many ways…”

Erik cut his eyes at Andrea and she stared at him with her mouth agape.

“I BET,” Andrea rolls her eyes.

After another hour, they started to shut things down and it took them another hour to make sure everything was cleaned up before heading out. Erik was exhausted with no time to get rest since he had to get ready for tonight. He made it back to his RA dorm with a sweaty body and tired limbs. Dropping his gym bag onto the floor, he grabbed his towel, rag, soap, and a fresh pair of briefs with a pair of basketball shorts.

In the showers, he cleaned himself off good, thinking about the night to come. Valencia was going to be there, and he hoped that she would give him a second chance. After rinsing off the second round of soap, Erik pat dried his skin and before he exited the shower, he slipped on his briefs and shorts. Towel over his shoulder, he exited the bathroom and made his way down the hall to his room which was a short distance away.

Back inside, he shut his door and turned on some music to get ready to. He took off his shorts and opened his closet to grab an outfit he planned to wear.

Ping.

Erik paused.

That sound could only be from one thing. He took long strides to his lap top on his desk and pulled out the chair. He touched the mouse pad to wake his lap top screen up and then he went straight for Tumblr. There, he clicked on his message thread and his eyes scanned back and forth, reading the words.

ebonygoddess1990s: I know it’s been a while. I’ve gone an entire month not speaking to him. Today I spoke to him for the first time and it reminded me of what happened at that D9 party. He asked me to come to Poetry Live tonight and I’m a little nervous. A part of me wants to forgive him, but the other part of me has trust issues. What should I do?

Erik for the first time didn’t know what to say. He didn’t feel right messaging her. He could simply persuade her into forgiving him, but then that would be manipulation. He slowly closed his laptop and stood up from his seat at the desk.

He was going to make it right as authentically as possible.

————

“How do I look?”

“Girl…you look damn good.”

Brielle snapped her fingers while Valencia did a turn. She was all dressed up herself in a denim dress with platform chunky brown heels and her big, curly ginger hair styled in two Afro puffs.

“He’s gonna love it.” Brielle said.

“…this isn’t for him, it’s for me.”

Brielle rolls her eyes at the ceiling, “Right. Sure.”

They grab their bags and then head out of the dorm room. Skai was going to drive tonight. Cindy and her were waiting in the car. They left the dorms and headed towards the parking lot. There, they spotted Skai and she was talking to Dior. Valencia’s footsteps slowed down and she instantly grew defensive. Brielle looked at her with an equally angry expression.

“Let me go, I’ll see you there…”

Dior looked at Valencia.

“Brielle,” She touched her arm, “Valencia—”

Valencia smacked her hand away. Hard. Dior raised up on her and Brielle leaped between them.

“Let’s get going! Right, Val?” Brielle pleaded.

Brielle looked over at Skai for help. Skai walked towards them and grabbed Dior by the arm.

“Yeah, let me go before I drag this bitch all over the parking lot!” Valencia shouted after Dior.

Dior yanked her arm out of Skai’s grip.

“Awww still mad your crush doesn’t want you?”

“Dior!” Skai yelled, “Chill out!”

Dior put her hands up, “I’m chill. She’s the one that put her fucking hands on me.”

“I should have been put my hands on you!!!!” Valencia screamed.

“THEN WHAT’S GOOD?!” Dior screamed back.

“Just go, Dior,” Skai moved her towards her car.

“I’m going. Just as long as she stays over there.”

Dior backed away to her car with a big grin on her face. There was a girl in passenger seat, laughing at the entire thing. Dior got in her car and drove off. Valencia took meditating breaths while Brielle tried to calm her down.

“She pulled up to my car to talk, Valencia. I wasn’t trying to start trouble,” Skai spoke to her defense.

Brielle ignored Skai. She loved her friend but if she was going to keep being friends with Skai knowing that she didn’t like Valencia and was probably talking shit about her, she had to cut her off too. They all got back into the car, Cindy rubbing Valencia’s shoulder.

She just wanted to have a good night. Megan Thee Stallion Cognac Queen came one and Valencia started rapping the lyrics. She wasn’t going to let that dumb bitch ruin her night.

Her makeup looked good, her outfit is sexy, she felt the hottest she’s ever felt. She felt great. She rolled her window down and as the air whipped across her face, she couldn’t get Erik off of her mind. Valencia couldn’t help but smile to herself. He looked extra scrumptious today. The effort he took into winning her back made her feel good. She wanted him to know that she could easily forget about him and move on.

Erik still tried. This man could have any woman on campus, hell, even his crazy ex girlfriend, and yet he didn’t want her or anyone else but Valencia. She couldn’t control the butterflies. It’s been a month too long. She could only hope that tonight would go right.

“We’re here.”

It was a huge turnout. Brielle parked and they all stepped out. From the outside looking in, Poetry Live was packed like sardines.

“Please tell me Russ saved a table for us,” Cindy said.

“I hope so, because I am not standing.” Brielle said.

