#last time it came back right away as well

[marbofmoorock]

Would love to see Kinger and Queenie, as well as Zooble and Caine drawn in this AU TOO. PLEASE MAKE IT HAPPEN! Fantasy Winter Wonderland, so perfectly in season. Maybe Caine and Zooble could have a dynamic of some kind, where Caine could be like Zooble's caring Uncle who wears goofy sweaters and tells funny stories about from his imagination about a fictional life in the circus as a ringmaster (he's a chatterbox beause his head is a mouth, lol), and Zooble is like an angsty college student caught in a feud betweenn divorced parents, moving in with her uncle to get away from all of the mess.

I'm gonna make a short story of it, would love to see accompanying art!!!

-----

Cainooble: A Winter Wonderland Special!

It was a wonderful Winter Wonderland of a day, Christmas had just passed, and everyone was out playing in the snow to enjoy the winter days before the new year. Pomni and Gummigoo laugh and play out in the snow on Gummigoo's new sled his parents got him for Christmas. Gangle watches them timidly as a sort of happy third wheel to their group, wearing a kimono and a fluffy coat as well to stay warm, preferring to watch them play. Ragatha and Jax share a hot cocoa in a nearby house as siblings, chatting away about what they loved most. Kinger and Queeenie in another house enjoy some quiet time together, with a few friends over, including Dobby Dog, Orbsman, and many others.

Then there's Zooble, frustrated 20 something, having just quit he4 job due to transferring colleges, unable to stay at her local college due to how much her parents fought. Zooble was so done with their fighting as an only child, she literally was having trouble with her identity, looking for support and help, but they're too distracted with yelling at each other over such silly things like money. She decided to put her foot down and move to the University in the next town, packing up her stuff to go live with Uncle Caine, his father's brother whom was usually fun to be around and actually cared about Zooble.

She drove up the somewhat icy road carefully, and found herself pulling up to Uncle Caine's nice house. He was A Bachelor who never married, so he had lots of room in his big house for hus precious niece! Zooble, while slightly disgruntled over all of what happened at home with mom and dad, was slightly relieved at seeing Uncle Caine's house.

Not too long after she carefully parked the car in the driveway, Caine came out of the house in a coat.

"HEY HEEEEEY, THERE'S MY FAVORITE NIECE!"

Zooble, seeing Caine, smiled weakly, happy to see Caine after all that she'd been through leaving the house to come live here.

"Thank you do much Uncle Caine. Mom and Dad haven't been their best lately."

"DON'T YOU WORRY YOUR PRETTY LITTLE HEAD, YOU'LL HAVE A FRESH START HERE IN MULBERRY. It's the quietest town in Minnesota, and it's SUCH A MIRACLE you didn't skid off the roads, they're quite icy here.

They both hugged it out for a moment in the cold, Zooble felt like crying because she was so grateful to her uncle Caine. Caine noticed she's clinging to him as they hug and holds her close as well.

"It'll be okay, Zoobie, it'll be like your last visit, but LONGER! THAT'S RIGHT, YOU GET TO STAAAAAY HEEEEERE, FOR AS LONG AS YOU'D LIKE. WE'RE FAMILY AFTER ALL. Go on in, there's hot Cooa in the Kitchen, I'll get your bags! Oh, and feel free to just call me Caine, I think you're old enough to just call me by my first name now, haha!"

Zooble nods silently, her smiling expression more present as she's happy that her Uncle took her in.

Inside, she sips her hot cocoa, and Caine comes in shortly after, with most of her bags, of which he gets the rest in a second trip.

Then he joins Zooble for some hot cocoa once he's fully back inside with Zooble's luggage altogether by the door.

"So Zoobie, what do yoy think of Mulberry? It's so lovely here, no?

"Yeah, it's pretty great Caine, I'm gonna like it here."

"I'm sooo delighted to hear that! It's so nice here Zoobie, you'll love plenty of people your age here, and the college is small and cozy. Mulberry U was my alma mater. Aaah, seems like yesterday when I walked out with my Communications degree! The TV station has been a nice job for me, telling everyone about the weather is certainly a real job, but as Mark Twain once said, make your vocation your vacation, and all will be will, hahahaaa!"

Zooble smiles, happy to see her uncle in such good spirits.

They chat the rest of the night and Zooble gets a good night's rest. As she goes on, she adjusts to her new life Mulberry, and becomes friends with Pomni, Gangle, and Ragatha.

The end.

Knock knock! Guess who's online again! 🥂

For now, check out the sketches of the characters in the form of teenagers / children + bonus ( AIS AU ⛸️❄)

+bonus (I drew the art a long time ago, but decided to show it only now)

Unfortunately, I was away for a long time due to personal problems. The beginning of the year turned out to be difficult.

I was COMPLETELY deprived of the opportunity to draw on a graphics tablet.I also had to move in with my dad after a fight with my mom. Now I'm drawing on my phone in the Ibis Paint X app with my finger, which is unusual for me.

However, there is some good news! It's my birthday next month, and my dad promised to give me an iPad! (I've never used it before.)

Therefore, I will temporarily post less art on Tumblr.(sorry)

[beqitos]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ♥︎ ͜͡⠀ㅤ ㅤ̤ㅤ⠀𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍. 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍?

𖥔 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇━━━𝗐𝗂𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝖺'𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒

엔하이픈 형선 ─────⠀ㅤ 699 (in total) ♡ ◞ 𝗴𝗻!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 >< 𝗵𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲!𝗲𝗻𝗵𝗮 , 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳, 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝘀, 𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴, & 𝗲𝘀𝘁. 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽⠀⟡​ ⠀ℒ𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄

재즈 : not proofread !! i have massive writers block ㅎㅎ

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 needless to say, he would be very shocked. you'd never have done that, nonetheless thought about it, so of course he'd look at you weird, glaring at you. "baby, give me a kiss." he'd pout, turning your head with his hand. once he did and you'd wiped it off, he'll most definitely tell you something about it. "did I do something? are you mad at me?” he'd say, being extra clingy, wrapping his whole body over you, peppering kisses all over your face, neck, just anywhere he could. when you wiped all of them off, that was his last straw, “yn. baby. what did I do to make you mad? are you mad?” he got up, pouted and thought back throughout the day. you tried to hold back your laughter, finally bursting out laughing once you saw his pouty face. “I'm sorry, it was just a prank.” you pulled him in a hug and gave the biggest smooch on his lips

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚 he wouldn't notice it at first, unless you made it very obvious that you were wiping his kisses away. he'd had just come home, seeing you all comfy on the couch, slouching. “hey, baby, whatcha doing,” he said, flopping down next to you, giving you a soft kiss on the lips. “nothing, how about you?,” you wiped off his kiss. of course, since you did it immediately after he kissed you, he looked at you with his eyebrows furrowed. you avoided eye contact, trying not to laugh, pressing your lips in a fine line. he pecked your cheek to make sure it wasn't some mistake. you wiped it off, and jay pouted now, knowing you were doing it on purpose. “can you stop wiping my kisses away.” you kept avoiding eye contact until he grabbed your chin and made you look at him. “is this one of your pranks again? or are you mad at me?” he pouted even more. you ended up bursting out laughing and apologized to him with kisses.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡 oh, he'd notice so fast that it'd give him whiplash. you'll just be sitting on his bed, scrolling mindlessly on your phone, until jake came in, and walked over to you. “hey, baby,” he pressed a kiss on your lips as you turned your head to face him. “I'm going to go wash up, I'll be right back.” you nodded, and not even a second after he turned around, you wiped your lips with the back of your hand, and jake noticed immediately. “what did you just do?” you furrowed your eyebrows to play along and shaked your head. “hmm.. okay.” he muttered and pressed a kiss on your lips before turning right back around. not until you wiped it off again, and jake definitely noticed this time. “why did you wipe off my kiss? don't you love my kisses?” he pouted, his eyes like puppies wanting something. you tried to keep your composure still, but making eye contact with him made you laugh out loud. “im sorry, baby, it was a joke” “well I don't like your jokes.”

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡 at first, he wouldn't care, but if you kept doing it and doing it, he'll definitely say something. the first time you did was in the morning, when he was getting ready to leave and gave a soft kiss on your lips. you were half asleep so he didn't really mind it, but throughout the day, he noticed you kept doing it and decided to confront you about it once you both got home and you did it again, he glared at you. you were chilling on the seat of your vanity, retouching your makeup, and sunghoon getting ready to play on his pc. he gave you one last kiss since he was going to play for hours, and you wiped it off this time. sunghoon spoke up about it. “yn. why do you keep wiping off my kisses? I didn't do anything wrong that I'm aware of.” he muttered, waiting for your response. “no? why? and no, I'm not.” he pouted and went to give you a kiss again, and you shamelessly wiped it off. “YN STOP IT,” you laughed and apologized, giving him a million kisses.

© beqitos 2025. do not copy, steal, or translate my work.

[hauntedhokage]

Handsy

Caleb/F!Reader (not MC)

Caleb comes to visit you while you're working

rating: explicit

word count: 1.7k

warnings: dominant reader, subby Caleb, semi-public handjob

happy Caleb official announcement day! 

“I just cleaned that bed off, jerk.” 

Your scolding has no impact on the mood of the pilot, so you know better than to look to see if he even looked remorseful. He wouldn’t, that just wasn’t his style. Nothing was broken and nobody was hurt, what would he need to apologize for?

“Now c’mon, beautiful, is that any way to treat a patient?”

“You’re taking advantage of the fact that I’m running the infirmary for the night,” you counter, turning on your heel only to be stopped short by an official injury slip. “You’re joking.”

“Signed off by a Captain and everything.”

So it was, or at least it appeared to be, but you needed to see it to add to the record. You reach for the slip, only for him to pull it back the instant it grazes against your fingers. You try again and meet the same result, prompting you to reach in and snatch it away from the laughing pilot before he could pull it from your reach once more. 

Idiot slipped in oil and hit his head. Somehow in non-slip boots? Dumbass.

-Capt. Olivera

A head injury? You look between the slip that (unfortunately) was legitimate and the pilot you snatched it from, trying to figure out if it was severe enough that you’d have to send him to the actual hospital for scans. But he just sits there, watching you with that predatory grin you’d grown to enjoy. 

“You’re not acting like you have a head injury, Caleb.” 

“Trust me baby, it hurts real bad. Both of my heads.”

“Disgusting,” you scoff, setting the now crumpled sheet of paper down on the counter in the room while pulling your stethoscope from around your neck. “Let’s check your vitals, dunce.”

He sheds his jacket like he knows to, offering his arm when you produce the blood pressure cuff from beside the bed - like a model patient, or someone who has spent way too much time in the infirmary when he should’ve been tending to his plane or whatever it was the pilots did with their time. He even gets a bit quiet when he knows you’re counting, but he does use his free arm to pull you in closer. In your stumble your leg brushes against his crotch, and you can only sigh at the fact that he really did come see you in the infirmary with a hard-on. 

“Your blood pressure is a bit high,” you murmur, pushing his hair back from his forehead and tilting his head back in the process. “Pretty sure it was last time, too.”

“And the time before that,” he adds, smiling when you give his hair a gentle tug.  “But when I come in and Macie takes my vitals they’re fine.”

“Are you suggesting I don’t do my job right?”

“Never! I’m saying you get me rock hard, doc.”

“Interesting,” you murmur, leaning in and giving him the kiss that you knew he was wanting from you. 

In all the places you could be making out with one of the pilots, one of the exam rooms in the infirmary should’ve been at the top of the list of places you shouldn’t have been doing that. But Caleb was a special case, flirty and annoying with minimal respect for your personal space. You should’ve pushed him away the first time he came onto you, especially since you’d been working at that time as well, but he had a pout that was impossible to deny and the way he kissed you sent a lightning storm through your nervous system that had you hooked. 

“Wouldn’t a boner mess with my blood pressure?”

“High blood pressure can also give you ED so I’d be careful with these readings you’re getting recorded.” 

He laughs off the warning, gently pulling you in closer by your hips and holding you there so you couldn’t get away easily. There’s a mumbled comment about easier access to viagra that way, something that you want to counter but know better than to try when the hands on your hips guide you up onto the exam bed with him.  

It’s the middle of the evening with plenty of time for more visitors to the infirmary, and that alone has you pulling away from him before someone walked in and got you both fired. 

“Don’t be cruel, baby.” His breathless plea has you shaking your head, adjusting your scrubs while he undid his belt and jeans. “I’ve got high blood pressure.”

“I’m going to do this one thing for you,” you start, peeling your gaze away from the cock he’s set free in favor of looking him in the eye. “Then you’re going to room three where you will behave for the night.”

“What do I get if I’m good?”

You hum, taking his cock in your hand and giving a gentle squeeze that has him moaning against your lips. 

“I’m undecided. You’re already not being very good, Caleb.”

To have such a talented and (slightly) imposing pilot be reduced to a pathetic whine is a remarkable feat to most, but for you this was just a Thursday night. There was a balance of power with being a medic, one you really only exercised when it was Caleb under your care - professionally or otherwise - and you know that he got off on being under your control. Was he the picture of pure obedience? Not at all, but he was pretty cute when he pouted. 

“Been thinking about you all day, y’know. Saw you watching over the rookie physical exams and you looked so hot.” 

“I’m sure.” You try to sound disinterested, pulling your hand away from his cock to hold in front of his chin. He doesn’t need to be told to spit into it, earning soft praise before you’re going back to stroking his cock. “You always say you’re thinking about me.”

“Because I am, doc.” 

“Really?”

“Y-yeah,” he grunts, eyes closing when your free hand gently cups his sac. He’s trying hard to keep quiet, brow furrowed in focus as you continue to stroke his cock, and you reward him with a squeeze that has a moan tumbling from his lips. “Shit, s-sorry doc.”

You don’t need to tell him it was okay, or remind him that had to control himself - these were things he already knew. This wasn’t the first time you’d given him some sort of release while you were supposed to be working, he was well aware of the rules when he came to you like this - and also well aware that the soft spot you had for him made it so you wouldn’t blue ball him here. You weren’t cruel.

“C-can I have your mouth, too?”

“Maybe later, if you’re good.” 

There’s no pushback, no begging, just a nod as he leans back on his forearms to watch you. It’s uncharacteristic of Caleb to just let things happen without much of a fight, especially when you had his cock in your hand and were controlling the progression of the evening, so you’re not quite sure what to say to him. But you supposed that there wasn’t much that had to be said, especially when you’d told him to be quiet in the first place - it would be okay to just enjoy this time you had with him.

He was handsome, his cheeks and neck flushed a delightful pink that complimented the purple irises that peek out from beneath his lashes. The flat planes of his body rose and fell so neatly with every breath he took, even the stuttered ones that came when you gave his balls a squeeze or pinched the tip of his cock. And when he got close to his orgasm; his eyelids fluttering as he struggles to keep them open, his plump bottom lip pulled between his teeth to fight off any noise he might want to make while every muscle in his body tensed - he was beautiful. 

“You’re so pretty when you’re about to cum,” you murmur, removing your hand from his sac to gently coax his bottom lip from between his teeth. “Cum for me, Caleb.”

“F-fuck doc.” He can only manage a hiss between grit teeth, his cock pulsing in your hand as you continue your quick strokes. “Please don’t stop, I’m gonna-”

He’s cut off by his own groan, coming from deep in his chest as his hips buck into your hand. You tear your eyes away from the blissful expression he wore in favor of watching the spurts of translucent white land on his stomach and your hand in the most sinful painting that belonged in every prestigious gallery on the planet. 

A slow drag of your thumb along his heaving stomach collects a decent amount of his cum, and you watch with a fond smile and clenching cunt as he takes it into his mouth without hesitation. 

“Was I good enough?” 

“I suppose.” The noncommittal response gets an indignant huff from the pilot, but you’re still smiling as you lean in to kiss him. “I’ll check on you later tonight. Head injuries aren’t something to play with.”

“Spend some extra time with me tonight, doc.” The request is mumbled against your lips, followed by his tongue prodding at your closed mouth when you let out a noncommittal hum. “I’m leaving tomorrow afternoon to visit family in Linkon.”

You want to say no, you really do, despite the way he’s pressing little kisses to your mouth as you think about how to let him down easy. You still had work to do, you couldn't abandon your duties in the clinic to cuddle up with an injured pilot in a room all night just because he was going on leave. But you also couldn’t just let him leave for a while without having sex with him at least once, that would be unfair. There was a compromise there somewhere, and you find it when you consider the timing.

“We can grab breakfast in the morning. I get off shift at five.” He nods eagerly at your suggestion, and you kiss him one last time before finally stepping away. “Now get the fuck out, I need to sanitize that bed again.”

“Yes ma’am.” He manages a lazy salute while one-handedly tucking his cock back into his pants, and you roll your eyes as you turn to wash your hands in the sink. “Think we can make it breakfast in bed?”

“Earn it.”

[spanktony]

GOT HER OWN. — karina. (part one)

“𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗶𝘁. 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗶𝗻 𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵, 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗶𝗻 𝗶𝘁.”

in which — y/n is a valorant streamer who loves trolling and chasing a spot on the top 10 valorant clutches list. when katarinabluu, a high-ranked player, takes the #1 spot, y/n throws shade during their stream—only for katarina to clap back online.

pairing ! —streamer!karina x streamer!gn!reader

genre ! — smau w a little bit of written text, enemies to lovers, comedy

warnings ! — kys/kms jokes, swearing, this is very bad 😕

featuring ! — aespa, yunjin (le sserafim), keeho (p1harmony), minji (newjeanz), and more

a/n: this isn’t a long series just a 2 part (maybe) series

it was a routine you followed every month: react to the top 10 valorant clutches of the month video, hope to see one of your clips make the cut, and play it cool if it didn’t. at this point, it was less about the recognition and more about the banter with your chat.

you weren’t the most well known valorant pro out there—your channel had a decent amount of subscribers, but it was nowhere near the top 100. you had a pretty loyal following that you had worked hard to build since your first few days on youtube and twitch.

and as the months passed, your fan base was only getting bigger.

today was no exception. you had set a stream up for your regular wednesday afternoon time slot. you were going to try and squeeze in a few rounds with a few friends before you had to get ready for your night classes.

but first, you needed to react to the new list. it had dropped the night before, and your notifications had been buzzing ever since.

your fans loved hyping you up every time these compilations came out, spamming your inbox with messages like “this has to be your month!” or “if you’re not on this list, we riot.” it was all in good fun, but deep down, you couldn’t lie—it’d be nice to finally see your name make the cut.

“alright, chat,” you said as the stream went live, your usual intro music playing softly in the background. “you know the drill. top 10 valorant clutches of the month. place your bets now: am i finally on this one, or are we adding another ‘rigged’ tally to the scoreboard?”

username: no way they missed that icebox play last week right?

username Manifesting y/n at #1 this time!

username if you don’t make it we ride at dawn

username 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

username they’re saving your clip for a ‘top fails’ compilation 😭

you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “hilarious. let’s just get into it, yeah?”

you pulled up the video and hit play. as the countdown began, your commentary started up right away.

clip #10 was decent, a 1v4 clutch with some clean sheriff shots. “not bad,” you admitted, nodding approvingly. “but let’s be real, chat. i’ve done better.”

clip #9 featured an insane operator flick. “okay, now that’s spicy,” you said, impressed. “still waiting for my clip, though.”

by the time it got to the top three, you hadn’t seen your name, but you weren’t surprised. “alright, here’s the moment of truth. if i’m not in the top three, i’m officially calling this list a scam.”

then, the #1 clip began to play. the name on the screen caught your eye immediately: katarinabluu.

your face froze for a second as the clip began—an ace on icebox, clean headshots, and a flick with an operator that sealed the round. it was an undeniably impressive play, but your competitive streak refused to give in.

“that’s it?” you said, pausing the video. you shrugged. “but let’s be real—if that’s #1, this list is definitely rigged.”

username who the hell is that

username y/n who???

username: HELLO??? KARINA’S GONNA SEE THIS

username not you dragging her when she’s literally better than you ☠️

username 😭😭

you leaned back in your chair, smirking at the chat’s chaos as the messages flew by faster than you could read.

“what? i’m just saying!” you said, raising your hands in mock defense. “she’s good, but if that’s the best clutch of the month, then clearly the editors need to broaden their horizons. my icebox clip was cleaner.”

the chat exploded even more.

username oh you’re done for

username: why are you here starting beef w karina i can’tttttt

username: Plz she’s gonna roast you so bad

username 100% she’s gonna watch this later and go feral

username you done fucked up 💀

you laughed at their reactions, brushing it off as just another day of trolling with your viewers.

a/n: lolll idk how i feel about this 😔

[beomiracles]

You think you have seen long reblogs pffffft, well you have not seen mine *cracks knuckles*

*clears throat* so. Where to start… first of all, i have like a whole ahh list of all my favorite parts, so buckle up cause this is gonna be a long one. — NOT EVEN A FULL 300 WORDS IN AND I’M ALREADY HIGHLIGHTING STUFF; “I would rather rule with my heart than sell it to the highest bidder.” i’m sorry but this sentence is just so powerful, i hardly have words to describe it with. Which is one thing i really really like about this fic, she keeps on choosing her heart every single time. She didn’t waver once, which in my opinion, gets annoying when the mc kinda strays back and forth, should i..should i not.. Yada yada. NO. this woman knew what she wanted from the get go and she was not afraid to show it. “You’re going to ruin me, princess,” he said softly. “Then let me ruin you,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again. Another great example of my previous words. 

Matter of fact, that whole scene got me choked up. “That love isn’t a curse,Yeonjun,” you said, leaning forward. “It’s a gift. Even if it’s fleeting, even if it’s painful when it’s gone, it’s still worth having.” I AM GAGGED, GRABBED BY THE THROAT. Idk, she just had such a beautiful way of seeing things throughout the entire fic, i will not ever get over it i fear. Not to mention this; He froze, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t know me. “Then tell me,” you said, your voice softening. “Tell me about your life. Let me understand.” i love how she literally peels back his layers and gets him to open up in such a comforting and safe way. 

“You look like you wandered out of a ball. Did you lose your way to the dance floor?” oh yes i giggled at this btw hehehe 

Onto something very important, their letter exchanges. OH MY GODDDD. I’m sorry i’m very sappy and reading those letters was actually clawing at my fragile heart. The way you can feel the yearning within their words, i’m gonna spiral, it also gave me inspiration for a fic, COUGH moving on. Every day feels longer than the last without you here. I thought I was a man who had learned to live without hope, but you’ve made me realize how much I’ve missed it. The woods are quiet now, but I hear your laugh in the wind and feel your presence in every shadow. BUT I HEAR YOUR LAUGH IN THE WIND AND FEEL YOUR PRESENCE IN EVERY SHADOW OH SHAKESPEARE IS QUAKING IN HIS MFING GRAVE RIGHT NOW. it’s the way yeonjun describers her with such love and adoration i am literally so fucking weak i could cry a whole river. 

Their relationship just felt so raw, i can’t explain it, but it was like they both needed each other in the most pure and desperate form ever. Yeonjun losing his family and reader never having one at all, the way they’re just so drawn to each other without being able to refrain from keeping away. I am weak. — and let’s not even talk about how fucking fine archer yeonjun is because what the actual fuck, He reaches for another arrow, the muscles in his arms flexing under the thin fabric of his shirt. BOM SHAKALAKA YES GAWD YES GAWD, GIMME THAT GIMME THAT. 

The brief beomgyu cameo gave me literal life, i will claw at anything that is beomgyu for as long as i live. Imagine a little nerd with fat glasses whose special interest gets even slightly mentioned, that’s me when beomgyu, excitedly jumping up and down n kicking my feet as i giggle hysterically. 

"Tell me you mean it," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me this isn’t just a dream." You didn’t care if you sounded silly and childish. This was the equivalent to whispering pinch me i’m dreaming but it didn't matter, you needed to hear it. His hands came up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that clung to your skin. "It’s real," he murmured. "I promise you, it’s real." And then his lips were on yours. …. Gonna leave this here for you all to ponder. 

Oh rae. rae, rae, rae, rae… you knew this part was coming. kai kamal huening. What do you honestly wish of me? Because if it is to actively plot my soon-to-be self homicide attempt you have done it. — he’s so sweet, and just a baby, and he’s doing everything he can to take care of his family. Kai nodded slowly, his youthful energy appearing once more. "I won’t let my family down. I’ll keep practicing, and I’ll take care of them."  BABY YOU’RE GONNA DIE DON’T MAKE PLANS FOR THE FUTURE. Sigh, but The sunshine x grumpy with him and yeonjun, kills myself… “I know they died..” Kai said, surprising Yeonjun. “I’m sorry. I can be your family now.” OH FOR HEAVENS SAKE THROW YOURSELF OFF A CLIFF. 

What hurt even more was that i KNEW that he was dying. Each fucking scene was like knifes to my chest. Imagine me on the street, wounded and slowly bleeding out, rain pours over me, covering me whole and making me shiver as i take my last dying breath. AND YOU RAE, you step on my outstretched hand. That’s what i felt when you killed him off. 

AND YOU JUST KEPT STABBING ME. as if brutally murdering me wasn't already enough. “Your little messenger screamed your name the whole time. Begged us to let him go. Begged for you to save him.” you know i almost stopped reading here… but then i was like, “nah lemme actually put my big girl pants on and get through this” only for you to drop THIS: “The boy cried for you, you know. Right up until the end.”

Hah. well. Fuck you then. 

But as my final point i want to highlight how much i love yeonjun and mcs relationship, their fucking passion for each other. As if the letters, the yearning and the longing wasn’t enough. "Let them try. I won’t let them take you from me." YES BABY I’M THROWING UP AND CRYING BUT YES YE SYES YES. heh. 

BUT LOW AND BEHOLD GUYS. now she’s trying to bandage my bleeding wounds by ending it like this; “This place was never really mine,” he said, his voice low. “It was always meant for someone else.” 

She slipped her hand into his, squeezing it gently. “Then let’s find something that is ours.” (it worked, fuck you rae) 

In all the fic was so flowy and easy to read, it immersed you perfectly in the plot and stuck to an interesting and eventful storyline, nothing felt out of place or rushed, everything was just magnificent, even if it stung like a bitchhh. 

Giving this a 5/5 of goodreads, and um, this is two pages long on a doc. 

A KISS FOR THE CURSED - ,, ୧ ‧₊˚ c.yj

》 In a kingdom of stone and gold, there lived a princess with hair as pink as the dawn. Her heart, though draped in royal jewels, was heavy with the weight of expectation, for the king and queen demanded she find a husband worthy of her title. The castle’s walls pressed close, and her spirit yearned for freedom, for something beyond the cold, glittering halls.

One day, when the pressure became too great, she slipped away from the castle and wandered into the woods, seeking solace in its quiet embrace. It was there, among the trees, that she met him—a boy, no older than she, with eyes like the forest and a bow slung over his shoulder. He was a hunter, living in a humble cabin, selling the fruits of his labor to those who passed by. But in the way he moved, so graceful and wild, the princess saw something more—a soul untainted by the constraints of royalty....

》 𝔱𝔵𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 & 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢…

pairings » archer!yeonjun x princess!reader

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 » smut » royal au » forbidden romance »

warnings » smut, loss of virginity, fingering, oral (f) receiving, angst, longing, forbidden romance, yeonjun hunts animals, reader has pink hair, very heavily inspired by the 'once upon a broken heart' series by Stephanie garber, major character death, kai is seventeen in this, also featuring beomgyu briefly, blood, beatings, dungeons, toxic parents, royal hierarchy, a bit of grumpy x sunshine, readers pov is 2nd person "You" yeonjun's pov is 3rd person "He" a lot is in yeonjun's pov though, yeonjun has a noticeable scar on his eyebrow (for the plot), kind of love at first sight, this is not slow burn sorry, there is a disease called "The fever"

« 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 »

word count « 24K »

The golden glow of a single candle bathes your chambers, its light dancing across the silk-draped walls. You sit at your vanity, brushing your hair with slow, deliberate strokes. The polished wood of the brush feels cool in your hand, a small comfort against the storm brewing inside you. Behind you, there’s the soft rustle of skirts, a sound that sets your nerves on edge even before she speaks. “Darling,” your mother begins, her voice sweet, almost sing-song as she opens your door without so much as a knock.  “You’re twenty now. A woman grown. You can’t keep hiding behind those books and tapestries forever.” She glides across the room and perches on the edge of your bed, her posture as poised and deliberate as her words. 

“I’m not hiding, Mother,” you reply without turning to face her. Your reflection catches hers in the mirror—a study in contrasts. You, unadorned and weary. Her, perfect and poised, a mask of maternal care that you’ve come to mistrust. She was not the sweet doting mother she pretends to be, and you felt her icy-ness as soon as she neared you. 

“Of course not,” she says with a light laugh, the sound brushing away your words as though they were a child’s excuse. “But it’s time you thought seriously about your future. The kingdom needs alliances and a good match could secure that.” 

You place the brush down with deliberate care and turn to face her. “And what if I don’t love any of these ‘good matches’? Am I to bind myself to someone who sees me as nothing more than a means to an end?” You had grown tired of this same conversation. One you've had a million times over with her and your father. 

She sighs, and for a moment, the warmth in her voice almost feels real. Almost. “Oh, my sweet girl, love is a luxury we can’t always afford. Your father and I—” She pauses, her hand drifting to her heart as if recalling a fond memory. “We grew to love each other over time. You’ll see. Love often follows where duty leads.” You narrow your eyes, searching her face for cracks in the mask. “Did it? Did love really follow, or did you simply learn to endure it?”

Her expression wavers—just for a heartbeat—but it’s enough. The softness in her eyes hardens, and when she stands, it’s with a grace that feels more commanding than comforting. “Don’t let childish notions blind you” she says, her tone sharper now. “The world isn’t a fairy tale. It’s a harsh, unyielding place, and one day, you’ll rule it. You must start preparing for that now.” 

Your throat tightens, but you manage to keep your voice steady. “I would rather rule with my heart than sell it to the highest bidder.” 

Her lips curl into a smile, and she steps closer, cupping your cheek in her hand. The gesture is tender, but her eyes betray her—calculating, assessing. “You’ll understand someday, my love,” she murmurs. “And when you do, you’ll thank me for guiding you.” You pull away, your skin burning where her hand had rested. She lingers for a moment longer, her presence suffocating even in its quietness. Then, with a swish of her skirts, she moves to the door. The click of it closing echoes in the silence she leaves behind. You stare at your reflection, your chest heaving with unshed tears and unsaid words. The candlelight catches the glint of defiance in your eyes, and in that moment, you vow that no one—not even your mother—will decide your future for you.

You had never snuck out of the castle before. The thought had scared you enough that you hadn’t ever dared to attempt it, but tonight you felt you had to. The suffocating four walls of your chambers had felt so overbearing that the thought of another second in them would cause the end of your life. You had to escape, even if only for a few hours at least. You needed fresh air. To feel the wind in your hair, smell the trees and feel the grass between your fingertips. 

You rarely get that these days, with all the preparations of finding you a husband and shipping you off to some unknown country with a man that was to be your husband and yet a stranger at the same time. You couldn't handle it anymore. You grabbed your cloak and made quick work on sneaking out. 

The castle sleeps. Its towering spires stretch into the star-speckled sky, dark against the moonlight. You slip from your chambers, the soft soles of your boots muffling each step on the cold stone floor. The velvet cloak swirls around your ankles, its deep green fabric blending into the shadows as you descend the servant's staircase. Your heart races, but not from fear. It's the exhilaration of escape, of leaving behind the suffocating weight of expectations.

The conversation you and your mother had not even an hour ago swimming in your mind. The words of your father this morning echoing in your head like a cacophony "This lord has lands to the west," they said. "That one commands an army. It’s time to secure your future.” You grit your teeth at the thought, gripping the edge of your cloak tighter. They don’t understand. Marriage isn’t what frightens you—it’s the thought of marrying someone who sees you as a pawn, not a person. You couldn't bring yourself to have a marriage like your mother and fathers. A marriage that lacked authenticity, lacked real love. You refused it. Rebuked it. 

The air is cooler as you reach the garden gate, slipping through the narrow gap you discovered years ago. The guards won’t check here; they never do. Beyond the walls lies freedom, the forest calling to you like an old friend. The scent of damp earth and pine greets you as you step into the woods. The moon guides your path, its light filtering through the canopy. You keep your pace quick but quiet. You had a general idea of the outlands of the castle from all of your lessons. You needed to know how to get out of the castle in case of an attack. You were sure that your teachers didn't know you'd be using the information they taught you to sneak out, but here you were. 

The forest feels alive tonight. Crickets chirp in the underbrush, and a gentle breeze stirs the leaves above. Each step takes you further from the castle, from the expectations, from the stifling weight of duty. You keep your steps light trying your best to make as little as sound as possible. You couldn't risk being caught. Then you hear it, a faint thwack ahead, the unmistakable sound of an arrow striking wood. You freeze, heart leaping into your throat. Slowly, carefully, you edge closer, stepping around a patch of dry leaves to avoid making a sound. Peeking around a thick oak, you see him. A man unfamiliar to you. He stands in the clearing, tall and strong, his silhouette framed by moonlight. A bow is in his hands, an arrow already knocked. His movements are fluid, deliberate, as if every motion is a part of a dance. The arrow flies, and your breath catches as it strikes dead center on the straw target.

He’s beautiful. The moon shines just enough through the branches of the trees above him creating a halo like light over his head and face. You should turn back. You know this. You should retrace your steps and leave before he notices you. But you don’t. Something about him holds you in place. His focus, the grace in his movements, the quiet strength in the way he adjusts his stance. He’s close to your age, maybe a year or two older, with dark hair that curls at the nape of his neck. He’s the most handsome man you have ever laid your eyes on. And by far the most graceful. 

He reaches for another arrow, the muscles in his arms flexing under the thin fabric of his shirt. You crouch lower behind the tree, your cloak pooling around you. The thrill of sneaking out has faded into something else—something warmer, something unfamiliar. You had never had the privilege of just watching a man so..closely like this. You weren't even allowed to be around a man without a chaperone. You tell yourself you’re just curious. It’s not often you meet someone out here in the woods. But as you watch him, you realize it’s more than that. He’s unlike anyone you’ve ever seen before. 

He has no idea you’re here. And for now, you’re content to watch, hidden in the shadows of the trees, as he draws and releases, each arrow flying true. The world feels smaller at this moment. The castle and its demands are miles away, and the only thing that exists is you, the moonlit forest, and the archer practicing under the stars. You watch for only a breath longer before the stillness breaks under your foot. A dry leaf, hidden beneath the forest loam, crumples with a loud crack that seems to echo in the night. The archer freezes. His body tenses as he pivots toward you, bow raised, an arrow drawn in a heartbeat. The sudden movement sends a jolt of panic through you, and you instinctively step back, pressing against the rough bark of the tree.

“Who’s there?” His voice is sharp, low, and commanding. The moonlight glints off his eyes—hard and narrowed, scanning the shadows where you’re hidden. You hold your breath, heart hammering in your chest. For a moment, you consider fleeing, but before you can move, he spots you. “Show yourself,” he demands, the arrow steady in his grip. 

Slowly, you step out from behind the tree, your hands raised in a gesture of surrender. The cloak’s hood still shrouds your face, but the moonlight catches the strands of pink hair peeking out. His gaze sharpens, and you see his brow furrow as he lowers the bow slightly. “a girl?” His voice softens but only slightly, his tone still laced with suspicion. He lowers the bow completely but doesn’t relax, his eyes studying you intently. “What are you doing out here, creeping around like that?” 

You swallow, suddenly acutely aware of how small you feel under his piercing gaze. “I wasn’t creeping,” you say, your voice soft but steady. “I was… walking. I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“Walking,” he repeats, his tone flat and disbelieving. He glances at your cloak, the fine embroidery glinting faintly in the moonlight. “In the middle of the night. Alone. Right.” He snorts, shaking his head as if the very idea is absurd. “Who are you?” His demeanor startled you, not expecting such a graceful man to sound so..rough. 

You hesitate. You’re not ready to give your name—or your title. “No one important.” If he knew you were the princess there was no guessing what he would do. Turn you in? Kidnap you? Hold you for ransom, it was unknown but you'd rather not find out. 

He arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. “No one important who sneaks through the woods and watches people like a ghost.” 

Heat rises to your cheeks, both from embarrassment and indignation. “I wasn’t watching you—well, not on purpose. I heard something, and I… got curious.” You couldn't explain to him that you didn't get out much, he would ask too many questions. You'd rather have him think you a dumb naive girl then a sheltered princess. 

His expression softens, but only slightly. He seems to accept your answer, though he doesn’t seem thrilled about it. “Curiosity gets people into trouble. Especially out here.” You should feel insulted by his gruffness, but instead, you find yourself intrigued. There’s something captivating about the way he carries himself, the guarded way he speaks. He’s not like the polished, over-rehearsed lords who populate the castle halls. He’s… real. It was as perplexing as it was scary, how little knowledge you had of the common folk, how little you saw them. He was beautiful like a prince, even more than most but something about him felt unpolished and you admired that. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. But you can’t help the way your eyes linger on him, tracing the sharp angles of his face, the way the moonlight highlights his dark hair. He’s beautiful in a way that feels almost unfair, though his scowl adds an edge to it, like he’s carved from stone. He notices your lingering gaze and narrows his eyes. “What?” How he wasn’t more concerned by a random girl creeping on him in the middle of the night had struck you. 

“Nothing,” you say quickly, pulling your cloak tighter around you. “I just… I’ve never seen anyone shoot like that before.” Which was the truth. You had never seen the guards in true action, you had only seen them practicing and even then they were nowhere near as precise as this man was. 

His scowl deepens, though a faint hint of surprise flickers in his expression. “You were watching me.” 

Your cheeks flush again, and you look away, hoping the shadows hide your embarrassment. “Only for a moment. You’re… good.” 

For the first time, he seems caught off guard. He looks at you as if trying to figure you out, then sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, whoever you are, it’s late, and you shouldn’t be out here. Go home.” You hated the way he spoke to you, like you were a useless pesky object in his way. Like everyone around you spoke to you. 

His tone is dismissive, but you don’t move. Instead, you tilt your head, studying him. “Why are you out here, then?” 

He hesitates, his jaw tightening. “That’s none of your business.” 

“And me being here is none of yours,” you counter, surprising yourself with your boldness. You had never talked back to anyone before. Partly in fear of what your mother and father would do to you as a punishment. For a moment, he just stares at you, his eyes catching the moonlight. 

“You’re stubborn,” he mutters, shaking his head. 

“And you’re grumpy,” you reply, the words slipping out before you can stop them. 

“Suit yourself. Just don’t get in my way.” He says with a snark, dismissing you completely. As he turns back to his target, knocking another arrow, you find yourself smiling beneath your hood. For the first time in days, you feel alive—caught in the strange, thrilling pull of the forest, the night, and the boy who doesn’t know who you are. It was hopelessly refreshing, having someone to banter with. He hadn't known you were the princess. All expectations of respectfully boring conversation were not needed here, you felt normal. 

You don’t leave. Something about him keeps you rooted to the spot. Maybe it’s his impenetrable demeanor, so unlike anyone you’ve met before. Or maybe it’s the way he seems utterly unconcerned by you, as though you’re not worth the effort of a proper scolding. Either way, instead of retreating, you take a few cautious steps closer. “What are you still doing here?” he asks without looking back, his voice carrying a rough edge. He draws another arrow and lets it fly. Thwack. It lands squarely in the center of the target. You swear you could have drooled at the sight alone. You were just a girl after all. 

“I told you—I was walking,” you say, folding your arms beneath the cloak. 

​​“In the middle of the night. In that?” He gestures vaguely toward you without turning. Your cloak shifts as you glance down at yourself. The hem of your pink dress peeks out, delicate and impractical. The sight of it makes you wince. It’s not exactly what you’d have chosen for sneaking into the woods, but there hadn’t been time to change. You had very minimal time before the confines of your bedroom swallowed you whole. 

“Yes, this,” you reply, tilting your chin. “Not all of us plan our wardrobe for forest excursions.” 