They were carded at the door and when they were in the clear, all four of them walked inside. Cindy took the lead, searching the crowded room until she pointed towards a round table with a great view of the stage. They squeezed through people dancing and having a good time with drinks in their hands. Cindy wrapped her arms around her boyfriend’s shoulders and went in for a kiss. Valencia sat her bag on the table and looked around. As she scanned the room, her eyes fell on Erik, sitting at a table with Andrea, James, and a few of their friends.

Valencia’s eyes scanned his body from head to toe. He had a fresh retwist and he was dressed nice with a layered gold chains hanging from his neck and black diamond earrings in his ears. He didn’t have his glasses on tonight, so Valencia could see his onyx eyes more clearly beneath the lights. She shifted in her seat and fiddled with the strap of her bag when he finally looked over at her. They locked eyes and then a slow smirk crept up his lips. She felt hot all over. He waved to her and Valencia returned the gesture. He checked her out from across the room and with an appreciative nod, he mouthed ‘you look amazing’.

Valencia blushes and mouthed ‘thank you’ in response. She reluctantly pulled her gaze away and released a shaky breath. He always makes her so flustered.

“Everyone looks so nice tonight like it’s a special occasion!” Brielle said with a sonorous tone.

“I know! We need drinks!” Cindy declared ecstatically.

“I second that,” Valencia fanned herself.

Their waiter returned and they put their orders in. Valencia looked around the room again and in a booth seat, Jeanette and Dior sat surrounded by their AKA sisters. They were dancing and causing a scene since they needed to be the center of attention at all times.

“SKEE-WEE!!! SKEE-WEE!!!!”

A few Zetas threw up kitty hand signs, Deltas threw up triangles, Sigmas threw up three fingers with their thumb and ring finger down.

Their drinks came and Valencia automatically took sips of her Long Island Iced Tea. She couldn’t stop herself from looking over at Erik’s table again and he was stomping around like a proud Que with his Bruhz Valencia giggled at Erik’s mug. He settled back in his seat and took a sip of his drink.

After some time, the lights in the room went dim and a spot light hit the stage. It was a spotlight with a purple hue. Valencia was nursing her second drink, taking careful sips so she wouldn’t get drunk too fast. She was too busy turning up with her friends to notice that Erik himself took the stage. He walked up to the mic apprehensively, grabbing the pole with one hand while adjusting the mic with his other. The sound of the mic caused everyone to turn their attention towards him.

Valencia looked at him and her smile disappeared from her face and in its place was a nervous look. Erik’s presence on that stage commanded the room to silence. The only sound being that of Usher Dot Com instrumental. Valencia scanned the room, and then her eyes looked towards the stage again.

“Hello…hello…hello. I’m sure most of you know me but I’m gonna introduce myself anyway. My name is Erik. My friends call me E, Daka—that’s short for my middle name, N’Jadaka, and Poet. Uhm,” he placed his hands in his pockets, “It’s been years since I’ve been on this stage. Tonight I have some new shit,” Erik chuckles nervously, taking one hand out of his pocket to run over his locs, “This is for you, Valencia.”

Valencia’s eyes went round like saucers. Her eyebrows shot up as she looked around the table at her friends, all of which were staring back at her with big goofy smiles. One by one, they each pulled a rose from beneath the table and handed it to her. Valencia clutched her chest, the roses placed in front of her on the table rendering her speechless. Others stood from their tables and walked over, handing her red roses painted with glitter.

“W—What?” She accepted another rose, “I can’t believe…”

After the last person, Andrea, handed her a rose. Valencia had a full bouquet in her hand. She wanted to cry. This was the most beautiful thing a guy has ever done for her. And it wasn’t over. She looked up at Erik with glossy eyes. He smirked at her and gave her a wink.

Valencia…

I'm sorry for what I've done

I'm sorry for who I've been

Sorry for where its gone

So sorry to lose a friend

I’m sorry I kiss your plump lips in my sleep

So sorry I can’t get you off my mind

As I lose myself and find myself

I’m sorry if I wonder do I ever cross your mind

So hypnotizing…

Your soft voice and bashfully beautiful gaze

I’m sorry we’re apart

I’m not sorry I’m falling for you though

Forgive me if I can’t help that I want you

Forgive me…

If I stumble and fall.

Too clumsy…and my words do not form as I wish

So let me kiss you and let my lips paint for you

All that I feel in my heart.

Let my hands touch again…and my mouth again…

Erik paused. The suspense of his words blanketing the room. Valencia drew her bottom lip into her mouth. She could never…would never forget how his mouth felt on her pussy. Saying that on stage in front of everyone…

Every rose I gave to you

I hope brings a smile to you face

Inside each rose is a piece of my soul

So Valencia

I want your trust more than anything

Baby girl

It was a bad decision

And now I want you here

So please take me back

'Cause I need you right now

Vulnerable words from your Poet…

Erik backed away from the mic, and instead of snaps, everyone clapped. There was a standing ovation. Erik exited the stage and walked over to Valencia. She stood up and tears rolled down her cheeks. She opened her arms and Erik pulled her in for a tight hug. He pulled away and Valencia surprised with a kiss to the cheek. It didn’t matter if it was the lips or the cheek, he was happy as hell.

“This is so much—Erik, thank you,” Valencia blotched her eyes dry.

“Anything to put a smile on your face again,” Erik said.

————

Valencia returned to her dorm room with a smile and her bouquet of roses pressed against her chest tightly. That was the sweetest most sincere thing any guy has ever done for her. She liked Erik even more. Brielle decided to stay with Skai for the night and Valencia was grateful because she needed to process this alone. The fact that her friends even knew what was going to happen all this time and they didn’t give her a hint amazed her.

Valencia sat on her bed to take off her shoes. As she did, she looked at the selfies she took with Erik before she left. Her phone vibrated and she noticed it was a text from Erik. She unblocked him on the ride over. Valencia read his text and she instantly smiled.

Erik: care for a night swim?

Valencia knew that he would be texting her. He whispered to her that he planned to send her a text with a surprise later. So, he wanted to go swimming? Valencia smiled at her phone as she texted a reply.

Valencia: absolutely ☺️

Erik: Cool. I’ll meet you there. Bring a change of clothes 😈

Valencia shot up from bed and headed towards her closet. She opened a drawer that stored all of her bikinis and found an orange one. A pink body con, a thong, sandals, and a few pieces of jewelry went into a bag. She quickly undressed and put the bikini on with Erik’s hoodie on top. She slipped on a pair of slides and grabbed her bag, phone, and keys. She made her way over to the pool and when she got there, Erik was nowhere to be found. She shot him a quick text message outside of the entrance to the pool.

Valencia: Where are you?

Erik: One second

The door opened and Erik was dressed in a pair of blue swim shorts that hugged his thighs. He was shirtless and still rocking the gold chains. His locs were in his face, almost long enough to cover his eyes. He opened the door further and Valencia slipped inside. The luminescent swimming pool looked calm and lonesome. The blue hue created the same glow around them. The tiny ripples created a specular reflection across their bodies as they dress closer.

Placing her bag down, Valencia took off the hoodie and sat it on a bench. She stepped out of her slides and walked over towards Erik. His eyes roamed her body, and then he licked his lips. Valencia sat down on the edge of the pool and Erik joined her. Their feet slipped into the water and it felt warm. She turned to look at him before timidly avoiding his gaze to stare down at the water. Erik didn’t take his eyes off of her.

“That was beautiful, Erik.” Her voice echoed as she spoke.

“Thank you. It wasn’t my best but…It was definitely my most vulnerable.” Erik said.

“Well, I thought it was heartfelt and sweet. How the hell did you get everyone to go along with it?”

Erik laughs, “The car wash? I pretty much went around and asked every one if they wanted to participate. The roses were planted there beneath the tables.”

“Very clever,” Valencia giggles.

“I knew you weren’t gonna let me off the hook that easily, and for that…I thank you.”

Valencia looked up at him through her lashes.

“…I’m happy we can start off where we left off.” Erik said.

“Me too…I did miss you…I just….I have major trust issues.”

Erik shrugged, “I get it. You ain’t gotta explain that to me.”

Valencia tucked her chin and smiled.

“The water looks good,” Valencia stood up, “I’m getting in. Are you coming?”

“Yeah.”

She stepped into the pool from the ladder and backstroked towards the deep end. Erik swam over towards her, water splashing on Valencia. She giggled, splashing Erik back even though it wasn’t intentional that he got water in her face. Back and forth they played water tag.

“Okay! Stop!” Valencia shielded her face, “Truce!”

“You givin’ up that easily, girl?” Erik teases.

“Yes, I am. You’re stronger.” Valencia said.

“Am I?”

Erik swam over and picked Valencia up. She squealed before Erik tossed her playfully, Valencia going under. She reappeared, smoothing her braids from her face. Erik laughed at her attempt to glare at him. It was cute. They circled each other, staring each other down. Valencia broke the eye contact first. Erik inched closer. They paddled their arms and propelled their legs to stay afloat. Erik looked so delicious. Valencia couldn’t help but to reach up and smooth his locs back from his eyes.

“…You’re so handsome,” Valencia shyly looked at him.

“And you’re so beautiful.” Erik replied.

The sound of his voice bouncing off of the walls shot straight to her pussy.

“I want to kiss you…” Erik whispered.

Valencia turned away from Erik. He watched her go under, swimming away from him. Erik followed and took in a breath before going beneath the water. He swam, following her until she turned his way, still under water. She broke the surface and Erik was right there, centimeters away from her face. They stared into each other’s eyes and then Valencia’s back hit the edge of the pool. Erik trapped her there. Water dripped from his hair and made his lashes look wet and curled.

“…Can I kiss you?”

Valencia looked from his lips to his eyes. She slowly nodded her head and Erik closed the space between them, his lips crashing into hers desperately. He yearned for her lips. Erik grunted against her lips. Valencia opened up and Erik swiped his tongue across her teeth. Valencia draped her arms over his shoulders and Erik gripped the edge of the pool harder. His chest and crotch were pressed snuggly against Valencia’s body.

Their heads swiveled from left to right, tongues dancing, their lips moved together in a sloppy manner. It was hot, sexy, steamy, and passionate all at the same time. Valencia wrapped her thighs around Erik and he took that opportunity to pick her up. They moved towards the center of the pool and after sucking each other’s faces off for minutes, Erik came up for air. That didn’t stop him from kissing her. His lips were on her neck now.