That earns you a glance over his shoulder. His eyes rake over you, lingering just long enough to make you self-conscious. Then he snorts. “You look like you wandered out of a ball. Did you lose your way to the dance floor?” Your spine straightens at his words. He didn’t know..did he? 

Your cheeks burn. “For your information, I didn’t plan to be out here tonight.” You try your best to avert the subject, avoiding all talk of balls and princess-like duties. 

“Oh, clearly,” he mutters, turning back to his bow. “Because you definitely blend right in.” 

You roll your eyes, stepping closer again. “Are you always this charming, or am I just lucky?” Your lips purse suppressing your smile. That gets his attention. He pauses mid-draw and glances at you, one eyebrow raised. For a moment, you think you’ve caught him off guard, but then his lips twitch in what might be the ghost of a smirk. “Lucky,” he says dryly, before loosing the arrow. Another perfect shot. 

You shake your head, exasperated but oddly entertained. “You’re impossible.” 

“And you’re nosy,” he counters, retrieving another arrow. 

“I don't get out much.” You say with a lift of your shoulders. 

“Clearly.” He deadpanned. “What’s your excuse for being out here, anyway? Fancy dresses and all?” 

The question catches you off guard. You hesitate, pulling your cloak tighter. “I needed to get away.” 

“From what?” he asks, his tone skeptical. 

You glance at the ground, then back up at him. His eyes are on you now, not the target, and you feel a strange urge to tell the truth. Not all of it, but enough. “Look who's being nosey now.” He snorts as you continue “My parents,” you admit softly. “They’re… overbearing.” 

He snorts. “Overbearing parents? Shocking.” 

You narrow your eyes. “I’m serious. They’ve been pressuring me nonstop, telling me who I should be, what I should want. It’s—” You trail off, shaking your head. “It’s exhausting.” 

For a moment, he just looks at you, the teasing edge in his expression fading. “So, what? You ran off to the woods to escape their nagging?” 

“Something like that,” you say, lifting your chin. “Not that it’s any of your business.” 

He huffed a laugh and leaned against his bow. “Fair enough. But sneaking into the woods wearing that dress?” He gestures again at the hem of your gown. “Bold choice.” 

“Do you ever stop criticizing people?” you shoot back, though there’s no real venom in your words. 

“Not when they make it this easy.” His smirk returns, faint but noticeable. 

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling beneath your hood. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not leaving.” 

“Suit yourself,” he mutters, turning back to his target. “Just don’t expect me to babysit you if you trip over your fancy shoes.”  

You bite back a retort and instead settle against a tree to watch him. He doesn’t seem to mind—though he throws the occasional glance your way, as if checking to make sure you haven’t disappeared or done something foolish. The silence stretches, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the rhythmic thwack of his arrows. It’s strangely comforting, this moment shared with a stranger in the middle of the woods. For the first time in weeks, the weight of the crown on your head feels a little lighter. 

You watch as he moves with practiced ease, drawing and releasing arrow after arrow. The steady rhythm of his practice feels like the heartbeat of the forest, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. For a moment, you close your eyes, letting the quiet wash over you. The weight of the day—the endless parade of suitors, the sharp-edged words of your parents, the suffocating walls of the castle—feels distant now, almost unreal. Out here, under the stars, you’re not the princess with a duty to marry for the good of the kingdom. You’re just… you. 

The thought stirs something bittersweet in your chest. You know this moment can’t last. Sooner or later, you’ll have to return to the castle, to the expectations and the responsibilities. This fleeting sense of freedom, of solace, will be nothing but a memory. You open your eyes again, focusing on him. He’s still at it, firing arrow after arrow with a precision that’s almost mesmerizing. There’s a quiet determination in the way he moves, as though this practice is more than a simple pastime. It feels like a ritual, a way of carving out his own space in the world. He moved like he was meant to be there, like the act of archery was engraved into his soul. 

For a brief, foolish moment, you wonder what it would be like to stay. To slip away from the castle every night, to watch him practice and trade sharp words under the moonlight. But you shake the thought away. It’s impossible. Still, you linger. You don’t want to leave just yet—not while the night still feels alive around you, not while you can still breathe without the weight of the crown pressing down.

Silently, you push away from the tree and step back into the shadows. The forest seems quieter now, as though it knows you’re leaving. You glance back once, catching the faint glint of his bow in the moonlight, the outline of his form as he lines up another shot. You slip away before he can notice, retracing your steps through the woods and back toward the castle. The chill of the night air clings to you, and the weight of reality begins to settle back onto your shoulders with each step closer to the towering walls.

By the time you slip through the garden gate, the spell is broken. The castle looms ahead, its windows dark and silent, the very air around it heavy with expectations. But for a few precious hours, you had tasted something different—something real. And as you climb the servant’s staircase back to your chambers, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see him again. 

The morning sun filters through the stained-glass windows of the dining hall, casting jeweled patterns onto the long oak table. You sit in your usual seat, the one that feels more like a throne than a chair, the weight of your parents’ presence pressing down on you like the crown you don’t yet wear. Breakfast is a quiet affair, at least for you. The clink of silverware and the murmurs of servants fill the space as your father, The king mutters about political alliances to your mother, The Queen. His deep voice carries a sharp edge, his words precise and biting, even when directed at your mother. You keep your head down, focused on the food sitting in front of you. 

You barely hear him call your name. Your thoughts are elsewhere—lost in the forest, in the soft rustle of leaves and the quiet thwack of an arrow hitting its mark. You see the archer in your mind’s eye, his focused gaze, the smooth movement of his hands as he loosed each shot. “Are you listening?” your father snaps, his voice cutting through your reverie like a whip. 

You blink, startled, and glance up at him. His dark eyes are cold and unforgiving, his thick brows drawn into a scowl. “Yes, Father,” you lie, though you have no idea what he just said. Trying to gather yourself. Your father was a very angry man, even more so when you were being disobedient. 

He doesn’t believe you—he never does—but he waves it off, taking another bite of bread. “Good. Then you understand how important this ball is.” 

The word ball yanks you out of your thoughts entirely. You sit up straighter, your heart sinking. “A ball?” You narrowly avoided most balls claiming to be sick, or having your nursemaid lie and say you had lessons very early in the morning. Not like your parents knew you were lying, they rarely kept track of those things, only that they were being done. 

“Yes,” your mother says, her voice softer but no less resolute. She looks at you with the faintest trace of pity, but it does little to soothe the knot forming in your chest. “It’s time for you to meet suitors. Proper ones. The lords of the neighboring countries will all be in attendance.” 

You shake your head, your fingers tightening around the silver spoon in your hand. “I don’t want a ball. I don’t want suitors.” You regretted the words as soon as they left your lips. Any defiance to your father was a grave mistake, one you were sure you’d regret shortly here. 

Your father slams his goblet onto the table, making you flinch. “You don’t get to decide what you want,” he growls. “You have a duty to this kingdom, girl. Do you think your whims matter when alliances are at stake?” His words shake you. You knew how he felt but hearing him say it didn't make the blow any less hurtful. It brought you back to the quiet nights you spent curled into a ball on your bed at eight years old wondering why your daddy didn't love you like the other daddies did, why was yours so mean. 

You lower your gaze to your plate, your stomach twisting. The archer’s face flickers in your mind again, unbidden. You wonder what he would say if he saw you like this, cowed under your father’s fury. The pink hue of your long hair covering your face shielding you from your embarrassment. “You’ll go to your dress fitting after breakfast,” your mother adds, her tone brisk as though she’s trying to smooth over the tension. “Nursemaid Kora will take you. Everything must be perfect.” 

Perfect. The word feels like shackles on your wrists. 

“Do you understand?” your father demands. 

“Yes,” you say quietly, though the word feels like ash on your tongue. The king grunts, satisfied, and turns back to his food. The rest of breakfast passes in strained silence, broken only by the occasional murmur of servants or the scrape of knives on plates. Your thoughts were loud as they rattled around in your head. 

Oh how did you long for a normal life, with a normal family and parents who loved you. You glance toward the far end of the room, where the king’s guard stands like statues, their polished armor gleaming faintly in the morning light. Their presence is a constant reminder of the cage you live in—one gilded and grand, but a cage nonetheless. 

Your mind drifts again, this time to the forest, to the sense of freedom you’d felt beneath the trees. To the archer, with his sharp gaze and quiet strength. You wonder if he’s out there now, practicing his craft in the clearing. Does he think about you at all? Did he even notice the way you lingered last night? You thought of his beautiful face and the way the moonlight caught it just right. 

Foolishly you thought of a life with him. One filled with love and light, one that you had only conjured in your mind. It was unattainable and you were sure you would never see him again but still the thought loosened your bones and slowled the rapid beating of your heart. You didn't even know his name, and he yours but still you daydreamed the way he would whisper it, into the woods and into wind all the way until it reached you. It would engulf you, swirling around your being and reaching your heart. 

Your mother calls your name with a softness that only you knew was faux. “Come.” She says rising from her seat. “Kora is waiting.” You nod numbly and stand, your pink dress swishing around your legs as you follow her out of the dining hall. But your heart stays behind, tangled somewhere between the memory of the archer’s steady hands and the ache of knowing you’ll likely never see him again. 

The village square bustled with life, though as always, it seemed to pulse around him, not with him. Yeonjun stood near the edge of the market, his wares laid out neatly on a rough-hewn table: freshly skinned rabbit pelts, bundles of dried herbs, and slabs of venison wrapped in cloth. He adjusted the placement of the furs, not because they needed straightening, but because it gave him something to do.

The morning sun warmed his back, but he felt no comfort in it. A pair of women whispered as they passed, their glances darting his way like skittish birds. One muttered a prayer under her breath, her gaze lingering on the scar that cut across his brow—a mark left by a long-forgotten accident but whispered about like it was the devil’s curse. They always whispered about him. Yeonjun the orphan. Yeonjun the cursed. He clenched his jaw and focused on his work, brushing his fingers over the pelts. Let them talk.

“Still brooding, I see.” Yeonjun didn’t need to look up to recognize the voice. Beomgyu, his only friend, or as close to one as he allowed. The man sauntered over, carrying a sack slung across his broad shoulders, his cheeks red from the morning chill.

“I’m not brooding,” Yeonjun muttered, though he didn’t lift his head. 

“Sure you’re not.” Beomgyu dropped the sack beside the table with a dull thud. “You’ve got that same ‘stay away from me’ look you always do.” Beomgyu sent Yeonjun a crooked teasing grin. 

Yeonjun gave him a sidelong glance. “It works, doesn’t it?”

Beomgyu laughed, a deep, easy sound that drew a few more glances from the villagers. Unlike Yeonjun , Beomgyu seemed immune to the weight of their stares. His carelessness was off putting to Yeonjun “You know, you might be less miserable if you actually talked to people once in a while.”

“I talk to you, don’t I?” Yeonjun said flatly.

Beomgyu shook his head, still smiling. “I’m not people. I’m a saint for putting up with you.” A saint was far from what Yeonjun would call Beomgyu. The boy was anything but a saint. 

Yeonjun huffed a quiet laugh despite himself, but the faint flicker of amusement quickly faded. His mind drifted unbidden to the girl in the woods. Her cloak, the way the moonlight caught the strands of pink hair peeking from beneath it. Who was she? Although he rarely frequented the village, opting to stick to his little cabin in the woods, he was sure that he would spot that bright pink hair anywhere on any given day. Everyone came to the village on selling days, surely he would have seen her walking around, right? 

He’d told himself to forget her. To let her vanish into the shadows of memory like everything else. But the image of her standing beneath the trees, her voice soft but bold, wouldn’t leave him. “Anyway,” Beomgyu said, breaking Yeonjun’s thoughts, “I came to ask you something.”

Yeonjun raised a thick brow. “What?”

Beomgyu grinned, a little too wide. “There’s work up at the castle.”

Yeonjun’s expression darkened immediately. “No.” 

“Don’t be like that,” Beomgyu said, unfazed. “The princess’s ball is coming up. They need extra hands for the feast. We’d be in the kitchens, nothing fancy. Just bringing up meat for the royals.”

“I said no,” Yeonjun growled, his voice low.

Beomgyu leaned against the table, crossing his arms. Gone was the playfulness, a look of desperation in its place. “Look, I know you hate the nobles—” 

“I don’t hate them,” Yeonjun snapped. “I just don’t care for their games.” 

“Fine. Call it what you want. But they’re paying good coin, and we could use the work.” Beomgyu’s voice softened slightly. “You could use it, Yeonjun. How long are you going to keep doing this?” He gestured to the table, to the furs and meat that earned just enough to keep him alive. Yeonjun glanced down, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. He did need the money. 

“Fine,” he muttered finally, his voice sharp and bitter. 

Beomgyu clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man.” Yeonjun flinched away from the touch, shrugging it off. He started packing up his things, his movements quick and tense. But even as he worked, his mind drifted again to the girl in the woods. 

Her voice had been so sure when she’d said she was curious, her smile hidden beneath her hood. And yet, there had been something else in her eyes, something that mirrored the ache he carried in his own chest. Almost like a mirror of himself. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t see her again. 

Everyone he loved—everyone he cared for—was gone. His family, his friends. Death followed him like a shadow, and he would not drag her into it. He wouldn’t. He would take the coin from the castle and leave. He wouldn’t think about her again. But as he slung his pack over his shoulder and followed Beomgyu out of the square, he knew it was a lie.

The cabin creaked as the night wind curled around its edges, pushing through the gaps in the wooden shutters. Yeonjun sat by the hearth, sharpening his hunting knife with slow, deliberate strokes. The repetitive motion grounded him, giving him a momentary reprieve from his restless thoughts. The fire crackled, casting shadows on the walls, but the warmth did little to soften the cold weight in his chest. The girl from the woods was still there in his mind, her pink hair catching the moonlight, her voice lilting like birdsong. He hated that he kept thinking about her. 

A sharp knock at the door broke the stillness. Yeonjun froze, his hand tightening on the knife. For a long moment, he didn’t move, his eyes fixed on the door. No one came out here—no one dared, except for Beomgyu. And Beomgyu never knocked, opting to barge whenever he pleased. Another knock, louder this time.

With a sigh, Yeonjun stood and set the knife on the table. He crossed the room, pulling the door open just enough to see who stood on the other side.A boy no older than seventeen stared up at him, his cheeks flushed from the cold and his arms full of rolled newspapers. His oversized coat hung awkwardly on his skinny frame, and his breath came in little white puffs. 

“Mr.Yeonjun!” the boy said brightly, his voice breaking through the quiet night. Yeonjun recognized him as the oldest Huening son, Kai. A paper boy for all of the village. Why he was delivering Papers this late at night was beyond Yeonjun. 

“What are you doing here?” Yeonjun said sharply, glancing past the boy to the empty forest path. “You’re supposed to leave the paper on the doorstep.” 

Kai shifted on his feet, suddenly nervous under Yeonjun’s glare. “I—I know. But I wanted to see you.” 

“Why?” Was all Yeonjun said, not in the mood for a long winded conversation at this hour. 

Kai’s face lit up, his nervousness replaced with eager determination. “I’ve seen you. In the woods. Shooting your bow. You’re amazing! No one in the village can shoot like you can.” He took a step closer, his wide eyes shining with admiration. “Will you teach me?” The light from the cabin illuminated the boy's features, catching the stark blonde of his hair and his boyish features. Although Yeonjun was only a few years older than the boy he had felt far more wise beyond his years. Kai was comparable to a..well a child in Yeonjun’s eyes. 

Yeonjun stared at him, the boy’s words settling like an unwelcome weight in his chest. “No,” he said bluntly. 

​​Kai’s  face fell, but he pressed on. “Please, I’ll work for it! I can help with chores, or—” 

“You don’t understand,” Yeonjun interrupted, his voice low and hard. “I don’t have time to waste teaching some kid how to shoot arrows.”

Kai flinched, but he held his ground. “I—I could learn fast,” he stammered. “I swear I’d—”

“Go home,” Yeonjun snapped, his hand tightening on the door. “It’s late. You shouldn’t even be out here.” Kai hesitated, but he finally nodded. Yeonjun shut the door without another word. He leaned against it for a moment, exhaling slowly as Kai’s footsteps faded down the path.

The room felt colder now, the fire’s warmth unable to reach him. He shook his head and went back to his chair, picking up the knife again. He didn’t need anyone else relying on him. He didn’t need one more thing to care about. Everyone who had ever mattered to him was gone. Kai didn’t understand what he was asking for. Yeonjun couldn’t be a mentor, a teacher, a protector. He wouldn’t risk letting someone else into his life—just to lose them too. The paper still sat on the doorstep, forgotten in the cold. 

The grand hall of the castle was an entirely different world from the forest Yeonjun knew so well. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced wine, and perfumes far too sweet for his liking. Chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, their flickering candlelight casting golden hues over the polished floors and the opulent tapestries lining the walls.Yeonjun had never set foot in the castle before. Being surrounded by so many nobles who shot him noticeable looks of disdain was something he would never get used to, even as the hours ticked by. 

Yeonjun moved silently through the crowd, a tray of roasted duck balanced on one hand. His dark tunic and dress pants, provided by the castle staff, were a poor attempt at blending in. He still felt like a wolf among peacocks. The nobility barely noticed him as he passed, save for the occasional stare, their laughter and chatter a dull hum in his ears.“Keep moving,” Beomgyu muttered as he brushed past with a tray of wine-filled glasses. “And don’t glare at everyone. You’ll scare off the coin.” 

Yeonjun grunted but said nothing, his focus on his task. He hated the castle, hated the hollow grandeur of it all. The villagers whispered about the luxury the royals lived in, and now, seeing it up close, Yeonjun understood why they seethed with resentment. “Ladies and gentlemen!” a booming voice called, silencing the room. The herald stepped forward, his red and gold uniform gleaming in the light. “May I present her royal highness, Our very own Princess. Daughter of The King and Queen!”  

Yeonjun froze.

The crowd turned toward the sweeping staircase, where she appeared, her head held high, her movements graceful and deliberate. She wore a gown of shimmering silver, the fabric catching the light like starlight on water. But it wasn’t the dress that made his chest tighten. Stopping in his tracks in the middle of the dance floor. 

It was her hair.

Pink. 

His breath caught in his throat as memories of the woods flooded back—the girl in the cloak, her bold words, her curiosity. He had thought of her endlessly since that night, but he’d never expected this. She descended the staircase slowly, her expression serene, but Yeonjun caught the brief flicker of nerves in her eyes. She scanned the room, her gaze brushing over the sea of faces, until it landed on him. Her steps faltered, just barely, and only for a mere second. It had gone unnoticed by everyone but him. He knew the look in her eye matched his own. 

Yeonjun saw the recognition in her widened eyes, the way her lips parted as though she might speak. But then she blinked, regaining her composure. Her gaze slid away as though nothing had happened, and she continued her descent. His grip on the tray tightened, his heart pounding in his chest. He had vowed not to see her again, and yet here she was, standing among the very people he resented most. He wasn’t sure what the feeling in his chest was. Resentment? Anger? A little bit of pity? Really he shouldn't be surprised that she didn't tell him who she was the night in the woods but still..Yeonjun felt like a fool. 

The evening wore on, the ball unfolding in a haze of music and laughter. Yeonjun moved through the crowd, refilling glasses and delivering trays of food. But his attention was drawn to her, no matter how hard he tried to focus on his work. She danced with suitors, her gown flowing around her like liquid light. She smiled at them, laughed at their jokes, but Yeonjun saw the tension in her posture, the way her smile never quite reached her eyes. He had only known her a short while and still he knew the true feeling behind her faux smile. How had no one noticed how much she hated this? How did the King and Queen not? Or did they just not care?

Despite the distance between them, she noticed him too. Their eyes met across the room again and again—when he passed by with a tray of wine, when she lingered near the edge of the dance floor. Each time, her gaze lingered a moment too long before she looked away. Yeonjun felt fear that someone would notice, someone who would think that there was more there than what led on. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t want to see her. By the time the night began to wane, Yeonjun was certain of one thing: the princess was just as out of place here as he was. 

As the night went on the small glances toward each other had become too much for Yeonjun to bear. The need for food and drink was starting to die down as the nobles became more intoxicated, sticking to their silly little dances and belly laughing conversations. He decided excusing himself to go outside for fresh air was the best thing for him. The cool night air was a welcome reprieve from the stifling ballroom. Yeonjun leaned against the stone balustrade of the castle balcony, the distant sound of music and laughter muffled by the heavy doors behind him. Above, the sky stretched endlessly, stars scattered like flecks of silver against the inky black. 

He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his dark hair. This was a mistake—coming here, taking this job. Seeing her. He knew even being near the castle would bring him trouble. He knew he hated royals for a reason. The door creaked open behind him, the soft rustle of fabric giving her away before she even spoke. Yeonjun closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose. He looked around at his surroundings. “Shouldn’t you be inside, Your Highness?” he said without turning around to look at her. 

“I could say the same about you,” she replied, her voice carrying that same mix of curiosity and defiance he remembered from the woods. Yeonjun turned, his arms crossed. She stood just a few feet away, the silver gown catching the faint light like moonbeams on water. Her pink hair spilled over her shoulders, and she looked more like a dream than a person. A dangerous dream. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he said flatly. “Someone might see us.” 

“I don’t care,” she said, stepping closer, teetering on a thin line close to danger. 

“Well, I do,” he shot back. “If anyone gets the wrong idea—” 

“Let them,” she interrupted. Her gaze was steady, unwavering. “I wanted to talk to you.” 

​​Yeonjun sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“There is,” she insisted. “I—I wanted to explain.”

“Explain what?” He gestured toward her, his voice dropping. “That you’re a princess and I’m just some cursed hunter? That we shouldn’t even be in the same room together?” Her eyes knit together at the word cursed, it had given Yeonjun a small sprinkling of foolish hope that she hadn’t heard about him, and what people whispered about him and his family. 

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t back down. “You’re angry.” Her cheeks flush from the cold. If it weren't for the circumstances Yeonjun would have thought it to be cute. 

“I’m not angry,” Yeonjun said sharply. “I’m realistic. You shouldn’t be here, and I definitely shouldn’t be here with you.” 

She stepped closer, her voice softening. “Why not? Because I’m a princess?” Her pink hair framing her face in the most delicate way. 

“Yes!” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “Because you’re a princess. And if anyone sees us out here, I’ll be the one paying for it, not you.” 

She hesitated, but only for a moment. “You’re right. I am a princess. And all night, I’ve had to smile and pretend that everything’s fine. That I’m perfectly happy dancing with men who don’t know a thing about me. But I saw you, and for a moment, I felt…” Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat. They were definitely inching towards a very dangerous game, one he didn't want to play. 

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Yeonjun interrupted, his voice low. He couldn't hear her say it. 

“Why?” She asked, crossing her arms. “Because you’ll be tempted to feel something too?” 

He scoffed, looking away. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Unable to look her in the eye. 

“Oh, I think I’m right,” she said, a spark of mischief lighting her eyes. She smiled, and for a moment, the tension in his chest tightened. 

“You don’t understand,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me. I don’t want…” He trailed off, his hands clenching into fists. 

“Don’t want what?” she pressed gently, not that she had to press much. Yeonjun would soon turn to a pile of mush for her if she needed him to.  

“I don’t want my head to end up on a stake,” he said bluntly, turning back to her. “All because you’re having some sort of quarter-life crisis.” 

Her mouth opened in surprise, then closed again as she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re infuriating,” she muttered. 

And you’re reckless,” he shot back. 

She tilted her head, studying him. “Is that why you keep looking at me? Because you think I’m reckless?” 

“I’m not interested in falling in love,” he said firmly, ignoring her question. 

The words seemed to land heavier than he intended. For the first time, her confidence faltered, her expression softening. “You’re lying,” she said quietly. The look on her face hurt Yeonjun more than he would like to admit. 

“Think whatever you want,” he said, stepping back toward the door. “But nothing good can come of this. Go inside, Your Highness. Your kingdom’s waiting.”

“What’s your name?” She asked with a whisper. “Please grant me that.” Her voice pleading was soft enough to melt his heart. 

“Choi Yeonjun, my name is Choi Yeonjun, and I'm sorry.” Before she could respond, he slipped back into the ballroom, leaving her standing alone on the balcony beneath the stars. 

The days following the ball were restless. You went through the motions of royal life—meals with your parents, lessons on etiquette, the endless parade of suitors vying for your hand. But none of it could hold your attention. You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Yeonjun. 

His name was an anchor, tethering you to something real in a world that felt increasingly false. Every glance exchanged at the ball, every word spoken in the woods, played on a loop in your mind. By the third night, you couldn’t take it anymore. You knew the risks, but the yearning to see him again was stronger than your fear. As the castle sank into sleep, you enlisted the help of your nursemaid, the one person who had ever shown you an ounce of warmth. 

“She’ll kill me for this,” she muttered, bundling you into a heavy cloak. “But I’ll not have you looking like a caged bird any longer. Be back before dawn, child.” With her help, you slipped past the guards, past the watchful eyes of the palace, and into the night. The forest was alive with the sounds of crickets and the rustle of leaves in the wind. It guided you, just as it had the night before, to the clearing where you had first seen him. The path there was more grueling than you remembered, probably due to the anticipation of seeing him again. 

There he was. Yeonjun stood in the moonlight, his bow drawn, the string taut as he aimed at a crude target pinned to a tree. He let the arrow fly, and it struck true, embedding itself with a satisfying thunk. You stepped forward, the forest floor damp beneath your boots. “Impressive as always.” 

He spun around, his hand already reaching for another arrow. But this time, he didn’t nock it. His shoulders stiffened as he recognized you, and his brow furrowed in frustration. “Princess,” he said sharply, his voice low but tinged with anger. “What are you doing here?” 

“I came to see you,” you said, as calmly as you could manage, the rapid beating of your heart against your ribcage a testament to what you actually felt. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Yeonjun hissed, stepping closer. His eyes were dark, and the tension in his frame reminded you of a coiled spring. “Do you have any idea what could happen if someone found out?” 

“I don’t care,” you replied, lifting your chin. “I had to come.” You could admit that you were being incredibly stubborn but you didn’t care. This was something you had to do. 

He shook his head, his jaw tight. “Go home, Your Highness. Now.” 

“No.” The single word hung in the air between you, and the silence stretched until it was broken by the first raindrop splashing onto the ground. The cold finally sets into your bones and sends a shiver up your spine. You wrapped your cloak closer around your body not letting the droplets of rain sway you. 

Yeonjun looked up at the sky, his expression darkening. “It’s going to pour. You need to leave.” 

“And leave a lady out in the rain? How very gallant of you,” you said, unable to resist the jab. You weren’t above a bit of manipulation. 

He muttered something under his breath before sighing deeply. “Fine. But only until the rain stops.” He turns without another word leading you down a small path. Your footsteps light as you follow closely behind him. The rain picked up in an instant pelting you in only the short walk to the cabin. 

The cabin looked cozy enough, nothing grand but you loved it. It felt intimate and new. You fought a small smile as you overlooked the dark wood, this is where Yeonjun lived. He opened the door without a word gesturing for you to go inside. 

The cabin was warm, the fire crackling in the fireplace as you stepped inside. Yeonjun shut the door behind you, his movements tense. He didn’t speak as he grabbed a blanket and thrust it toward you. “Dry off,” he said curtly. 

You took it, sitting down in the lone chair by the fire. The silence stretched between you, heavy and unspoken. “You’re angry,” you said finally. 

“Of course I’m angry,” he said, his tone clipped. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? If someone finds out—” 

“I’m careful,” you interrupted. “No one followed me. Kora made sure of that.” 

“That’s not the point,” he said, pacing now. “You don’t belong here, and I don’t belong in your world. Whatever this is—” He gestured between you. “It needs to stop.” 

“Why?” you asked, standing. “Because you’re scared?” Throwing the blanket he had given to you onto the chair. 

“I’m not scared,” he shot back. 

“Yes, you are,” you said, stepping closer. “You’re scared to feel something, scared to let someone in. But I see it, Yeonjun. You’re not as closed off as you pretend to be.” 

He froze, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t know me. 

“Then tell me,” you said, your voice softening. “Tell me about your life. Let me understand.” 

“You're making this difficult.” He said looking over at you, his eyes tired. His eyes caught the dark specs beautifully. Although only a few years older than you, you could tell he loved a much longer life. Had to endure things you've never even dreamed of, it aged him. 

“Why? Because I’m here?” You were not going to let this go. 

“Because you don’t belong here,” he snapped, finally meeting your gaze. “You have no idea what this world is like, what it costs.” 

You hesitated before speaking. “Then tell me. Show me what it’s like.” You pleaded again. 

His laugh was bitter, hollow. “What’s the point? You’ll go back to your castle and forget all about it.” 

“I won’t,” you said firmly. “I promise.” 

Yeonjun hesitated, the fight in him faltering as he sank onto the bench across from you. The firelight danced across his face. For a moment his vulnerability painted him as a young boy, one who suffered great loss. “My family,” he began, his voice quiet, “used to live in a village not far from here. My parents, my sister, and me. We didn’t have much, but we were happy. Then the fever came.” You didn’t dare interrupt, your chest tightening as you watched him. “They died within weeks of each other,” he said, staring into the flames. “One by one. And I… I couldn’t save them. Couldn’t do anything.” 

“Yeonjun,” you whispered, your heart aching for him.

“I’ve been on my own ever since,” he said, his voice hardening. “It’s better that way. No one else to lose. The fever hit many families but a lot of them survived. Mine did not. They call me cursed and…I started to believe I am.” 

You leaned forward, your hands gripping the edge of the chair. “But you had something beautiful once, something most people never get—a family that loved each other. I’d give anything to have had that.” He frowned, his gaze flickering to you. 

“My parents… they care about power, appearances,” you said bitterly. “I’ve never been more than a pawn to them. I used to dream of having a family like yours, people who loved me for me. Even if I lost them, at least I’d have had it for a little while.” 

Yeonjun’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t look away. “You still have a chance to love,” you said softly. “To let people in again.” 

He shook his head. “You don’t understand. Everyone I love… they die. It’s like I’m cursed.” You sat across from him, your hands folded tightly in your lap to keep them from trembling. You hadn’t anticipated how deeply his words would cut not because they hurt you, but because they made you ache for him. 

“You loved them,” you said softly, breaking the silence. 

He didn’t look at you, but his jaw tightened. “Of course I did.” 

“And they loved you,” you continued. “That’s why it hurts so much, isn’t it?”

His gaze flicked to you then, sharp and guarded. “What’s your point?” 

“That love isn’t a curse,Yeonjun,” you said, leaning forward. “It’s a gift. Even if it’s fleeting, even if it’s painful when it’s gone, it’s still worth having.” 

His laugh was bitter, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Easy for you to say. You’ve never lost everything.” 

You hesitated, your chest tightening. “You’re right. I haven’t. But I’ve never had what you had, either.” 

Your voice trembled. “I used to dream about having a family like yours. A mother who held me when I cried, a father who wasn’t so… cold. Even if it didn’t last forever, at least I would have known what it felt like to be truly loved.” You said again. Yeonjun’s expression softened, his eyes searching yours as though he was seeing you for the first time. 

“That’s why I came here,” you said. “Not just to get away from them, but because you made me feel something real. For once, I wasn’t just a princess. I was… me.” 

He looked away, his fingers running along the edge of his bow. “You shouldn’t have come back. You’re playing with fire, and you don’t even realize it.” 

“Maybe I do,” you said quietly. 

He shook his head. “This—whatever this is—it can’t happen. You and I are from different worlds. There’s nothing but heartbreak waiting down this road.” 

“I’m willing to take that chance,” you said, standing and crossing the room to him. And you were telling the truth. You had never truly felt love, so even if fleeting you’d kill to feel it just once. You didn't know what the future held for the two of you but you knew you were capable of loving Yeonjun, for however long the universe would allow it. 

He looked up at you, his dark eyes conflicted. “You shouldn’t be.” 

“Why not?” you challenged. “Because you’re afraid? Or because you think you’re not worth it?” 

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then, slowly, you reached out and rested your hand on his. His fingers tensed beneath yours, but he didn’t pull away. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest. 

“Yeonjun,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let someone in. Even if it’s just for a moment.”

He closed his eyes, his breath hitching. When he opened them again, the raw vulnerability in his gaze stole yours. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, his voice hoarse. 

“I know exactly what I’m asking,” you said, leaning closer. 

Your heart pounded as you searched his face, waiting, hoping. And then, slowly, he lifted a hand to your cheek, his fingers brushing against your skin. “I shouldn’t…” he murmured, but the words trailed off as his gaze dropped to your lips. 

“You should,” you whispered. And then he kissed you. 

It was tentative at first, a soft, testing press of his lips against yours. But the hesitation didn’t last long. The tension that had crackled between you from the moment you met ignited, and the kiss deepened, pulling you into its heat. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your head to deepen the connection. His other hand rested on your waist, steadying you as your knees threatened to buckle beneath the intensity of it. 

You felt everything in that kiss, his pain, his longing, his fear, and you poured your own emotions into it, trying to tell him without words that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to push you away. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths ragged. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, the sound of the rain outside mingling with the crackle of the fire. 

“This is a mistake,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. 

“Then let it be my mistake,” you said, your voice trembling. “But don’t push me away because you’re scared.” 

His eyes met yours, and for the first time, you saw the cracks in his armor, the pieces of himself he had tried so hard to keep hidden. He didn’t move away. If anything, Yeonjun seemed frozen, his fingers still tangled in your hair, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath your hand where it rested against his chest, matching the wild rhythm of your own.

Then, as if something inside him broke free, he pulled you closer. His lips found yours again, no longer tentative but fierce, like he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every buried feeling, into the kiss. You melted against him, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders, anchoring yourself as the world seemed to spin away. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened, heat building between you like the fire crackling in the fireplace. 

Every touch, every movement, felt like a revelation. The roughness of his fingers on your skin, the way he tilted his head to take the kiss deeper, the quiet, almost desperate sound he made when your hands slipped up to cradle his face—it was all overwhelming and intoxicating and completely consuming. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Yeonjun rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if he was trying to steady himself. His hand remained on your waist, his thumb brushing idly against the fabric of your cloak.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. 

“I think I do,” you whispered, your own voice shaky. A sense of unfamiliar excitement pooling in your belly. 

“You don’t understand what you’re getting into.” He breathed out. 

“Then explain it to me,” you said, your tone soft but insistent. 

He hesitated, his eyes flicking down to your lips again as though he couldn’t help himself. Instead of answering, he kissed you again. 

This time, it was slower, softer. It wasn’t born of desperation but something deeper, something quieter. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache, his hands cradling you like you were something fragile. You lost yourself in it, the world outside the cabin falling away. There was only Yeonjun. The taste of him, the warmth of his touch, the quiet strength in the way he held you. 

When he pulled back again, his lips barely brushing against yours, he rested his forehead against yours once more. “This can’t last,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Maybe it doesn’t have to,” you replied, your fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Maybe we just let it be what it is, for however long we have.” 

His eyes opened, and the vulnerability there was almost too much to bear. “You’re going to ruin me, princess,” he said softly.

“Then let me ruin you,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again. This time, he didn’t hesitate. The kiss was more hurried, rushed and sloppy. 

“I don’t know if I can hold myself back.” He spoke with a huff. 

“Don’t.” Was all you said as you toyed with the collar of his shirt. “Don’t hold back, I want this.” 

“Have you ever done..anything before?” The question left an embarrassing red tint to your cheeks. Of course you hadn’t. This had been your first kiss. 

“No.” Your voice a whisper as you hide your blush with your hair. 

“Are you sure you want this?” His voice was firm as he gripped your hips firmly in his hand, almost like he was grounding himself. As if it was taking everything in him to not pounce on you this very moment. 

“Please.” You spoke with a newfound desperation. “I’m sure.” 

His lips attached to your neck next. It was tender and soft. The delicacy he used only quickened the speed of your already rapidly beating heart. His hands found the sleeve of your dress before slowly bringing it down your shoulder and your arm. The light from the fireplace is a catalyst to your warmth. The light illuminated the two of you like starlight. His lips moved the expanse of your neck and met your collarbone in feather-like kisses. 

“You're beautiful.” He whispered, moving your hair back. 

“Can I take this off?” Your voice was hushed with a lit of intimidation hanging in the words. You gestured to his white shirt pawing at the buttons. 

“Of course.” His smile was warm, comforting. You made quick work of unbuttoning the buttons yanking his shirt off in one fail swoop. You took your time inspecting the contours of his chest and torso. In awe of his sheer beauty. He was young, toned, and beautiful. Your fingers delicately danced around his body taking mental pictures. 

“Like what you see?” He smirks at you, a tilt to his lips you found incredibly adorable. 

“Yes.” You said simply with a shrug, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Can I take this off?” His hands toy with the dress you wore. It wasn't a big puffy dress like you would wear on a normal day. It was flat and required no corset, no zipper. It simply slipped off. A surge of confidence rushed through you and you figured you'd take hold of it before it washed away. 

You pushed Yeonjun back against the plush couch. His back connected with the cushion behind him. His face lit up with an adorable surprise. “What are you-” 

“Shh” You smiled playfully. You rose from your seat now standing directly in front of him. You reached your hands to your sleeves pulling them down slowly. 

Yeonjun smiled, resting his hands behind his head before sending you a mock bow of approval. “Suit yourself, your highness.” 

“Shut up.” You giggle shyly pulling the rest of the dress down until the fabric meets the floor in a pile. 

“Absolutely beautiful.” He said with an unashamed look in his eye. You stood bare in front of him now, only panties and nothing else. No bra to hold in your breasts. You had never been so exposed. You reached down, riding yourself of the last of your clothing. 

You had never been naked in front of a man before. Oddly you weren't nervous with Yeonjun, you felt content, you felt reassured. 

“Come here.” Yeonjun’s voice was rough and almost hoarse, it was incredibly sexy. 

You sat before him, completely naked but full trusting. “I’m going to prep you first okay Princess?” 

You nodded dumbly as he carefully laid you down on the sofa falling to his knees in front of you. “Tell me if you want to stop at any point and I will. Am I clear?” You nodded again, finding it hard to muster up words when he was looking at you like that. 

“Use your words sweetheart.” 

“Yes.” The one word like a green light to Yeonjun. His mouth falling to be level with your core. You watched with keen fascination as his breath fanned the most intimate part of you. His tongue licked up one strip causing a gasp to leave your lips. Your hips lifting from the couch in surprise. His growl of disapproval sent shivers down your spine as his hands firmly pressed your hips back down onto the couch. 

His mouth reattached to your slit lapping and licking at the sensitive bud. “Oh-” You whined your mouth involuntarily curling into an ‘O’ shape. 

His eyes searched for yours wildly, a desire for approval in his gaze. “How’s that feel?” He asked coming up for a breath. 

“G-good.” You stuttered out. “More..” 

“Greedy are we Princess?” he quirked a thick brow at you. 

“Mhm..” You moaned unashamed of your clear desperation. His hand lifted ghosting over your entrance, his tongue back to lapping up your juices. 

“Have you ever touched yourself?” 

“W-what?” Your mind was in a daze as his thumb lazily circled your clit, his tongue still ghosting over your entrance. 

“Has this little princess ever touched herself?” His voice was rougher now, more demanding. 

“Y-yes.” You admitted shyly. “Sometimes” 

Yeonjun tsk’d slowly adding a finger into your awaiting entrance, taking it slower so as to not hurt you. 

“My god.” You whispered. 

“Dirty girl..” Yeonjun trailed off, reaching his free hand up to grab onto yours that was clutching the cushion of the couch in your hand. 

“More..” You whined, grinding yourself against Yeonjun’s hand, a desperate moan leaving your lips. 

“I think you're ready.” He pulled his finger out with ease. A hiss of pleasure leaving your lips. 

“Are you ready sweetheart?” His words were gentle as he quickly removed his pants and boxers. The sheer size of him catching you off guard and rendering you near speechless. 

“Words, princess.” His tone held authority, something that had your mind abuzz and your skin ablaze. 