“Mmmm,” Valencia moaned.

His lips kissed the tops of her breasts and between them. He looked her in the eyes while doing it. She knew what he wanted. Valencia slowly grabs one of Erik’s large hands and guides it to her bikini strings. He didn’t take his eyes off of hers as his fingers pulled, the top falling from her chest. Erik’s eyes dropped down to admire them. B-cup, perky, with perfect nipples and areolas. Deep brown and tasty.

“Damn, baby,” Erik whispered, “Fucking beautiful…”

His lips were on hers again and then he broke the kiss, lifting her up more so that her breasts were in his face practically. Staring up at her, Erik wrapped his thick lips around her left nipple and started sucking. That sensation was a tickle that went straight to her pussy. Her clit jumped, her inner thighs gripped him tighter, and her breathing became uneven.

Erik took his time sucking each nipple. They were so stiff and begging for attention. The sensation of his warm mouth and soft lips did that. She couldn’t watch him doing it anymore, it was too much. She instead moaned towards the ceiling with her eyes shut. Now, his tongue flicked her nipples. Valencia looked down with her beautiful mouth parted, tiny breaths of pleasure from between her lips. She loved that he took attention to her breasts. Her ex would suck a nipple for only ten seconds. Isaiah didn’t even care to do it.

Another box checked off her list.

“Erik…”

He lightly nibbled with his teeth on the tips of her nipples. She gripped his shoulders tightly. He dragged his tongue and lips all over her areolas like a starved man. Valencia couldn’t take it anymore. She tried to move her chest away from Erik’s mouth but he wouldn’t stop. Her body tensed up and she started to panic. What the hell was happening?

“Unh…Erik…uh—uh—uhhhhh—”

Her body trembles, as if the water ran cold. He pressed his face between her breasts and exhaled. Did she just experience an orgasm from nipple play? A wetness that didn’t come from the water made her pussy hot and sticky. Erik looked up at her with a smirk and Valencia couldn’t help but giggle.

“That was intense and out of my control.” she spoke breathlessly.

“Didn’t I tell you I can be your first of many things, beautiful?”

“Yes,” Valencia bites her lip. “Getting freaky in a pool is definitely something I’ve never done.”

“Hmm,” Erik brought her down so that they were face to face, “Getting your pussy ate pool side sounds amazing right now, don’t you think?”

Erik’s hand came down to sit between Valencia’s legs. He cupped her pussy in his hand over her bikini bottoms and slowly rubbed up and down. His thick digits applied pressure to her clit and he could feel her piercing. Valencia closed her eyes and parted her lips.

“Nah…look at me…”

She took her time opening her eyes. When she did, she was staring into Erik’s eyes.

“I still have those panties…”

She shuddered. Yes, her used thong from a month ago.

“They still smell amazing by the way.”

A sly smirk painted his thick lips. She looked away. She couldn’t believe this man still had them! That was the nastiest thing and she loved it.

“…what do you do with them?” Valencia asked with a small voice.

“Well…I sit them on my face and I just…beat my dick whenever I think about you…”

Her face grew hot and she shifted in his embrace but Erik made sure she didn’t move. His hand rubbing up and down felt so good. Valencia started circling her hips while his hand rubbed. He chuckled at her and that Que tongue teased her.

“I guess you can say I’m obsessed. I need a new pair to add to my collection…”

“What else are you obsessed with…sexually?”

Valencia had to chew on her bottom lip to control the tremors. He started rubbing her clit in a circle with his finger tips.

“I have fetishes and kinks…bondage…voyeurism…exhibitionism…toe-sucking…that’s just to name a few.”

Valencia is familiar with BDSM but she’d never experienced any of it. He has a foot fetish and that’s something she always found interesting. She’s very ticklish, so she hoped Erik wouldn’t do that to her. She wouldn’t be able to handle it.

“How about you?”

Valencia blinked away from him, “Uhm…well I do have some kinks for some things—I’ve never tried—it’s not as hot as yours though.”

Erik cocked his head. They floated towards the edge of the pool again and Erik sat her down. He stood between her legs and looked up at her eagerly.

“You can still tell me,” Erik said with a reassuring voice.

“…okay…I consider myself to be a size queen.”

Erik lifted a single brow.

“Do you know what that means—”

“I do. You prefer big dicks. Bigger than average dicks.”

It was the way he said that. Valencia couldn’t look him in the eye after that. Erik laughs.

“Sexual partners with bigger dicks…coming from you, that’s…not what I expected.”

“What did you expect then?”

“DD/LG. Sex talk…you know size queens take dick, right?”

Erik emphasized dick strongly.

“I know,” Valencia looked away shyly.

“Aight,” Erik smiled playfully at her, “What else?”

“…I feel like I have an oral fixation…”

“Me too. I definitely do,” Erik chuckled.

He reached up to stroke between her legs. She shut her thighs and trapped his hand there.

“Spread your legs, Valencia…”

She did as she was told.