“I’m ready” You panted. Yeonjun carefully crawled over you taking a second to look down at your body, his eyes traveling the expanse of you. “Beautiful.” He said for what seemed like the millionth time tonight. 

He lined his cock at your entrance running the angry red tip up and down your slit a few times, catching the pool of heat in its wake. “I’ll go slow.” 

You nodded desperately waiting for when he would finally be inside of you. 

He pushed in slowly the stretch of him burning like wildfire in your body, a jolt of pain flying up your spine. 

Your gasp rang free throughout the cabin. The sound of the fire crackling in the distance serves as a comfort to you. “Are you okay?” Yeonjun asks when he was finally fully seethed inside of you, unmoving. 

“Yes.” You breathed out. “Just hurts a little.” 

“I can wait to move.” He suggested but you shook your head at the need for him to move out weighing the pain. 

“No. Please move.” 

Yeonjun nodded, pulling his hips back from slowly pushing them back in. His breath hitched in his throat a sigh of content following. “Tight.” He grunted out. 

He continued to slowly push in and out of you with tender precision. Soon you found yourself craving more, faster, harder you needed to feel him completely. 

“Faster.” You whined out. “You can go faster.” 

“Yeah?” He hissed out “Whatever your highness wants.” 

A small smile graced your lips at his playful words. His hips pushed into you fasted the sound of your skin slapping ringing in the air around you. 

“Feels so good.” You moaned. Running your hands down your body, your fingers finding your clit, making small slow circles over the nub. 

“I’m almost there.” Yeonjun panted, his breath fanning over your face. 

“Me too” You whined, feeling your orgasm creeping up on you like a freight train. 

Yeonjun continued his brutal speed, your body moving in tandem with his, taking everything he gave you. Your heart pounding in your chest as you teetered on the edge. 

“I’m coming.” You squeaked out as your orgasm hit you. It blinded you, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. Yeonjun followed suit, his hips rutting into you before stilling. 

The both of you stood still, saying nothing only looking at each other. A bubble of a laugh creeping up in your throat and finally leaving your lips in an eruption. 

Yeonjun’s eyes widened as he watched you laugh, him still deep inside of you. 

“What are you laughing at?” He asked with a look of amused bewilderment. 

“I don't know.” You giggled out. “I’m happy.” 

Yeonjun smiled, a small semblance of smile falling from his lips. “Me too.” 

The rain had stopped by the time you stood at the door of his cabin, your cloak pulled tight around your shoulders. The world outside was silent, save for the occasional drip of water from the trees. Yeonjun stood in the doorway, his figure outlined by the soft glow of the firelight behind him. “You shouldn’t come back,” he said, his voice low and conflicted. Even after what you had just done he was still thinking of what could happen and not what was currently happening. 

You turned to face him, your heart heavy but determined. “You can’t tell me what to do.” 

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but the weight of the night kept it from reaching his eyes. You had done irreversible things. Things that could quite frankly get him killed.  “I mean it, princess. It’s too dangerous—for both of us.” 

“And yet you kissed me,” you said softly, stepping closer. “You fucked me.” You continued. 

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. “You’re impossible, you know that?” 

“I’ve heard it before.” You smiled with mischief. 

The faintest trace of a smirk crossed his face, but it faded quickly. “If you’re set on defying all reason, at least let me promise you something.” 

Your brows furrowed as you searched his face. “What?” 

“I’ll write to you,” he said, his voice steady. “I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way to get the letters to you. Just… so you know you’re not alone.” 

Your heart clenched at his words, the tenderness in his tone cutting through the sadness that had been building in your chest. “You’d do that?” 

“For you?” He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I would.” 

The weight of his promise settled between you, heavy and fragile all at once. You stepped closer, your hand reaching for his. His fingers closed around yours, calloused but warm, grounding you even as the moment felt like it might slip away. The thought of not knowing when you'll see him next wounded you. “I’ll wait for them,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

His gaze softened, and for a moment, you saw past the walls he had built around himself. “You’d better.” 

You smiled, a small, bittersweet thing, before tilting your head up to him. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before leaning down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was softer this time, slower, as though he was memorizing the feel of you. You poured everything into that kiss—the unspoken words, the hopes, the promises—and when it ended, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the cool night air.

“Go,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Before I change my mind.” 

You nodded, stepping back reluctantly, your hand slipping from his. As you turned and started down the path, you glanced over your shoulder to find him still standing in the doorway, his silhouette illuminated by the firelight. And though your heart ached, the promise of his letters gave you a small, stubborn flicker of hope. You’d see him again, you'd make sure of it. 

The morning light streamed through the small window of Yeonjun’s cabin, catching motes of dust that swirled lazily in the air. He sat at the rough-hewn table, a piece of parchment spread before him. His fingers tightened around the quill, ink blotching on the page as he wrestled with the words he needed to say. How did he write to a princess? Especially one who he kissed, one he made love to. One that looked at him like he wasn't a broken man, and made impossible promises feel real? 

Yeonjun groaned, running a hand through his unruly hair. He had spent the better part of the morning trying to figure out how he was supposed to get this letter to her without drawing attention. The thought of a royal guard intercepting it. Of the consequences for both of them—kept him frozen in indecision. A sharp knock at the door startled him, and he quickly folded the letter, tucking it under the edge of a book before standing. His hand instinctively went to the knife on his belt as he opened the door. 

There stood Kai, the paperboy, clutching his satchel and beaming up at him with wide, eager eyes. “Kai,” Yeonjun said, exhaling. “What do you want?” 

“Good morning to you too,” Kai said, undeterred. “I’ve been practicing with the stick bow I made, but it’s not the same as the real thing. You’re the best archer in the village—probably in the kingdom! Teach me.” 

“I told you before, I don’t have time for this,” Yeonjun said, stepping back and starting to close the door.

“Wait!” Kai stuck his foot in the doorway. “What if I do something for you? Like chores or hunting or—” 

Yeonjun stopped, the boy’s words sparking an idea. He narrowed his eyes at Kai. “You deliver papers to the castle, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Kai said, straightening proudly. “Every morning. They don’t let me in, though. Just to the servants’ entrance.” 

Yeonjun hesitated, glancing back toward the folded letter. “If I give you something—something important—could you deliver it discreetly to the princess? Without anyone else knowing?”

Kai blinked, his face scrunching in confusion. “The princess? Why would—” 

“Can you do it or not?” Yeonjun interrupted, his tone firm. 

Kai considered him for a moment, then grinned. “I can do it. But you have to promise to teach me archery.” 

“Fine,” Yeonjun said, grabbing the folded letter and handing it to Kai. “This stays in your satchel until you hand it to her.” 

Kai tucked the letter into his bag and gave Yeonjun a cheeky salute. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” Yeonjun watched the boy leave, his heart pounding. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. 

Kai trudged up the winding path to the castle’s servant entrance, whistling a tune as the satchel bumped against his hip. The gray stone walls loomed above him, casting long shadows in the morning sun. Despite his usual bravado, his stomach twisted with nerves. Delivering a letter to the princess was risky business, even for a street-savvy paperboy. When he reached the small, iron-banded door tucked away behind the stables, he knocked twice, then twice more, just like the man had told him. A moment later, the door creaked open, and a woman in a plain gray dress peered out. Her sharp eyes softened when she saw him. 

“You must be Kai,” the nursemaid said, her voice low but kind.

“That’s me,” he said, flashing her a grin. “I’ve got the letter.” 

He pulled it from his satchel, holding it up like it was a royal treasure—which, in a way, it was. The nursemaid took it carefully, glancing over her shoulder before tucking it into the folds of her apron. “You’re certain no one saw you?” 

“Course not,” Kai said, puffing out his chest. “I’m good at being sneaky.”

She smiled faintly. “Thank you. The princess will be grateful.” 

Kai tilted his head, curiosity lighting his face. “Why’s the princess getting letters from a huntsman, anyway?” 

The nursemaid’s expression grew stern. “That’s not for you to wonder. Just keep this quiet, understand?” 

“Understood,” Kai said, holding up his hands. The nursemaid nodded, slipping back inside. The door shut with a soft thud, leaving Kai alone with his thoughts. As he walked back toward the village, he couldn’t help but grin. Whatever was going on between the princess and the huntsman, it was far more exciting than delivering papers. 

The grand hall felt stifling, the air heavy with expectation. You sat at the long, polished table, your parents at either end like sentinels of your fate. The man they had brought to meet you sat across from you, his eyes scanning you like a merchant appraising goods. He was handsome in a sharp, cold way, his words polished but hollow. “This is Lord Kang Taehyun.” your father said, his voice booming with authority. “A man of great standing. He’s traveled far to meet you.” 

You forced a tight smile, your hands twisting in your lap beneath the table. “It’s a pleasure, my lord,” you said, your voice strained. 

Lord Taehyun inclined his head, his smile more a calculated gesture than genuine warmth. “The pleasure is mine, Your Highness. I’ve heard much of your beauty and grace, though I see now that words fail to capture the truth.” The flattery felt like acid on your skin. You glanced at your mother, hoping for some reprieve, but her expression was as composed and unreadable as ever.

“You will have much to discuss,” your father said, his tone dismissive. “Taehyun, perhaps you and the princess might take a walk in the gardens.” 

“No,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Your father’s gaze snapped to you, sharp and unyielding. “What did you say?” His words felt like tiny little prickles in your skin. 

You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the marble floor. “I said no. I don’t want to walk. I don’t want to… to discuss anything.” This new found confidence surprised not only your father but you as well. The tension in the room thickened, your mother’s eyes narrowing, your father’s face darkening with anger.

“Sit down,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. You knew he meant business but something in you wouldn't allow for what was about to take place to happen. You were going to fight like hell. 

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “You can’t make me do this.”

Your father rose to his feet, his hands slamming onto the table. “You will do as you’re told. This is not a request—it is your duty.”

“Duty?” you cried, your voice breaking. “Is that all I am to you? A pawn to be traded away?” The words hung in the air like a slap. Your father’s expression turned thunderous, but your mother spoke first, her voice cold and clipped. “That’s enough.” 

You turned on your heel, tears spilling over as you fled the hall, their voices chasing after you. Your feet carried you through the winding corridors of the castle, past servants who quickly looked away, until you reached the sanctuary of your room. Slamming the door shut, you sank to the floor, sobbing into your hands. It felt as though the walls were closing in, every word your parents had said pressing down on your chest. 

You had only tasted a small ounce of freedom but you would do everything in your power to not lose it. The night you spent with Yeonjun was the best night of your life. For the first time in your life you felt real. You had finally felt like someone, seen you as you and not just a pawn in a nobel game. 

You picked yourself up from the floor as the tears still cascaded down your face. Throwing yourself onto your bed letting your mind think of Yeonjun and Yeonjun only. 

The night was silent when the knock came at your window. You rushed to it, your heart leaping when you saw the familiar figure of your nursemaid, Kora She slipped inside, handing you a folded piece of parchment. “It’s from him,” she whispered, a small smile on her lips. He kept his promise. He wrote to you. Your heart soared a prickling of hope bubbling in your chest. With Yeonjun, the world felt just all the more bearable. This tiny piece of paper was a saving grace in the mess that was your life.

Your hands trembled as you took the letter, the sight of his handwriting calming the storm inside you. Once the nursemaid left, you lit a candle and unfolded the parchment, your eyes drinking in the words. 

“Princess,

I hope this finds you well, though I know life in the castle is anything but kind to you. I don’t know what I can offer with my words, but know that I’m thinking of you. I can’t seem to stop. I spent all day at the woods’ edge, wondering if you’d appear again, though I know it’s foolish.

Stay safe. Write back if you can. Just knowing you’re out there—somewhere—makes the world feel less empty. 

Yeonjun.” 

You clutched the letter to your chest, his words filling the cracks in your heart left by the day’s events. Taking a deep breath, you reached for your quill and parchment sitting on your bed eager to write back. 

“Yeonjun, 

Your letter was exactly what I needed tonight. The world here feels so cold, so confining. But your words... They warmed me. I wish I could tell you how much they mean to me, how much you mean to me. You call yourself foolish for waiting by the woods, but I find myself thinking about you just as often.

There are moments I wish I could escape all of this, if only to spend another night in the rain with you. You make me feel free, even when I’m trapped within these walls. I don’t know how long this will last, or what the future holds, but I promise I’ll keep writing as long as you’ll read my words.

Yours Always”

You folded the letter carefully, sealing it with trembling hands. The nursemaid would come again in the morning to deliver it, but for now, you tucked it under your pillow. As you blew out the candle and lay in the darkness, your thoughts drifted to Yeonjun. His voice, his touch, his promise. It was enough to keep the despair at bay, at least for tonight.

The days that followed were a blur of tension and despair. Your father’s booming voice echoed through the halls, issuing orders to increase security, though you didn’t know why. Guards were stationed at nearly every corridor, their cold eyes watching your every move. Even the gardens, once your brief sanctuary, felt like a cage.  

You suspected it was about control. The more you resisted their plans, the tighter they held the reins. Your father rarely spoke to you directly now, preferring to bark commands to your mother or the staff. Your mother, ever the strategist, would sit by your bedside at night, her hands clasped primly in her lap as she spoke of duty and legacy. Her words slid off you like rain on stone. But even in the midst of their suffocating demands, there was Yeonjun. 

His letters arrived like whispers of freedom, tucked beneath your pillow by your nursemaid each morning. The words were simple, but they carried a warmth that broke through the chill of the castle. You read them over and over, tracing the ink with your fingertips until the parchment softened. 

“Princess,

Every day feels longer than the last without you here. I thought I was a man who had learned to live without hope, but you’ve made me realize how much I’ve missed it. The woods are quiet now, but I hear your laugh in the wind and feel your presence in every shadow.

I don’t know how this will end, but I promise I will keep writing to you, as long as you’ll have me. You’re the first thing in a long time that has felt real.

Yeonjun”

His words were a balm to your raw emotions, and you clung to them like a lifeline. They were your secret rebellion, a quiet refusal to let your parents steal the one thing that gave you solace. You don’t know what you would do moving forward but you knew for certain that the thought of a life without Yeonjun became more and more painful, it was something you wouldn't allow to happen. Even if it killed you. So Each night, by the flickering light of a candle, you wrote back to him. 

“Yeonjun,

Your words are the only thing keeping me sane. I feel trapped here—my parents are relentless, the guards omnipresent. Even my own footsteps feel like they’re being watched. But when I read your letters, it’s like I’m back in the woods with you, standing in the rain. For a moment, I’m free again.

I don’t know how I’ll get through this, but knowing you’re out there, thinking of me... it’s enough to keep going. I hope you’ll write to me as often as you can. Your letters are my escape.

Yours always.”

The exchange continued for days. Each morning brought a new letter, and each night you penned your reply. The routine became your lifeline, a fragile thread tying you to something brighter, something more alive. The grueling dinners with your parents, the endless stream of suitors paraded before you—none of it mattered when you knew a letter was waiting under your pillow. Yeonjun’s words reminded you of what it felt like to be seen, truly seen, and not as a piece on your father’s chessboard. You closed your eyes, letting his words settle into your heart. The stars above seemed brighter somehow, as if he were reaching out to you through them.

Your mother always told you that love was not real. That you could never love someone more than you loved yourself but that was a lie. It makes you sad sometimes. When you thought of your mother. Was she once a girl like yourself staying up until the wee hours of the night daydreaming about the possibility of a real love, had she ever felt it? You weren't sure. 

Your fingers itched to write him back, to tell him how much he meant to you, how his letters were the only thing keeping you from breaking beneath the weight of your parents’ demands. But tonight, there were no words strong enough. Instead, you held his letter close and let the quiet night envelop you. For now, his letters were enough. And soon, you would find a way to see him again. 

The morning sun filtered through the trees as Yeonjun stood by the edge of the clearing, watching Kai fumble with the bowstring. The boy’s arms trembled under the tension, his grip clumsy as he tried to draw back the arrow. "Not like that," Yeonjun said, stepping forward. He placed a steadying hand on Kai’s shoulder and adjusted his stance, forcing the boy to straighten his back. "You’re holding it like it’s going to bite you. Relax." 

Kai exhaled sharply, his face scrunched in concentration. "This is harder than it looks." His blonde hair blowing in the wind that bristled through the clearing they occupied. 

He watched Kai try again. The boy managed to draw the string back this time, though it wobbled precariously before he loosed the arrow. It sailed a pathetic few feet before flying into the dirt. Kai groaned, slumping in frustration. "I’m never going to get this." 

"You will," Yeonjun said, his voice firmer now. "But not if you give up. Again." The boy looked at him, his brown eyes uncertain, but he nodded. He retrieved the arrow and tried again. And again. And again. 

The days that followed were filled with more of the same. Each morning, Kai would show up at Yeonjun’s door with that wide, determined grin, a bow slung over his back and a bundle of arrows that were too big for his quiver. Yeonjun taught him everything—how to adjust his grip, how to judge the wind, how to stay calm and focused even when the target seemed impossible. At first, Kai was frustratingly bad. His arrows veered wildly off course, his fingers blistered from the bowstring, and his skinny frame seemed ill-suited for the demands of archery. But the boy never gave up. Each time Yeonjun corrected him, Kai listened intently, his determination outmatching his skill. 

One morning, as they rested under a tree after hours of practice, Kai finally opened up. Completely unprovoked. There must have been a lot of things weighing on the boy's mind. "My family’s poor," he said, staring down at the bow in his lap. "My father makes paintings to sell, and my mother does her best, but it’s not enough. My older sister works at the tailor’s, and my little sister’s too young to help. I’m supposed to be the big brother of the house now, The one to look to when Father is at work, but..." He trailed off, his voice cracking. Yeonjun didn’t respond right away, letting the boy gather his thoughts.

"I don’t want to feel useless anymore," Kai continued, his voice quiet but steady. "If I can hunt—if I can bring home food or sell furs—maybe things will get better. Maybe my family won’t have to struggle so much." Yeonjun studied the boy for a long moment. He saw the desperation in Kai’s eyes, the same desperation that had once driven him to the woods all those years ago. He understood too well the weight of carrying a family’s survival on your shoulders, the feeling of always falling short.

"You’re not useless," Yeonjun said finally. His voice was quiet, but there was an edge of warmth in it. "You’re trying. That’s more than most people would do." Kai looked up at him, surprised. 

"And you’re getting better," Yeonjun added, his lips quirking into a small, rare smile. "You actually hit the target today. Granted, it was the edge, but it counts." Kai laughed, a sound that was bright and unguarded. For a moment, Yeonjun felt something he hadn’t in years—a faint, flickering sense of hope. He had seen a lot of himself in kai. He too was seventeen trying to make ends meet while also growing and learning. He reminded himself to give the boy some reprieve, he was doing what most people in this village were doing. Trying to make it. 

It was a week later when Yeonjun made the decision. They had finished another grueling day of practice, and Kai was leaning against a tree, his face flushed with exhaustion but glowing with pride. He had hit the bullseye twice that morning, a feat that had him grinning ear to ear. Yeonjun walked over to his small cabin and retrieved the bow that hung on the wall. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its gold accents catching the light like fire. He had carved it himself years ago, imbuing every stroke with a sense of purpose and pride. It was his favorite bow, his most prized possession. 

He walked back to Kai, who was packing up his own battered bow. Without a word, Yeonjun held out the golden bow to him. It was a present that he had cherished from his father. He had given it to him early in his life when Yeonjun took interest in archery, and now he was giving it to Kai. 

Kai stared at it, his eyes wide. "Is that...?" 

"It’s yours," Yeonjun said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He knew he was deserving, Kai was going to grow up to be an amazing huntsman, maybe even better then Yeonjun. Yeonjun was sure of it. 

The boy gaped at him, his hands hovering uncertainly over the bow. "But... this is your favorite. I can’t—" 

"You can," Yeonjun interrupted. "And you will. You’ve earned it." 

Kai’s hands trembled as he took the bow, his fingers tracing the smooth curves and intricate carvings. "I don’t know what to say," he whispered. 

"Say you’ll keep practicing," Yeonjun said, his voice softer now. "Say you’ll use it to help your family. That’s all I want." 

Kai nodded, his eyes shimmering with emotion. "I will. I promise." 

“Good.” Yeonjun smiled a hand on the boy's shoulder. “Now head home it's getting late.” 

The castle had become unbearable. Every corridor felt like a gauntlet, every shadow a trap. Guards patrolled relentlessly, their footsteps echoing like a drumbeat of oppression. Your father’s anger was a constant storm, and your mother’s calculated words were no less cutting. Everyday a battle for your freedom. Your father would not budge, his demands becoming more cold and less patient. The looming specter of the marriage broke you. The man they had chosen—a stranger from across the sea—was everything you feared. Another piece in their endless political game. You didn’t want to be a pawn, but they weren’t giving you a choice. That night, as the moon rose high above the castle, you made your decision to see Yeonjun again, no matter the beefy guards.

You slipped into the gown you had worn earlier, pulling your dark cloak tightly around you. With a deep breath, you tiptoed past the guards stationed outside your chamber. The halls seemed endless, the flicker of torches casting long, wavering shadows. Every creak of the floorboards felt deafening, every glance from a passing servant a threat. But somehow, you made it. Past the gates, past the patrols, and into the forest that had become your sanctuary. 

The knock on his door was hesitant at first, your courage wavering as you stood in the cool night air. The woods were quiet, save for the faint rustle of leaves in the wind. You wondered if he would even answer, if he was still awake. But then the door creaked open, and there he was. 

Yeonjun stood in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to concern the moment he saw you, calling your name in confusion. You were the last person he expected to see tonight. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. The weight of the past days pressed down on you, and before you could stop yourself, tears spilled down your cheeks. 

His brows knit together, and he stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. "What’s wrong?" You stepped inside, the warmth of his cabin wrapping around you like a blanket. It smelled of wood and the faint, earthy scent of leather. He closed the door behind you, his gaze never leaving your face. 

"They’re marrying me off," you finally managed, your voice trembling. "To a man I’ve never met. A man I don’t want." 

Yeonjun’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "When?"

"I don’t know," you whispered, sinking onto the edge of the small cot in the corner. "Soon. My father is furious. My mother says it’s for the good of the kingdom. But I..." You shook your head, burying your face in your hands. The weight of what your parents were doing finally settled in. A moment later, you felt the bed shift as he sat beside you. His presence was solid, grounding, and when his hand hesitantly rested on your back, it was as if a dam broke inside you.

"I can’t do it," you said, your voice muffled. "I can’t live like this. I don’t want to be a pawn in their games. I just... I just want to be free." 

Yeonjun was silent for a long moment, his hand tracing soothing circles on your back. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady. "We’ll figure it out. I don’t know how yet, but we will." 

You looked up at him, your tear-streaked face meeting his determined gaze. "How can you say that? You don’t even know what they’re capable of." 

"I don’t have to know," he said, his tone firm. "I know you. And I know you’re stronger than you think." 

His words were like a spark in the darkness, a flicker of hope that refused to be snuffed out. You searched his face, finding no hesitation, no doubt. Just him—solid, unyielding, and somehow, impossibly, yours. A beautiful man, who had cared for you. Who has seen more of you than anyone before. A man you were falling for, and hard. Before you could think better of it, you leaned forward, your hands gripping the front of his shirt. His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. 

"Tell me you mean it," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me this isn’t just a dream." You didn’t care if you sounded silly and childish. This was the equivalent to whispering pinch me i’m dreaming but it didn't matter, you needed to hear it. 

His hands came up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that clung to your skin. "It’s real," he murmured. "I promise you, it’s real." And then his lips were on yours. 

His hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer as your fingers tangled in his hair. The world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours. The kiss was sweet but heated like you were catching up on lost time. You had missed his touch only feeling the ghost of him in his letters. 

His arms tightened around you, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, a language only the two of you could understand. "You should go back," he said eventually, though his arms didn’t loosen their hold.

"I don’t want to," you whispered. 

His lips brushed your temple in the lightest of touches. "I’ll find a way to see you again. I promise."

And somehow, you believed him. There was no way you’d be marrying a man you didn't love, not a single chance. 

The castle was quiet when you slipped back through the hidden servant’s entrance. Your heart pounded with every step, the weight of the evening still clinging to you like a second skin. The cool stone walls of the passage pressed in, amplifying the sound of your footsteps.When you turned the corner into your room, your nursemaid, Kora, was waiting. Her arms were crossed, and her lips were set in a thin line, but her eyes betrayed her worry more than her anger ever could. 

"You’re lucky the patrols didn’t catch you," she said, her voice low but sharp. You had seen her angry before and this was not one of those times, she looked more worried than anything and strangely it made you feel warm. 

You closed the door softly behind you and let out a shaky breath. "I needed to go."

Her expression softened at the sound of your voice, her stern demeanor melting into concern. "Child, what are you doing to yourself?" You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you pulled off your cloak and sank onto the edge of your bed, your fingers clutching the fabric tightly. The weight of her gaze made it impossible to avoid the question, so you finally looked up. 

"I love him," you admitted, the words trembling as they left your lips.

Your nursemaid’s eyes widened slightly, and she let out a soft sigh as she sat beside you. She reached for your hand, her grip warm and steady. "You’ve always had such a stubborn heart," she said, a faint smile playing at her lips. 

"I can’t help it," you said, your voice breaking. "I don’t want this life anymore. I don’t want the titles, the suitors, the ballrooms. I just want... I just want to be free. With him." Tears welled in your eyes again, and before you could stop yourself, they spilled over. "I can’t do this, not without him. I want to run away, leave it all behind."

Your nursemaid pulled you into her arms, holding you close as your tears soaked into her shoulder. She smelled of lavender and the faint, comforting scent of home. "I understand," she murmured, her voice gentle. "But you must be careful, my love. The world isn’t kind to people like us who dream beyond our station." You had never really felt a mother’s love before, not in the way you had longed for. The closest you ever gotten was with Kora. Not only was she your nursemaid but your mother figure. She was nurturing, caring, compassionate like a mother should be. But she was also stern and would tell you exactly what you needed to hear, even if you didn't want to hear it. You had loved her like a mother. 

You pulled back slightly, your face still damp with tears. "You’ve always been there for me," you said, your voice trembling. "When my own mother didn’t care—when she looked at me like I was just another duty to fulfill—you loved me. You raised me. You’ve been the only real mother I’ve ever known." 

Her own eyes glistened now, and she cupped your face in her hands. "You’ve been my joy since the day you were born. I wanted to shield you from all of this. If I could give you the freedom you want, I would. You deserve to be happy, my dear. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you." The words had felt like another crack in the crippling foundation of your heart. Soon you would overflow then explode with the constant raging emotions inside of you and you were sure when that happened Kora would be right there, helping you every step of the way no matter what decision you decided to make. Admitting to her out loud that you had loved Yeonjun changed something inside of you. 

"I don’t know what I’d do without you," you said, your voice cracking. 

She kissed your forehead, her touch light and filled with affection. "You’ll always have me. But promise me you’ll be careful. If you love him as much as you say, don’t let that love make you reckless. It’s a dangerous world, and I won’t see you hurt."

You nodded, a fresh wave of tears streaming down your face. "I promise." 

The two of you sat there for a long while, her arms wrapped around you like a shield against the storm outside. For the first time in days, you felt a glimmer of peace. Moments like this had made you mourn a relationship you never had with your own mother. 

"I love you," you whispered. 

"And I love you," she replied, her voice soft and steady. "More than you’ll ever know." 

​​You fell asleep that night with her words echoing in your mind, the warmth of her embrace still lingering into the morning when you awoke again and she was gone, a blanket thrown over your body like a last single trace of her. 

The morning sunlight filtered through the trees as Yeonjun stood in the clearing behind his cabin, his bow slung across his back. Kai was already there, eagerly stringing the bow Yeonjun had given him. His tongue poked out in concentration, and the boy’s scrawny arms strained slightly as he drew it back. "Focus on your breath," Yeonjun instructed, leaning against a tree. "Pull smoothly, don’t yank it. Let the bow do the work."

Kai nodded, exhaling slowly before releasing the arrow. It sailed through the air, wobbling slightly before it struck the edge of the target. Not dead center, but better than it had been just days ago. "Yes!" Kai exclaimed, pumping his fist. 

Yeonjun couldn’t help but smile. "Not bad. You might not be completely hopeless after all." 

Kai grinned, his face lighting up with pride. It was very.. Boyish almost. It reminded Yeonjun so much of who he used to be. He reached for another arrow, his excitement infectious. As he prepared to shoot again, he glanced over at Yeonjun. "You know, my parents were really proud of me last night."

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What’d you do to deserve that?"

"I caught my first rabbit," Kai said, his voice swelling with pride. "With this bow. My parents sold it at the market, and we made enough money to buy bread and meat for the week. My sisters were so happy. My mom even cried." 

Yeonjun’s chest tightened at the boy’s words, a strange mix of pride and longing settling there. "Good work, Kai. You earned that." He had the most perfect prodigy of himself. Someone he knew had the potential to be a great hunter and an even better archer than Yeonjun had ever been. 

Kai beamed, his cheeks flushing slightly. "It’s because you taught me. If it weren’t for you—"

"Stop," Yeonjun interrupted, though his tone was gentle. "You put in the effort. I just showed you how." 

Kai hesitated, then said softly, "I just wanted to say thank you. For the bow, for the lessons... for everything." Looking down at the ground to hide his reddened cheeks, kicking at the dirt beneath his feet almost bashfully. 

Yeonjun looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don’t get all sentimental on me. You’ll ruin my reputation." He said with a laugh. The joke hanging in the air between the two of them. 

Kai laughed, but his expression quickly turned serious. "You’re not as mean as everyone says, you know. You’re actually... really kind."

Yeonjun snorted. "Don’t spread that around. I’ve worked hard to keep people away, and I’d rather not ruin a good thing."

"But why?" Kai asked, tilting his head. "You’re not scary. You’re..." He trailed off, searching for the right words. 

"Cursed?" Yeonjun offered dryly.

Kai shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Maybe." Yeonjun smiled at his Joke, something he found himself doing a lot more lately. 

His turned serious sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "You remind me of myself when I was your age. Scrawny, stubborn, trying too hard to prove something to the world." 

Kai titled his head “That wasn't too long ago, you're not that much older than me you know?” 

“Yeah, I know.” Yeonjun sighed out, “You Still remind me of my younger self. I’m a lot more grown up than my age suggests. I’ve had to grow up early.” 

Kai’s eyes widened. "Really?" His innocence warmed Yeonjun’s heart. 

"Yeah," Yeonjun said, a distant look in his eyes. "Only difference is, you’ve got a family who loves you. Don’t take that for granted, Kai. Not everyone’s that lucky."

Kai frowned, sensing the weight behind Yeonjun’s words. "What about your family?"

Yeonjun hesitated, then shook his head. "Not something you need to worry about, kid. Let’s just say... it didn’t turn out the way I wanted."

“I know they died..” Kai said, surprising Yeonjun. “I’m sorry. I can be your family now.” 

“I appreciate that.” Yeonjun’s voice was low, soft. Like he was savoring the moment but not wanting to look vulnerable. “You’re a good kid, Kai. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise."

Kai nodded slowly, his youthful energy appearing once more. "I won’t let my family down. I’ll keep practicing, and I’ll take care of them." 

Kai grinned, his spirit returning as he straightened his bow. Yeonjun reached into his coat and pulled out a folded letter. "Here," he said, handing it to Kai. "Same deal as last time. Get this to the nursemaid, and make sure it reaches her. No one else." 

Kai took the letter with a solemn nod, tucking it carefully into his satchel. "I won’t mess up. You can count on me."

"I know I can," Yeonjun said softly. "You’re tougher than you look."

Kai flashed a determined smile and slung his bow over his shoulder. As he turned to leave, he paused, glancing back at Yeonjun. "You know," Kai said, his voice tentative, "you’re kind of like the big brother I always wanted." 

Yeonjun froze, the words catching him off guard. He swallowed hard, his voice rough as he replied, "And you’re like the little brother I never asked for." Kai laughed, waving as he disappeared into the woods. Yeonjun watched him go, a strange warmth settling in his chest. 

The wind howled outside Yeonjun’s cabin, rattling the wooden shutters as he sat at his small, worn table. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. He ran his fingers over the letter he’d received from Kai earlier, the princess’s words already memorized but still giving him solace. He was about to turn in for the night when a sharp knock echoed through the cabin. Yeonjun frowned. Kai was long gone, and he wasn’t expecting anyone else. 

He opened the door cautiously, but no one was there. Instead, an envelope lay on the ground, the seal glinting faintly in the moonlight. Yeonjun bent down to pick it up, his pulse quickening.

He stepped back inside, closing the door behind him as he examined the envelope. The weight of it felt different from her usual letters. The paper was finer, the edges gilded with gold. For a moment, he thought Kai had brought it late, maybe as part of some grand gesture. But when he broke the seal and unfolded the paper, his stomach dropped. it wasn’t her handwriting. The words danced mockingly across the page, each one sinking like a stone in his chest. 

“You are cordially invited to a masquerade ball at the royal palace to celebrate the forthcoming marriage of  The Princess to Lord Kang Taehyun.” 

His grip on the paper tightened, the edges crumpling beneath his fingers. He read it again, hoping he’d misunderstood, but the meaning was clear. 

Her marriage announcement. 

The room felt suddenly stifling, the walls closing in as his heart pounded against his ribs. He stared at the invitation, anger and confusion warring within him. She hadn’t mentioned this in her letters. Not once. He knew they were trying to force her into a marriage but not that they were going through with one. 

"Why didn’t she tell me?" he muttered to himself, his voice harsh in the quiet cabin. 

Yeonjun paced the room, the invitation clutched tightly in his hand. Every instinct screamed at him to stay away, to keep his head down and let this royal mess unfold without him. But the thought of her standing in that grand ballroom, her eyes filled with sorrow, surrounded by strangers, was unbearable. He sank into his chair, his head in his hands. The memory of her tear-streaked face from the night she’d come to his door haunted him. The way she’d clung to him, her voice trembling as she confessed her fears. 

"I have to see her," he said aloud, the resolve hardening in his chest. His eyes fell back to the invitation. A masquerade. If there was ever a way for him to slip into the palace unnoticed, this was it. 

But what then? What could he possibly say or do to change the course of her life? With a heavy sigh, Yeonjun placed the crumpled invitation on the table and leaned back in his chair. The fire crackled softly, the warmth doing little to ease the chill that had settled in his chest. Tomorrow, he would decide what to do. But tonight, he let the weight of the truth settle over him, the words on the page a stark reminder of just how precarious their love truly was. 

The night of the ball had finally arrived. Yeonjun sat in the quiet of his cabin, the fire in the hearth reduced to glowing embers. His packed bundle rested on the table ​. Everything felt heavier tonight—the air, his thoughts, the weight of what he was about to do. He’d spent the day going over his plan, but now, as the moment drew closer, his mind turned to the boy who’d become a surprising presence in his life: Kai. He’d spent the day going over his plan, trying to get his affairs in order. Earlier, he’d gone to look for Kai. The boy was usually eager, always hovering around his cabin or running errands in the village. But today, Yeonjun had called for him several times, even gone to the square to see if he was there, but there’d been no sign of him. 

“Probably busy with his family,” Yeonjun muttered to himself, trying to shake off the unease that crept in. He thought of Kai’s bright grin the last time they’d spoken, the pride in his voice as he told Yeonjun about finally catching his first game. The memory pulled at his heart. He’d wanted to talk to the boy, to tell him everything, to hand over the cabin, the bow, and all the tools of his trade. But with no time to waste and no sign of Kai, Yeonjun had to make peace with leaving it all behind without explanation. 

"I’ll leave it all to him," Yeonjun murmured, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire. "The cabin, the bow, everything." It wasn’t much, but it was all he had. And Kai deserved a chance—a real chance—to make something of himself. He thought back to the day he’d handed Kai the golden bow, the way the boy’s eyes had widened with reverence. That same boy had caught his first animal just days ago and had been beaming with pride when he told Yeonjun about his family’s gratitude. 

“They’ll need this more than I will,” Yeonjun muttered. “Kai will understand.” He sat at the small table, a scrap of paper and a stub of charcoal in hand. The words didn’t come easily, each one feeling like a goodbye he wasn’t ready to say. But by the time the fire had burned down to its last embers, the note was finished, folded neatly and left on the table. Yeonjun stood, shouldering his pack. His gaze swept the small cabin, taking in the worn wood, the faint scent of smoke, the memories etched into every corner. 

"This is the right thing," he said softly, though the ache in his chest made him doubt. As he stepped outside, the cold night air bit at his skin, and the quiet of the woods enveloped him. He turned once to look back at the cabin, the soft glow from the window casting a faint light into the night. “Kai will be fine,” he whispered, as if convincing himself. “He’s stronger than he thinks.” And with that, Yeonjun made his way toward the palace. The plan was set, and his resolve was firm. Tonight, he would find her, and together they would leave this world behind.

The masquerade ball was in full swing, a sea of gilded masks, shimmering gowns, and laughter that echoed through the grand halls of the castle. Yeonjun, hidden in plain sight among the servants, carried a tray of fine goblets filled with wine. The facade of calm he wore barely concealed the storm brewing inside him. He’d caught sight of her several times already, dressed in a gown of deep emerald green that hugged her frame and glimmered under the chandeliers. The mask she wore couldn’t hide her identity from him, not when her pink hair peeked through in soft waves. But it wasn’t just her beauty that consumed his attention—it was the man beside her. 

Kang Taehyun. 

The one she was supposed to marry. 

Yeonjun clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the tray. The man was broad-shouldered, and carried himself with an air of entitlement that grated on Yeonjun’s nerves. He stayed close to her, far too close, speaking in a low voice that made her frown, though she masked it quickly for the sake of appearances. It made Yeonjun’s blood boil. 

This was why he was here, why he’d come despite the risks. He couldn’t stand idly by while they paraded her around as if she were a prize to be won. Moving through the crowd, Yeonjun kept his head low, blending in with the other servants. He waited for the right moment—when her parents’ eyes were elsewhere, when the suitor was distracted by a gaggle of nobles seeking his attention. Pathetic. And he thought he was worthy of her? 

When it came, Yeonjun didn’t hesitate. He set his tray down and approached her from the side, careful not to draw attention. As he passed, his fingers brushed hers ever so lightly, and he slipped a small folded note into her hand. She flinched at the touch but quickly covered her reaction, slipping the note into the folds of her gown without looking. Yeonjun didn’t wait for acknowledgment. He melted back into the crowd, his heart pounding.

The note in your hand felt heavier than it should, the words scrawled in familiar handwriting still burning in your mind. "The garden. Now." 

Your heart thudded against your ribs as you scanned the ballroom. The glittering chandeliers and elegant guests seemed to blur together, a hazy backdrop to the storm of emotions churning inside you. You’d recognized him instantly, despite the servant’s uniform and the simple black mask concealing part of his face. Why was he here? What was he thinking? You spotted Taehyun across the room, deep in conversation with your father, his smooth laugh carrying over the hum of the crowd. Your mother stood nearby, her sharp eyes scanning the ball for potential allies, rivals, and threats. The guards stationed at the doors kept their watchful gazes moving, their vigilance a constant reminder of your gilded cage.

Slipping the note into the folds of your gown, you waited for the right moment. When your mother turned to speak with a duchess, and your suitor became engrossed in a conversation about trade routes, you slipped quietly toward the side door leading to the garden. The cool night air hit your skin like a balm, the oppressive heat and noise of the ballroom fading with each step. You moved quickly, your gown brushing against the gravel path as you made your way through the moonlit garden. And then you saw him. 

Yeonjun stood near a stone bench, his figure half-hidden by the shadows of the trees. His head turned at the sound of your approach, and even in the dim light, you saw the tension in his expression melt into something softer. "You’re here," he said, his voice low and rough. 

"You told me to come," you replied, your heart racing. "What are you doing here? If anyone sees us—" 

"I don’t care," he interrupted, stepping toward you, his eyes blazing. "I couldn’t stand watching you with him." 

You froze, his words hitting you like a jolt. "Yeonjun, you can’t just—" You couldn't risk someone seeing you. No matter how badly you just wanted to run into his arms and never let go, this could turn dangerous and fast. 

"I had to," he cut in, his voice fierce. "You’re going to marry him, aren’t you? That’s what this whole masquerade is for. To announce it to the world." 

His words stung because they were true, but you didn’t have a choice. "It’s not what I want," you said quietly, your voice trembling. "But I don’t get to decide." 

"There’s always a choice," he said, his tone sharp, almost desperate. "You don’t have to do this. We can leave tonight—just say the word, and we’ll be gone." You stared at him, the weight of his offer pressing down on you. His intensity, his recklessness—it should have frightened you, but instead, it made you ache. Leaving was all you could ever think about. Leaving the prison you grew up in finally with the man you loved would be everything you had dreamed of. 

"Leave?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. "And go where? They’d find us. They always do." 

"Let them," he said, his voice softening as he stepped closer. "Let them try. I won’t let them take you from me." 

His words broke something inside you, the carefully constructed walls you’d built to endure this life. You looked up at him, tears stinging your eyes. "Yeonjun, this is madness." And it was, but word by word he was convincing you. 

"Maybe it is," he said, his gaze locking with yours. "But I can’t lose you. Not to him. Not to anyone." 

The night seemed to still, the world shrinking until it was just the two of you. Slowly, you reached up and removed your mask, the cool air brushing against your tear-streaked cheeks. "I don’t want to lose you either," you whispered, the truth spilling out before you could stop it. He closed the distance between you in a single step, his hands cradling your face as his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it quickly deepened, years of longing and frustration pouring into it. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, and you clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you upright. 

When you finally broke apart, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathless. His fingers brushed your cheek, his touch achingly gentle. "What do we do now?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and hope. 

“We go.” he said, his voice steady and sure. "Together." 

“Now?” You asked, your voice unsteady and unsure. 

“We have to,” he nodded, his tone urgent, almost frantic. His hand was firm around yours as he began to lead you deeper into the garden, away from the prying eyes of the guards and the glittering lights of the ball. “It’s now or never, Princess.” You hesitated at his words, glancing back toward the castle, its grand silhouette looming like a watchful predator. But the pull of his hand—and the fierce determination in his eyes—spurred you forward. The garden paths twisted and turned, the soft crunch of gravel beneath your hurried steps the only sound in the quiet night. The cool air bit at your cheeks, and your gown tangled around your legs, but you didn’t stop. He didn’t stop. 

“We’ll make it,” Yeonjun muttered, half to himself, half to you. “Once we’re past the outer gates, they won’t be able to follow us. Not tonight.” Your heart thundered in your chest, not just from the exertion but from the enormity of what you were doing. Running. Escaping. Leaving everything behind. Ahead, the garden’s stone archway came into view, the dense forest beyond it a promise of freedom. But as you reached it, something sharp and cold slithered down your spine—a sense of foreboding you couldn’t shake. 

“Yeonjun, wait,” you whispered, pulling on his hand. 

“What is it?” he asked, glancing back at you, his brow furrowed. 

Before you could answer, there was a faint rustling behind you. Then, a muffled cry—a sound so brief and so quiet you weren’t sure you’d heard it at all. 

A hand wrapped around your mouth muffled your screams of protest, throwing you backwards and away from the view of Yeonjun. The last thing before going dark was Yeonjun’s slumped body against the wall and the face of your father looming over the balcony…grinning. 

Yeonjun’s eyes fluttered open, and the world around him spun in dizzying circles. The pounding in his head was the first thing he felt—a sharp, blinding pain that seemed to come from deep within his skull. He was lying on cold stone, his body twisted in uncomfortable angles, the rough texture of the floor scraping against his skin. His wrists were shackled behind him, and he could feel the weight of the iron biting into his flesh, a constant reminder of his captivity. The air was damp, heavy with the smell of mildew, and the faint dripping of water echoed in the darkness.

"Awake at last," a gruff voice sneered from somewhere above him.

Yeonjun tried to lift his head, but the effort sent another wave of pain through his skull, making his vision blur. He blinked, trying to focus, and found himself staring up at two guards, their faces shadowed by the dim light of a single torch mounted on the stone wall. "Where am I?" he rasped, his throat dry and cracked. 

"The king’s dungeon," one of the guards answered, stepping forward with an air of superiority. "You should feel honored. Not many get to see it." Yeonjun tried to push himself up, but a sharp kick to his ribs sent him crashing back to the floor. He gasped, struggling to catch his breath as the pain radiated through his body. His fingers curled around the cold stone beneath him, grounding himself as he tried to regain control. 

“Why were you sneaking around with the princess?” the second guard asked, his voice low and threatening. “What were you planning?” 

Yeonjun didn’t answer. His lips were sealed, his mind racing. He wasn’t going to give them anything. The first guard knelt down, bringing his face close to Yeonjun’s. “Don’t play dumb with us,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “We know about the little messages you sent. Through that boy.” 

Yeonjun’s heart skipped a beat. His mind raced. Kai. They had taken him. His body ran cold, a shiver shooting up his spine. “What did you do to him?” Yeonjun demanded, his voice hoarse but filled with venom.

The first guard chuckled darkly, pulling something from behind his back and tossing it onto the floor in front of Yeonjun. It clattered against the stone with a sickening sound, and Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat when he saw it.

A bloodstained arrow. 

The arrow that had once been his, now soaked in the blood of the one person who had truly believed in him. A boy, not much younger than him but so full of life. Only wishing to make his family proud. Dead..because of him. 

"Recognize this?" the guard taunted, his grin widening. “Your little messenger screamed your name the whole time. Begged us to let him go. Begged for you to save him.” 

Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat, his vision swimming as the truth hit him like a blow to the gut. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. No. no. no. Kai. 

“No,” he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips. Almost like a plea to any god that would hear him. Any god with mercy. 

“Oh, yes,” the second guard said, leaning in with a malicious smile. “And the old woman? The nursemaid? She put up quite the fight. But don’t worry. She didn’t last long either.” The words sliced through Yeonjun like a blade, and for a moment, everything in him went cold. 

"You bastards!" he shouted, his voice breaking with fury as he surged forward, only to be stopped by the chains holding him in place. He rattled them with all his strength, the metal digging into his wrists, but he couldn’t escape. The guards laughed at his struggles, their cruel amusement echoing off the stone walls of the dungeon. 

“You brought this on yourself,” one of them said, standing to leave. “All of this—on you. On them.” The sound of their boots faded as they retreated down the hallway, their laughter still ringing in his ears. Yeonjun was left in the suffocating silence of the dungeon, his heart heavy with grief and guilt. His body trembled as he slowly sank back onto the cold floor, the bloody arrow still lying in front of him—a symbol of everything he had lost.

Kai. Kai was dead. They had taken him, tortured him, dumped him god knows where. His family, oh god his family. Yeonjun couldn't take it. The curse, he knew it was real and for the first time since the death of his family he had felt it tenfold, piercing him like his very own arrows. They were the archer and himself the prey, left in agony to be eaten by the wolves of the kingdom. How dare they?

Kai was innocent. He was pure. He was good. All things Yeonjun was not. And Kora, Kora had only had nothing but love for the princess. She nurtured her and raised her. She did more than the queen could ever do, gone. Because of him. He closed his eyes, the weight of it all crashing down on him. His chest ached with the unbearable loss, and for the first time in years, tears welled up in his eyes. But there was no one left to comfort him. 

A sharp kick to Yeonjun’s stomach jolted him awake, the breath ripped from his lungs as pain shot through his body. He doubled over instinctively, coughing and gasping for air, but the guards were relentless. Rough hands grabbed him by the arms, dragging him to his feet. His legs felt weak beneath him, his head pounding from the lingering ache of his earlier beating.“Get moving,” one of the guards barked, shoving him forward. 

Yeonjun stumbled, the chains on his wrists clinking with every step as they led him out of the dim dungeon. The harsh light of the corridor burned his eyes, but he kept his head down, biting back the groan of pain that threatened to escape. As they marched him up a winding staircase, the familiar sounds of the grand hall grew louder—the murmurs of people, the echo of heavy boots on marble, the crackling of torches. Yeonjun’s heart sank. He didn’t have to guess where they were taking him.When they shoved him into the throne room, the sight that met him was worse than anything he could have imagined. 

The king sat on his golden throne, his expression smug and triumphant. The queen was beside him, her cold gaze fixed on Yeonjun as if he were nothing more than filth beneath her feet. And there, standing just to the side, was the princess. Her face was pale, her eyes red and swollen as though she’d been crying for hours. The moment she saw him, her hands flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp. 

“Ah, the infamous hunter,” The king said, his booming voice dripping with mockery. “I must say, I didn’t expect such a... lowly creature to have the nerve to court my daughter.” Yeonjun said nothing, his jaw tightening as he stared at the marble floor. 

The king rose from his throne, descending the steps slowly, savoring every moment of Yeonjun’s humiliation. “What? Nothing to say? No impassioned defense of your love? No heroic declaration of your intentions?” Still, Yeonjun remained silent. 

The king laughed, a cold and hollow sound that echoed through the chamber. “You see, princess?” he said, turning to his daughter. “This is the man you chose. A coward who can’t even speak for himself.” 

“Stop this!” the princess cried, stepping forward. Tears streamed down her face, her voice cracking as she pleaded. “Please, father, stop this! He hasn’t done anything wrong!”

“Silence!” the queen snapped, her tone sharp and unforgiving. “You will not disgrace this family further by defending him.” 

“But-” 

“I said, silence!” The king roared, and the princess flinched, her shoulders trembling as she bit back a sob. 

The king turned back to Yeonjun, his smirk returning. “Your little messenger is dead, you know,” he said, his tone almost casual. “And the nursemaid. Both gone, thanks to you. All because you thought you could play hero.”

Yeonjun’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing with fury. His heart twisting in his chest. 

The king gestured to one of the guards, who held up the bloodstained arrow as a grim trophy. “The boy cried for you, you know. Right up until the end.” Yeonjun’s chest heaved, rage and sorrow clawing at his insides, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of a response.

The king’s smirk deepened. “No clever retort? No fiery protest? Very well.” He raised his voice, addressing the room. “Choi Yeonjun, the hunter, is hereby sentenced to death for his treasonous actions and his insolence against the crown.” 

“No!” The princess’s scream pierced the air, raw and desperate. She ran forward, throwing herself in front of Yeonjun. “You can’t do this! Please, father, I beg you!”

The queen rose from her throne, her expression cold. “Move aside, child. This is what must be done.” 

“No! I won’t let you!” She turned to Yeonjun, her tear-filled eyes locking onto his. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “This is all my fault.” 

“Enough!” The king’s voice boomed, and the guards seized the princess, pulling her away from Yeonjun. She struggled against them, her sobs echoing through the hall as they dragged her back toward the throne.

Yeonjun stood tall, his eyes meeting the king’s without a trace of fear. If this was how it ended, so be it. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him break. But as the princess’s cries filled the room, a new thought burned in his mind. The memory of Kai, bright eyed and cheery. And everything he had taken from the both of them. She was apologizing but she was not the one at fault. He was. 

Yeonjun sat slumped against the cold stone wall of his cell, his wrists raw from the iron chains and his body aching from days of neglect and torment. His head hung low, the heavy silence of the dungeon pressing against him like a weight. Every sound—the drip of water, the faint scuttle of a rat—seemed magnified in the stillness. Sleep had come and gone in fleeting, restless bouts, and this time was no different. A muffled commotion echoed from somewhere outside the cell. At first, he thought it was another cruel trick of his mind, the dungeon’s oppressive quiet playing games with his senses. 

But then, there was a distinct clatter—a guard’s voice shouting, followed by a heavy thud. His eyes blinked open, groggy and unfocused. He straightened as best he could, his pulse quickening. Footsteps. He squinted into the darkness, barely registering the soft sound of keys jangling. The door creaked open, and a figure slipped inside, cloaked in the faint torchlight spilling from the corridor. 

“Yeonjun.” a hushed, urgent voice whispered. 

His breath caught. It was her. 

“Princess?” he rasped, his voice hoarse and cracked from disuse.

She was at his side in an instant, her hands trembling as they fumbled with the lock on his chains. Her face, framed by the faint flicker of the torchlight, was a mix of desperation and determination. “What are you—how—” he began, but she silenced him with a sharp look. 

“No time for questions,” she said, her voice low but steady. “We need to get out of here. Now.” 

The chains around his wrists fell away with a loud clink, and she moved to the shackles on his ankles. “How did you even get down here?” he asked, still stunned as he rubbed at his sore wrists. 

She glanced up at him, a faint smirk tugging at her lips despite the dire circumstances. “My nursemaid taught me more than just calligraphy and how to curtsy,” she said, her tone almost teasing. “Turns out, lock-picking and sneaking around are also valuable skills for a proper princess.” 

Yeonjun blinked at her, equal parts impressed and incredulous. “Remind me to thank her—oh, wait.”

The smirk faltered, her eyes darkening with pain. “She taught me everything I needed to survive. And now we’re going to survive this. Together.” 

The last shackle came loose, and Yeonjun rose to his feet, his legs shaky but functional. She handed him a small dagger she’d tucked into her belt. “Where did you even get this?” he asked, gripping it as though it were the most precious thing in the world. 

“Confiscated it off a guard,” she said matter-of-factly, peering into the hallway. “You’re not the only one who knows how to fight, you know.” 

He couldn’t help the faint smile that crossed his lips. “Remind me never to underestimate you again.”

“You’d better not,” she shot back, her gaze darting around the corridor. “Now, let’s go before anyone notices.” The two of them crept through the winding passages of the dungeon, their movements swift but careful. The princess led the way, her steps light and purposeful, and Yeonjun followed close behind, his heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and disbelief. Every shadow felt like a potential threat, every distant sound a prelude to discovery. But somehow, they moved unnoticed, slipping past guards and evading detection at every turn. 

As they ascended a final set of stairs, the faint light of the moon filtered through a nearby window, illuminating their path. Yeonjun paused for a moment, glancing at the princess. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice soft but filled with curiosity. “You could’ve stayed safe, let them—” 

“Let them kill you?” she interrupted, her tone sharp. She turned to face him fully, her eyes blazing with emotion. “Do you think I could’ve lived with myself, knowing I left you here to die? After everything—after Kai, after Kora?” He opened his mouth to respond, but she shook her head. “You don’t get to question this. I made my choice. And I choose you.” Her words rendered him momentarily speechless, and all he could do was nod, his throat tight with unspoken emotion. 

“Now come on,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him forward. “We’re almost free.” The night air hit them like a cool balm as they slipped out through a side gate. The castle loomed behind them, a monolith of power and oppression, but they didn’t look back. They ran, side by side, into the darkness. 

The forest was eerily quiet as they approached the cabin, their breaths clouding in the cool night air. Yeonjun slowed as the familiar structure came into view, his steps growing heavier with every inch closer. The small home that had once been his sanctuary now felt hollow, haunted by what had been lost. The princess stayed close, her gaze shifting between him and the cabin, sensing the weight he carried. 

Inside, the room was as he had left it—simple and sparse, with few possessions to speak of. Yeonjun moved with purpose, pulling the golden bow from where it hung on the wall. He ran his fingers over its polished surface, the faint grooves where his hands had gripped it countless times. It had been his most prized possession, a symbol of his skill and survival. Now, it felt like a monument to the boy he’d lost.

“We’ll bury it here,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with grief. “It belongs with him.” 

The princess nodded, her throat tight with emotion. “I’ll help.” 

They stepped outside into the moonlit clearing, the ground soft from the recent rains. Yeonjun worked in silence, digging a small grave beneath the large oak tree at the edge of the clearing. The princess stayed by his side, her hands brushing against his to offer support when she could. When the hole was deep enough, Yeonjun carefully laid the bow inside, his movements deliberate and reverent. He placed a folded letter atop it—a message he had written to Kai’s family, explaining everything. His voice broke as he murmured, “I’m sorry. You deserved so much better.” 

The princess touched his arm, her fingers light but grounding. “He knew you cared for him. You gave him hope.” 

Yeonjun swallowed hard, nodding as he covered the bow and letter with soil, patting the earth down until the grave was complete. The princess knelt beside him, placing a small wildflower she had plucked from the forest nearby atop the fresh dirt. Together, they bowed their heads in silence, a quiet tribute to a boy whose life had been far too brief. 

Inside the cabin, Yeonjun sat at the worn table, scribbling out one final letter. His handwriting was rough, but the words were heartfelt.

“To the family of HueningKai,

I write this with a heavy heart. Your son was brave, determined, and far too kind for this world. He reminded me of the best parts of myself, and I hope you know he made a difference, even in the short time he was with us.

I leave everything I own to you: my cabin, my tools, and whatever small coin I’ve managed to earn. May it ease your burdens and honor the boy who fought so hard for his family.

Kai deserved better, and I will carry his memory with me for the rest of my days. 

Yeonjun.” 

He sealed the letter, pressing his thumb to it as though it were a seal, and placed it on the table where the family could find it. The princess stood nearby, her eyes glassy as she watched him. “You’re doing the right thing.” 

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable but softening. “I hope so.” 

With that, they gathered the few supplies they needed—food, water, and some tools for their journey. Yeonjun paused in the doorway, casting one last look around the cabin that had been his home for so many years. “This place was never really mine,” he said, his voice low. “It was always meant for someone else.” 

She slipped her hand into his, squeezing it gently. “Then let’s find something that is ours.” 

They stepped out into the night, the forest stretching out before them, vast and unknowable. The princess glanced back once, her heart heavy with the weight of what they left behind, but she didn’t falter. They walked hand in hand, leaving the cabin—and their old lives—behind. Together, they vanished into the horizon, bound by love, loss, and the hope of something better.

taglist. @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @filmnings , @dawngyu , @hyukascampfire , @saejinniestar

[idstilldancewithu]

Midnight Pleasure | S.R

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Hotchner Reader

Summary: The reader and Spencer's sleep is interrupted in the middle of the night when she gets a call from her ex boyfriend, provoking Spencer to reveal the hidden feelings he's had all along.

Warnings: Spencer gets jealous/possessive over reader, age gap (20/30), soft dom Spence, he calls her baby/pretty girl, slight angst with a happy ending, fingering, fem!receiving, oral, Reid basically eats you out while you’re talking to your ex, Y/N’s ex is a jerk, unprotected sex, possession kink, Reid makes the reader beg, cream pie (kind of), Spencer confesses his feelings, and is bit insecure. Sorry, if I missed anything.

A/N: This is the last part of Forbidden Request. The words in italic represents the reader’s ex speaking to her. English is not my first language. Enjoy!

Word count: 1,121

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

•••

The sound of my phone ringing woke me up. I declined the call without even looking at the caller ID and went back to cuddling Spencer, careful not to wake him up.

Pressing my body against his, seeking the warmth and comfort only he could bring me.

I clung to him tighter, knowing that the second we stepped foot out of this bed we would go back to being just friends. When the sun rises, this moment will only be a memory imprinted in my brain.

A reminder of what could have been, if Spencer Reid saw me as something more than a twenty year old girl asking her friend to take away her virginity. To him it was only a favor, but to me it meant everything.

My phone rang again snapping me out of my thoughts. I grabbed it, sitting with my knees pulled up out of habit.

"Y/N? It's me, Jeremy." 

"Why are you calling me at two in the morning?" I asked irritably.

Spencer stirred beneath me, his eyes fluttering open with confusion as he reached over to turn on the bedside lap, light filling up the room.

"I miss you."

"Well, I don't." I snapped, slightly raising my voice annoyed that he had the audacity to call me.

"Who is it?" Spencer asked, glancing my way.

"Jeremy" I mouthed. He tensed up at the mention of his name and quickly positioned himself between my legs, spreading them apart, making eye contact with me in the process.

"Look, I'm sorry. Please give me another chance," he begged, his voice reeking with desperation.

"Jeremy, you called me a Prude because I didn't want to have sex with you."

Spencer slowly started leaving a trail of kisses up my leg, making my anger fade away in seconds and my breath deepen.

"Look, I'm sorry, but do you really think another guy is going to want you, knowing that you have zero experience? You have nothing to offer, and you should be thankful that I'm calling you right now."

Spencer's fingertips grazed the sides of my hips, delicately pulling down my underwear, and throwing it on the bedroom floor.

Without any warning he buried his face between my wet folds, flicking his tongue against my clit.

Before I could process what Jeremy was even saying, a moan escaped from my lips.

I let my phone fall from my grasp, gripping Spencer's hair instead and pulling him closer to my heat.

"Y/N, where are you? Are you seriously with another guy right now?" Jeremy’s voice sounded distant and faint.

Spencer pulled away from my glistening cunt, and grabbed the phone that was beside me putting it on speaker phone, pumping two of his finger in and out of my soaking folds.

"Spencer." I whimpered, feeling his fingers reach spots that I couldn't with my own.

"Y/N, answer me," My ex demanded.

"Sorry, Y/N can't come to the phone right now—she's busy." Spencer hanged up and continued fucking me with his fingers, increasing the speed each time.

My cunt started clenching around his fingers, I was close to reaching my peak.

"That's it baby, let go for me." At his command, I came on his fingers making my legs tremble.

He cradled my face with his hands and pressed a consuming kiss to my lips, gently biting my bottom lip.

Spencer broke the kiss by leaving a trail of kisses down my neck, sucking my flesh ensuring that he left marks behind.

Then, he stopped to admire what he had just done, and my disheveled state.

"Get on all fours."

I obeyed and internally smiled with excitement knowing that he was going to ruin me.

He grabbed the ends of hair, pulling my head back. "You look so pretty like this. All ready and willing, just for me to use."

"Spencer." I gasped, clenching around nothing.

Without any warning he buried his throbbing length in me not moving his hips.

Desperately wanting to relief the tension in between my legs, I arched my back and moved backwards.

But, he grabbed my hips, ensuring I couldn't move an inch. “If you want me to move you're gonna have to beg."

"Please, I need you. Please—move,” I croaked out.

"Just cause you asked so nicely” he said, while driving into me with abandon.

"Do you really think another boy could make you feel the way I do? What do you think Jeremy would say if he saw you like this, begging me to fuck you?" He said, jealousy dripping from his tone.

"No, Spencer, no one else will ever make me feel the way you do,” I sincerely responded, knowing that every word that slipped from his mouth was true.

He's thrust quickened, and I could feel his cock hitting my g-spot.

Spencer placed his hand on my stomach. "Do you feel how deep I'm in you? You're mine. Not Jeremy’s or anyone else’s but mine."

I could feel myself clenching around him, getting closer to my release. He noticed and started circling my clit.

"I'm yours, Spence."

“Baby, you feel so good,” he whimpered.

"Come for me, pretty girl. Let everyone know how good—I’m making you feel."

I came mumbling his name, and seconds later his cock twitched in my cunt, shooting his load in me chanting my name in the process.

He slipped out of me, and I laid down on the bed.

Spencer laid beside me trying to catch his breath, his body facing mine.

"Was I too rough? Did I hurt you? I'm sorry. I got carried away—”

"You didn’t hurt me, Spencer. I liked it." I said, running my hands through his air reassuringly.

"Y/N, I meant every word I said. I know you asked me to sleep with you as a friend, but I want be so much more than that.” He paused, placing a gentle kiss to my forehead.

“The thought of you being with someone else physically pains me. I don't want to wait around wondering what could’ve happened if you loved me. I understand if you just want to be friends, but I truly wish we could be more.”

His confession took my breath away, but happiness overflowed my senses. He did want me, after all.

"I would really like that, Spence.” I responded, placing a soft kiss on the side of his neck.

"Are you sure? Cause after women orgasm they release a hormone called oxytocin, making them feel a deeper connection to their partner—”

I silenced him by placing my lips on his in a kiss full of love and adoration. He smiled into the kiss, wrapping his arms around my waist pulling me closer.

•••

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

[purplecoffee13]

Kisses to my exes*

Wc: 1k

Warnings: SMUT, dirty talk, degradation, toxic (ex)relationship, Harry being a cocky asshole (what else is new in my fics)

A/N: Hi, so I wrote this blurb a couple of days ago and it was just kinda sitting in my drafts… but sharing is caring so here ya go🤭 enjoy

General Masterlist

Blurb Masterlist

Y/N had sworn last time was truly the last time she'd ever do this, and she had meant it when she said it to Harry. So where it really went wrong she couldn't quite place, but she reckoned it had something to do with the amount of drinks she'd downed after spotting him at that bar tonight.

Harry and Y/N broke up three years ago; different aspirations and such. However, since then, she ran into him at least three times a year, and somehow it would always be the exact times she was finally moving on with someone else.

The first time she ended up in his bed when she was really not supposed to, was about two and a half years ago. She'd had a bad date, ran into him, and that was that. A minor slip-up, she figured. Only it didn't stop there.

Any time she ran into him in a bar, she'd somehow always end up in his bed. It was a curse, she concluded about a year and a half ago. It was the universe fucking with her for whatever evil thing she had probably done in the past.

When about four months ago she ran into Harry again, she truly thought it would pan out differently. After all, she'd been dating a very nice guy for about a month at the time, and it was going really well. And still... still she ended up waking up in his goddamn bed the next morning. She broke up with the other guy that same week, feeling absolutely horrible about what she had done. Right then and there, she decided that that was the last time. Harry was making a bad person out of her and she needed to put an end to the madness.

When she saw Harry tonight and decided to approach him, it wasn't at all with the intention to end up with him drilling into her, but the exact opposite. She found him outside, smoking a cigarette, and when he flashed that signature smile of his at her, she couldn't help but march towards her ex.

"I just want you to know that I hate you, and I'm done with you." She grumbled, pointing an accusatory finger at him. His eyebrows raised slightly, the corner of his mouth tugging up. It frustrated her that he clearly didn't seem to take her seriously.

He'd only nodded, muttered an 'alright', and Y/N had found herself stunned. She'd expected him to argue with her; just have at least some sort of reaction. But he didn't, not really, so she walked into the bar and began to drink the embarrassment away.

After her third drink, Y/N excused herself from her friends and went to the bathroom. Upon returning, a hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards the wall.

"What the fuck was that?" Harry growled at her, and Y/N smiled, glad to finally have an ounce of emotion from his side.

"I told you, I'm done with you and this back and forth bullshit." She said proudly, but Harry didn't look the slightest bit convinced. She swallowed when he leaned in closer, his hand inching up her inner thigh.

"Are you?" He tilted his head, fingers grazing over her increasingly wet panties. She still got soaked easily at the sight of him, even the smell of his perfume could make her go crazy. Y/N didn't dare to move or to speak, hoping he would continue his movements. Unfortunately for her, he backed off.

"I'm going home." He said in a bored tone, and turned around to walk back into the crowd and probably to the exit. Y/N blinked for a couple of seconds before turning on her heels and following Harry. She took a de-tour, saying she was going to smoke a cigarettes with a friend she'd ran into, and headed for the exit.

And now she was in his car, bouncing on his cock and fogging up the windows. Her tits pressing against Harry's face, she moved with a determination to please him. She'd always had that when it came to him. It felt good to make him feel good. She let out a string of moans at each thrust, feeling him deep inside her belly.

"Good girl." He grunted, the vibration running over her chest, and she gasped at the sting on her right ass cheek. Eyes rolling into the back of her head, she savored the burn, and took the brunt of another one.

"I'm gonna cum—" she whined, her eyes fluttering shut as she began to increase her movements. Y/N's fingers moved down to her clit, and she began rubbing on it intensely as she began to chase her orgasm.

"Of course you are." Harry said with such confidence that it could've singlehandedly buckled Y/N's knees. "You always do with me, it's why you keep coming back."

A high pitched moan escaped her throat, trying to handle the physical sensation and the putty that her mind would turn into whenever Harry spoke with those dirty words of his. Another slap hit her cheek.

"You know it's true, you can't get enough of my cock, baby." He said over the sounds of Y/N's approaching orgasm. She swore the car was moving along with them.

"Doesn't matter if you tell me it's the last time, or that you're done with me, you always end up letting me fuck you stupid anyway." He rasped, and it was enough for Y/N to fall apart. She cried out, the high hitting her like a goddamn truck, and she gushed all over his legs. Her breathing was erratic and heavy, and she was not at all prepared for Harry to suddenly start thrusting up into her.

"You always come back to me. Wanna know what I think of that?" He asked, voice surprisingly stoic despite the heavy movements. Y/N felt like she was going cross-eyed. She was so sensitive, but this was typical Harry; always pushing her limit. Gathering every ounce of energy she had left, she muttered out:

"W— what?"

Harry's lips pulled up into a shit eating grin, looking up at her with those irresistible green eyes of his.

"I think that means you're mine, forever."

General taglist: @mema10

[haveihitanerve]

batfamily shenanigans: The kids make up fun silly rumors to freak out the justice league about the batcave. Like this one rumor where the bats in the cave are trained to attack intruders.

Bruce hated when his kids came to the Watchtower. Make no mistake, he loved his children, and any opportunity they allowed him to spend with them was like winning the lottery. But every time they joined him with the League, they somehow always managed to create a new rumor that fueled beliefs about him/Batman, that he wasn't entirely comfortable with.

It started, as most things in Gotham did, with Dick.

"What do you mean I can't take the bats to school for show and tell?" He whined as they entered the Watchtower for about Dick's third time. Bruce sighed, so far unaware of his son's ulterior motive.

"Chum, we've covered this, the bats in the Batcave aren't pets. You can't just take them-"

"I know that they're used as security and you've trained them to kill people, but that's only at your command!" Dick interrupted, pulling out all the stops of crossing his arms and pouting, voice echoing down the hall. League activity froze.

Bruce himself was frozen, unsure he had just heard his ward right, so shocked that Dick used the opportunity to plow ahead.

"I promise not to use the kill word! I swear!" He begged, and oh no, now the tears were coming.

Bruce glanced around frantically, but all of the League members nearby were staring at him weirdly, shifting away.

"He has murder bats?" Green Lantern hissed.

Bruce sent his son a look, dragging him back to the Zeta Tubes. His son smirked, only for a fraction of a second, before the waterworks returned. "You're never coming here again." Bruce muttered. Dick just laughed.

~

Apparently, the "tradition" was passed on. Bruce had hoped and prayed it wouldn't, that Jason, the sweetheart that he was, wouldn't adopt his gremlin older brothers activities, but Jason adored Dick. It was only a matter of time.

"Here ya go Batman!" Robin chirped cheerily, entering the meeting room with a cup. "You forgot to hydrate. Don't want ya passing out from lack of nutrition!"

Bruce glanced up from his work, frowning at his son. The thought was... kind, of course, but there was no need for him to announce it so loudly. Right when he entered the room. With eight other Leaguers present. And Batman was sitting on the other side. But oh well, he was being cute.

That was until Jason reached him. Bruce had noted the reaction as his son had walked past the other League members, the subtle glances they threw at the cup to peek at what was inside, then the paling of their faces as they stepped away.

His eyes narrowed, but Jason smiled, and some of his suspicion melted. Some. Not all. Jason was an angel from above, but he had fallen nevertheless.

So it came at no great shock when Jason handed him his cup, and it was filled to the brim with dark, ruby red punch. "Bin." Bruce growled, low in his throat. Low enough that only the few super hearing metas could hear.

"What Batman?" Jason chirped back, only one octave louder. "Is today's serving not to your liking? This one was very compliant. You like it to be willing, don't you?"

Bruce gritted his teeth. Jason's smile grew. "Night sent you didn't he." He grumbled, less an accusation, more resignation. Jason shrugged.

"He might've slipped me the idea that you need some company." But I came up with the rest was apparent enough. Good to know both his children were now demons. Bruce sighed and grabbed the cup.

~

Timothy, sweet, sweet, Timothy Drake would never do anything to hurt Bruce. Never. And yet here they were.

"You checked up on the guy from last night, by the way?" Tim asked casually, standing next to him by the Watchtower windows.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, glancing at his newest Robin. "Guy from last night?"

Tim nodded, pulling out his phone. That was when Bruce discovered his third was the worst of the worst. Because he had "proof".

"The dude you shot in the dick yesterday?" Tim asked, as though confused why Bruce wasn't getting it. "Come on, it's your favorite tactic to get information." The screen itself was blank, but Bruce knew that if he was pushed, Tim could pull up very real photos, and maybe even a video of Batman shooting someone in the penis. On multiple occasions.

Bruce gritted his teeth. "Is he okay?" He muttered, as League members around them shifted away, some of the men holding a protective hand around their genitals. Tim's eyes lit up.

"Yeah, he's doing fine now. Probably missing some things, but well." He shrugged. "What can you do?"

Bruce nodded his agreement, glancing at the Leaguers nearby. "Indeed."

~

Stephanie was the worst of them all. Because she was open about it. Because she came up with four in one day. Because he never invited her to the Watchtower for that specific reason, but she always came along anyway.

"Why didn't you tell me you steal people's eyes and keep them as trophies?" She gasped, smacking his arm in faux outrage.

Bruce almost broke down right there. Barry ran into the wall, Hal nearly fainted, and Oliver let out a real life gasp. Steph grinned.

"And you stabbed someone through the side with a table????" She exclaimed even more dramatically. "How is that even possible?"

Bruce shrugged. "Well its all about the balance of weight y'know?"

Steph ducked her head to cover her grin. "Wait so that means the rumors about you absorbing villains strength is true?" She false whispered.

Bruce nodded seriously. "Don't tell anyone."

Steph shook her head, tsking quietly. "How do you even do it?"

"It requires a ritual." Bruce revealed quietly, glancing around. "I can teach you, but it requires you to bind your soul-" He straightened as new Leaguers came around the corner, eyes already wide. "I'll tell you later." He mumbled.

Steph almost ruptured a lung in her effort not to laugh, burying herself under his arm and against his side. "Okay Batman." The laugh was audible to him in her words. "Later."

~

"Shaytan, I demand you return Father to me." Bruce blinked at the strange way in which his son was speaking to him.

"What?" He stuttered out, only years of rigorous Batman training keeping him from revealing any more confusion. Damian sighed impatiently, tapping his foot.

"I know that you are in control of the body right now." He muttered. "Shaytan, really. If you wanted to be Batman you could have just said something, but it is Father's turn to have control of the body."

Bruce blinked at his son. This was... creative. Truth be told, he quite honestly wasn't sure if this was Damian's own idea, or if maybe the others had convinced him that it was true. That Bruce was possessed by a demon who periodically took control of his body and mind.

"I assure you Robin, it is me." Bruce answered, trying his best to deepen his voice, make it slightly raspy, shoulders curving slightly to cramp his back. Damian's eyes glinted.

"Oh, of course." He returned sarcastically, and yep, Damian was in on the joke. "Come Shaytan, you know Father does not need sleep, and you dozed off moments ago. Additionally, you keep leering at the humans. It is not feeding time yet. Pull yourself together."

Bruce had to admit, it was funny seeing all his co-workers losing their minds over these what-the-fuck-does-that-mean rumors. And Damian was a damn good actor. It provided him some enjoyment in these dull hours.

Bruce shook himself, straightening, and blinked down at his son a few times. "Ah. Robin. Shaytan took over a moment ago. Thank you." Damian nodded back, crisp and sure.

"Of course Father. We do not want a repeat of last fall do we?" Bruce noted Hal, mouthing "last fall?" in horror to Barry, who shrugged helplessly. He smiled faintly, tousling his sons hair.

"No Robin, we do not."

[gretagerwigsmuse]

this was so thorough and sweet, thanks alexa 🥰 i love how you called out that there's a lot happening under the surface! i really want the big reveal next chapter to not seem like it came out of nowhere? it was really intentional on my part that we almost exclusively get his pov on these last two chapters because i wanted to show how much he cares and loves her no matter what nasty thoughts she's having in her head? like he doesn't even finish the thought in his head when he kind of figures out what's going on? but that being said, i just hadddd to include her pov at the end to kind of turn the knife and crank up the angst. but on a lighter note, yes! i wanted to include some regular, old domestic moments between the two of them. i always think about the post "oh they love each other. well do they like each other?" and try to make sure that comes across? like they talk too? it's not all crazy sex and empty platitudes? they love and like each other 🥰 more below 💕

Out of his plane, out of the sky, out of your arms. Falling and falling - with no end in sight. -- oh the visual of this right off the bat! But I love it especially for the duality of Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw. His center of being has always been in relation to him in the Navy, but now he also has her. It’s all so entwined in a way it hasn’t ever been for him before, but with both he isn’t in control. Like doing what he loves could take him from her literally in the sense of the worst case scenario, but also she could decide it’s too hard. But also doing what he loves takes him from who he loves! And you know I love an angsty deployment bit, but there’s a lot of interesting layers here with his anxiety dreams. I also just thought it was very pretty prose! the navy was the only constant thing bradley's had in his life for the longestttt time, but now he has her as his center and maverick and penny and amelia and nat and this entire community orbiting around it? and the navy is just...there now? i can see him getting more resentful and then hating himself for getting resentful because he loves flying, but he doesn't like that he has to do it for someone else? and i've actually had a lot of thoughts lately about doing some sort of deep introspection in the next chapter about how hard it really was for her while he was gone? we get a glimpse of it in this and the last two chapters, but i think she really got to a dark place because her center was gone?

Bradley liked to think that you had stowed it away someplace and changed downstairs in order to surprise him in bed. Except now he’d never know because he had fallen asleep on you. God, he was the worst boyfriend. — she’s a planner, that one! Of course she was 3 steps ahead! But he’s also so sweet for even sulking about accidentally derailing her plans because he was sleepy and happy. Like I think she’ll forgive you, she’s did booze you up after all, lmao it's so funny to me that she got him a little too drunk like what else was he supposed to do with a full belly, a cozy bed, and some drinks haha? but like yeah you just have to give her some compliments/praise her and she'll forgive you buddy lol

But this was supposed to have been a big deal. It was the first time you both went to bed in the same room without the fear that you’d be leaving in the morning or later in the week to go back to your highrise. You were both home. Really, truly home. — H O M E!! Oh my favorite concept!! But they live together now, he wanted it to be as special for her too! He wants her home to be with him! WE LOVE THE CONCEPT OF HOME! but you know that sweet boy had fantasies of carrying her over the threshold of the house "for the first time" 🤭

You kept him on the ground. You kept him safe. — that future!! That future is his purpose!! IT'S JUST MY JOB FIVE DAYS A WEEK

Bradley wanted to treat you like you were precious first. — sweetest boy! It’s like of course they’ve both thought about it (and reread a certain email) a bunch, but I love that for as much as he wants to just have his way with her, like he wants to have sex that matters first. Like they can fuck whenever, but he hasn’t been with his best girl in MONTHS, he wants to show her how much he has missed her and how much he cares about her first! he wants to stare into her eyes and let her know how much she matters and how perfect she is to him (even if she doesn't think so). like soft and slow and close

But later? He’d slap your pussy so hard you’d be begging for his cock in no time - in fact, maybe he should time you? See how long it took you to break, to babble, to beg. — IF I SPEAK (so I won’t but good god) 🫡🫡🫡 sometimes i'm like girl get UPPE!!!

He slipped his hand down to knead your ass and you sighed. “Hmm, da-dley? Bubba?” ^^^ the daddy agenda is alive and well, next stop daddy watch me twirl! god they both want it So Badly and they both have the conscious thought of wanting it next chapter. i always picture that fic happening around their true one year anniversary? like mid april? and she's so whinyyyyyy and pathetic thinking it next chapter

You had somehow gotten even more beautiful in the three months he had been gone. It wasn’t obvious, not at first, and not to anyone who wasn’t really paying attention. But it was obvious to Bradley because Bradley always paid attention.— “because Bradley always paid attention” 🥰🥰🥰 but also i'm just so soft over how much he's imprinted her on his mind. Like he's studied her so intently over their courtship so far that he's documenting every little essence of change he sees. THEIR COURTSHIP!!!! i'm obsessed with that, but it's TRUE! someone commented that in other fics in the series it's obvious how much she loves him, but this is the first fic where they realized that he loves her just as much if not more and i think it's in little scenes like this?