“Bring your feet up and open wider…”

She leaned back and carefully brought her legs up one-by-one. Her pussy was sitting phat between her legs from that position. Erik got closer, taking his thick fingers to push her panties to the side. What he saw blew his mind. Her wetness had a slimy consistency to it that connected to her bikini bottom. She was ready for some dick and his mouth. He used his thumb to peel back her outer lip and the more he did, the more it leaked.

“Fuck…you should see this…you’re so fucking wet, girl…”

Valencia scooted her hips towards the edge and Erik used his tongue to swipe between her outer lips. Valencia placed a hand on the back of his head. He was slurping and sucking at the same time. Anything to get all of that tasty stuff in his mouth. He flicked his tongue up between her folds and the sensation caused her clit to ache in the best way.

“Yes…mmm…Erik, that feels so good…I missed your mouth…”

That was music to his ears. She could hear him smacking his lips and the sound of his wet tongue.

“Daddy…yes…please don’t stop…make me cum…”

Pushing her thighs back, Erik did just that. He didn’t stop. He sucked that bejeweled clit into his mouth and sucked to his heart’s desire and it tugged on Valencia’s heartstrings. She had his locs in her fist. Her wet braids fell over her face. Her naked chest thrust forward. It was the most erotic thing.

“Oh my gosh!”

Her body spasmed and Erik dipped his tongue into her entrance so he could catch it all. Every drop needed to be on his tongue. Valencia pushed his head away and sat up. Erik shook his locs from his eyes and licked her sticky sweetness from his lips.

“We need to take this shit to my room now…I can’t do what I wanna do to you here…”

Valencia knew she was in trouble. He gave her this look and she just knew.

————

They entered the Omega Psi Phi house and Erik shut the door softly. Hand in hand, they crept up the stairs and when they both made it to the top landing, Erik led Valencia down the hall to his right. Majority of the house was still out for the evening. His room door was the most decorated out of the ones at the end of this hall. He took out his keys from his hoodie pocket and opened his door. Valencia slipped inside first and then Erik came in right behind her before shutting his door and locking it again. The room was cloaked in darkness with a little light from the streetlights outside peeking through the blinds. Erik took her bag from her and she could see his silhouette moving towards a desk.

He flicked on a lamp and adjusted the lighting so that it was dim. A yellow ambiance filled one corner of the room and the area where the bed resided was 80% dark. Valencia thought it was the perfect glow for what was about to go down. Erik proceeded to take his laptop out of his book bag and Valencia made herself comfortable on his bed. It was neatly made and fluffy. Some music played and Valencia figured it was to muffle the noises they were about to make but one thing about her, if it feels good, she can’t keep quiet.

Erik took off his hoodie and T-shirt. He stood in front of her with a bare chest and shorts on. They took a quick rinse after swimming. Valencia removed Erik’s hoodie from her body and her panties. She kicked off her slides and went to shield her body with her legs. Erik walked up to her on his bed and while his eyes looked down at her, he slowly peeled his shorts off. Valencia watched his movements with a steady gaze.

She could see that he was well groomed down there. When his dick bobbed out, she went still with speechlessness. It was thick, long, and veiny with heavy balls to match. Shaft the color of hickory and the tip reminded her of cinnamon. Something you would see in a porno. She’d never seen a dick this big in person. That’s all she had to compare it to. Valencia didn’t even want to venture a guess as to how big he is. Tonight was going to be the night where she explored her size queen fantasies.

“You’re so big…”

Valencia wrapped her small hand around him. Her fingers barely touched. She didn’t want to look scared, but she was. She replaced her shocked expression with a flirty smile. Erik reached down and caressed her chin. She knew what he wanted. She wished she’d practiced for this. She wanted to impress this man badly with skills she didn’t possess. Sure, she could give head, but would he enjoy it?

“Valencia.”

She was knocked out of her daze. Sitting up on her knees, she leaned forward while gently stroking him. Valencia would dart her eyes up at him timidly while his fat dick was in her face. So much dick.

Don’t chicken out, she thought.

“Go on, don’t act all shy, get a taste.”

Valencia let go of his shaft to push her braids back over her shoulders. Erik helped her by taking her braids into his fist loosely.

“Thank you,” She took him into her grasp again.

Fear flashed before her eyes and Erik used his thumb to stroke her chin again.

“C’mon, don’t be scared. Not with lips like that…”

She giggled nervously. Valencia leaned in and flicked her tongue along the tip of his dick like she was testing the waters. Erik’s grunt made her kiss his tip with her juicy lips.

“Stop teasing me and suck this dick.”

Valencia opened her mouth and Erik tugged on her braids so she could look up at him. She shut her eyes while sucking his wide tip into her mouth. That action alone made her jaws sore.

“Open your eyes, Valencia,” Erik tugged on her hair, “What I say?”

He was starting to show his dominance more and more. Valencia blinked up at him, the view from her position a sight for sore eyes. That body and that face with that big dick in her hand was all too much. She sank her lips deeper, and Erik exhaled a longing breath.

“You got a tight ass throat, ma…”

Valencia popped her lips off.

“I’m sorry—”

“Nothing to apologize about, baby. Put that mouth back on daddy’s dick.”