“You gonna take these off, too?” He slipped a finger under the waistband of his joggers. — WHORE SLUT TEASE (the way he later arches his back?! I repeat, WHORE SLUT TEASE) he's such a slut like honestly he always knows what he's doing with her (like later when he comes back from his run with his shirt off 🤭)

“Fuck,” he sighed in relief, “How’d you let me sleep in those?” //“How’d you fall asleep on me?”//“You got me drunk!” //“Not my fault you’re suddenly a lightweight - Bradley!” -- this made me G I G G L E! Mr Zero Tolerance got hammered off one drink and in his happy tipsy content state took an little nap. Like it's so old man of him, but also so cute. Like he truly at ease for the first time since he left! Like sure we love a welcome home fuck (like it's coming! (no pun intended) and i remember saying something in the last chapter, but I love that the emotional intimacy comes first! But their banter here amused me to no end, like yes babe roast him in your cute navy nightie that you put on just for him that he missed out on because he was catching up on his REM! off one drink lol no no no she PLIED him with alcohol all night, he's on at least drink four after barely subscribing for 3 months (i learned us navy officers can get a beer at dinner or something, but aus officers can get like 3 or something crazy). but i worried that they talk too much beforehand so i'm glad you liked the levity here and the gradual emotional intimacy too!

Every new freckle, scar, bruise, age line//Bradley couldn’t wait to do the same. What had he missed? What was different?-- It's just so soft!! They're both trying to see and catch up on what they've missed in the last 90ish days! It's such a lovely moment of true connection! Like they're just both absorbing each other and reveling in being together! Not through a screen but inches a part! In their home! in their bed! and she's desperately praying that he doesn't notice anything different? that he doesn't notice she's a little rounder in the stomach? but the thing is that he notices everything 'because bradley always paid attention' and doesn't necessarily notice anything that's 'different' to him because that doesn't really matter? idk if that makes sense

“You’re so handsome,” you whispered, almost to yourself. //Bradley kissed you and returned the compliment. “And you’ve gotten even more beautiful since I’ve been gone.” -- stoooooop i'm already so soft! enoughhhhhh I cannot take it! i'm no strong enough for this! but she doesn't think so 🥺

You loved his shoulders, you always managed to notch your head there during sex and press little kisses to the scars dotting them and his neck. Bites, too - marks to prove he was yours.— artist rendering of my face 🤭 yes yes yes yes! the shoulders! his pretty scar! his pretty neck!! you know those make me weak in the knees!! but also the possessiveness of it! like HE IS HERS! HIS NECK! HIS BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL NECK (thank you phoebe waller-bridge) but i think he desire to mark him up does come from her wanting people to see he's hers? like that bit in the gala fic where she wants people to see they 'fit?' she wants people to know that they're a pair, they're each other's?

He also told Nat. However, the latter was only because he was drunk and pissed and he had just made lieutenant, once again surpassing his father in something.//Maverick had seen it about a year ago. He had never asked Bradley what it meant and probably never wanted to have it confirmed what it meant. But to anyone who really knew Bradley, it was easy to put together.//Bradley had told you about it on your fourth date. — different right from the start-- i looooooooved the dynamics of this! like the list of people who knew and the hows of how they came to learn about it and then contrasted with how easily he opened up and shared it with her!! like he WANTED to tell her, he WANTED to let her in!! it's DIFFERENT! they're kindred! yes! like he wanted to tell her, it was intentional and deliberate and he could finally tell someone who would really care and could maybe understand? like she could tell him about her mom and all that fucking shit with teddy too like they knew early this was it and they'd do anything to make sure it happened

(you, in particular, were freaked out that you’d slept with someone on the first date without a condom)— listen, who could blame her? I mean, look at him!  (she let him finger her right outside of the hard deck too, but like 💁🏼‍♀️) please it's so fucking funny in hindsight like she calls her concierge doctor up monday morning and is like I NEED AN STD TEST!!! but also like per your crossed out comment, bradley has a line that's like 'you were both desperate, but you more than him' or something and like that's the root of their sexual relationship and neither of them ever forget that lol

listening to Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G Major and Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 was made all the more romantic by the way Bradley held your hand for the entire first piece and had his hand on your thigh for the entire second.-- I loveeee that we got more BB&SA lore here!! Like I just know he got all dressed up for it too, broke out the iron and everything! But also the hand and the thigh of it all is A LOT!! and I am swooooning if you must know, it was a navy suit and a white shirt with tan shoes and a tan belt. there were flowers and everything. he paid for dinner and she lied and said she got the concert tickets for free from work since pwc sponsors the symphony but she bought them lol

Bradley had told you what the tattoo meant and about his parents and Maverick and you had told him about your mom and your accident during your junior year of high school. — 🥺🥺🥺 my sweet babies. i am too delicate for this! the perks of being in the inner circle- I Know 🥰, but also the trials and tribulations of being in the inner circle- I KNOW 😭 i feel like bradley's very much of the 'i'm too old for this shit' camp in terms of playing 'games'/keeping things from his partners that he really sees things going somewhere with? like why would i keep this from her when we can really talk about it and then we know how to navigate these problems when they come up? and then for her, i feel like when she was like 12 or something mary was like 'dan we need to get this girl in therapy' lol so she's familiar with talking about these things and knowing it's important to give up a little of yourself to really be free of the darkness?

It hadn’t felt scary to tell you any of it. It felt right and natural. Like you wouldn’t judge him or get scared when things got hard. Like he wanted to protect you at all costs. ^^ I AM TOO DELICATE I just love how easy it is between them! Like they WANT to get deep and share those moments. They want to be SEEN entirely! There’s safety in that because they see themselves reflected in each other and I think that’s so lovely! THEY WANT TO BE SEEN ENTIRELY! whatever our souls are made of his and mine are the same or however that goes! like i know i wrote it this way and all but i really do think they're made for each other

“And I though to myself this is what Bradley sees. This is why he loves it and for that brief blip in time I got it. I understood. Makes me love you even more in some way.” — 😭😭😭 idk if you remember but i totally stole that plane moment from myself when i was going to london fall 2023 because i was so taken aback by seeing all the stars and was like he's in the middle of the pacific and they do night flights for training, he absolutely sees this and more and it just seemed kind of poetic that they'd both be in the middle of the ocean looking at the same sky?

An idea suddenly struck Bradley. It was amazing he hadn’t thought of it before. “Maybe I can make you an audiobook?”— good lord I’d never get anything done ever again no seriously like i would have it on like a daily podcast. but he would absolutely do this for her and she'd find so much comfort in it because they can talk to each other, sure. but they can't do this and fall into their d/s roles while the navy's listening? it's different than when she goes away or when he's up at lemoore or oceana, like they can't really Talk in the way they both need when he's on a carrier in the middle of the pacific

“‘Atta girl, arch your back, just like that.” You whimpered at his praise and kept rocking your hips in tandem with his fingers. Fucking glorious, such a good girl for da -“ — here we go, round two!! I stay winning with the almost daddy agenda! he wants to say it so badly like if only you knew buddy

All you had to do was pout and he was gone. — S I M P 🥰 he'd do anything for her, all she has to do is ask

However, he’d already let your tender touches go on long enough - another minute and he’d come all over that silk nightie you hadn’t taken off yet.— listen I know that man is dying to give her another kind of pearl necklace 💁🏼‍♀️ it would go well with that frilly little apron he thought about earlier 🤭

Thank god he had prepped you, he wasn’t going to last much longer, himself. It was kind of pathetic. Both of you were, to be frank. Obviously, you more than him in this instance, but - -lmaoooooo. forever giggling when he calls himself pathetic, like mr man is gone for his girl! and he's only had his hand in a twin sized bunk for the last 3 months, like he's not going to make it out alive if he tries to go for gold right off the bat! but also she's just as needy and desperate as him, so this whole bit is as funny as it is H O T THE ONE HANDED FODDER!!! but seriously yeah she's way more desperate, like bradley may be hanging on by a thread, but her thread has disintegrated two weeks ago

“My best girl, huh?”— 🥰🥰 *tucks hair behind ear* i mean if you say so 💁🏼‍♀️

“So beautiful, so smart. Took such good care of things for me, huh?” He could feel as well as hear your breath hitching, letting him know that you were close. “‘gorgeous girl, so proud of you, sweet g -”// And that did it. —AHH!! AND THAT DID IT YEAH IT DID!!! GOOD GIRL SWEET GIRL GORGEOUS GIRL ALL THEE ABOVE THE SWEET GIRL AGENDA LIVES ON! all miss girl needs is to be praised and she's putty

God, it was beautiful. You were beautiful. Your name kept running through his mind and Bradley realized he was actually muttering it against your lips through kisses.— smutty and hot and the care!! it love that he's kind of losing his mind here, but at the root it's just all about her and how wrapped up she has him. like her [redacted]ing (it's just too much for me to type out lmao) and he's like SHE'S ART! I'M MOVED! PUT HER IN THE LOUVRE! he's so enraptured by her and I love that for her! WITH A BODY LIKE APHRODITE??!!? he's obsessed with her. she's normally the one to babble, but he does it too

And then, with all the care and love you deserved at the moment, he bundled you up in his arms. You were so warm and smelled so pretty and your nightie felt so soft against his rough fingers. Everything about that moment was perfect. You were so precious. You pressed your cheek against his chest and he hoped you could tell how fast his heart was beating. -- SHE'S SO SOFT FOR HIM!! It's like the first time in his life he gets to have that with someone, who in her own way treats him with all the care and the love and the softness he deserves after being on his own for so long! I love how mutual it is between the two of them. Like they give as good as they get in all things. But especially knowing what we know about her and where she is, like he wants her to know how valued and loved she is. like they trust each other so much? they would both sacrifice themselves for the other and that's kind of scary? but it's true? they're just too soft for all of it

Bradley groaned your name. You peered up at him with those wide, innocent eyes like you weren’t getting him off while he slept. Like your pussy wasn’t soaking. Like you hadn’t been grinding it against his bare thigh for the last however many minutes. — cheeky little go getter! girl has been waiting to get him in her mouth for monthsssss

He just shook his head in disbelief. “Cheeky little slut.” //And then you smiled, looking so proud of yourself for rattling him that he had no choice but to slap the top of your ass. Hard. You huffed.-- lmaooooooo, she's got his number! SHE JUST WANTS HIM TO BE PROUD OF HER! SHE WANTS THE PRAAAAAISE

The room was filled with giggles and the sounds of kissing as Bradley told you some of the more entertaining stories from the carrier and Australia, while you revealed that you had watched his 60 Minutes segment at least nine times. When he asked you why you’d watched it nine times, you just ducked your head and bashfully said it was because you sounded really smart.-- HE'S PRETTY AND SMART FOLKS AND DON'T YOU FORGET IT god he really is so hot and smart and i know he looked so good on tv. it's like that scene in ted lasso when keeley gets off to roy's retirement press conference

And he had run you pretty ragged this morning. — when will it be me??!! i fear it never will be me!

“Oh! I guess I hadn’t noticed.” You turned your back to him. “Here, do you want to do my hair? Or I can do yours? Why don’t I do yours?”—🥺🥺🥺 I just know that his observation is going to be living in her head rent free. The way she is trying to divert the attention in a different direction hurts my heart! he's like MORE SOAPY TITS TO ADMIRE 🤩 and she just has every mean, self critical thought running through her head on loop and it's OOF. she's like thank god i got all those one piece bathing suits and bradley's like fuck how did she get hotter??? he has a couple comments like this that if they were on the same page totally wouldn't be an issue/are kind of innocuous? but now that we know how she's feeling with the last passage in this chapter, it's like shittttttt yeah i can see how she'd read that wrong? and then she turns around so he can't really see her? and then the lights???

You hummed. “Just a little bump out, enough for someone to sit. You’re getting older, I wouldn’t want you to fall or hurt yourself during any rigorous shower activity.”-- ROAST HIM no but like imagine them in the shower and he doesn't have to worry about being too careful that she doesn't fall? feral

“I haven’t stayed here at the house too much while you were gone, just a night or two - like that night…with the email,” you confessed, “it didn’t feel right. I kept thinking you’d come home any minute.” Bradley pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “But I’d drop stuff off slowly, a couple boxes a week and whatnot.”-- SWEET GIRL!! She missed him too much to be there alone?!! why are you trying to hurt me like this?! in my delicate state?! jordannnnnnnn see this i was what i mentioned earlier about really getting some introspection into what she was going through? like i can just picture her being in the house alone and crying and not wanting to get out of bed because 'maybe if i stay in bed i can pretend that bradley's coming home late?' i wanna do more with that

And then, after multiple passes over your breasts at Bradley’s hands - it was unfair how good your breasts looked all sudsed up— his true kryptonite 😂😂 he's a simple man! lololol sometimes he really doesn't need a lot lol. and she's never telling him how she took that soapy titties pic haha like that's going to the grave

But there was something about you choosing an oxford to wear after staring at your closet for ten minutes that gave him pause. You had such pretty clothes, it would be a shame for you not to wear them.— bestie babe 🥺🥺 it’s so sad seeing her so unsure of herself and unsettled in her own skin and like he has that internal thought 'you had such pretty clothes, it would be a shame for you not to wear them' in this part and then next chapter he actually verbalizes it and does something about it??? gonna jump

The two sat across from each other - Maverick on one of the cushioned, wicker swivel chairs with Bradley on the matching loveseat - and sipped their beers in comfortable silence for a few moments.— I love how comfortable they are now, the past is the past. Now he’s picking him up from school [read: work] and getting him ice cream and they’re able to just be. that's his FATHER!!!!!! like? i get really emotional thinking about them reconnecting and just being comfortable with each other again?

“So, how’re you really doing?” Though the question has been asked at dinner already, Bradley had just given a vague answer. But now that it was just him and Maverick, he felt he could be honest.— THAT’S HIS DADDDDDDDDDD and he can tell his dad everything again!!!!

It hadn’t been quiet in three months. There was always something else going on around him. But not tomorrow. Tomorrow, he could do things on his own time and make his own food and pick his own clothes. He could have choices. — oh this bit got me so good! it hurt in the best way! he gets to be bradley again! not just rooster. not having to follow a schedule, follow commands. He gets to settle back into himself! i just kept thinking that it must be so jarring to be back to just nothingness? the end scenes in the hurt locker were a huge inspiration

The fact that Bradley thought you were keeping something else from him didn’t need to be brought up yet. He wouldn’t even be able to put it into words, it was just a gut feeling at this point. You just seemed a little off. The egg whites, the boxy oxfords, the chocolate cake.— I texted you a bit about this, but I love how even in this reunion honeymoon bubble, that he knows her so innately that he can sense something is off. That he has always been so in tune with her and paid attention to even the littlest things, that even if he can't pinpoint it right then and there that he knows something is up. That he has enough crumbs to make a sandwich, each tidbit had been filed away until he had enough to realize she has a bit of a facade up with him. And the dichotomy of that compared with how easily they shared their big hurts on the 4th date, where she's worried about losing him with all the insecurities rattling in her head when all he wants is more and everything. yeah like he frequently knows things about her before she even does? because bradley always paid attention! i think a lot of her not sharing this is because she thinks it's silly in comparison?

“And you’re okay with that?” Bradley nodded. “Jesus, Bradley, you’ll be at least forty by the time -”//“- Forty-two.” -- this part took me out at the KNEES!!! like even mav (that's his dad that's his dad) knows that bradley is holding himself back with that one. that he so clearly wants a family but his own fears of leaving them behind make it so he'd rather put it off longer to ensure that doesn't happen than risk letting his worst fear come to pass. but that it so clearly weighs on bradley too! the way he so easily drops that "forty-two" because he's thought about it so intently! OOF and DOUBLE OOF i'm glad you liked this part so much and it hit so hard because i wanted it to be obvious that this waiting thing isn't easy for either of them, but they really need to do it because they're both so scared? and like if anyone would get it, it would be maverick? maverick who knows why bradley has that tattoo without ever asking about it?

Maverick looked sad and Bradley hated it. Because he knew, without Bradley even having to spell it out why you were going to wait. Because Maverick had been there. Because Maverick had held Bradley’s mom as she cried on too many occasions to count. Because Maverick had taken Bradley to all the father/son events in the place of his own father. Because Bradley realized, as he had gotten older, that Maverick thought it was his fault that Bradley grew up without a father.-- NOT THE FATHER/SON EVENTS! I AM TOO DELICATEEEEE!!! AND THE MAV GUILT! but also my sweet boy thinking that time was out of guilt and as penance vs it being for him hurts my heart! and i think bradley didn't even realize that until he got older and was properly in the navy? and bradley loves maverick but he doesn't want his kids to have their own maverick? he just wants them to have a papa mav?

“If it gives either of us the slightest peace of mind, we’re going to try and wait.”-- sweet boy nooooooo, have your dream life! you deserve it! you both do! like they don't want this with anyone else, but when it happens they just want it to actually be the two of them making the decision? the us navy is not involved because i really think it would kill both of them to do any of it alone? except well...bradley's 40 when gil's born...and they're both so scared. i think that's bradley's ptsd that he didn't realize he had until now(ish)?

“What’re you ladies gossiping about?” Amelia breezed onto the patio and messed up Bradley’s hair before she plopped down on the other end of the sofa— I love that Bradley [36] now has a teenaged pseudo little sister 😂 like yes, roast that man. But also it’s so cute because it’s like he has another chance at a family! he's got a 'bratty' little sister! and he brings her to field hockey practice and games when mav and penny can't! he goes to symphony orchestra concerts! (amelia plays the cello)

He liked Amelia, he was protective of her, fucking shoot him.--1) i love this, like that's his pseudo step-sister, but also 2) lolololol he's so funny here. So huffy and defensive! that's his family goddamnit! he's like yeah okay i like a fourteen year old, she's my family, deal with it! but i think it's kind of a thing where bradley obviously didn't have any siblings and this is kind of his chance? and then ofc when mavericks [reacteds] bradley, amelia also gets [redacted].

“Debate team?!” Alright, now he was putting it on a little bit, but as someone who had also been on the debate team in high school, Bradley knew that those guys were also smart, which generally meant they were way more trouble than the typical jocks.- G I G G L I N G. he was 10000% a menace against society and you just know he lost some color in his face. he's like fuck is this gonna be what it's like when i have kids??

“The 1990s!” Amelia feigned hysterics and got a chuckle out of you and Maverick.- pllllllssssss (making me feel old too, the audacity, lol) you know i had to sneak a 9/11 mention in there too

Can you ask her where she got her sneakers? A couple weeks later, you and Bradley had gotten Amelia the very same sneakers for her birthday. She always blushed when you wore them at the same time.— golden goose? i was between that or pink addidas sambas haha but the gg are so funny because bradley would have no idea how much those cost and would be like wow thanks for picking that up, how much do i owe you? and she's like....$50

But god, he really fucking hated Teddy Cavanaugh. He wanted to fucking deck him on the first tee at Claremont Country Club. He wanted to slam his nine-iron into the Porsche 911 he was driving. And Bradley was pretty sure your dad did too. — ME THREE I FUCKING HATE THAT GUY we all hate teddy cavanaugh (last name is absolutely not inspired by a certain supreme court justice...)

You were Amelia. You had been that young, that sweet, that trusting and Teddy Cavanaugh had thrown it all back in your face.-- this got me when you sent it to me early on and it still gets me now. like him having someone he knows and cares about who is close in age to her when that accident happened just really puts things into perspective in a too real and unsettling way! she was just a girl! like it's one thing to be told something awful like that but another to be confronted with a visual of sorts? and when he goes to her house for thanksgiving and sees pics of her growing up and in high school he's like ho-ly shit she was so young? how could he have done this?

Everything was right as it should be. Bradley was with his family, Bradley was with you, here. Not on a carrier in the middle of the Pacific or the passenger seat of Mr. Cavanaugh’s Porsche. //Here. And nothing bad was going to happen here. -- sweet bean is trying to ground himself. 🥺 that little spiral of realization really hits him in a way he wasn't expecting. that's his FAMILYYYYYYYY i think he spirals a lot actually? and always has to do that 'five things' thing with anxiety attacks? and her and his family are like one of the only things that can always ground him?

“I’ve got one in the mudroom if -” //“No, it’s fine,” Bradley cut off Maverick, “she can have mine.”//Quickly taking off his own sweatshirt and putting it over your head, Bradley didn’t even have the time to linger on how pathetic he sounded. -- 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭 pls he's so fucking funny like his dramatic ass

Who did Maverick think he was, offering to let Bradley’s girlfriend borrow a sweatshirt?- lmao I mean the audacity /s. her little crush is endlessly amusing to me, and how huffy and grumpy he is about it is so fucking funny, like NO DAD STOP MAKING MY GIRLFRIEND FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU SHE'S MINE lolololol and the thing is bradley will neverrrrr confront her about it? because he just knows she'd be so embarrassed since she doesn't even really realize it?

Little shit gave Bradley the worst one, even knowing Maverick wouldn’t have any and therefore didn’t need one. As payback, he kept putting his marshmallow wherever Amelia’s was. It meant that he didn’t roast a single good marshmallow, but the glare she kept sending him was too funny to make him stop. — not the almost 40 year old beefing with the teenager 😂 pls it’s so funny he's so huffy and such a drama queen i love him

[image: Mr. 7.5 Gs]- AHAAHAHHAAHAHAHAH listen.....

Jerking off, I’m bored— P L E A S E 😂😂😂 like at the end of the day he's still a guy

charming- the way I cackled she's like so unamused and then like a switch is turned off inside her lol

this is so hot //unless i get fired— wheezing (she’s so real for this). like genuinely, this got such a chuckle out of me because I felt like i heard it in her voice. that little aside took it out of me! like she's still Her at the end of the day haha

[Sent with Siri]— the way he’s been outed. Mr Man is Hands Free Texting because he’s BUSY and then SHE switches over to it?!?! jail

At one point, Bradley had even contemplated that you might be pregnant. He had been gone for three months, an entire first trimester. But something about the theory didn’t sit right with him.— cruel of you to put this in here knowing what I know!! have you no consideration for my poor nerves?! i love how he rationalizes how it can't be that though? like he knowwwwws but he still has to do his due diligence

Because Bradley wasn’t dying in an F-18 with a family at home. --OOF this was such a moment in that earlier fic, I'm really happy to see it here again even if it does feel like a suckerpunch! i imagine he thinks this when he's flying and it's kind of scary? and he's on his perch? like i think it really fucks with his head and he hears it in either his mom or dad or maverick's voice?

Then, there was the fact that you had an IUD and the possibility of getting pregnant on an IUD was even less than on the pill (<1% a year - he’d looked it up). -- the fact he googled it is 1) HOT and 2) amusing as fuck lmao he's very thorough! he also looked up audio book ideas on reddit!

Was there a hint in one of your emails? Some little detail he had glossed over in his haste to read any scrap of news from you, in your voice? Bradley had read all of them at least three times, some even more, but maybe he had missed something?— like he is so smart but so dumb? i mean, that even in the emails he absolutely just didn't even entertain the thought of it, and how he can't fathom how she wouldn't see herself the way he does so he's totally blind to it. And it's all right there in the emails he's read at least three times! he thinks so much of her, and for everything that she is- smart, witty, pretty, amazing, etc- like the confidence is a hard won trait for her. it's there, but it has to be worked at. but also, how can he know if she doesn't tell him 👀 he's sooooo close! and he kind of gets there but doesn't let the thought fully form even in his own mind? and i think that even though we know it's there, she didn't even really realize she was putting it out there? like not in the way she really is thinking? it's there and not? idk if that makes sense

Bradley grabbed a bottle of Pellegrino from the side door and poured himself a glass. - 😂😂🤭🤭 her influence like i just know he hated it at first

No way. No fucking way. That could not be it.//No, no. You couldn’t be worried about how - i really am so enamoured by how adamant he is about this. like the thought of her feeling insecure or not enough for him is like a 404 error in his brain, because he is just so into her! like he really can't compute it? it's never crossed his mind? like i said earlier, he clearly knows her body has changed, but it's not in a way that really bares notice to him?

“Sorry, I uhh - yeah, it was fine. Saw the Thompsons finished their patio - is that a new dress?” — he's a regular shakespeare. such a stunning way with words, lmao i wanted to make him kind of cute and nervous here? like he's trying to be cool, but he's so charmed by her still?

Knowing you, his spoiled, prissy girlfriend, the dress was probably expensive. Good.-- the "good" sent me into orbit 😂 i'm really gonna lean into this going forward lol

It was technically a lie; he had texted you, but it had been a do you know where my Theragun is text, not a show me your pussy right now text. -- P L S, definitely not beating those old man allegations now are you bradshaw? he's so funny lol

Which really put a damper on a portion of your wine cellar escapades. -- 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭 rip to another pair of tights only time mary harris has been embarrassed around them

God, you were beautiful. You both were beautiful. This was beautiful. Being together like this was beautiful. It was wet and loud and messy, but it was beautiful. -- just casually swooning sighhhh i'm so jealous of this

Bradley picked his head up from where it was buried in your neck and leveled you with a look that had you properly bursting into laughter. He wanted to make some smart comment, something cheeky, but the gorgeous smile on your face had him losing his feigned stoicism and he started laughing right alongside you. -- sex should be fun! there should be giggling and grins and fun! I loved this moment because it shows the friendship too! like they're in love but they still have fun with each other and can laugh and be light! (even after hot need you now sex on the table!) they like and love each other and it's my favorite thing to see! okay yay because that was exactly what i was going for! like this whole exchange is kind of crazy and different for them? like she can't believe they just did that and then when he joins in they absolutely lose it? like it's just...it's very them? and sweet and normal

nothing but the sun, sea, sustenance, sleep, and sex. -- chefs kiss alliteration right here, loved it i felt like you with this line!

“Can I come?” he asked, completely ignoring the sunscreen comment. It wasn’t special per se, it was just high SPF since he burned easily. — golden retriever boyfriend of him but also that man is coming home pink cheeked stop he's so cute isn't he? like don't leave my sight!

You were pouting now and it only made him want to get you the necklace more. “It’s too expensive for something like that; I looked it up online.”-- that's so funny that the pout makes him want to give it to her even more. like of course she'd look it up, but that he knows his girl who likes nice expensive things gets all bashful when he buys it for her vs when she gets it for herself, like he knows she doesn't expect it from him and that makes him want to spoil her more! it's cute. no you're 1000% right because she would buy it for herself without a second thought. and i think i've said this before, but one of the only things they fight about in the lead up to their marriage/signing their prenup is money because they have such different relationships with it? he wants to spoil her and she's like i'm already spoiled

“Woah, woah.” Bradley held his hands up and you grabbed one to examine it. “Since when am I getting my nails done?”//“You’re getting a pedicure at the very least. I don’t want to have to look at your weird feet on the beach all week.” -- that she grabs it and is checking out those cuticles made me laugh, it thought it was so funny. like you're getting those nails buffed sir. it's for your own good. (and the pedicure is for the good of all humankind, lets be real.) plsssss i loved this part, like it's so funny and just shows how they kind of bust each other/interact in such an easy way? idk it's a lot of pathos to put onto a scene of her grabbing his hand but idk let me live! and yeah boys should get pedicures more often (he's fruity so it's doubly allowed)

If pressed, he would say it was because he wanted to sit in the massage chair and the nail tech told him he could only sit in the chair if he was getting his nails done. That was the only reason why. It wasn’t because of how pretty you looked while you were smiling at him out of the corner of his eye, like you couldn’t believe he was really there.//absolutely not.-- mmmhmm sure sure sure 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭 ENAMORED! he's enamored with her. like they can't look at each other enough like they're scared the other is going to disappear. (also the fact that she finds a completely new salon in their new neighborhood just feels really official and intentional of her in a really small/almost blase way?)

You giggled and then mimicked his pose on the bed, except you made sure to snuggle up next to him, all earlier awkwardness gone. “I’d do anything for you actually.”-- this was so sweet. she's so sincere about it too, even in the cheekiness of mirroring him. AND SHE WOULD! like if she had any inkling it would make him happy, she'd do anything for bradley

“You’re not gonna get sick of me, right?”//You shook your head. “Never, even if you are a nerd who gets pedicures -”-- why are they just the cutest?! 😭 and the little high five too?!? ugh i love them

Because you hadn’t been prepared for how it made you feel in comparison. Because he was so strong and fit and beautiful - and you didn’t think you were any of those things. Not anymore at least. Not after what happened.-- oh that surprise of her POV at the end, and getting just a little peek into her brain after this chapter being mostly from his! and to see just how low she feels, when she should be cruising on a high of having the love of her life back and about to go on a dream vacation with him! like it just makes me ache! because for all that time she hasn't been able to shake those feelings and insecurities and she's trying to put on a good front and a show. it just makes me so sad for her! HA i was kind of giddy keeping this from you lol like she knows she should be so happy and excited, but she just can't let this go yet?

You should have taken your mother’s words to heart at lunch two weeks ago when she had told you to watch your figure, boys like Bradley are used to certain standards. --i hope almond mom gets salmonella in her next tub of nutbutter. Miss Ma'am blew all of Bradley's standards out of the water, she's where the bar is set! HAHAHA mrs eat pray love is just bitter mr smart aleck really reallyyyy hit big after their divorce so she doesn't get any of it lol

Maybe you should have worn a cute little sundress and forgotten your underwear or some other ridiculous thing? Let him fuck you in the back of the car right in the middle of the parking lot?//That wasn’t you, though. That wasn’t either of you.-- i know you know i know you know i know. But also, she's so in her own head that she doesn't even realize that that reunion was everything he wanted! her! in their home! in their bed! they don't know that we know they know we know! like you know?

But Bradley loved you. He had told you in about 159 different ways (re. emails) while he was gone. He loved you, he wanted you, he was going to live with you, build a life with you. You knew he loved you no matter what you looked like. --159 DIFFERENT WAYS! IF HE WANTED TO HE WOULD AND HE DID AND HE DOES! I can't wait for her to come back into her own again! i just want to hug her and tell her everything is going to be ok! i know we want to shake him and be like confront her now! tell her now! but i really think he's smart in being like i'm giving her a deadline to tell me (because he knows she will) and she has to actually tell me since it has to be her decision to get back to herself? like he can help to do some of the work, but she needs to do the real heavy lifting? because 159 emails between the two of them just tells me they know each other really well and love each other

oh this chapter had so much going for it! but the building woven in with the domestic moments and smutty goodness was so well done! i loved every bit of this! you knocked it out of the park! i cannot wait for mexicooooo! good thing my passport is up to date, i'm readyyyy! - i'm going full white lotus and am so excited 💁🏼‍♀️

rocketman: part iii - Some things Cosmic

Summary: finally back home, bradley can focus on all the things he's missed while he's been gone. there's someone there to properly welcome him home, frantic reunion sex, prepping for an amazing vacation, family dinners, and the casual intimacy he's come to love between the two of you. but there's still something up with you and he can't quite figure it out. it'll be fine, right? catch up with [part 1] and [part 2]

OR sex, s'mores, and secrets

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 18.5k

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, body insecurity, suggestive dialogue, suggestive content, and sexual content (oral (f + m receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v, dom/sub influence, and praise, rank, and degradation kink). also on ao3!

i want to be naked, i don’t mean my body, i don’t need my body i’m floating away

Bradley startled awake sometime later. It happened sometimes. He had these dreams were it felt like he was falling. Out of his plane, out of the sky, out of your arms. Falling and falling - with no end in sight. 

That wasn’t to say that they were necessarily nightmares or anything. (Because the distinction between the two was glaringly obvious.) 

They just unnerved him a bit. Left him unsettled, untethered. 

He rolled over and stretched his arm out across the bed, until his fingers brushed against something silky. Something warm and silky. He turned his head to find you sprawled out next to him.

You had changed between now and when Bradley had last seen you - he glanced at the clock on his nightstand - seven hours ago. 

Fuck. 

He had fallen asleep before you had even gotten upstairs. 

Goddammit, he felt like an asshole. He rubbed his hands over his face, sighing. This was the last thing he had wanted to happen, especially after what you two talked about earlier that evening. 

You’d give us your wild? Of course. Of course, of course, of course he would. 

Like you knew he was thinking about you, you shifted your hips, inching closer towards him. Your body was only half under the thick duvet cover and top sheet, so even in the early morning light he could still see the navy nightie you were wearing. 

Bradley liked to think that you had stowed it away someplace and changed downstairs in order to surprise him in bed. Except now he’d never know because he had fallen asleep on you. God, he was the worst boyfriend. 

Tonight, the night three months in the making, he had missed cuddling and kissing and all the best parts of getting cozy in bed with you because he had fallen asleep before you had even gotten upstairs. And sure, he had gotten a taste of what was to come on the couch while you laid underneath him and drew imaginary shapes across his chest with your finger and he held you tight and counted your heartbeats. 

But this was supposed to have been a big deal. It was the first time you both went to bed in the same room without the fear that you’d be leaving in the morning or later in the week to go back to your highrise. You were both home. Really, truly home. 

Home - where he could finally wake up next to you and have you be right here - not an ocean apart. Bradley already dreaded the next time he’d have to leave you. 

There was a future with you. There was that little boy - or little girl - from your dream. The perfect mix of you and Bradley. 

(Don’t ever be a Rocket Man. I mean it. 

When you’re out there you want to be here, and when you’re here you want to be out there. 

Promise me you won’t be like me.)

Suddenly, there was this overwhelming urge inside him that if he didn’t touch you and have you in his arms, that he’d slip away, back to space. Untethered. 

You kept him on the ground. You kept him safe. 

Bradley scooted over towards your side of the bed and wrapped his arms around you, unable to bear another moment untethered. There, that was better. You were soft and warm and felt so precious in his arms. And with your nightie rucked up around your hips and one leg extended out and the other hiked up, your body was on full display. 

Easy access.

Your thighs were so fucking soft and curvy and he desperately wanted to slot himself right between them. Have them bracket his head, while his tongue lapped at your pretty pussy. 

Would he start there? Eat you out until you were begging for his cock? Have you grind on his lap…until you were begging for his cock? Or…just generally begging for his cock? 

They all seemed appealing, but admittedly kissing you until you were breathless and then rocking his body above yours until you were both tumbling over the edge had plenty of merit, too. Bradley wanted to treat you like you were precious first. 

But later? He’d slap your pussy so hard you’d be begging for his cock in no time - in fact, maybe he should time you? See how long it took you to break, to babble, to beg. 

But that brought him back to the present. Could he wake you up, now? Bradley knew you’d been stressed and busy ever since your mom had come to town and because of all you’d confessed earlier; so, would it be fair to wake you? You hadn’t woken him up, afterall.

After an indeterminate amount of time of just holding you and watching you breathe, you rolled your bare ass against Bradley’s crotch and let out a pleased hum. He gave your hip a squeeze and you burrowed even deeper in his arms. Your skin was softer than the silk nightie you were wearing and he could feel the heat pouring off your body.

He slipped his hand down to knead your ass and you sighed. “Hmm, da-dley? Bubba?”

“Hey, kid.” He kissed your neck. 

Once you were a little more lucid and opened your eyes, you pulled your nightie down to cover your ass, though that didn’t stop Bradley from playing with the lace hem. 

You rolled over so you were now face to face and wrapped your right leg around his left. 

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

You cupped his cheek. “Wanted you to sleep, you looked so tired. Pretty too.” 

It was dark in the room at five thirty-eight, but not completely pitch black, so Bradley could still make out your soft features. You had somehow gotten even more beautiful in the three months he had been gone. It wasn’t obvious, not at first, and not to anyone who wasn’t really paying attention. 

But it was obvious to Bradley because Bradley always paid attention.

“Well,” he kissed your forehead then your nose, “I’m still sorry, especially after what we talked about earlier, should’ve stayed up for you.” 

“But I woke up beside you, so I can’t be too angry.” You leaned in to kiss him. “It’d be impossible to be angry now, actually.” 

He hitched your right leg higher over his hip and groaned when he could feel your core through his joggers. You squirmed against him, cheeky little thing. But with his joggers and t-shirt still on, Bradley was definitely overheated and the sweat was building at the back of his neck, to say nothing about the heat your body was giving off. 

As if reading his mind, you grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and slowly dragged your fingers up his stomach, stopping at both his happy trail and then the patch of hair in the middle of his chest, before taking the t-shirt off completely. A soft thud rang out when you’d thrown it across the room and it presumably landed on the floor. 

“You gonna take these off, too?” He slipped a finger under the waistband of his joggers. 

“Been dying to all night - hips up, Bradshaw.” 

Bradley arched his back and helped you slide his joggers down his legs, taking his boxer briefs with them. Your gaze lingered on his body for a long moment, but you just gave him a coy little smile. 

“Fuck,” he sighed in relief, “How’d you let me sleep in those?” 

“How’d you fall asleep on me?”

“You got me drunk!” 

“Not my fault you’re suddenly a lightweight - Bradley!” 

He pinched your side and you wiggled away from him with a shriek. “Uh uh, not so fast.” 

Bradley pulled you close again, desperate to be nearer to you. You tangled your legs together and pointed your torso towards his, but remained perched on your elbow, while he was laying down flat.  

Suddenly somber, your eyes were drawn back to his body and he just let you look - drink him in and see what you had missed over the last few months. Every new freckle, scar, bruise, age line. 

Bradley couldn’t wait to do the same. What had he missed? What was different?

He could feel your eyes lingering on his abs. Normally, you remarked on his thighs and shoulders, but tonight it seemed you had a different focus. You appeared hesitant, biting your lip, as you dragged your finger across his stomach. 

Did you like how he looked - how he had changed in your time apart?

“You’re so handsome,” you whispered, almost to yourself. 

Bradley kissed you and returned the compliment. “And you’ve gotten even more beautiful since I’ve been gone.” 

You appeared bashful at the comment, which just let Bradley know he’d have to give you more of them over the next few weeks. “Come ‘ere.” Without waiting for a response, Bradley started pressing kisses all over your face, your cheeks, your neck, your lips. If it was possible at this point, he drew your body even closer.

“Bra-adley! We have an entire bed here, you know?” You giggled when he rubbed his nose into your neck.

“Mmmm, but it’s nice and warm here.”

You scooched down on the bed on your stomach so you were looking up at him. With a smile, you began to press languid kisses across his chest, starting just above his belly-button and creeping up to his pecs, heart, and shoulders. You loved his shoulders, you always managed to notch your head there during sex and press little kisses to the scars dotting them and his neck. Bites, too - marks to prove he was yours.

But tonight, it seemed you had a different path in mind and, while you still nipped at his shoulder, you didn’t stop there and instead went straight to the small tattoo on his bicep. You traced your fingers across the roman numerals:

x x x i x

Thirty-nine. 

As in thirty-nine years old. An age neither of his parents ever got to see. 

Bradley had gotten the tattoo when he was in flight school and a bit of a shit with self destructive tendencies. People never really asked what it meant and he never really wanted to tell anyone. 

He’d told Ezra, right around the time when they first started talking about moving in together, before that spectacularly failed. He also told Nat. However, the latter was only because he was drunk and pissed and he had just made lieutenant, once again surpassing his father in something.

Maverick had seen it about a year ago. He had never asked Bradley what it meant and probably never wanted to have it confirmed what it meant. But to anyone who really knew Bradley, it was easy to put together.

Bradley had told you about it on your fourth date. 

It was the second time you’d slept together. Because while your first time had been frantic and had taken you both by surprise (you, in particular, were freaked out that you’d slept with someone on the first date without a condom), the second time was much slower - softer. 

You had planned the date this time. Bradley had picked you up at your apartment - he even had come upstairs to get you - with flowers - and the two of you had dinner at Callie, followed by a performance at the San Diego Symphony. It was actually thanks to one of Bradley’s fun facts about playing the piano that you had gotten the idea. 

Both of you had gotten dressed up (a big departure from your third date hike in Torrey Pines), the food and drinks had been plentiful and delicious, and listening to Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G Major and Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 was made all the more romantic by the way Bradley held your hand for the entire first piece and had his hand on your thigh for the entire second.

So, after eating you out on your kitchen counter and going two rounds in bed, Bradley had told you what the tattoo meant and about his parents and Maverick and you had told him about your mom and your accident during your junior year of high school. 