She did as she was told.

“There you go, put some more in there��”

She squeezed her thumb and breathed through her nose. A technique she’d learned about but never really used. She wasn’t a throat goat but she’d never had to challenge herself until she met Erik.

“Good girl…mmm.”

She added more spit to her sucking. There was no way she was going to fit all of him in her mouth. Valencia stroked him like she was grinding pepper with one hand while she sucked whatever she could.

“Look at you, all that being scared and you sucking it just like I like it…nice and slow…lots of spit…such a nasty girl.”

Erik licked his lips at her and his eyes were low. He kept making these grunting noises in his throat. She loved it so much.

“Those lips…feel so good on my dick, baby…”

Erik did something she wasn’t prepared for. He thrust his hips forward a little and more of his dick sank down her throat. Valencia gagged and her body jerked away from the feeling. Spit was hanging from her mouth and she looked up at him with wet eyes.

“Did I tell you to stop sucking?”

“N–no,” Valencia sniffled.

Erik tapped her lips with his dick.

“Open your mouth.”

Panic set in. She opened up and Erik had a hand on the back of her head and one on her throat. He started fucking her mouth slow. Valencia placed a hand on his thigh to try and control him. A knock suddenly came to Erik’s door and not once did he stop.

“Poet! Me and the rest of the guys were going out for drinks. You wanna roll out, dog?”

“Nah! I’m good. I’ll see ya’ll tomorrow!”

Erik bites down on his bottom lip when her lips popped off. He rubbed his dick along her lips, dribbling her lips with his tip before whispering for her to open the fuck up.

“Aight! We’ll catch up!”

When the coast was clear, Erik groaned.

“When I cum don’t you come up off this dick, you hear me?”

“Mhm,” Valencia couldn’t use her mouth at the moment to reply. Only sounds.

She sucked and sucked and her jaws ached but she was determined to make him cum. She was doing so well and Erik was loving it so much. He started moaning and saying her name. She felt in control. With a deep inhale, she took a chance and relaxed the back of her throat, twitching it around his tip.

“Shit, here it comes—”

Valencia sat still with Erik’s dick between her jaws. She could feel him throbbing with his release. He came in her mouth and it was thick and warm. She swallowed quickly, careful not to choke. It was a lot. She wasn’t surprised, with a dick that big and balls that heavy, it was expected. She came up for air and wiped her mouth off with the back of her hand. Erik twirled one of her nipples while bending over to kiss her lips. Tongue and all.

“You did so good, baby.” Erik whispered against her lips.

“You liked it? I wanted to make it good for you.”

“You made me cum didn’t you? I was tryna hold back but I couldn’t control it. I wonder what that pussy gonna do to me…”

“The same,” Valencia boldly replied.

“Yeah? That pussy gon’ make this dick bust too?”

“Mhm,” She jerked him while chewing on her bottom lip and staring him in his eyes with all the strength she could muster.

“You better hope I don’t bust in you…”

Erik tongues Valencia down again. His words fluttered in her mind. She was on birh control but she’d never let a guy do it. Isaiah drunkenly told her that he wanted to cream pie her, but he was wearing a condom. Erik planned to fuck her raw.

“Come sit on my face.”

Erik climbed into his bed and propped his pillows up. When he was settled, Valencia threw her leg over him and Erik popped her on that bubble booty with a hard slap.

“Turn the other way…just like that…”

She turned her back towards his face while her ass and pussy sat inches away from his mouth.

“Arch that back, girl.” Erik commanded with another smack to her ass.

Valencia did as she was told and Erik spread her cheeks . He didn’t waste time tongue-fucking her wet hole and slurping up her clit. Valencia clawed the sheets and started grinding her pussy along the length of Erik’s tongue. He spit on her pussy and sucked it back up over and over. Her eyes crossed like she was losing consciousness.

“OOH!, Erik, fuck, I’m gonna cum already!”

Erik whacked her across the ass through her release. He was showing a roughness with her that overwhelmed her. Valencia didn’t have time to recover when Erik sat up and positioned her on her back. He loomed over her and his lips pressed firmly against hers. She could feel his thick fingers between her thighs, stroking her pussy before slowly sinking two fingers deep.

“Uh—”

“I gotta make sure I open you up for this dick, girl,” Erik whispered.

His fingers pumped in and out of her. He was knuckle deep and torturing her spot. Valencia turned her face away and Erik attacked her neck. The obscene noises her pussy made was similar to squelching. She felt that from head to toe. Erik’s continuous nasty talk in her ear with a husky voice had her whimpering.

“This my pussy, Valencia?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t wait to fuck you…”

She felt a flutter in her belly from his words. His anxiousness let her know that she was going to take it all over his bed.

“Ima be in that pussy every way I can…you’re so pretty…you have the best pussy, babygirl…My dick is so hard…”

She could feel his stiffness on her inner thigh. Rigidly tapping her.

“I’ve been waiting for this shit…”

“Daddy—”

“You wanna cum? That pussy cumming again?”

“Yes—”

“Tell me whatchu want…open your mouth and tell me. All that shy shit is over wit’ you know what time it is.”

“…can I cum, please, daddy?”

She clawed his back. The more he continued to finger-fuck her, the harder it became to hold it in. She felt a sensation and she was afraid she was going to urinate. It was so intense, Valencia couldn’t fight it.

“Erik, Erik, Erik!”

“Gimme that shit.”

A stream of liquid similar to a fountain stained the sheets. It was too powerful and the more he fingered, the more she did it. She’d never ever squirted before.

“Oh my gosh,” Valencia tried to catch her breath, “I squirted…I’m sorry, I made a mess.”

She shielded her face with her hands in embarrassment. Erik moved her hands away and showed her his messy fingers before sucking on them.

“You can squirt, you can cream, I want all of that shit. Don’t ever be embarrassed about what this body can do. I’m so crazy about you…”

Erik pecked her lips and she could taste herself. He sat up on his knees and spread her thighs. Valencia hitched her breath when he started spanking her pussy with the tip of his dick.

“…A fat puss and a fat dick…you know what time it is, right?”

Valencia nodded her head with a pout of her lips.

“I’ll go nice and steady, okay?”

Erik kissed her inner left thigh before he gripped the base of his dick in one hand, gliding it between her folds before the wide tip of his thick pipe sat at her entrance eagerly. She watched as his chest moved up and down and his eyes focused on his movements. His eyes drifted up her body to rest on her face.

“It’s gonna feel so good…you’ll be begging me not to stop…”

She brought both of her arms up and her hands squeezed the pillow beneath her head. She tried to steady her breathing, but when Erik finally thrust forward, she lost her cool.

“Shit,” she squeezed her eyes shut, “It’s too much…”

The tip popped in and instantly she clenched him. Erik groaned. The snugness around his tip felt so fucking food. He needed more.

“Ima give you more…fuck, Valencia, pussy tight as fuck…”

He had his hands on the back of her thighs and both of them watched as he fed her pussy more fat dick.

“I’m tryna behave but all I wanna do is dig yo’ shit out.”

He gave her this look that told her ‘I’m ready to go berserk’ he would stop to give her a second to adjust and then more filled her up. She threw her head back and moaned. Erik had half of his dick in there.

“Look at me, talk to me…”

He withdrew his hips and Valencia’s eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open.

“Tell me where I’m at…”

“You’re in my pussyyyyyyy!”

Tears rolled down into her hairline. The sensation was so intense. She couldn’t even describe how wet she was. She felt so full.

“I’m finna’ go harder. You ready?”

Valencia had panick in her eyes. Erik kissed his teeth. He was impatient and with her good pussy wrapped around his dick she better get ready.

“Be a big girl and take it…own it and take it, ma.”

“…okay.”

Erik dropped that dick off in her all the way now and Valencia cried out. He leaned over her body causing her hips to lift from the bed. He put his fist into the mattress and the momentum of his thrusting went faster and faster. She didn’t know what to do.

“Yes,” Erik whispered, “I’m in this pussy now. hmm…”

“Unh—”

It felt so intense and so amazing. Erik sat up so he could look her in the eyes. He drew his bottom lip into his mouth and delivered sharp thrusts while staring her down. She was completely ruined and all he did was fuck her and look at her.

“I c–c–can’t hold it—”

“FUUCK—”

Her orgasm rocked through her body. Erik slipped out and she exhaled a shaky breath.

“Look…”

She sat up on her elbows. His dick was coated in cum and brick hard. Erik looked at her through his locs, a teasing smirk on his face. He was on her again, not even telling her how he wanted her. Instead, he positioned her with her face down and ass up. He fixed her arch, adjusted her legs, and then with two large hands on her ass cheeks, he pointed his tip at her opening and bam! He was back in like he never left.

“Keep that arch. What the fuck did I say?”

“Okay!” Valencia bowed her back, “Do I need to do it more?”

Erik didn’t respond with words, he fixed her himself and then spanked her ass.

“Ouch,” it stung so hard, “daddy that hurts..”

He kissed her cheeks and she whimpered.

“It wouldn’t hurt so much if you listen to what I say. Stay just like that.”

Erik’s dick went in and out. Each time it would go in, her pussy would queef. So much creamy mess. She felt it in her lower belly, it created intense pressure to the bottom of her pussy, her body quaked out of her control. So many different sensations hitting her at once.

“Mhm, you look so good right now…”

Valencia looked back at Erik.

“It’s s–s–so deep….” Valencia stuttered.

“I know, baby, but you’re doing so well, pretty girl…now daddy gotta bust it open some more…”

With just his hips, Erik showed her a good time. When he wanted to play back shots, he didn’t want you running and pushing him away. Her ass ricocheted off his hips and all she could do was grip the sheets and moan so loud it bounced off of the walls. She couldn’t do anything about the intense sensations.

“DADDY! OH MY GOD! ITS SO BIG! ITS SO BIG, DADDY! OH MY GOSH! ERIK! ERIK! ERIK!”

“Don’t push me away,” Erik locked her wrist behind her back as he barked out his command, “FUCK!”

He slowed down and Valencia tried to catch her breath. She didn’t want him to slow down. She wanted more dick. How was it possible to want more when she couldn’t even take it in this position?