And if you had asked Bradley, it was after that date that he knew he was going to fall in love with you. 

It hadn’t felt scary to tell you any of it. It felt right and natural. Like you wouldn’t judge him or get scared when things got hard. Like he wanted to protect you at all costs. 

And because he had told you what the tattoo meant, it made the moments since when you’d really focus and hone in on it all the more sweeter. During this last deployment, Bradley had often felt like the ink was burning into his skin under his flight-suit. It kept reminding him that he had once thought he had a timeline or a stopwatch on his bicep, slowly ticking down. But with you, it was something to strive towards, to reach beyond and be there for LIX, LXXXIX, and even XCIX. 

“What’s it like flying at night?” Your question snapped him out of his thoughts and you pressed another kiss to his tattoo to calm him. “I kept thinking about it on my flight to London. And how you must see this all the time, is it still a big deal? Can you even stop and think about it? Just endless night with thousands of stars to guide you? Being in the middle of the ocean, nothing around for hundreds of miles.”

(What’s it like, out in space?

It’s the best thing in a lifetime of best things - oh, it’s really nothing at all. 

But you always go back.)

“You’d never thought about it before?” his voice came out thick, hoarse. 

You shrugged a shoulder. “Not in that way, I guess? I couldn’t sleep on the way to London, so I pulled up the shade in the middle of the night. I’ve never really thought to do it before, don’t know why - but then I saw all those stars, endless stars, thousands of them. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Your finger stopped tracing patterns on his arm for a moment before it started again. “And I though to myself this is what Bradley sees. This is why he loves it and for that brief blip in time I got it. I understood. Makes me love you even more in some way.” 

Bradley felt like he was going to cry, the feeling swept over him so suddenly. “I uhh - fuck.” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you sounded contrite, “I just wanted you to know.”

Could he tell you? Could he tell you that flying at night with all the stars in the sky simultaneously made him feel closer to and yet farther away from his parents? It was like they were right there, but also so far out of reach. But he didn’t say any of that. He couldn’t say any of that, not now. The words couldn’t come.

Instead, he pulled you closer, putting your face at level with his own. “I love you.”

You smiled and he could’ve sworn there were tears in your eyes, but it was hard to make out in the darkness. “I love you, too. Now please kiss me.”

Bradley let out a chuckle, but leaned in to kiss you without another word. The kiss was sweet, but still had an underlying desperation attached to it that came with being away for months. But unlike every other kiss you’d shared since Bradley had gotten home, there was no need to stop or to prevent it from going further. No, now you were his. He could have you however he wanted.

Not breaking the kiss, you shifted and bracketed your thighs on either side of his hips, allowing him to slide his hands up your body. He’d never get tired of thinking it, but god, you were so fucking soft. Your hips, your thighs, your breasts, your hands, your lips - actually…

His next words were grunted against your neck. “Your lips are really soft - softer than normal,” he finished when you went to interrupt him. 

“Must be my lip mask. I put it on after I saw that you fell asleep on me…”

“Hey, hey,” he tickled your sides and you collapsed on his chest amidst your giggles, “I said you should’ve woken me up!”

“Would you have woken me up?” You had him there. “See? This way I could stare at you uninterrupted and get all moony over you. Plus, now isn’t this better? No more sleepy bubs.”

No. He was definitely awake now. And from where your core was laid on his bare stomach, he could already feel how wet your were and couldn’t wait to slip inside you. 

“‘Could kiss you for hours,” you said against his lips. You kissed him - once, twice, ten times, smiling all the while. He never wanted you to stop. “Bradley,” you whined, “Need you inside me. Gotta get used to you again. ‘m so tight.” You nipped his earlobe. 

He groaned. Fuck. He couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend who said stuff like that. It was like something out of a wet dream. “You seriously only took your fingers the entire time I was gone?” You nodded. “Good girl.”

You preened under the praise. Because it surely had to have been a bit of a challenge. “Yours are so much bigger, though.” Bradley rolled his eyes at your cheeky tone. “What’re you gonna think up for me to do next time you’re gone? Like what you talked about earlier?” You didn’t linger too much on the next time part of your question, so he didn’t either.

“Hmmm. What about tasks?”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Well, I’d have to do more research, but like you have to wear xyz or send me a picture of you doing something? Whatever we want.”

You nuzzled his neck. “Mmmmm, I like that. Wish we could really talk when you’re gone, though. I’m not sure I could handle every comms officer hearing what I need from you again…”

An idea suddenly struck Bradley. It was amazing he hadn’t thought of it before. “Maybe I can make you an audiobook?”

Your jaw dropped and you contorted your body to look up at him. “You’d do that? Seriously?”

His cheeks colored. “I mean, not like an actual one, but like a voice memo or something?” The idea didn’t sound nearly as good out loud as it did in his head. “If you wanted…”

“Oh my god, yes! I very much do want.”

Without another word, Bradley rolled you both over so now he was on top, knees bracketing your hips so as to not put his full weight on you. Your nightie was still covering your stomach and breasts, but that didn’t stop him from snaking his hands underneath the navy silk to play with them. They felt fuller than normal - not that he was complaining, but he hadn’t noticed earlier and now -

His cock brushed against your stomach in a way that had you bucking up against him, so desperate, so keen, so fucking good. Good girl. Your lips were eager against his as you poured every thought, every email, every Facetime call into your kiss. 

God, it had been so long. Fooling around on the couch earlier in the evening paled in comparison to how plump your lips felt and how keenly your body reacted to his. Because you felt so good. Months, weeks, days had passed and Bradley had never felt anything as good as your body beneath his. 

You sighed and squirmed up the bed so your head was laid across the pillows, all the while Bradley made his way down the bed. 

“More, bubs, please.” 

How could he refuse, especially when you had asked so nicely? He bent forward to give you a sloppy kiss on the lips before working his way down your body, from your neck and collarbones, to your breasts through your nightie, and finally to right below your belly-button. From there, you readily allowed him to bend your knees so your feet were planted firmly on the bed and your core was completely exposed to him. 

Even in the early morning light it was exquisite. You had the prettiest pussy Bradley had ever seen - and it was his, all his.

“Fucking gorgeous.” 

You startled at the first touch of his lips on your thighs, but let out the prettiest little sigh when he sucked on the skin by your birthmark. There was another as he licked along one of your lightning lines. And another as he kissed the hood of your clit. 

God, you smelled so fucking good and were groomed just the way he liked it -  like the perfect, obedient, good girl that you were. And perfect, obedient, good girls got their pussy played with until they were babbling like dumb little sluts.

“- Would have thought this would be your first stop?”

Bradley chuckled, but didn’t stop dragging his fingers across your inner thighs and lower lips. “Yeah? What, d’you think I’d do? Just dive right in? Take you on the kitchen table?”

“I would’ve let you.”

Once the words had sunk in, he stopped teasing you. His elbows gave out beneath him and he groaned with his face pressed against the sheets. Fuck. That was a conversation for another time, but just the thought of you letting Bradley basically use you had him grinding his hips into the mattress.

You were so good. 

He popped his head back up and slapped you - lightly - across your pussy. “You keep saying shit like that and next time I just might.”

In response, you arched your back and tried to close your legs around his head, but Bradley just tutted and spread them further.

“Uh-uh, need to have a look at her, I've gone three months without her.” Your hips jumped off the mattress as his fingers started playing with you, tracing circles over and dipping in and out of your cunt. “‘pretty pussy. She took such good care of you while I was gone, didn’t she? Look at you dripping for me, huh?”

His fingers scissored inside of you, dragging against your walls, while his thumb needled your clit. Your wetness spread across his fingers and he, in turn, spread it across your folds and inner thighs. He liked when you were messy. He liked to feel you all over his face.

“Bradley,” you whined. “Stop teasing.”

Neither of you really wanted that, so it didn’t even merit a response from him. Instead, he kept sliding his fingers inside you in and out, in and out and crooked them ever so slightly before he added a third. Above him, you gasped and jolted. 

“‘Atta girl, arch your back, just like that.” You whimpered at his praise and kept rocking your hips in tandem with his fingers. Fucking glorious, such a good girl for da -

“- Bradley…” He peered up to see that you had one arm over your eyes, while the other was pawing at your breasts through your nightie.

“God, you’re sucking on my fingers so tight, I would believe you’ve taken anything up this pretty pussy in months.”

“‘Want your mouth, please, please…” 

“Where?” his voice was muffled. Bradley sucked his lips around your thigh, right by your labia, but refrained from kissing you were you wanted him most. He wanted to mark you up everywhere, have your thighs and breasts and neck covered in little bites and bruises. 

Mine. Mine. Mine. 

Good. Good. Good. 

You whined. It sounded pathetic and he had barely even started. “My pussy. Please, Bradley? Please?”

Who was he to deny you? Because, god, you tasted so fucking good. It was hard not to absolutely devour you, especially after going for so long without you. Bradley slid his hands down from your hips to grab your ass and rut your cunt deeper against his face. As a reward, he got a slew of pretty little whimpers out of you.

He continued at a steady pace, alternating between probing your clit and slipping his tongue inside you. Above him, you arched your back and he pressed a firm hand on your stomach to keep you down. 

“Bradley,” you cried as you rode his face. 

God, you sounded so pretty now, he couldn’t wait to get you on his cock later. 

Pretty girl. 

Smart girl. 

Good girl. 

His girl with a body like Aphrodite. 

“Ahhh - fuc - ahhh.” You made that sound and he knew, without even looking up, that your head was tipped back in pleasure and you were close. “Bubs,” your voice came out small, “want you - inside me, now.”

“Uh-uh.” Bradley pulled his head back, but continued fingering you. “You need to come first.” 

Come on his face. 

You shook your head frantically against the pillow. “No.” You gasped when he purposely plunged his fingers deeper. “‘wanna with you - ahh inside me.”

Somehow you grabbed the hand he had pressed on your stomach and you dragged it up your body. His knuckles brushed against the silk of your nightie until you eventually pressed sloppy, open mouthed kisses to your interlocked fingers. And all Bradley could do was say your name in censure, which ultimately came out heavy with need.

“Please? Want it to be together our first time back.” You whined pitifully. “Haven’t touched myself in days.”

All you had to do was pout and he was gone. 

“Fine,” he smacked your thigh, “but I’m gonna make you come again after I finish inside you.”

“Yes, yes, anything, Bradley.”

You would be spent and whiny by then, it wouldn’t be hard. 

After swirling his fingers once more around in your cum, Bradley held his fingers up to your mouth for you to clean them off. “That good?” You hummed around the digits before he retracted them and tapped your cheek twice. “Atta girl.”

Next, he shifted up on the bed so his knees were straddling your waist. He was achingly hard at this point and bit back a smile as you made grabby hands for his cock. It pulsed in your grasp and you swiped your thumb over the slit to rub his pre-cum over the head. Fuck, that felt divine. While you may have relished how much larger his fingers were than yours, Bradley loved how large his cock looked in your smaller hands. However, he’d already let your tender touches go on long enough - another minute and he’d come all over that silk nightie you hadn’t taken off yet.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” Your eyes were wide and you nodded. 

Trusting, needy, desperate. Such a perfect girl for him. 

“Wanna be full.”

He brushed the head of his cock against your pussy lips, making sure it was nice and wet and, god, you were fucking soaked and practically sucked him in. You whimpered and muttered something indistinguishable, but wrapped your arms around his shoulders and canted your hips up for more. Then, once Bradley slipped just the tip of his cock inside you, you gasped, but brought him closer. Your nails dug into his shoulders, hopefully pressing little crescents into the skin. He pulled back and slid in again, inch by inch, earning a breathy gasp from you every time. 

Holyfuckingshit. You were so tight. So fucking tight, even after prepping you with his tongue and fingers. 

Yours are so much bigger, though your voice echoed through his head. 

You were so fucking soft and warm and wet and felt perfect around him. With each thrust he’d grunt out your name and you in turn would give a whiny Bradley and eventually wrapped your legs around his hips. And then you were also clenching down on him like you’d spent the entire three months doing kegel exercises. 

“Fuck, you made me so hard - thinking about how much of a good girl you were while I was away, keeping this nice and tight for me,” he barely got the words out. 

“‘do anything for - for you. ‘d let you do anything to - mmhmm - me,” you finished with a whimper. 

Fuck. Your unwavering trust in Bradley always took him aback. Because you meant it. You really would let him do anything to you. If you had the slightest inclination that it would please him, you would do it. He had never had someone who trusted him that much. And that wasn’t something he took lightly. 

With that thought in mind, he snapped his hips against yours in a particularly hard thrust that had you crying out. 

“Mmm harder.”

He bent down to suck on your neck. This - the closeness - was why he liked missionary so much. It was perfect for this exact moment. There was plenty of time to take you hard and fast later.

“Oh, god. Feel so full - Bradley, Bra - Bradley!” With every utterance of his name, he drove deeper inside you. Harder inside you. You’d ride him next time, he’d make sure of it. But for now, breathing each other’s air, gasping against each other’s mouth, and feeling the sweat on each other’s brow, being so impossibly close to each other, it was hard to say where Bradley’s soul ended and yours started. 

Yours and mine are the same. 

He groaned your name and you opened your eyes to gaze up at him with an almost dazed expression. Grabbing the back of your knee, Bradley went in at a different angle, trying to get deeper. “Feel how much your little hole’s dripping? Just needed me to stretch you out again.”

“Mmmmm yes, yes, da-dley - ahhhh,” you cried out, “can I come? Please, please?”

Oh, you were such a good girl for him. Asking so nicely, so prettily. So properly. Thank god he had prepped you, he wasn’t going to last much longer, himself. It was kind of pathetic. Both of you were, to be frank. Obviously, you more than him in this instance, but -

“‘Course. There you go, sweetheart, come on my cock like a good girl.”

When you finally came a few moments later, it was with a strangled cry of his name that Bradley swore was the most beautiful sound he’d heard in months. As the shudder of pleasure swept over you and you tightened your core around him, Bradley hastened to find his own release. The slew of cries and whimpers against his lips as you tried to settle down only spurred him on further. He drove into you again and again and again. 

He had to get there with you - had to. You clung to him and notched your head by his neck, only to graze your lips along the tender skin there and bite. 

“Fuck,” he grunted. “‘You ready for me to come inside you, sweetheart? Know how much you missed it.”

You nodded against his neck. “Yes,” you whispered, “Bradley, please…”

He groaned your name. It sounded so good like that, so perfect. He had to say it again and again and again. With each stroke, your overstimulated pussy fluttered around him, pulling him towards his own orgasm. His jaw clenched and his back muscles tightened and Bradley could barely support his own weight over you for another moment - 

“‘s good, bubs, feel so full.”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was it. That did it. 

With a final moan of your name, Bradley came inside you, painting your pussy with his cum. His cocked twitched one final time as the last streams of cum filled you up. He notched his head against your shoulder and he breathed in your sweet scent. 

Goddamn. 

Once he settled down and caught his breath sometime later, he moved to pull out, knowing that when he did so, both your cum would drip down your thighs. Your gorgeous, thick thighs. He already needed to get lost in them again. And wasn’t that just the thing? Bradley was obsessed with you. He could never get enough of you.

“No, no, not yet,” you whimpered. 

He stopped and pulled you closer, but slightly changed your position. There was some perverse part of him that wanted to make a comment about keeping you on his cock for the rest of the morning so you could get used to him again, but he refrained after thinking about the tone of your voice. You sounded so fucking good and docile and submissive. Such a good girl. 

“Pretty sure you owe me another one…” You burrowed your head against his neck and moaned when he shifted. “How ‘bout I stay inside you? ‘That okay?” You nodded and your pussy tightened against him. “Good girl.”

Keeping you close, Bradley slid one hand in between your bodies to play with your throbbing clit. You arched your back up towards him, trying in vain to get closer, though that was nigh impossible - the two of you were already as close as two people could be. 

Yours and mine are the same.

He needled your clit between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it back and forth, trying to get some moans and whines out of you. God, your body felt unreal. Still so warm around him, still so wet for him. All for him. 

Mine, mine, mine. 

As your body shifted, your pebbled nipples brushed against his bare chest and Bradley was remiss for not playing more attention to them earlier. But that could’ve been because you were still wearing that goddamn nightie. You were flustered and warm and your skin was glistening with the slightest sheen of sweat. 

He bent his head down and mouthed at your breasts through the midnight blue silk. They were already hardened to peaks, desperate to be suckled on, especially after noting their new size. There would be time for that later, he had to remind himself. 

For now, he nipped at the top of your cleavage and kept playing with your clit. You were so oversensitive, you were practically shaking in his arms. And in response, you raked your hands through Bradley’s hair, pulling on the strands. Fuck him. That felt divine, especially as he felt you tighten around him. 

“Brad-ley,” you whimpered, “’s too much.”

“Shhh, easy, easy, there’s no rush.” He tipped your chin up. “You want me to stop?” You shook your head. “Take a deep breath. That's it. Good girl.”

Little whimpers kept escaping your mouth, but you burrowed your face against his neck and trusted him to take care of you. You nipped at the skin there and he hoped it would leave a mark; let everyone know that he was yours and only yours for the next few weeks. 

Mine, mine, mine.

“I’ve got to take care of you, you were such a good girl while I was gone. My best girl, huh?”

“Mmmm.”

“So beautiful, so smart. Took such good care of things for me, huh?” He could feel as well as hear your breath hitching, letting him know that you were close. “‘gorgeous girl, so proud of you, sweet g -”

And that did it. 

So proud of you.

You came with a cry and your walls fluttered around his cock once again. A sudden gush of wetness coated both yours and Bradley’s thighs. God, it was beautiful. You were beautiful. Your name kept running through his mind and Bradley realized he was actually muttering it against your lips through kisses. There were tears in your eyes and he thumbed them away before they could slide down your beautiful face.

“Hey, too much?” He kissed your cheeks, which unfortunately only made more tears spring from your eyes. “I didn’t hurt you, right?” 

“No, no,” you shook your head, “I just missed you so much, think I’m overwhelmed,” you finished sheepishly. 

The tension in Bradley’s shoulders eased and he smiled down at you. “Now you’re gonna make me cry, kid.”

“I love you.” The words came out quietly, but it was like they’d only just come out of your mouth before Bradley was saying them back. 

“Love you, too.” The smile he got out of you warmed his heart and he pecked your lips before tucking your head under his chin.

The two of you laid there for some time with Bradley still inside you. In fact, he was pretty certain you may have dozed off at one point, but he didn’t want you to be too uncomfortable when you woke up later. With that in mind, he slowly pulled out and settled you on the bed beside him. You fussed a little, but Bradley kissed your forehead, heading it off. 

He started with your name, “I’ll be right back, okay? Going to the bathroom.” You nodded at him, your eyes wide and trusting. 

It was chilly out of bed, away from you, and Bradley only paused for a brief moment to slip on a pair of his sleep shorts from the dresser, before heading off to the bathroom to get a damp towel for you. He hastened back to the bedroom, now almost fully lit in the early morning light. You made such a pretty picture all tucked under the thick, white duvet. 

“Bradley?” You stretched out underneath the covers and let out a little whimper. “‘m sore.”

“Shit, sorry,” he said with your special nickname tacked on the end. “Come ‘ere.” Despite his words, he came to you and dutifully cleaned you up with the warm cloth. 

“‘s not your fault,” you slurred, “need to get used to it again. Missed you.”

The cloth passed over your thighs once, twice, three times, before Bradley brushed it against your core once, twice, three times. You sighed and gave him a lazy smile, which he easily returned. 

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Be right back,” he whispered. 

You’d barely managed to get back under the covers by the time he came back from the bathroom. And then, with all the care and love you deserved at the moment, he bundled you up in his arms. You were so warm and smelled so pretty and your nightie felt so soft against his rough fingers. Everything about that moment was perfect. You were so precious. You pressed your cheek against his chest and he hoped you could tell how fast his heart was beating. 

“I missed being with you like this, missed holding you.”

You pressed lazy kisses to his chest for a moment before you eventually tipped your head up to meet his eyes. “Can we stay like this? Just for a while? Don’t wanna get up yet.”

“‘Course,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “go back to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

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

When Bradley woke hours later, he did so slowly. He was pleasantly warm, he was finally sleeping on a true mattress, and you were slotted between his legs sucking his cock. 

Surely, there were few better ways to wake up than to have your sweet lips wrapped around him. It wasn’t something you did often, at least in terms of waking Bradley up this way, but he loved whenever you took the initiative. It showed how eager you were - how desperate. Really, the only thing that could top it would be your pussy sunk deep on his cock as you rode him.

You had to have been at it for a while, for he was achingly hard by this point. His hips bucked up, thrusting his cock deeper into your mouth and you let out a surprised moan, no doubt having thought he was still sleeping, before taking him further. Your tight grip on his thighs left him relatively grounded, else he would have set off a round of those gagging noises from you that he liked so much. That wet mouth that he liked so much - fuck. 

Bradley groaned your name. You peered up at him with those wide, innocent eyes like you weren’t getting him off while he slept. Like your pussy wasn’t soaking. Like you hadn’t been grinding it against his bare thigh for the last however many minutes. 

And you kept at it with Bradley’s hand grabbing your hair and guiding you. You kept working him, forcing him deeper down your throat. He moaned and you responded back in kind. Such a good mouth, such a good girl, taking care of him like this. It took him a moment to realize he was doing it, but he was mumbling your name, almost nonsensically. 

But then he felt, rather than saw, you remove one of your hands from his thighs to presumably put it between your legs to play with your needy pussy. And that just wouldn’t do.

“Fuck. Get up here,” he said and then punctuated it with a growl of your name when you stayed down. The whimper you let out had him bucking his hips up off the mattress. “I’m serious.”

Almost begrudgingly, you eased him out of your mouth and the resulting, wet pop echoed throughout the bedroom. You looked far too pleased with yourself as you sucked on your finger - the one that had definitely been shoved up your pussy only moments ago - and hummed in response. 

“Get up here - now.”

You braced yourself on either side of Bradley’s hips and teasingly brushed your pussy against his aching cock a couple times, practically begging for him to sink inside you. It would be so easy for you to ride him right now, but that wasn’t what he wanted.

“Bossy, bossy,” you teased and crept up his body, pressing kisses to his happy trail and chest along the way. But just as you were about to kiss him on the lips, he stopped you.

“Uh uh.” He stuck his finger in the air and mimed a circle. “Turn around.” 

Your jaw dropped. “Are you…” Again, just Bradley twirled his finger around and smiled. “F-fine.” 

“But,” at this you relaxed your thighs to press more of your weight on his stomach, “you have to take this off,” he finished by thumbing the navy fabric of your nightie. 

It only took a moment for the smile to creep across your face, but you didn’t take your eyes off Bradley’s as you slid the dainty straps off your shoulders, one at a time. You didn’t take the nightie off, it still covered all of your stomach, but it let Bradley ogle your breasts unimpeded for a moment. 

“Will that be all, lieutenant commander?”

He just shook his head in disbelief. “Cheeky little slut.” 

And then you smiled, looking so proud of yourself for rattling him that he had no choice but to slap the top of your ass. Hard. You huffed.

“Now turn around.” 

You rolled your eyes, but managed to turn around with Bradley’s assistance. The brief awkwardness of limbs strewn about was easily forgotten as soon as you got into position and he was rewarded with the sight of your glistening pussy in front of his face.

Bradley didn’t bother holding back a moan and started kneading your ass and running his fingers along your lower spine. Meanwhile, you wiggled down his body, dragging your breasts against his bare skin for the first time all morning. They were so soft, but your nipples were pebbled as they brushed against his stomach. He hissed when you lingered there for a moment to tease him.

Not one to let you get the upper hand, Bradley grabbed your hips to draw you close to his face and inhaled your sweet scent. Fuck. You were so good. You let out a mewl and startled when he first made contact with his tongue and then attempted to nose at your clit. That always got you going. Same with his mustache against the tender skin at the apex of your thighs. Maybe he would abstain from shaving on vacation, if only you’d ask.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he groaned your name against your skin and then he feasted. 

Meanwhile, the way your hands were playing with his balls right now had him already teetering towards an orgasm. After only being able to fantasize about having your hands on him - your sweet, delicate hands on him - for the last three months, this felt divine. And then you put your mouth on him and he was well and truly done for.

“Fuck.” 

Neither of you lasted much longer after that.

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

After your depravity filled wake up call, the rest of the morning took on a decidedly more chaste tone. The room was filled with giggles and the sounds of kissing as Bradley told you some of the more entertaining stories from the carrier and Australia, while you revealed that you had watched his 60 Minutes segment at least nine times. When he asked you why you’d watched it nine times, you just ducked your head and bashfully said it was because you sounded really smart.

It was finally around noon when Bradley said you two needed a shower and to have breakfast before embarking on the rest of the day’s activities, which included a tour of the house, complete with all the little goodies you’d amassed for him over the last couple months that he had glossed over last night, and getting ready for drinks with Nat, Caroline, and Max at six-thirty. Granted, the latter was six hours away, but Bradley had a feeling you both would be pretty slow to the take that afternoon. Probably would get a little distracted, too.

“‘m gonna take a shower,” his lips brushed kisses up and down your arms and over your once again silk clad breasts and he was rewarded with giggles, “you wanna come with me?”

“Oh!? Uhh - yeah, we could take a shower.” You pecked him on the lips. “Can you warm it up first, please?”

The pout worked - it always did - but Bradley still groaned, totally hamming it up. “Mmmm, I suppose...”

With one final kiss, he dragged himself out of bed and made his way into the bathroom. He flicked the lights on with a snap, going for full brightness on the dimmer, and turned around to give you a cheeky wink, only to see you worrying your lip between your teeth and staring intently down at your clasped hands on top of the duvet. He called your name and your eyes snapped up to meet his gaze.

“You good?”

You nodded and put a smile on your face. “Yeah, be right in.”

Odd. But then again, Bradley could’ve been reading too much into it. He hadn’t seen you since before Christmas, afterall. You were probably just tired. Yesterday had been a long day. And he had run you pretty ragged this morning. 

The water had warmed up while he was going to the bathroom and was the perfect temperature by the time he finally got under the spray. Just as he was about to call out to you again, he heard you enter the bathroom - and promptly dim the lights. 

“Woah, woah - hey!”

“Sorry!” you called out from behind the shower curtain. “I uhh - I just have a headache, don’t want the lights too bright too early in the morning.”

It was twelve-fifteen. 

Bradley frowned and looked at your shadow moving on the other side of the curtain. You were standing up straight - he would almost call it stiff. It was an odd request, to say the least, but it wasn’t exactly pitch black in the bathroom now, just a little darker, especially from the waist down. 

“Okay, just be careful when you get in - here,” he pulled the curtain back and held his hand out for you to step over the lip of the tub. You startled, but nevertheless took his hand. “There you go.”

The two of you stood face to face for a moment, allowing you both to get your fill of the other. It was definitely darker in the shower now, but Bradley could still make out your ample curves. Streams of water dripped down your chest as you tipped your head under the faucet and it was impossible for him to not watch as the droplets cascaded over your breasts. 

They looked fucking glorious by the way - he was slightly put out that he hadn’t gotten a chance to really play with them in bed earlier - you had only given him a glimpse of them for a few moments - but there was always later. Or now? Now was also good.

“Did these get bigger?” The words were out before he could think twice and he cupped a breast in each hand. Your nipples pebbled as his thumbs passed over them, back and forth, back and forth.  

Your eyes flew up to his face before glancing right back down at your breasts. “What? No, I don’t think - no.”

Bradley leaned back to catch your eye. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it in a bad way. They look great, feel even better, they’re just…”

“Oh! I guess I hadn’t noticed.” You turned your back to him. “Here, do you want to do my hair? Or I can do yours? Why don’t I do yours?”

Before he could even process what was happening, you spun back around and grabbed the shampoo bottle from behind Bradley and squirted some Ouai into your hands. He leaned forward so you could lather his hair up with the suds and appreciated your care in keeping them out of his eyes. For someone normally so dominant and in control, Bradley really did love when you fussed over him. He knew it wasn’t something you were comfortable with in every aspect of your relationship - taking charge like that - but it was nice in settings like this. Once the shampoo had set, he crouched down for you to rinse and then repeat the process with the conditioner.  

“I think we need a bench in here.”

“Yeah?” 

You hummed. “Just a little bump out, enough for someone to sit. You’re getting older, I wouldn’t want you to fall or hurt yourself during any rigorous shower activity.”

“Rigorous shower activity?” Bradley chuckled and nudged you with his shoulder before wetting your hair under the faucet. “You know, if I took all my showers with you, I wouldn’t have to worry about that, kid. Here, turn around, ‘s your turn.”

Gently, Bradley lathered up your hair and made sure to massage your scalp the same way you had done for him. You let out a pleased hum and then he repeated the process with the conditioner, though he might’ve used a bit too much. 

Once you were both back under the spray, you rested your palms on his chest and peered up at him with wide eyes. You looked like you were about to cry and he pulled you closer in comfort.

“I haven’t stayed here at the house too much while you were gone, just a night or two - like that night…with the email,” you confessed, “it didn’t feel right. I kept thinking you’d come home any minute.” Bradley pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “But I’d drop stuff off slowly, a couple boxes a week and whatnot.”

You both stood in the silence of the falling water for a few moments before you spoke again. 

“It just doesn’t feel real - all of this. I keep worrying that you’re gonna disappear again tomorrow. Or that I’m going to wake up or something. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And that was just the thing: Bradley didn’t know what he’d do without you either. He had never felt this way before; that there was someone else tied to him, someone else living for him, while he in turn lived for them. 

“Hey,” he tipped your chin up, “you’re not the only one worried about that. But I have you with me now and I’m always gonna do my damndest to come home to you, alright, kid?”

“Alright.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, keeping him close, and pressed a kiss to his chest. “Love you, bubs.”

Bradley instantly tightened his arms around you. “Love you, too.” 

I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.

Before long, your kiss on his chest turned into a kiss on the mouth and your hands roved over each other’s bodies as you shared the loofah and soap. “So broad, so strong,” you said in wonder as you roved your hands over his chest and thighs and chased away the bubbles. 

And then, after multiple passes over your breasts at Bradley’s hands - it was unfair how good your breasts looked all sudsed up - it was time for a final rinse. He hopped out of the shower first and had a towel waiting for you when you got out, before you ultimately changed into your fluffy white robe. 

The two of you completed your morning routines side by side in comfortable silence until Bradley went back to the bedroom to put on some running shorts and a t-shirt. 

“You want breakfast?” He snuck up behind you at the bathroom counter and kissed your cheek. 

You smiled at him in the mirror. “Yes, please.”

“Anything in particular.” He kissed you again. “Pancakes? French toast? Ooooo maybe hash browns and bacon, too? The works?”

You had been giggling while he had been kissing your neck, but you suddenly turned sober as he rattled off your options. “Oh, uhh - maybe some eggs?”

Bradley frowned. “Like scrambled?” 

“Or poached? I’ve been eating a lot of egg whites lately…” With the way you were bundled up in your robe and with your hair still wet from the shower, you looked small - young. Egg whites?

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure, I can do some egg whites for you.” 

Egg whites? Since when did you like egg whites? You had always liked your eggs scrambled and a little runny - with ketchup. Idly, Bradley remembered Max eating egg whites and low carb toast for the entire month of May to get in shape for yacht week in Croatia. He shook the thought away.

“Anything you want, kid.”

“Thank you.” You gave him a soft smile and a kiss on the check. “I’ll be down in a bit, okay?”

And with that smile and a promise, Bradley headed off downstairs to make breakfast. 

Egg whites, really?

-----------

Bradley’s homecoming weekend extravaganza - your words - could only be considered truly complete with a family dinner at Maverick and Penny’s on Sunday evening. Penny wouldn’t hear of you two bringing anything to dinner, so all that was needed to do upon returning from a morning hike in Torrey Pines was shower and change. 

You didn’t have to be there until six thirty, but it was already five forty-five and at least a 20 minute drive, so you were both a little more hurried than you were after yesterday’s shower. In fact, when Bradley got out of the shower, he was surprised to see that you were still in your bathrobe and staring at your half of the closet like it contained all of life’s mysteries. Granted, your hair and makeup were done, but you just stood there with your arms crossed over your chest, absentmindedly biting your thumb nail. 

How long had you been standing there?

“If it makes it any easier,” you startled at Bradley’s voice, “I’m sure Mav will just be wearing a t-shirt and jeans.” Barely looking at the shirt he grabbed to go with his chino shorts, Bradley fell into your line of sight. “You good?”

You relaxed your shoulders. “Yeah, just…not sure what to wear.” 

The two of you stood side by side to take in the full array of clothes in the closet. While not all of your clothes - some bulkier items and more formal dresses were in the guest bedroom - there were still dozens of options in front of the two of you. You took a hesitant step forward and eventually took a pair of boyfriend jeans off a shelf and held them to your chest. Just as you were about to grab a boxy oxford, Bradley snatched up a brightly patterned, tiered, sleeveless dress that would hit at the middle of your thighs. The empty hanger rattled against the rod, but it stopped you in your tracks, the oxford momentarily forgotten. 

“This would look nice.” 

Even to Bradley’s own ears, his voice sounded lame, almost a little desperate. But there was something about you choosing an oxford to wear after staring at your closet for ten minutes that gave him pause. You had such pretty clothes, it would be a shame for you not to wear them. 

“It’s not too much?” Bradley shook his head and held the dress up to your body. “I bought it to bring on our trip, but now I’m not sure…”

“It’s perfect, trust me, you’ll look gorgeous. And you better pack it for Mexico, too, okay?”

“Okay.” You appeared a little flustered, but had lost the sad look in your eyes from moments ago, so Bradley considered it a win. 

With a kiss to the side of your head, he told you to finish getting ready and that he would be downstairs when you were done. 

After getting his wallet and car keys together, Bradley made his way to the mudroom to put on his new sneakers. Though you wouldn’t admit it, you had definitely ordered them for Bradley during one of your many Ted Lasso rewatches while he was away. He reminds me of you sometimes, you would demure when pressed. It was cute. 

With one foot propped up on the bench to tie his shoes, Bradley noticed the row of jackets in front of him. He called your name. “You want a jacket?”

“Yes, please,” your voice carried from upstairs.

So, he grabbed your jean jacket, figuring it would look good with your dress, and got himself his oversized grey Navy crewneck sweatshirt. Maverick and Penny always liked to have drinks and dessert out on the back patio, and though it had been a relatively warm day for March, Bradley knew the breeze off the ocean would make it chilly later. Maybe they’d light the firepit and have s’mores? You loved s’mores even more than Bradley did, if you could believe it. 

Just as he had gotten the jackets and threw his sweatshirt on, you appeared beside him. And just like Bradley had thought, the dress looked perfect on you.

“See? You look gorgeous.” You ducked your head and muttered thanks. “Here.” Bradley held your jean jacket open and helped you slip it on while you put on your sandals. And then you set off for Coronado in the Bronco. 

-----------

After a lovely dinner filled with much chatter and laughter, Amelia and Penny dragged you upstairs to show you her dress for the sophomore semi-formal next week. This left Bradley and Maverick to clean up the dinner plates and get things situated outside on the patio.

It was completely beyond Bradley’s comprehension how to get Penny’s fancy fire pit started, but Maverick had a flame roaring in no time. The two sat across from each other - Maverick on one of the cushioned, wicker swivel chairs with Bradley on the matching loveseat - and sipped their beers in comfortable silence for a few moments. The sun had set about fifteen minutes ago, but the sky was still a kaleidoscope of pinks, purples, and oranges. 

“So, how’re you really doing?” Though the question has been asked at dinner already, Bradley had just given a vague answer. But now that it was just him and Maverick, he felt he could be honest.

“Fine, I guess.” Bradley made a face. “‘s always weird doing some stuff again. We went to the store earlier; always takes me back that first time.”

“It’s the cereal. Too many choices.” 

“Yes, thank you!” Bradley exclaimed, glad he had someone who could relate. Every time he brought it up with Nat or the guys, they just looked at him like he had seven heads. They went from having few choices on the carrier, to endless when on land. “And the chips. Too many options and sizes.” Maverick chuckled. “We went on the way back from Torrey Pines to get more Diet Coke and I wandered off like three times just to stare at the oversized boxes of Lucky Charms.”

Maverick smiled wryly and took a sip of his beer. “You don’t look as tired as you did Friday afternoon, that’s for certain.” Though the way he’d said it had been completely innocent, Bradley still blushed.

“Yeah, it’s been amazing. You should’ve seen her Friday night, she was so excited to make dinner and the house just -” he broke off, “it felt nice coming home to someone like that, I guess.”

Nice? I guess? Bradley sounded like an idiot. It had felt more than nice coming home to you. Coming home this time made him never want to leave again. But the real test would come tomorrow when you went to work. And Bradley would be alone for the first time in three months. Alone in your big, quiet, house. It hadn’t been quiet in three months. There was always something else going on around him. But not tomorrow. Tomorrow, he could do things on his own time and make his own food and pick his own clothes. He could have choices. Luckily, Maverick didn’t seem to notice his sudden unease.

“That was all she talked about last week.” 

It took a concerted effort on Bradley’s part not to be jealous that you’d talked to Maverick so much last week when all Bradley had gotten were emails. Beautiful, heartfelt, smutty emails, but emails nonetheless. Before Friday, Bradley hadn’t heard your voice in weeks.

“She did a really good job. The cake was unreal, I had a piece for breakfast this morning.” That got a chuckle out of them both. “It’s nice to see her comfortable doing something outside of her wheelhouse. She kept sending me pictures from her lessons and even cooked for me on Facetime once.”

Just as Maverick appeared to be gearing up for a follow up, probably about how he’d gotten the leftovers from those cooking lessons, Bradley rushed out: “But we really talked Friday night - about a lot of things. It was good, though.”

“What about?” 

“Kids,” the word slipped out before Bradley could think better of it, “family, that kind of stuff.”

Maverick pondered this and took a sip of his beer. “And you didn’t mind talking about that right when you got back? Seems like a lot.”

“No, it was good.” Not looking at Maverick while he was talking made it easier for Bradley. That way he couldn’t see his pity. He shifted in his seat. “I’d rather we talk about it now anyway, that way it isn’t hanging over our heads on vacation and whatnot.” 

The fact that Bradley thought you were keeping something else from him didn’t need to be brought up yet. He wouldn’t even be able to put it into words, it was just a gut feeling at this point. You just seemed a little off. The egg whites, the boxy oxfords, the chocolate cake.

There was hesitancy in Mav’s voice when he spoke next. “So, you looking to get engaged soon? It’s been what? A year?”

“Almost, yeah. But uhh no, no.” The denial was firm in his voice. “Probably still a year off at least. It’s gonna happen - we both want it to - but there’s no need to rush it. I’m excited for it to be just the two of us for a little while, you know in the house and everything.”

“Good, good,” he sounded pleased, “you two have a good thing going, I wouldn’t want -”

“- We’re not going to have kids until I’m out of the Navy.” Bradley said the words in a rush and he really hoped Maverick would ignore how thick his voice sounded. 

But of course he didn’t. Maverick snapped his eyes over to meet Bradley’s, but he was suddenly focused on a loose thread on the upholstery. Shit. Why had he said that?

“Oh.” It was a long time before either of them spoke again. Bradley finished half his beer. “Is that your idea or hers?”

“It’s both of ours.” Bradley winced realizing how defensive he sounded. “Well, I kind of brought it up first, but she was the one who said we’d wait.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Bradley nodded. “Jesus, Bradley, you’ll be at least forty by the time -”

“- Forty-two.” 

Maverick looked sad and Bradley hated it. Because he knew, without Bradley even having to spell it out why you were going to wait. Because Maverick had been there. Because Maverick had held Bradley’s mom as she cried on too many occasions to count. Because Maverick had taken Bradley to all the father/son events in the place of his own father. Because Bradley realized, as he had gotten older, that Maverick thought it was his fault that Bradley grew up without a father. 

“Listen, we both know that a million things can happen between now and then and maybe the timing will be all wrong, but we want to wait. If it gives either of us the slightest peace of mind, we’re going to try and wait.”

The silence was heavy this time around. 

“Well, I guess it’s good you’re talking about it now - even if I don’t entirely agree with it. You should be enjoying your life together, not waiting around…” Maverick seemed to think better of what he was saying and took a sip of his beer. A beat passed until he spoke again. “Also reminds me of some stuff I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

Maverick waved him off. “It can wait until after your trip. Just some estate planning and whatnot, I know the four of us are in a really good place, so figured it was a good time.”

Estate planning? The four of us? The whole family was involved? Bradley’s curiosity was most definitely piqued. 

“Oh, err yeah, sounds good -”

“It’s nothing bad - promise!” he quickly backpedaled, “More paperwork than anything -”

“What’re you ladies gossiping about?” Amelia breezed onto the patio and messed up Bradley’s hair before she plopped down on the other end of the sofa. Naturally, he in turn had to elbow her in the side. Not hard, mind you, but hard enough for her to kick him back. 

“We were actually just talking about the dance coming up next Friday,” Maverick replied smoothly and Bradley stifled a snort. Since when had he become such a good liar? Regardless, Amelia preened. “I was just about to tell Bradley about your date…”

“What?!” Bradley exclaimed.

Amelia pouted, clearly put off that it had been brought up in front of him. He liked Amelia, he was protective of her, fucking shoot him. “Mav likes him!”

Maverick slightly cowed under Bradley and Amelia’s stares. “He’s nice, they’re on the debate team together.”

“Debate team?!” Alright, now he was putting it on a little bit, but as someone who had also been on the debate team in high school, Bradley knew that those guys were also smart, which generally meant they were way more trouble than the typical jocks.

Clearly misconstruing his comment, Amelia frowned. “Listen, I know you were rocking the middle part and puka shell necklace when you were on the debate team, but it’s cool now…”

“Puka shell necklace?” your voice chimed in from the doorway. “Pete never mentioned that when he was telling me of your high school heroics.”

Bradley’s cheeks colored. “Yeah, well, it was the late 90s and I thought Pacey Witter was cool.”

“The 1990s!” Amelia feigned hysterics and got a chuckle out of you and Maverick. “Next you’re going to be talking about where you were on 9/11 -”

“I was in kindergarten, we couldn’t go outside for recess,” you teased.

You sat yourself between Bradley and Amelia on the sofa and he threw his arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer. He knew you’d get cold soon, but didn’t want you to run inside to get your jacket or a sweatshirt just yet - he just wanted you beside him. Plus, there was also the fear that you’d get one of Maverick’s sweatshirts from inside if you forwent your jean jacket and that just wouldn’t do.

Amelia groaned, but still turned her attention back on you. “Okay, but you were definitely Joey Potter, breaking hearts left and right. No debate captains for you.” She stuck her tongue out at Bradley for good measure.

“Ha, I wish. No, I was actually kind of lame in high school, very angsty.” Bradley knew why, but Maverick and the Benjamins were still in the dark.

“Really?” Amelia frowned. 

It was easy to understand her confusion since you were just about the coolest person she knew - her words. Amelia had told Bradley so the first night he’d brought you over for dinner. Can you ask her where she got her sneakers? A couple weeks later, you and Bradley had gotten Amelia the very same sneakers for her birthday. She always blushed when you wore them at the same time.

So, the next words out of your mouth clearly surprised her. “Oh, yeah, I was knee deep in Mazzy Star and Vampire Weekend. The dark preppy vibe, if that’s even a thing?”

“Jesus, I wasn’t even that bad.” Bradley squeezed your shoulder and got a smile out of you with his teasing.

Maverick and Penny were talking off on their own, so you turned your full attention towards Amelia. “I was in a car accident my junior year of high school. Kind of set me back with school and then - well, private school kids are kind of vicious so…” 

“What happened? Sorry - that was -”

“- It’s oka -,” you started to say, then seemed to think better of it. Because nothing about that night had been okay. “I was in a car with someone and we got t-boned. I got pretty banged up, broke my right arm and leg. It seemed like I had a perpetual concussion for the next six months. He just broke his arm,” you finished wryly. 

He. 

He just broke his arm.

Bradley pursed his lips at the mention of Teddy Cavanaugh. Fucking prick. To say you’d gotten pretty banged up was putting it way too mildly. Thinking about it again made him just as upset as it had that night all those months ago on your fourth date when you’d told him the entire story. 

And more recently, Bradley had had the unfortunate experience of meeting Teddy over Thanksgiving when Bradley had played golf with your dad one afternoon up in Berkeley. As a rule, Bradley tried not to hate people on sight - at least not anymore. 

But god, he really fucking hated Teddy Cavanaugh. He wanted to fucking deck him on the first tee at Claremont Country Club. He wanted to slam his nine-iron into the Porsche 911 he was driving. And Bradley was pretty sure your dad did too. 

It was such a cunty move to get the same car.

Plus, what self respecting twenty-nine year old still went by Teddy anyway?

But the truth of what happened that night wasn’t exactly appropriate for a post dinner conversation, nevermind the fact that Amelia was only a year younger than you had been that night. 

The realization made Bradley freeze. 

You had only been a year older than Amelia when it happened. Amelia, who still slept with the stuffed cow her grandparents had gotten her for her sixth birthday. Amelia, who still played with her American Girl Dolls when she didn’t get invited to a friend’s house on Friday nights. Amelia, who still made Bradley a new welcome home banner after every deployment. Amelia, who still huffed whenever Bradley ruffled her hair as a hello. Amelia, who Bradley promised he’d teach how to drive that spring.

You were Amelia. You had been that young, that sweet, that trusting and Teddy Cavanaugh had thrown it all back in your face.

Bradley could feel his chest tighten, even as he ignored the chatter around him. Maverick and Penny had joined in whatever conversation you were now having with Amelia, but all Bradley could do was sit there. 

Without a word, he pulled you closer, so you were bundled up in his arms. It was still proper enough in front of his family, but he needed to have you close. Your legs were plastered together alongside Bradley’s right side and you burrowed yourself under the arm he draped across your shoulders. 

Everything was right as it should be. Bradley was with his family, Bradley was with you, here. Not on a carrier in the middle of the Pacific or the passenger seat of Mr. Cavanaugh’s Porsche. 

Here. And nothing bad was going to happen here.  

Soon, the conversation changed to whichever HBO show Amelia and Maverick were excited to watch later that night, while Penny went inside to get the dessert: s’mores. 

“‘You need any help?”

Penny waved you off. “I’m all set, everything’s already measured out.”

Once she was gone, Bradley pressed a light kiss to your shoulder and you shivered. “‘You getting cold, kid?” You nodded. “‘You want my sweatshirt?” 

“Please?”

“I’ve got one in the mudroom if -” 

“No, it’s fine,” Bradley cut off Maverick, “she can have mine.”

Quickly taking off his own sweatshirt and putting it over your head, Bradley didn’t even have the time to linger on how pathetic he sounded. Who did Maverick think he was, offering to let Bradley’s girlfriend borrow a sweatshirt? Didn’t he realize Bradley was more than capable of taking care of you?

“Thanks.” You smiled at him, now cozy and wrapped up in the still warm sweatshirt and Bradley nearly forgot why he had gotten so huffy in the first place. Nearly. 

“So,” Penny popped back out onto the patio with a heaping tray of marshmallows, a bowl of chocolate squares, and stacks of graham crackers, “who wants s’mores?”

“Me, me!” Amelia called, pushing her way towards the tray and subsequently dishing out the marshmallow sticks. 

Little shit gave Bradley the worst one, even knowing Maverick wouldn’t have any and therefore didn’t need one. As payback, he kept putting his marshmallow wherever Amelia’s was. It meant that he didn’t roast a single good marshmallow, but the glare she kept sending him was too funny to make him stop. 

Eventually, after Bradley had to blow out yet another marshmallow - Oh, shit! Not again! - you took over s’more duties. Just as well, really; yours were the best. You turned marshmallow roasting into an art form - a perfectly golden, gooey art form. While you didn’t eat any with graham crackers, you did have one you roasted over the fire with the chocolate already stuffed in the marshmallow. You smiled at Bradley’s shocked expression and then wordlessly made him three exactly like it.

All the while, you answered Penny’s questions about how your dad and Mary were doing and when they were next coming down to San Diego and if they would want to get dinner with her and Pete, just the four of them? But when you started nodding off against Bradley’s shoulder, he knew it was time for you both to head home. 

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

Mon, March 22, 1:43pm

How was your meeting? 

it was fine, but ran over and i didn’t get to have lunch before my one o’clock ☹️

At least have a snack or something, don’t want you wasting away on me, kid. 

i won’t! what’re you up to?

Stopped by the base for a bit, saw the guys and then went to the gym.

I might get a haircut later. 

you can’t get a haircut without me! i don’t trust you not to get it too short! plus i like it a little longer 

Oh yeah? 

i like when it gets curly at the ends, it’s always really soft too. can you wait till after the trip?  please bradley please?

Fine, but only because you begged me…

i’ll make it up to you later, promise and i did not beg you…

Or you could make it up to me now?

Is the office busy today?

no  it’s pretty quiet

You wore that navy skirt, right?

yeah with my white silk blouse 

What’d you wear underneath it?

bradley! i don’t know, boring underwear? 

You wanna show me? Just to check?

you can see when i get home, i’ll even try and sneak out a little early 

Wanna see now

Show me

fine, just give me a sec. i’ll go to the bathroom 

No

At your desk

Now

bradley!

Sweetheart I’m aching

[image: Mr. 7.5 Gs]

fuck holy shit bubs what were you doing before you texted me?

Jerking off, I’m bored

charming

Wanna be inside you

fuck bradley wish i was home to take care of you god you’re so pretty hold on

Keep thinking about you in your office, acting all proper and then I’d barge in and fuck you on that fancy desk of yours

[image: miss ‘the one day i’m wearing plain underwear’]

God such a good girl for me

Are you wet

mmmm  getting there this is so hot unless i get fired

I’d bend you over

Take you from behind

You’re always tighter that way

[Sent with Siri]

bradley

Need your mouth on me

I’d make you get on your knees and suck me off in front of the window

Fuck your throat

[Sent with Siri] 

bradley you’re not playing fair

No you’re not

Need more pictures of you

[Sent with Siri]

What do you want me to do? [Sent with Siri]

Shove your fingers up your cunt

Knuckle deep

[Sent with Siri]

I’d have to use three to feel like yours [Sent with Siri]

Need a video need to hear you too

[Sent with Siri]

[for bradley’s eyes only.mov]

Fuck you’re fucking gorgeous like that 

Always do just what I ask 

Fuck I need you so bad 

[Sent with Siri]

Need you too fuck [Sent with Siri] i can’t believe you got me to do that at work

When are you coming home? 

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

There was something up with you. The thought kept running through Bradley’s head Tuesday evening while he was on his run.

Bradley would never have described you as skittish, but that’s how you had been acting over the last couple days. You were still affectionate and kind and you. And had told him countless times how much you loved him and how happy you were that he was home. 

So, it had to be a physical thing. You were guarded whenever he touched you - whether you were being sexually intimate or he had just grabbed your waist to cuddle you closer on the couch or in bed. It was always your waist or stomach area, really. That was the hot spot.

At first, Bradley thought he’d been too rough with you that first time back, but he knew you trusted him enough to tell him if that was the case, so that was out. Plus, later that morning when you were riding him, you’d asked him to grab your hips so hard he’d leave behind marks. You liked whenever he marked you - and he liked whenever you marked him. And you weren’t shying away from sex with him, not at all. In fact, you were pretty insatiable.

Then, he’d thought you might have hurt yourself while he had been gone and had a scar or something that you hadn’t wanted him to see? But your skin was free of new blemishes, baring the zit on your cheek you’d been complaining about since Saturday night. 

At one point, Bradley had even contemplated that you might be pregnant. He had been gone for three months, an entire first trimester. But something about the theory didn’t sit right with him. 

First, you would’ve fucking told him on Friday night, especially after you both talked about waiting to have kids and how you were on the same page. Because Bradley wasn’t dying in an F-18 with a family at home. 

Then, there was the fact that you had an IUD and the possibility of getting pregnant on an IUD was even less than on the pill (<1% a year - he’d looked it up). And finally, you’d be showing by now, even if only a little bump. But now that he thought about it, in all the days that he’d been home and all the times you’d had sex, Bradley had only seen you completely naked once. One or both of you were always partially clothed. And he would have noticed - right? Your boobs were definitely bigger, but it wasn’t - that wasn’t it, no, he was sure you weren’t pregnant.

It had to be something about your body, your stomach in particular. Because you were still affectionate, still wanted him, were still relatively yourself, your boobs looked great, and you loved him. So, why did you practically jump out of your skin whenever Bradley’s hand grazed your stomach? 

He would give you until Friday to tell him on your own before he asked. That would be a week from when he’d gotten home, more than enough time. Plus, maybe being on vacation would get you to open up a bit? 

Because this just wasn’t you. You didn’t really keep any secrets from Bradley. He wouldn’t be so naive to say that he knew everything about you, but in general you were honest with him. Was there a hint in one of your emails? Some little detail he had glossed over in his haste to read any scrap of news from you, in your voice? Bradley had read all of them at least three times, some even more, but maybe he had missed something?

The run he’d gone on to clear his head left the problem no more clear than when he’d set off forty-five minutes ago. He ran up the back steps to the mudroom and toed off his sneakers before heading to the kitchen for a glass of water. You’d be home soon, he needed to start dinner.

Last night, you’d marinated some steak tips and made some rice pilaf, while Bradley roasted some vegetables. There was plenty of leftover steak for dinner tonight, he just had to decide what to make with it. Taking a peek in the fridge, he took a quick inventory of anything you’d need to finish before leaving Thursday morning. A couple peppers laid in the crisper along with an eggplant, which stumped him as neither of you liked eggplant. He could do steak fajitas with those? There were always fresh tortillas around. Content with his plan, Bradley grabbed a bottle of Pellegrino from the side door and poured himself a glass. 

As he put the bottle back, his eyes landed on the chocolate cake, perfectly ensconced in glass snapware, on the top shelf. How the hell was there still leftover chocolate cake? In addition to what you’d had Friday night, the two of you had had some for breakfast Sunday morning - well, Bradley had had some for breakfast Sunday morning and you’d let him feed you a couple bites. He shut the fridge door with a little more force than necessary and started prepping the peppers and onions. 

You loved chocolate cake. And you’d worked so hard on it. Why the fuck weren’t you eating it? Plus, now that he really thought about it, you’d barely had a s’more at Maverick and Penny’s and instead kept yourself occupied by lovingly making Bradley’s for him. And then there were the egg whites.

It would be a lie to say that none of it had seemed off at the time, but looking at all the incidents together just showed how truly off things were. And then coupled with how off you were with other things like your clothes and stomach - oh. 

No way. No fucking way. That could not be it. 

No, no. You couldn’t be worried about how - 

Just as he was finishing up the peppers to go along with the onions he’d already prepped, Bradley heard the back door open.

“Bubs?” you called out, “I’m home!”

“Hey!” 

“How was your run?”

Bradley quickly washed his hands and went over to meet you in the mudroom. And there you were, looking polished and professional in a black tweed, sleeveless dress that he hadn’t gotten a glimpse at before you’d left for work that morning, thanks to the blazer you’d thrown over it. The bodice of the dress was decorated with what he hoped were functional gold buttons that were just begging to be ripped open. And to top it off, you were wearing semi sheer black tights and those black slingbacks he liked so much. 

Actually, you were leaning against the wall trying to unbuckle those slingbacks he liked so much. But all Bradley could focus on as you asked him about his afternoon was the curve of your hip and the fact that your breasts looked unreal in that dress.

His pretty girlfriend. His pretty girlfriend who looked so smart and absolutely fuckable right now. His. His. His. His -

You stopped trying to take off your shoes and shot him a questioning look as you approached. “Bradley?”

“Sorry, I uhh - yeah, it was fine. Saw the Thompsons finished their patio - is that a new dress?” His fingers idly brushed against the fabric and you froze. 

“Oh, uh, no. I’ve had it for a while. Since the move, I’ve been going through my clothes trying to see what I actually wear and - I know it’s a little small now, it keeps riding up my hips a bit, but I still think it looks nice on top…” You ventured out of the mudroom. “Does it look bad?”

No, it very much did not look bad on you. It was definitely tighter than anything you normally wore to work, but it looked good. And weary from the work day with your hair a little mussed and the dress a bit askew from when you tried to take off your shoes, you looked absolutely divine and Bradley had to have you immediately. 

“No! I’m just,” he goaded you further into the kitchen, “surprised you wore it to work - in a good way!” 

The shy look on your face gradually slipped away and you crowded into Bradley’s space. “In a good way, huh?”

His hands found their way to your waist and he waited for a reaction from you. Getting nothing but a smile, his thumbs rubbed circles along your hips and he brought you chest to chest. 

“I gotta ask, though?” You hummed. “Do these really work?” He dragged his fingers up and down the front of your dress, spending the slightest bit more time along the square neckline and your breasts.

“And what if they did?”

Bradley groaned your name and rested his forehead against yours. “Then I’d have to unbutton every last one of them right now.”

You kissed his neck, paying no mind to the stubble he had been growing since Friday night. If you’d asked, he would shave it in a second, but you loved the roughness against your neck and inner thighs. As your lips kept up their targeted attack on his neck and jawline, your right hand slid between your bodies to palm his cock through his athletic shorts. 

“But if you did that, then you’d have to take me right here…”

Barely a beat passed before Bradley grabbed your hips and plopped you down on the kitchen table. It shook under your weight. Your chest was heaving at the sudden action, in turn drawing his attention to your breasts and those tempting buttons. They reminded him of the ones on his old Naval dress coat from Oceana. 

“Lemme help you out there.” 

His nimble fingers made quick work of the four brass buttons that revealed your black lace bra. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell you were pleased he didn’t tear off any of the buttons. Knowing you, his spoiled, prissy girlfriend, the dress was probably expensive. Good.

Next, Bradley pushed the wide straps over your shoulders, leaving your black lace bra as his final impediment. “So pretty,” he muttered into your chest. Your head tipped back and you pulled him closer, deeper.

“You didn’t send me any texts today,” you barely got the words out as Bradley made quick work popping one of your breasts, then the other, out of your bra. It was technically a lie; he had texted you, but it had been a do you know where my Theragun is text, not a show me your pussy right now text. “I even wore pretty underwear for you.”

Bradley tutted against your left breast. “Guess I have to make it up to you now.” 

His mouth latched onto your nipple and he needled the little nub with his tongue. You carded your fingers through his hair and gave the ends the slightest little tug. 

“Thought about you all day, bubs,” you whispered the words against Bradley’s ear before nipping at the lobe. 

“Yeah?” Granted, if you kept rutting against each other like this, he’d probably cum in his shorts - there really wasn’t a lot of substance to the running shorts he was wearing - but god. He needed to sink inside you. 

Today was the first time since he’d gotten home that you hadn’t fucked in the morning. You had had to hustle out of the house for an early meeting and even Bradley had an eight-thirty physical at the Naval Medical Center. There had barely been time for a heated makeout against the refrigerator - to say nothing of a good fuck - before you’d left with your lip gloss slightly mussed.

“Would’ve come home sooner if I knew you were wearing these fucking shorts.” You slipped your hand under the waistband of his compression shorts that were borderline painful at this point and grabbed his cock with an expert touch. 

“Fuck…” Bradley allowed your touches to go on for a few more moments before he pulled back, knowing he’d spend in your hand if you kept this up. “Hold on.” You pulled your hand back and he yanked his t-shirt off over his head and threw it on the breakfast bench. Your hands crept across his chest before they eventually rested on his shoulders. 

But now it was Bradley’s turn to touch you. Your tights felt particularly soft beneath his hands as he inched higher and higher up your thighs. He loved when you wore stuff like this, so prim and proper. Especially when you got all squirmy beneath him. Cheeky little thing. The heat was pouring off you where Bradley was touching you between your thighs, even though your underwear and tights. Your arms wound around his neck to pull him closer and press your lips to his in a bruising kiss. God, he could kiss you for hours; he never tired of it.

“Bradley…” you sighed through his ministrations. “More, bubs.” 

He smiled, of course, anything for you. Anything to be inside you. But first, he had to ask: “These the thick ones?” You froze under him. “The tights? The thick tights? Like from Thanksgiving?” 

They had a more formal name, but he was focused on other things at the moment, namely if he could rip a hole in them to get to you faster. Over Thanksgiving, he’d found out the hard way that your tights were often rip resistant. Which really put a damper on a portion of your wine cellar escapades. 

“Oh?” The furrow between your eyebrows disappeared. “Oh! The tights! No, no, they’re cheap ones from J Crew or something.”

Good. Then he wasn’t going to apologize for what he was about to do. Because Bradley had to fuck you, he had to be inside you right now. Something about you and being off and those tights and that dress and his run and the subsequent endorphin rush. 

He had to have you.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Bradley tugged at the seam of your tights and ripped a hole in them large enough for his hands - and his dick - to poke through. You sighed when he broke through the nylon and slid your panties to the side to circle your clit with his thumb.

“So good,” he muttered reverently. 

God, what a pretty picture you made. Dress rucked up around your stomach, chest bare, and pretty pussy on display just for him. 

“More, please, Bradley.” You whimpered while he teased you with one finger, then two. “Anything. Need it - you.”

“You get stressed out at work today?” You nodded and then burrowed your head against his neck, rubbing against him like a cat in heat. “Poor thing, da - I’ll take care of you, yeah. Make you forget.” 

Bradley thrusted his fingers deeper inside you, crooking them just slightly so you’d buck up against him. You bit his neck when he tweaked his fingers just right. There you go, just a little more and you’d be ready for him. God, he was aching. He couldn’t fathom teasing you anymore. He needed you, now. 

“Just need to slip inside you, sweetheart. You made it so perfect for me.” Wet. Hot. Tight. Perfect. His. “There we go, just like that, good girl.” Bradley took a moment to line his cock up and slid inside you in one motion. “Fuck,” he punctuated the word with your name, “good?”

“Yes, yes.” 

You got into a steady rhythm that kept increasing. The table creaked under your combined weight and had anything been on it, it surely would’ve toppled over by now. 

You tightened around his cock and met his hips thrust for thrust. A wave of heat swept over Bradley’s body and he could feel you slipping deeper into a lustful haze. Knowing he was also close and would be near useless in moments, he hiked your left leg higher up on his hip so your heel was digging into the back of his thigh, anchoring you to him. 

“That’s it, that’s it,” Bradley said mindlessly. 

Your faces were so close, you were breathing each other’s air, stealing the word’s off the other’s lips. Yours and mine are the same. You cried out suddenly and snapped your eyes up to meet Bradley’s brown ones. God, you were beautiful. You both were beautiful. This was beautiful. Being together like this was beautiful. It was wet and loud and messy, but it was beautiful. 

Everything about it.

“‘m so close,” he finished with your name on his lips like a plea. “Wanna wait for you.”

“Don’t, ‘ll be right there.”

His thrusts eventually got sloppier and slower, but he could still feel you clenching around him as he spent himself inside you. 

“Fuck,” he panted your name. “That’s it, that’s it.”

“‘s full, bubs.” Your nails dug into his shoulder, centering him so he could turn the focus back on you.

All he needed was a few more shallow thrusts and a punch of your clit to get you there alongside him. You came with a cry, utterly spent, but sated. 

Your legs relaxed their hold against his thighs, but you didn’t totally release him. Meanwhile, he pressed kisses across your cheeks and lips, before finding himself notched along your neck. 

“There you go, good girl. Did such a good job, huh. So beautiful.”

It was quiet between the two of you for a few moments, all Bradley could hear was your breaths panting against his cheek, while your index finger moved lazily across his shoulder blade. But then you started shaking. 

And at first he thought it was from being overstimulated until he realized you were shaking from silent giggles. Bradley picked his head up from where it was buried in your neck and leveled you with a look that had you properly bursting into laughter. He wanted to make some smart comment, something cheeky, but the gorgeous smile on your face had him losing his feigned stoicism and he started laughing right alongside you. 

“So,” you said after your laughter subsided, “what’s for dinner, bubs?”

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

The following morning, Bradley poked his head into the dining room where you’d made up your office for the day. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why you weren’t using the office upstairs, but he held back. He liked that you were downstairs, he liked that you were close to him. 

Of course he’d seen you work from home before. But there was something about seeing you holding meetings and taking calls for the first time in your home that made him smile. 

And though you were taking a half day to prepare for leaving tomorrow, Bradley knew you’d be checking your email and Slack for the rest of the afternoon before officially logging off for the next 10 days. 

10 days in Punta Mita - just the two of you, no distractions, no emails, no training runs, nothing but the sun, sea, sustenance, sleep, and sex. 

Just you and me, kid.

Bradley inched further into the room and leaned against the doorframe. “I’m gonna go for a run, but should be back for lunch.”

You took out your Airpods before responding. “Sounds good, how much are you thinking?”

“Probably a quick 10k?” It had been ages since Bradley had run his usual route through Balboa Park, so these last few days had been a treat.

“‘A quick 10k,’ he says. I should be done by the time you get back?” He nodded. “We can have lunch and then I’ll head out on my errands.”

Errands? “Oh? I didn’t know you were going out?”

You sat up straighter and fully focused on him. “Yeah, I have to get my nails done and then have to pick up a couple things - like your special sunscreen...”

“Can I come?” he asked, completely ignoring the sunscreen comment. It wasn’t special per se, it was just high SPF since he burned easily. 

“Really?” You sounded surprised. “It’ll be pretty boring.”

“No, I wanna come with you.” I wanna spend time with you. 

A bashful smile appeared on your face. “Okay, I’m trying a new salon.”

“Ditching your old stomping grounds?” Bradley asked, referencing your old neighborhood near Gaslamp. 

You nodded your head. “Figured I’d try someplace around here, but the only one that looks promising is way up on 30th?”

“I think we can make due with that,” he pecked your cheek, “alright, I’ll see you in a bit, kid. Don’t work too hard.”

“Har, har, see you soon.”

Bradley shot you a wink and set off. Who knew, maybe he’d set a new PR in his haste to get back home to you?

And sure enough, after his quick 10k through Balboa Park and the surrounding neighborhood, Bradley bounded up the back steps and quickly disposed of his sneakers and his sweat stained grey t-shirt on the mudroom floor. It had been stupid to even wear one in the first place, he’d had to tuck it into his waistband before he hit the first half mile. 

“New personal record!” 

Your face lit up with a smile as Bradley came into the dining room. “See, now, how do I know you just didn’t milk a 3 mile run or something?”

He rolled his eyes and gestured down at his torso, which was gleaming with sweat, even in the soft mid-day lighting currently cloaking the dining room, and showed you his running app for good measure. “Does this look like I milked it?”

“Come ‘ere.” You held your arms out.

“I’m all sweaty, kid…”

“Nope, don’t care, please?”

Hey, if you weren’t going to complain that Bradley was too sweaty or smelled, then he wasn’t about to put you off. He wrapped his arms around you over the back of the chair and put his chin on the top of your head.

“You know, if you like the scent of someone’s sweat that means you’re soulmates…” 

“Is that right?” You sounded amused.

Bradley burrowed his face in your neck, forcing a giggle out of you even before he pressed butterfly kisses everywhere. “Mmmhhmm, yup. You always smell perfect.” 

“That’s just my perfume!” 

“Nope, just you kid.” 

Bradley could feel you relax and let out a sigh. The two of you sat there in silence for a moment, content to just be with each other, until your Mac dinged with an Outlook notification. You stretched your arms out in front of you to reply to the email, but Bradley didn’t let you go. As he watched you type out a response to your coworker about if ESG investments were just virtue signaling or not, his eyes caught a glint of gold on your wrist.

“You really wear that bracelet everyday, huh?”

You turned your head to look up at him and he was pleased to note you looked incredibly flustered. “Of course I do. You got it for me.”

The matter of fact way you responded had him blushing. “Guess I’ll have to get you the necklace for your birthday…”

“You better not!” He just kissed your cheek. “Bradley, I’m serious! That’s too much - especially for just a birthday.”

“Then I’ll get it for you for our anniversary.”

“Bubs…” You were pouting now and it only made him want to get you the necklace more. “It’s too expensive for something like that; I looked it up online.”

“You’re no fun.” 

And so he would continue to be denied the pleasure of seeing you in the matching jewelry - at least until he wore you down. You did have a point, though - the necklace was almost twice as much as the bracelet. But then again, you bought Bradley little (and not so little) things all the time?

Idly, he recalled the jibe he had ignored from Hangman the other day regarding his leave: not all of us have rich girlfriends to take us on two week vacations. Bradley’s reply that it was only for ten days, not two weeks hadn’t exactly done him any favors. 

But it was a points game! It was practically free. (He knew it wasn’t, but…) And you were going dutch for all the incidentals and room charges. It was going to be perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect. 

Ten glorious days of no work, no distractions, just the two of you. 

You turned around in your chair so you were properly facing him. “Do you want to get lunch out? Make an afternoon of it? We don’t really have much in the fridge, so it’s either lunch or dinner out and I know you still have to pack.”

A smile crept across his face and he kissed your nose. “I’d love to go to lunch with you. You sure you won’t get sick of me? All this one on one time?”

You just shook your head. “Nope, not that easily. Well, unless you sit next to me at the salon, I’m not very chatty while I’m getting a pedicure.”

“Woah, woah.” Bradley held his hands up and you grabbed one to examine it. “Since when am I getting my nails done?”

“You’re getting a pedicure at the very least. I don’t want to have to look at your weird feet on the beach all week.” 

“Oh-ho, now you’ve done it.” 

He bundled you up in his arms and started tickling your sides. That was your sweet spot. And hopefully if he was tickling you, you’d forget to be jumpy when he touched you there. He hadn’t forgotten about that.

“Bradley! Bradley,” you giggled. “Okay, okay, I’m kidding, I’m kidding. No pedicure.”

But Bradley did end up getting a pedicure, even if it only entailed getting his feet buffed. If pressed, he would say it was because he wanted to sit in the massage chair and the nail tech told him he could only sit in the chair if he was getting his nails done. That was the only reason why. It wasn’t because of how pretty you looked while you were smiling at him out of the corner of his eye, like you couldn’t believe he was really there.  

Absolutely not.

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

“Do you need any help packing?” 

Bradley nodded, he hoped he didn’t look too sheepish. At thirty-six years old, he absolutely could pack his own clothes, but he liked when you fussed over him and made sure your clothing was complementary to each other. It was sweet. Plus, you always packed stuff he hadn’t thought to bring or wear together.

The two of you were a well oiled machine. Bradley would roll his underwear, pajamas, and gym clothes into his packing cubes while you helped pick out his bathing suits and later his dinner and day clothes. To his great surprise, you managed to fit all his clothes - for ten days, mind you - into his Samsonite carryon. His toiletries and extra pair of shoes and other incidentals would go in his backpack.

Once his suitcase was zipped up and ready to go, Bradley nodded towards your Rimowa stashed by the bedroom door. “‘You need any help? You don’t normally check?”

You normally lived by the carry-on rule, so it seemed out of character for you to check a full-size bag. Which, of course, wasn’t the first thing that seemed out of character for you since Bradley had gotten home. But he promised himself he’d wait until you came to him with your problem. Or till Friday.

“Oh, uhh, yeah, I guess I just have more stuff this time.” You shook your head. “I packed earlier while you were taking a nap, but thanks.”

He clicked his tongue. “Guess it’ll be a surprise then.”

“Hmmm, I’ll let you see my shoes?”

Bradley sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back on his elbows. “You’d do that? For me?”

You giggled and then mimicked his pose on the bed, except you made sure to snuggle up next to him, all earlier awkwardness gone. “I’d do anything for you actually.”

“Sap.” He kissed you. 

“Nerd.” You kissed him. 

“See, now you’re killing the vibe,” he teased. You giggled and kissed his shoulder through his t-shirt. “You ready for tomorrow?” You nodded. “You’re not gonna get sick of me, right?”

You shook your head. “Never, even if you are a nerd who gets pedicures -”

“- I was coerced! The massage chair!” You giggled. “Alright, alright, walk me through tomorrow.”

At this point, Bradley was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, while you were tucked under his arm, peering up at him. 

“We should leave by six if our flight’s at eight forty-five, especially if we want to go to the lounge beforehand. It’s spring break-ish and I’m not sure if it’ll be crazy in the terminal, so the lounge might be a good idea.”

“Got it, United lounge for breakfast, good.” 

“Flight’s like three hours.”

“Mmmmm, perfect for a nap.”

You chuckled. “I think we get in around one o’clock with the time difference and everything. The hotel’s sending a car and then it’s like an hour drive to Punta Mita.”

“So, if we play our cards right, we could be on the beach by three-o-one?”

“Oh, for sure,” you feigned seriousness, “If anyone can, it’s the two of us.”

And ain’t that the truth? Bradley held his hand up for a high five, which you heartily returned. “Nice job, kid. It’s gonna be great.”

Ten days. You and Bradley at some tony resort in Mexico. No cares, no worries for ten whole days. Fucking perfect. 

Everything was going to be perfect.

-----------

If at all possible, in the three months that he had been gone, Bradley had gotten even more handsome. 

Sure, you’d seen a grainy image of him every two or so weeks over Facetime and had noticed him mentioning going to the gym a lot on the carrier. You’d known he was going to look different. His hair was going to be longer and blonder and his skin darker. He was still your Bradley and you loved him all the same. 

But seeing him on the 16 inch screen of your Macbook compared to all six foot one inches of Bradley Bradshaw in person was an eye opener. 

Because you hadn’t been prepared for how it made you feel in comparison. Because he was so strong and fit and beautiful - and you didn’t think you were any of those things. Not anymore at least. Not after what happened.

Not after how often you’d been skipping pilates to spend some extra time in the office or all the meals you’d eaten on the go or out with clients. You should have taken your mother’s words to heart at lunch two weeks ago when she had told you to watch your figure, boys like Bradley are used to certain standards. 

That afternoon when you’d gotten back to your apartment, you’d gone straight to your walk-in closet and scrutinized every inch of your body in the full length mirror. 

Certain standards.

Why did you let her get in your head? Why did you let any of it get in your head? It wasn’t true, it wasn’t true. None of it was true. 

Certain standards. 

And then, when you finally picked Bradley up on that cloudy, late March day, you wore an oxford of his and a pair of baggy jeans. You still looked cute, you still looked like you put in an effort, but you didn’t look as dolled up as some of the other wives and girlfriends and partners and maybe you should have? Maybe you should have worn a cute little sundress and forgotten your underwear or some other ridiculous thing? Let him fuck you in the back of the car right in the middle of the parking lot? 

That wasn’t you, though. That wasn’t either of you.

But Bradley loved you. He had told you in about 159 different ways (re. emails) while he was gone. He loved you, he wanted you, he was going to live with you, build a life with you. You knew he loved you no matter what you looked like. 

Certain standards.

But when he fucked you softly and slowly that first morning back - only after originally falling asleep on you, which you tried not to be too upset about - and you told him how much you loved him and missed him, you did so with the lights completely off and with your chemise on before snuggling in his arms. 

It was stupid. The entire thing was stupid. You knew that. And you knew you’d feel this way until you confronted Bradley and he ultimately proved you wrong. But doing that wouldn’t fully stop those feelings from brewing inside you either. 

And yeah, for the first few days you’d been too caught up in the ecstasy of him finally being home - in the home that you two finally shared - to really give it much thought. But tomorrow you were going on a ten day long beach vacation to Mexico and you couldn’t help but toss and turn all night wondering if you were up to certain standards. 

-----------

a/n: oops! this was super long, sorry! but there's such an interesting story here and i'm so excited to show how it'll unfold in the next chapter when they're in mexico!

tagging a couple people: @sometimesanalice @withahappyrefrain @cherrycola27 @notroosterbradshaw @gigisimsonmars @pisupsala @dissonannce @laracrofted @heartsofminds @briseisgone

[hwaslayer]

the space between us three (jyh) | four.

⇢series masterlist | series playlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

⇢word count: 4.5k

⇢chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/ sexually implied content, sorry more of a filler chapter cause i need to build this up lol 😅 but more oc x yunho!!, taehyun & jihoon tryna play cupid, well ok i guess everyone is at this point lmao, seora and yunho have a lil heart to heart

Monday comes a lot quicker than expected, but you're glad the weekend was better than you thought it'd turn out. Running errands and spending the day with your parents was actually a lot calmer this time around— no bickering or arguing unnecessarily, mom wasn't picking at things or pointing out specific details just to work your last nerve.

It was good. It did make you feel bad for not being better about spending more time with them, though.

But, that's why you vowed to work on it with your brother and you knew you both were serious about making it happen. Better late than never, and you and Wonwoo could admit to your faults. 

That's progress and a way forward, right?

Anyway, the agenda went as promised with your family— you ended up at the grocery store for about an hour before driving down to the pharmacy and different furniture stores until you and your parents settled on a new, good quality couch they were satisfied with. When you had gotten back to the house that afternoon, mom sent you away with towers of food and Yunho hadn't gotten back home yet.

Couldn't help but wonder what his typical weekend was like with his daughter. Was that weird? He seems so laidback [despite his dad tone coming out on Saturday before leaving], it just makes you wonder what him and his daughter do to fill their downtime together.

Must be cute.

When you got back home that afternoon, you had tidied up your place and showered off the early day's activities before preparing a charcuterie board, wine and other finger foods for Noeul and Sian's arrival. It was a much needed sleepover since it had been awhile since the last one— the three of you getting caught up with work and being too exhausted to meet outside of it. You and the girls talked about everything and anything; from new updates on old friends from college and highschool and analyzing every detail of their recent photos on IG, to love, dating and all the juicy one-nights, to what's been on the grocery list lately and then finally, openly exploring the topic of sex toys and all that glory.

Very, very much needed.

In fact, sleeping in the next day and getting breakfast with Noeul and Sian at the cute café nearby was the cherry on top. You finally got to taste that thick, milk bread with coconut-pandan jam sprinkled with tiny bits of sea salt.

Your weekend was better than expected.

For Yunho, it was a bit chaotic; filled with an impromptu sleepover with 11-going-on-12-year old girls screaming and singing at the top of their lungs after a long day of shopping and eating out. They all plopped onto the large air mattress Yunho set up in the middle of the living room, their voices slowly dying down as the hours went on. They didn't fall asleep until a bit past midnight, which is when Yunho decided to finally shut off his TV and get some shut-eye himself.

Then, the morning came and it was chaos all over again. 

He overheard the girls talking and giggling until Seora gently knocked and walked into her dad's room to wake him up. His eyes fluttered open, his daughter sitting on the edge of his bed poking at his cheek. He sleepily chuckled and sat up, ruffling her hair messily while she asked if he could take them to a specific breakfast spot deep into the city. 

A spot that has thick, milk bread with coconut-pandan jam sprinkled with tiny bits of sea salt and other unique delicacies. 

Even though he's exhausted, he gets up and gets ready anyway. Not only because of Seora, but because he can finally get a taste of that fig sesame and honey danish and grab a bag of those milk bread dinner rolls for him and Seora to indulge in.

It's too bad he had just missed you leaving the same spot. 

Monday mornings are usually a drag, especially coming from a much-needed, good, relaxing weekend. But today, you're powered up on coffee and making sure you have your things [and yourself] ready for your meeting with Yunho. You're not sure why you're nervous; perhaps, it goes back to you feeling lost and confused about different aspects of this project. You don't know much about the IT and clinical informatics side, and you don't wanna come off as dumb, clueless.

Especially in front of him.

You're just hoping for the best, and you've sat yourself in the booked conference room to go through old emails, old messages, to get yourself up to speed. You do remember being looped into certain threads, but not paying any attention to it because it didn't particularly concern you at the time— which, is a good thing you did because you definitely would not have known there were specifics about the ordering system that the higher-ups had already asked for and that they were already working on the build. You can ask Yunho where things are at from that point.