“There you go…there you go. You fucking me back? Oh, so now you ain’t scared of this dick?”

Valencia threw it back on him and Erik stood there watching her with unblinking eyes and his mouth hanging open.

“Didn’t I tell you I would have you on this dick? Didn’t I fuckin’ tell you that?” Erik slapped her ass, “You showing out, girl. Fat pussy takin’ it like a real size queen.”

She looked back at him and licked her lips.

“Can you beat it up, daddy?”

Valencia was talking her shit. Erik pounded her pussy out.

“UHHHH SHIT!” She yelled.

Valencia sat up and Erik placed a hand around her neck from the front.

“Right there! Please don’t stop!” She begged.

Pound after pound. Her body seized up.

“You ain’t gotta tell me, baby, I feel that pussy…don’t hold back, give me what I want, wet up this fuckin’ dick!”

“YES!”

Erik slipped out and Valencia fell flat against the bed. She rolled over and stared up at Erik before reaching her arms out. He chuckled, picking her up and then she wrapped her legs around him snuggly.

“You want me to fuck you in the air?”

She nodded her head and bashfully smiled at him.

“I’ve always wanted to be picked up during sex. I wanna see how it feels…”

“I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Erik lined himself up and dropped her down on his dick. He palmed her ass and forced her down on his big dick, bouncing her up and down at a leisurely pace so she could feel it from the tip to the balls. Erik dipped his hips and Valencia had her arms wrapped around his neck.

“Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!” That’s all she could do. Moan and live in the moment.

Erik pressed his forehead against hers. She took in a sharp breath.

“I’m so close, this pussy gon’ make me cum so hard, fuck, gahdamn, shit, this wet pussy…tight, wet, gushy pussy—”

“I’M CUMMING FOR YOU!” Valencia declared.

“Cum on this fucking dick!”

Valencia came so damn hard. It was an out of body experience. She clung to Erik tightly and he sat on the bed and bounced her in his lap. Her words ran through his mind.

“Daddy! I wanna have your baby!”

“Valencia—”

Erik’s balls tightened and his shaft throbbed and twitched the same time her walls clenched him.

“Ima fucking nut—FUCK—”

He lifted her off of his dick and she was on her knees fast, sucking him clean. Erik sat back on his elbows and his body twitched. Spurt after spurt of his thick cum covered her lips and dripped onto her breasts. She jerked him while sucking on his tip.

“Unh, mmm, huhhhh, uhhhhh, fuckkkk….”

He was too sensitive. He grabbed his dick from her and sat up. Valencia licked her lips and tried to clean herself off. She peeked up at him and gave him a small smile followed by a giggle.

“I can’t believe I said that.”

She laughed it off, trying her best to conceal her embarrassment. She was so caught up in the moment. She covered her face and Erik moved her hands away. He helped her to her feet and sat her in his lap.

“Forget I said that.” She looked down into her lap, “That was amazing…”

Erik tilted her head up and stared into her eyes.

“I don’t want to forget it. And you need to stop feeling so ashamed. Shit, I almost gave you that baby.”

They both laughed. Valencia pressed her face into Erik’s neck.

“…you might experience a lot of emotions. It’s intense…”

“I’m so happy I got to experience it with you.”

Erik kissed Valencia on the forehead.

“Me too, baby girl. And I want more moments with you.”

Erik pulled the sheets back and he laid back against his pillow with Valencia snuggled close to him.

“You wore a nigga out…”

Valencia giggled.

“I could go for round two…”

———

@goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @hearteyes-for-killmonger @imagining-greatness @chaneajoyyy @uzumaki-rebellion @theeblackmedusa @lisayourworries @ratedbadgal @bombshellbre95 @cecereads209 @cancerianprincess @dameshaemonique @6lack-1otus @thickemadame @thickeeparker @stinkalinkkkk @ehniki @electrixit @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @bakarisprxncess @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @bxolux @sweet2krazee @bluesole16 @seyven89 @ispywithmylileye @geemamii @unbotheredblackchild @nubianbabee @adoreesun @blackpinup22 @nayaxwrites @cocoa-puffs @dersha89 @honeytoffee @thickianaaaa @modelmemoirs @why-wait-4-eventually @queenfaithmarie @angelicniah @soulfulbeauty19 @aijha @novaniskye @princessxotwod @callmemckenzieee @blowmymbackout @lahuttor @momobaby227 @blackerthings @kenbieee @palmstreesallday @kokokonako @coolfancyone @soulsparker @richgirlaesthetics @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @beautybyfire @abluesforlyssa @xo-goldengirl @mbakuetshurisprincess @4ftwonder @raysunshine78 @sensitivelegend @sourbabynaee @gotbeefbitch-blog @efonteno @akimi-youngblood @badassdoll @shyblackgurl @childishgambinaax @teheeboo @skylahb @gigafaex @readingaddict1290 @circeaphoenix @xsweetdellzx @carewornblackgirl @queengodiva619 @certifiedlesbianbaddie @jamaicanqueenaa

#nahimjustfeelingit-writes #killmonger imagine #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut #erik killmonger

381 notes · View notes