That’ll be a good start.

As you continue to busily type away for other aspects of the project and personal tasks, you almost miss the figure that passes by and walks into the room.

"Woah, you're here early. Why?" Your eyes slightly widen at Yunho's tall figure strolling in with a cup or coffee in his hand.

"Because I wanted to be early, but apparently you're earlier." He smirks, plopping down next to you. "Working hard already? Goodmorning, by the way.”

"Sorry, goodmorning.” You scrunch your nose a bit, embarrassed at how you greeted him. “I just.. don't wanna sound dumb in front of you so I've been getting all my notes together." He chuckles.

"Never? No question or thought is dumb, Y/N. I don't expect you to know everything about our team. It's complicated."

"Still, I wanna be prepared."

"You are." He reassures you and it instantly comforts you.

"Are you gonna sit there?" He looks at you with a brow cocked up.

"Yeah, why? Do you want me to sit across from you?"

"No, I'm just asking since it's us two. I wasn't sure if you'd be comfortable that way." You chuckle.

"Oh, sorry. I hope you don't mind. I invited Taehyun and Jihoon from my team. I thought they could come to meetings in case I'm not around for whatever reason." He shrugs. "Plus, it just helps me to have extra heads involved in case I needa delegate."

"Makes sense, I don't mind. The more the merrier."

"Is it okay to still sit here?" He smiles and you nod.

"Sure." You laugh. There's a small silence that falls between the two of you while you both type away, along with Yunho's Slack notifications going off. But, none of it feels uncomfortable.

"So, how was your weekend with your parents?"

"Good! I just tagged along and ran errands with them. Picked up some meds, groceries. They finally got a new couch for the living room, too."

"Your mom has been talking about getting a new couch for awhile."

"She's definitely happy now." You look at him. "You know, I.. did not know you were the neighbor my mom had been talking about."

"Good things, I hope?"

"Oh yeah, my parents love you and your daughter." You look at him.

"They're great. They take care of us a lot, and I appreciate it. Especially on days when I can't be home right away. Your mom looks after my little-but-not-so-little one." You give him a tiny smile. "I— how come you don't swing by often? If you don't mind me asking."

"Just busy, honestly. My brother, too. He's younger. We get caught up with work and plans."

"Your parents talk about you two a lot. They adore you both and they always hope you'll come by more often."

"I know." You look down at your laptop. "We just suck at slipping in time for them, I'm gonna admit. And it's just.." You pause, not wanting to dump your life story and feelings on Yunho on a Monday morning. He looks at you with a hint of concern in his eyes, but you brush it off. "Anyway, we're trying. We know we needa do better." He smiles a bit. "My brother and I have talked about it and have come up with a plan so that we're slotting in time for them."

"That's all that matters. Are you and your brother close?"

"Very, yes. If you're around next weekend, you might get to meet him because we'll be swinging by together."

"Hm." Yunho hums. "My daughter has a basketball game and it's about an hour out. We might be gone by then, but if you and your brother are around when we get back, I'll gladly stop by to say hi."

"Sounds good. How was your weekend?" You ask and Yunho lets out a small chuckle at the way you try to fill in the silence while waiting for Taehyun and Jihoon.

"Busy. I, uh, hung out with a friend on Friday." He clears his throat. "Then took my daughter and her friends out on Saturday. When I saw you.. that's where we were going."

"Aw cute. Where did you guys go?"

"Well, I picked up one of my bestfriends and we took them to the Samsung Star Mall."

"That's a big mall. Sounds like you were there all day."

"Damn near, yeah. Then, grabbed some takeout, let the girls pick up their things from their homes and headed back to the house. They were yelling and singing like crazy after dinner." You laugh.

"That's very cute." He does a slight head tilt.

"Anything for my daughter." His eyes are glued onto his screen.

"What's her name?"

"Seora."

"That's a beautiful name." He gives you a small toothless smile.

"It is, isn't it?" You nod.

"What'd you do on Sunday? I assume you were able to sleep in since the girls must've been tired."

"Kinda, but Seora ended up waking me and asking if I could bring them to a café for breakfast. They were so excited about it."

"Which?"

"We went to Morning Toast." You gasp and look at him.

"That morning? What time?"

"Like 11?"

"I had literally just left right before it hit 11!"

"Really? That's too bad. It would've been nice to see you." He chuckles a bit, and it makes the heat rise to your cheeks. "Though, I had temporarily adopted like, 2 extra daughters so it was a little crazy. I might've looked a little out of it." He thinks for a minute. "Maybe it was best you didn't see me at that moment." 

"What do you mean? I'm sure it would've been fine if we did run into each other. I'm positive you probably didn't even look that way."

"How could you be so sure, hm?" He teases lightly before chuckling. "I've had pre-teens singing at the top of their lungs at the house and in the car all weekend. Pretty sure your parents probably heard them next door." You laugh.

"Sounds like your house is the place to be. Maybe I'll have to inquire about a quote for hosting my birthday there." 

"I just need about 3 months advance notice." You look at him and shake your head, giggling. At this point, his team lead, Taehyun, walks in with a smile on his face though it's obvious he's a bit stressed and has been running around.

"Hi! Sorry! Was caught up with a ticket." He rushes in, slightly out of breath and frazzled. Behind him is another team member that you haven't met yet. He meets your eyes and gives you a tiny bow with a small smile, slipping into the seat next to Taehyun in front of you.

"Hey, I'm Jihoon." He sits. "Sorry I couldn't make it to the meeting last week. Was tied up with some urgent issues."

"Oh, no worries! It's nice to meet you. I'm Y/N. I'm one of the project managers, mainly supporting the pediatrics unit."

"Good to meet you, too." Jihoon smiles. "It's nice to get some communication from the peds side."

"Yeah, I feel the same." You chuckle. "So, I saw that the build was already in the process." They all nod.

"It sure is. But, I thought it'd be good to give you a brief introduction to both of the IT and clinical informatics team just so you know how we interact." Yunho connects his laptop to the TV, causing you to turn your attention towards the screen. "Is that okay?"

"No, please. I'd love that. Take the floor." He smiles before running his finger down his bottom lip and beginning his presentation. He starts off by re-introducing the three of them before going through the names of his other direct reports. The next bits of his presentation explaining the core tasks his team is responsible for and the differences with the clinical informatics team. He goes through the key people in that team and you find yourself typing away while glancing at the screen every now and then. You find his explanation incredibly detailed but simple enough for you to understand. It's super helpful, and you feel like you've definitely learned a lot from the meeting alone. This was the one area you weren't entirely familiar with, and it was nice that the three were open to answering your questions and clarifying anything that might've seemed confusing. You also learned that they've gotten a good amount of the planning and groundwork done for the main hospital unit. Now, they can focus a lot of their efforts towards the pediatric unit.

At the end of the meeting, Yunho gives you the floor to ask any more questions. You take the opportunity to clarify last minute things that come up before you're satisfied enough to finish up.

"So, let's plan on meeting with the full group next week. Then from there on, biweekly meetings? I'm sure the group won't be opposed unless there's absolutely no updates to provide in that time frame. We can always cancel if needed."

"Good with me, boss lady." Yunho says, giving you a small smile.

"Not even." You chuckle, typing up the last of your notes. "I'm just trying to coordinate and make sure things run smoothly."

"Which is a shit ton since you're overseeing the entire project." Jihoon laughs.

"Yeah. You're spearheading the whole thing and without you, it'd probably be a mess." Taehyun chuckles a bit. "We don't really communicate with the pediatric hospital much, so it's nice to have a bridge." You nod.

"I agree."

"Definitely boss lady if you ask me." Yunho looks at you, causing you to shy away for a moment. 

"Maybe you and I can set up weekly meetings to update each other?" You look at Yunho, then Taehyun and Jihoon. "Or Taehyun, Jihoon—"

"Yunho is probably the best. He's everywhere. He knows everything." Taehyun chimes in quick. At first, Jihoon and Yunho are confused even though, it's definitely the right answer and they'll always defer to their manager in these situations— not because they don't think they can handle it or relay the proper information, but because it just makes them feel more comfortable doing so. Jihoon cocks a brow up before Taehyun meets his gaze and gives him a look that tells him he should play along and go with it.

"O-Oh, right. I agree." Jihoon stumbles on his words a bit before returning his full attention to you. "Yunho can answer all your questions without issue."

"Yeeeeah." Yunho says, slightly furrowing his brows at them before looking down at you. "Let's just keep it between us? If I really can't make it, I'll just email you with some notes or something."

"Okay." You chuckle, making a note to coordinate calendars with Yunho later and set a reoccurring invite. "I'll message you later about some good days and times. See if we have any matches."

"Cool."

"Well, thanks guys!" You smile at them brightly. "I really appreciate your time and for thoroughly walking me through everything."

"Of course." They all say in their own way as you shut your laptop and stand.

"We're gonna debrief in here for the remaining minutes before the next meeting comes in." You nod.

"See you next week? Feel free to email or slack me if anything comes up."

"You too." You wave at them before walking out of the room and shutting the door, finally feeling like you can breathe comfortably again. You speed off to your desk once you’re out of view, hoping to see Noeul and Sian at some point to talk about the meeting.

Meanwhile, Yunho watches as you leave— his eyes trailing your figure until you're no longer in view down the hallway, and Jihoon is snorting while typing away.

“Debrief time!” Taehyun says.

"Soooo." He finally breaks the silence post-laugh in a sing-song tone. "How'd your thing with Ara go?"

"Uh." Yunho laughs a bit and they both look at him confused. "No, it was fine. It's just.. I don't know? I don't think I feel anything for her to be quite honest."

"Well, first of all. What do you mean you don't know? What did you guys end up doing? How did we get to this point?" Taehyun asks, making Yunho do another head tilt.

"Tough crowd. Too many technical questions." They laugh. "We just had ramen at the new restaurant and then we hung out at her place." They both pause and look over their screens to meet his eyes.

"What happened to 'we're just gonna do a harmless dinner and call it a night?'"

"For the most part, it was."

"What about the other part that wasn't?"

"We ended up making out and then.. I stopped it." Yunho says calmly, which is confusing Taehyun and Jihoon.

"Oh shit." Jihoon looks at Yunho with an amused expression. "What?! You didn't feel anything for her?"

"I— no, not really."

"Damn." Jihoon ticks his head to the side.

"What'd she say when you stopped it?"

"She understood where I was coming from, I think? I tried to lay it down gently and I told her I didn't wanna do that to her. I thought we were good as friends, and she deserves someone that is sure of their feelings."

"That's good."

"Yeah. Well. I hope so? I hope it didn't ruin our friendship."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. She might need some space for a bit, but I'm sure it'll be okay. I know she appreciated it."

"Yeah." Yunho looks at them. "Anyway, back to the main discussion.” He laughs a bit. “I think we have our work cut out for us. We should continue to stay on top of those tickets and try not to let them pile up, but we should also prioritize securing the network for this unit. Making sure there's no roadblocks. I'll keep up with the clinical informatics team to keep mapping out the ordering system." The two ahead of him nod simultaneously. "Feel free to delegate things on your plate to other team members if you don't have the capacity to take them on right now."

"Got it, boss." Jihoon adds.

"You know, if I may say so." Jihoon and Yunho look at him, confused. "Y/N's pretty." Taehyun smirks.

“Oh, here he goes.”

"She's also really nice." Jihoon laughs, knowing exactly where this is going. "Seems like you two get along easily."

"I didn't know our team doubled up as a matchmaking service."

"Only for you." Jihoon snorts at Taehyun's remark.

"So, that's what the whole thing was about."

"What whole thing?" Taehyun acts dumb.

"Having her set up those meetings with me only. Even though the both of you have covered in the past.”

"I mean, it's only right." Taehyun smiles. "Besides, you can learn a lot about each other, too."

"Uh huh." Yunho looks at them before shutting his laptop. "We'll see how it goes."

"You agree though, right?"

"About what?"

"About Y/N?" Taehyun and Jihoon follow Yunho's lead as he stands and stretches, grabbing his laptop to prepare heading out back to their office.

"And if I say yes?"

"Then remember to thank me in the end when it all works out." Yunho laughs.

"Can't get anything past you two either, I see."

"Did Seora know about the date?"

"No, but I also think she has inkling because Hwa's dumbass let it slip." They laugh. "I called it a team dinner and he somehow let 'date' slip at some point during his stay with her."

"Ah, but I'm sure she'd be fine with it."

"I don't know. She's hard to read. We talked a bit about it this weekend but even as her dad, I can't really gauge what she means or how she feels."

⇢FLASHBACK

"Daddy." Yunho looks at Seora as they make their way home from dropping off her friends. Her voice is low, and it's obvious she's tired from her weekend but content. 

"Mhm?"

"Thank you for letting my friends spend the weekend with me."

"Course, baby girl." He chuckles. "I'm glad you had fun."

"I did." Her voice is a bit raspy from all the yelling and singing they did all weekend. "It was so much fun. And I got so many cute things this weekend."

"You're welcome." Yunho teases.

"Thank you." She laughs. "You're the best."

"Mm." He hums. "I try to be."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot." There's a pause, and Seora is fiddling with the ends of her hair.

"Nevermind." She says close to a whisper.

"Ace." He turns to her at a green light.

"I just don't know how to ask. But, it isn't anything super important anyway. Let’s forget it—”

"No. You opened the door. Remember what I said about keeping an open communication between us?"

"Mhm." She hums. "Well..” She nervously fiddles with her fingers now. “I just wanna know if Uncle Hwa was right? Did you go on a date?"

"Hm, well. I went out to dinner with a friend. That's all."

"Do you like your friend?"

"No. We're really just friends." Pause. "Besides. I know you wouldn't be happy, right?" He chuckles a bit to make it a little light-hearted joke, but there's a genuine curiosity behind his question. He hasn't talked to his daughter about this, and he's a little surprised she even brought it up. But, maybe she too, had been curious.

"I mean." She sighs. "Uncle Hwa told me to keep an open mind about it."

"He did now? But, how do you really feel, Seora?"

"Of course I’d want you to be happy. It'll just be different, though. It's always been us two and we haven't really had anyone like that around besides mom. I can’t really see it right now.”

"I know." Yunho responds quietly. 

"I want you to be happy, though. Just saying it’ll be weird if that ever happens. Might take time, I guess.” She looks at him sadly. “You won’t replace me or mom, right?”

“Never.” Yunho’s heart sinks. "When and if that time comes, I'll always prioritize you no matter what." She smiles. "Okay? None of that.”

"Okay." She giggles a bit when her dad reaches over to gently massage the top of her head. 

"Now, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you miss mom?" He asks.

"Yeah. I do. I think about her sometimes, but it's hard when I don't have many memories with her."

"I know, I'm sorry. I wish you had more time with her."

"I do, too. At least I got some time with her." Yunho nibbles on his bottom lip when he feels her response hit him in the gut. Right now, he knows he's not ready to talk more about Eunha. He knows he can't handle it. He already feels himself internally panicking, the anxiety rising. So, he pivots.

He pivots because he just can't.

"Yeah, well. We have each other now and that's all that matters. You're stuck with your dad. Sorry ‘bout it.”

"Stop it." She laughs.

"Promise me you'll keep talking to me if you ever feel sad or alone, hm? Don't ever think you can't talk to me about these things, ace."

"I know. You never make me feel that way."

"Good."

"Love you."

"Love you, too." She smiles and leans her head back against the head rest. "I have one more favor to ask before the weekend ends."

"And what's that?"

"Can we have our own little slumber party in the living room tonight?"

"As long as you promise to shut off the TV at a reasonable time since you have school tomorrow."

"Promise." She puts up her pinky. "Pinky promise." Yunho multitasks and wraps his finger around hers.

"Let's do it."

⇢END

"It'll all work out how it should, don't worry, boss. It ain't gonna be like this forever." Jihoon adds as they finally make their way back to their office area.

"Thanks. And thanks for joining the meeting today."

"All good!" Yunho gives them one last smile before slipping into his office and settling down. He has a few more meetings and other tasks to tend to in a bit, but his first priority shifts when he sees a slack notification from you. He instantly pulls up the app on his desktop after connecting his laptop to the monitor, a small smile forming on his face when he sees your message.

you: should we just do mondays at 10am to keep things simple? i mean.. totally get if you don't wanna see me bright and early on a monday, we can check other days. 😊

yunho: no, mondays at 10am are perfect.

yunho: & don't say that. 🫤 it'll be nice to see you on monday mornings. 

yunho: usually it's chaos or everyone's dead from the weekend. no in between.

yunho: you'll be the nice balance!

you: uh huh. just remember you said this, not me. 🫡 i’ll send an invite!

yunho: all good, i'll take full responsibility for it. haha. thank you!

"I'm gonna call it right now. You and Yunho are gonna get close and it'll be the start of something new." You shrug while Noeul reads the messages over your shoulder.

"I mean, whatever happens, happens. I won't be opposed to it. He's cute and super nice." You poke your bottom lip out.

"And your parents literally love him and his daughter to death already. It's a match-made in heaven."

"Well, no. I wouldn't say that." You look at Noeul. "Besides, I don't even know if he's single. Before the weekend rolled around, I saw him getting all smiley and smitten with one of the nurses at the hospital. I think they went out together."

"Ah, you never know! Just keep your options open, but definitely don't shut him out if he's dropping little hints. Get to know him more, see what he dishes out. If he's taken, then you've earned another friend and it could blossom into a great friendship. No loss there!" Noeul crosses her arms and smirks. "If not, then please make sure you enjoy yourself."

"Sometimes, I really hate when you and Sian are right. Makes me feel—"

Ding.

Your phone goes off at the corner of your desk with a new notification. You lean over to grab your phone and check, your eyes widening in the process:

yunou._.u started following you.

"Oh bitch, he is definitely single." You and Noeul quickly skim his page before you shake your head and plop your phone down.

"Stop it! You never know."

"That man barely has posts!" Noeul picks up your phone again and plugs in the code. "Look! Pics of his surroundings. His daughter. Him and his friends. That's it!"

"You're impossible."

"You are! You just won't accept the fact that an extremely hot dilf could be coming your way and I don't know why!"

"Don't say that!" You quickly look around. "Can you keep it down?!"

"I oughta smack you upside the head for that!"

"Go away, don't you have another meeting in like, 10 minutes?" Noeul looks at her phone and it's her turn to be surprised.

"Oh shit, more like 5 now. I gotta go and hop on this call." Noeul begins to rush away, but she turns back towards you again. "You better follow him back, Y/N!"

"I am! Go!" You wave her off and she turns halfway to finally head back down to her office— barely making it in 5. You look at your phone once more before giving it a few minutes, letting the notification settle before deciding enough time has passed since Yunho followed you.

You didn't wanna be too quick, right?

But, when the notification comes back on Yunho's phone saying that you've followed him back, he can't help but smile. The notification puts him in a good mood, enough for him to figure out his next plan on how to get to know you better.

He'll settle for a simple like on your latest photo. Maybe, the next one, too.

⇢taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @nopension @curse-of-art @thechaotictheoryy @likexaxdaydream @dalsuwaha @enha-stars @yasuraokaa @professormingisglasses @yunyunrin @pommelex @astral-trashcan @laura1399 @domfikeluva @tournesol155 @hwaskookies @yusalterego @hwa-stars @hyukssunflower @chngbnwf @jaytheatiny @lucid-galaxys-world @chaotic-floral @sofkloster @honeyrecommends @hwashua-luv @luvv4bby @spicxbnny @pandyandy71

[natsuminmin]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆ TWIRLING WARMTH -> sae itoshi !!!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ dancing with my phone by HYBS

synopsis; in which sae decides to unwind by using a tip you gave him cw: fluffy/crack fic , ldr , sae misses you , dancing , very ooc oh my god let me believe sae is secretly a massive lovefool , sae has a facetime auto answer feature (does that exist) , use of amor , gn! , unproofread + lowercase

"dancing, i'm all alone . figuring out how i can get you home"

living in his apartment without you was easy.

or so he thought.

he was currently sprawled across his bed, his arm stretched out automatically to make space for your warmth; which was unfortunately located a thousand miles away from madrid at this moment.

sae groaned, snatching his hand back immediately when he snapped out of his trance. how pathetic, he thought. he can't be caught wishing for cuddles like some lovesick fool, he should exercise more self-control than that!

naturally, he reached out for his phone to text you, like a normal person who doesn't yearn for his long-distance girlfriend would do:

[i miss you, amor.] 7:08 pm

[coming home soon, can't wait to see you.] 7:30 pm

yes, he really had impulsively booked a flight just to see you. yes, he was still definitely nonchalant. god, what have you turned him into?

it's only been an hour, but you still hadn't replied. he had to fight another dejected groan that threatened to erupt from his throat. but whatever. it was late in your place anyway, you were probably sleeping.

however, the fact that you would soon wake up to find his little suprise, calling him almost immediately, sent a little comfort to his sore bones. he really wanted to hear your voice.

ugh, seriously. what was in the air today?

frustrated, he exited the chat box and scrolled through his playlists. he reached a certain one that you and he made the last time he was with you.

he decided to listen to the music in there instead, that always relaxed him.

─── ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ───

"sae, when are you coming home?"

your pretty voice came out warped from the speaker. he scoffed silently, the phone could never catch your beauty properly.

"sae."

"huh, what?" "i said, when are you coming home?"

"never. don't want to." "not even for me?" "especially not for you."

"ouch, sae."

he chuckled softly under his breath, the sun filtering through his room and in turn illuminating his eyes. you had ample time to observe his face which, thankfully, wasn't pixelated.

"you okay?"

"of course. why wouldn't i be?" you rolled your eyes. well, duh, he'd deny everything. your boyfriend was capable of many things. admitting he needed to cool off was not one of them apparently.

you hummed for a moment, thinking off into space as you watched sae rummage around for a blanket. then it clicked.

a sneaky grin spread across your face, oh yeah, he'll like this idea.

you set down your phone on the table, adjusting the camera so it showed your full body. then you grabbed your laptop and started playing music. was that.....pitbull???? mr worldwide???

sae watched you with disbelief. this was rare. he was never caught speechless. he blinked slowly as his eyebrows creased ever so slightly.

"what are you doing?"

"im dancing, sae. you should join me, it'll help you relax, you know?"

he saw you swaying side to side, twirling, bobbing around your head to the beat of the song, all with the biggest and goofiest smirk on your face. he scoffed, shaking his head at your antics. there was no way he was going to dance. ever.

"you look stupid. i'm ending the call right now."

"wait, no!"

─── ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ───

a smile tugged on the corner of his mouth as he recalled that memory. he wasn't much of a sentimental person, but he can make exceptions sometimes.

he just....stared at the phone for a few moments, gaping at the turning disc on the screen as he hummed absent-mindedly.

fine. he'll try dancing once. he'll see if it lived up to the hype.

he disconnected his headphones and raised the volume to max as he stood up from his bed. he scrolled through the playlist again, settling on his favorite. he felt awkward, so he tried to tap his foot to the beat.

hey, this was actually really fun.

soon, small taps of his foot moved to infect his shoulders. pretty much once the song ended, he was full on dancing. just as you had shown him to do. even that stupid twirl-hand wave (?) thing you did. he couldn't even explain it, but it was entertaining to do. he'll never tell you that you were right.

but unfortunately for him, you saw him already. he had left his laptop open, whose camera was perfectly facing straight ahead on his being.

you never wanted this to stop. you were having a blast. finally seeing your boyfriend have fun in what......months now? what a blessing. and so you remained silent, captivated by the incredibly awkward but endearing dance moves. stifling your laughs took so much of your restraint though.

sae should really turn off the auto-answer feature.

"dancing with my phone, thinking about you"

a/n: this came to me in a dream and is dedicated to my dearest sae luvr ILY ELO also the song he was dancing to was suisei - tofubeats (kariya seira) which according to the wiki is his fave IT IS SUCH A BOP BTW I LUV IT can uu tell i got lazy at the end hekp

[writing-mlm]

saw you do familial reqs? damian with an older brother figure reader would be so awesome.. bonus points if he’s also some moody bat and just kinda sees himself in damian. he used to be a sort of outcast himself, so he can empathize with damian when dame feels like he’s sort of ostracized from the other robins or bat fam members.

Annual New Robin Trip

Summary: Damian’s been Robin long enough that it’s his turn to go on the Robin Trip Pairing: Damian Wayne & Brother!reader Wc: 4.5k tags/warnings: sibling bond, both were child assassins, Bruce is bad at parenting

Dick was the bubbly, bumbling Robin. People used to say he was truly a circus kid; flipping from chandeliers and being a little terror. Although everyone is pretty sure he was definitely out for blood whenever he had the chance. He would tell the most awful puns while fighting and Bruce wouldn’t even scold him. 

Jason was just happy to be there, he had everything he could ever ask for and he was taken in by Batman! Oh, boy- oh, boy! He would hide under the cape and yell boo to all the petty criminals Bruce let him fight. Until he couldn’t anymore. 

Tim had the easiest life prior to donning the R on his chest. After that, he was the worst Robin. Not because he was bad; Tim was arguably the best Robin during his career but because he never got to experience the things Dick or Jason had. He was left picking up the pieces after Jason’s death, holding Bruce together to the best of his abilities. He went out on patrols alone, with no cape to hide under or any grumpy adult to hold in a chuckle. 

Stephanie wanted to prove a point, she pushed Bruce in ways Tim didn’t. But in the end, she was pushed to the side. No one even remembers her time as Robin. The girl Robin, the blonde one. It was only what… seventy-five days? Why would anyone remember her? Forgotten in the murky waters of Batman’s timeline. Erased. 

Damian wasn’t as fortunate. He didn’t come from Gotham or a traveling circus hiding a cult. He came from the Ra’s Al-Ghul, he came from the demon head. Born a killer, bathed in the pit— his life was cursed from the beginning. Sorrow and rot; that’s what his life was even after he put on the Robin suit. Despite being the only Robin connected to Batman by blood, he was the biggest outside in the bunch. 

He couldn’t do anything right. He kept messing up— his father was constantly disappointed by him and he couldn’t figure out what he was doing wrong. He’s doing what he was taught— the blade. He hadn’t meant to take another life— he was trying to be better. But he doesn’t realize when he’s going too far because, for him, the limit didn’t exist until less than a year ago.

You could relate to that… all too well. 

“What do you want?” Damian grits when he spots you on his desk, messing with one of his countless knives. He hides his face, not wanting to show a weakness— his weakness. “I thought father threw you out.” Some time ago, maybe two months ago, you and Bruce had gotten into an explosive argument that ended with a frozen pork chop on your eye and a frozen bag of peas on his chin before he told you never to come back.

“He did,” You hum, unfurling yourself from the desk and standing tall. “I know the security system— and Pennyworth let me back inside.” You smile. 

“Pennyworth shows little loyalty to father,” He spits, sitting on the bed. 

“He shows plenty, Damian. He knows something that Bruce doesn’t, at the moment.” You tilt your head as you add the last part. Bruce will find out sooner than later anyway, might as well tell him.

“And what’s that?” He asks arms crossed as he glares at you. You look away and huff, rolling your head onto your shoulder. 

“I need his opinion on something, something important.” 

“And you’re in my room?”

“I also wanted to speak to you,” You admit. “You’ve been here long enough for us to continue the tradition.” He pauses, hand settling on the dagger he keeps in his pocket. 

“What sort of tradition?” The only traditions he’s used to are fights or death; neither of which is he in the mood for. 

“Nothing like the League, I can assure you. I.. I take all the Robins on a… bonding trip after they’ve settled in.” You explain, now sitting on a chair. “I took Jason to the arcade and a library in Prague, Tim to my family’s annual barbecue and fishing, and Stephanie to this spa retreat for the weekend. It’s your turn.”

“Why would I care for this… bonding trip?” He asks, setting the dagger down. “I’m not like the others— I’m better. I don’t need some stupid trip with a rejected hero,” Shrugging, you look at the mirror on his wardrobe. You see Damian, sitting while glaring at you. You see yourself, staring at the signs of age and tiredness on your, admittedly, not old body. 

“Talk to the others about it, just not Richie. He never got one.” Leaving, Damian thinks for a second before he follows after you. As quiet as a mouse, he slips into the cave after you, clinging to the darkness as he’s been trained to do. 

“Is it that time already?” Dick asks when you enter with your hands in your pockets. He’d been talking with Bruce about something, but he was too far to hear. Bruce spins around, looking you up and down with a watchful gaze. 

“I have news,” You roll your eyes when Dick pulls you into a hug. “About my assignment.”

“No one assigned you to it,” Bruce reminds you, guilt flashing over his eyes. You shrug and lean against your older brother, your head resting on his shoulder. He squeezes your arm, happy to see you again. He’s always been happy to see his first baby brother safe and sound; at home. 

“I found their base; took them down, too.” You tell them, fighting the urge to tuck into yourself. “They were hiding out in Australia.”

“Did you kill them?” Bruce asks. Damian pressed against a rock, his small figure hidden perfectly as he watched the three of you. You don’t answer, but your eyes drift to the ground when Bruce sighs through his nose. “I have one rule.”

“I know,” You stress, pulling away from Dick. “I know! But I didn’t mean to! But they wouldn’t give me any other choice; do you think I wanted to kill them? I tried to save them,”

“Clearly not hard enough,” Bruce blinks and Damian falters in the same way you did. Bruce had said the same thing to him not even three hours ago. “You should’ve contacted me. I could’ve saved them.”

“I tried,” You stress. “I called and I sent letters. I- I— You never answered me! I didn’t want to kill them!” 

“B,” Dick puts a hand on your shoulder as you sniff and look away. “You know that they wouldn’t go; he had to.” 

“We could’ve—“

“God! You’d think after raising one child assassin he'd be better at this.” You spit and wipe your nose. “You’re still shit at helping us.”

“(Y/n),” Bruce sighs. “You know I love you and I love Damian, you’re my sons.” He holds your shoulder and you falter, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“Hell of a way of showing it.” He doesn’t apologize, Bruce doesn’t know the word sorry but he hugs you. You don’t hug back, just pat his shoulder until he pulls away.

“I’m glad you’re home safe.” He whispers before he finally pulls away. “It’s a shame you had to kill them.” Nodding, you look at Dick. 

“I had to kill my parents,” You admit, trying to keep yourself composed when he frowns and immediately hugs you. “They kept calling me and calling me, begging me to join them again. I couldn’t… I’m tired of killing. I see them when I sleep, their faces. Their blood was so warm.”

Damian looks away, flashes of the people he’s killed plays through his mind and he leaves the cave. He needs to be alone. His eyes are stinging and he’s sure if he breathes any harder he’s going to be spotted.

“Aside from that,” You clear your throat and fix your clothes. “Damian’s been Robin for… some time now. It’s nearing the time where I take the new Robin out for a trip.” 

“If he agrees,” Bruce nods. 

“I still haven’t been taken out for a trip,” Dick dramatically sighs. 

“You’re older than me. You’re supposed to take me.” 

“Can I?” He gleams and you shake your head with a smile before walking away. “Please!”

“No, Dickie. You suck at planning,”

—

You don’t spend the night at the manor; it hasn’t felt like home in years. You hate your old room, you hate how Bruce hasn’t touched it since you’ve gone; everything besides that stupid broken picture frame. It’s been swept up, and replaced with a different frame. 

And somehow, the picture that was inside sits on your kitchen island. 

Your current place is temporary, rented out on a monthly basis with some shady landlord you don’t truly care about. The lease is hardly a day old, so for someone to have known where you lived they must’ve been recently following you. For them to have access to the picture they’ve been in the manor. Because that’s the same picture, you know because there’s an inky, smudged fingerprint on the back. 

“You were close to my father?” Damian asks as you enter the living room, still holding the picture in your loose grip. 

“Thick as thieves,” You grin, although there’s no happiness or warmth behind it. Setting the table on the side table, you sit next to Damian. 

“You mentioned your family's barbecue earlier but they’re assassins. Assassins don’t do family barbecues,” He should know. 

“Different family,” You breathe in, staring down at him while he looks around the dingy apartment. “I… My blood family are assassins and yeah; no family barbecues. But eh… I’m sort of married,” You laugh and his head snaps to you. “Yup, I got married at twenty. Love of my life, they’re wonderful. I consider their family my own,” He tuts at the idea of love and you remember yourself doing the same thing when you were his age. 

“I assume they know?”

“My spouse does, yes. Their family… do not. It’s not exactly something they’d want to hear about their son-in-law.”

“Does father know you’re married?” 

“No— maybe,” You shrug. “If he does he’s never mentioned it. I don’t hide it but I never bring them around him.” He tuts and stands up. You watch with a careful eye as he struts into your kitchen and steps up to the counter, climbing to reach the cabinet and then standing to reach the top shelf to grab a cup. He rinses it out before opening the fridge. 

His nose turns up at the options and you hold back a laugh, watching as he picks out the water jug before pouring himself a glass. He sniffs the water, eyeing you wearily before holding the cup to you. 

God, you’d done the same exact thing to Bruce when you first arrived. 

Taking a sip, he seems content when you don’t have a reaction other than pouring yourself a cup and slowly sipping his drink.

“I assume you’re from the Shadows?” He’s strutting back to the couch while you lean against the counter, holding the cup by the rim with the ends of your fingers. 

“Shadow adjacent. Subsection created about fifty years back,” 

“So you were born into it?” He sets the now empty cup on the table and picks up the picture, carefully examining it, and then checks the date on the back. “For twelve years before you met Father.”

“I was,” You nod. “Joined Bruce and Dickie.”

“Before you gave up.” He adds. You laugh, shaking your head before finishing your water in one big gulp. 

“Damian, I didn’t give up. I was… I couldn’t live up to Bruce’s expectations. It’s hard not killing but I tried. I tried for years. But every time I went out someone died. So, I learned to use computers, I stayed in the cave and watched over everyone. I was the Oracle before Oracle was a thing.” 

“You were a coward,” He corrects with a tight voice. “You gave up and hid inside of the cave when you could’ve helped people!” 

“Damian. It’s not cowardly to stop trying. Because I did eventually go back, but it was under my rules. I stopped listening to Bruce’s voice, his rules, his insane expectations. Dick mentioned you like Veil?”

“I do,” He gives one curt nod. “They’re effective and father gives them high praise.”

“That’s me, Damian.” You grin and for a moment, his jaw goes slack but he quickly composes himself. “You can call Bruce. I have the suit in my closet… help yourself, I guess,” Watching as he rushes into your bedroom, he shuffles through clothes before he pulls out your suit. 

“I suppose you’re not a coward.” He settles in when he neatly puts the suit back in its spot. 

—

“Yes, Bruce?” You sigh, phone placed between your ear and shoulder as you’re sorting through laundry. “What do you want from me? My soul? My last piece of self-worth?”

“(Y/n),” He sighs that old man sigh he’s started doing after Jason came back and he realized he had to deal with two homicidal sons. Three now. “Damian has requested you at the manor.”

“Tell him I want to experience the Robin Trip.” You hear Damian say and you smile. “Father, tell him!” He demands and you think you can hear him stomping his foot. 

“He wants you to take him on the Robin Trip,” Bruce relays. 

“I’ll be there in an hour. Pack enough clothes for about five days. Nothing fancy, either.”

You arrive in your trusty mom van. It’s a lovely seven-seater with plenty of trunk space and a rack on the top. Of course, Alfred wouldn’t let you just stay in the driveway. No, it was late so of course, you had to stay for dinner and you’ll leave in the morning. Pinky promise. 

“Reject is back,” Jason grins, giving you a tight hug. You hug him back, swaying him from side to side. You’d missed him when you came over the week prior; something Dick says he simply will not stop complaining about. 

“Oh, hey,” Tim looks up from his dinner plate and offers a nod. You never did get too close to him; he never wanted an older brother. He wanted Bruce and you simply weren’t him. You nod back, running your fingers along Jason’s head before he shoves your hand away; chiding that he’s not a kid anymore. 

“Hmph!” Damian stands between you and Jason, arms crossed as he looks between the two of you. You smile and ruffle his hair despite his protests and threats. 

“Staying for dinner?” Bruce asks from the head of the table, reading the daily newspaper. Even though it’s well into the afternoon, almost night. 

“At Pennyworth's insistence,” You nod, detaching yourself from Jason and Damian. “Unless there’s an issue with that.” You add. 

“No,” He shakes his head while setting the paper down. “None at all, please, stay. There’s always a room open for you.”

“Aside from the times he kicks us out,” Jason pretends to whisper while Dick barrels down the stairs. You think he did trip at some point but he caught himself. 

“I missed you!” He squeezes you just as tightly as you’d squeezed Jason and you cringe, patting his back. Jason snickers while Damian tuts and heads to his seat at the table.

“You saw me last week, Dickie.” You’re put back on your feet and Dick sighs, leaning away from the hug but holds you still. 

“After not seeing you for months!” He adds, the smile dropping as he checks you over. This time in proper lighting. “God, leaving me here alone with Bruce. I’ve had to smile every single day with him waiting for you.” He mutters just loud enough that you can hear. 

“Not like I had a choice,” You grit, eyes flickering to the table. “Dinner?” You sigh. 

“Yes, do take a seat.” Alfred smiles. “I’ve prepared your favorite, Master (Y/n).”

“You shouldn’t have,” You smile at him. 

“You really shouldn’t have,” Jason sighs and turns to Damian. “He has the worst taste in food.” 

“Jason, not everyone likes burgers dipped in cheese and barbecue sauce.”

“Exactly,” He nods as if you’ve proved his point.

Surprisingly, dinner goes off without a hitch. There were not more than ten snarky remarks, not once did someone awkwardly fake cough to move the conversation along, and everyone’s food remained on their plates. 

“Where will we be going?” Damian asks after insisting he walks you to your bedroom. 

“You’ll see,” You grin. “I think you’ll like it.” 

“I do not like none-answers,” He huffs, crossing his arms. “You could be leading me into a trap.”

“Bruce approved,” Is all you’re willing to give him. It satiates him for now and he stands at your door, waiting for you to go inside. “Be ready by five, we should leave early.”

“Alright,” He nods and walks away before stopping midstep. “Sleep well, (Y/n).”

“Goodnight, Damian.” He nods and continues into his room. 

—

At five on the dot, Damian knocks on your door. You open it, already dressed and packed. He’s the same, with a large bag slung over his shoulders and an almost happy expression on his face. 

“Head downstairs, I need a couple of things.” He hums and turns on his heel while you look around your room. Grabbing one of the first books you’d fallen in love with, you slip it into your bag and then your first-ever sketchbook. 

Once you’re downstairs, Alfred hands you a metal mug with your favorite breakfast drink, then a neatly wrapped breakfast sandwich, and then a light lunch. He knows you won’t stay for breakfast and wishes you farewell. You thank him and load up the minivan, Damian sits in the passenger seat and you have to question if he should be in the back. And in a booster seat. 

For some reason, you don’t think he’d take to sitting in a booster seat. 

Driving off, you play calm music and sip your drink. He’s quietly eating next to you, careful to not get crumbs in the car. He falls asleep halfway into the drive, his head hanging in an awkward position so you maneuver to lower the seat for him. He stirs awake, grabbing your wrist as you’re moving away but he drops it once he realizes it’s you and slowly falls back asleep. 

Eventually, you reach your farm. A lovely place in a lovely town that has flea markets every Friday and everyone keeps their doors unlocked. 

Your land is sectioned off by a lovely oak fence, spreading across the eight acres, a dull red mailbox with the hand up greets you and you check the box. There’s a small package and two letters that you toss onto the dashboard. 

Damian wakes up as you’re driving up, his eyes finding the cows and chickens you keep lazily chewing on the grass. He sees a wild fox, chasing a wild rabbit through the lawn, scaring a group of pigs inside of their pen in front of a horse stable.

He sniffs the air, confused. It doesn’t smell like livestock and he knows how livestock farms smell. 

“Where are we?” He asks, craning his neck to look behind him. There’s nothing but open fields for miles but he can see a house in the distance. 

“My house,” He turns back to you. “I have a homestead— it’s just a fancy word for living on a farm, really.” 

“You do believe in botulism, correct?” He sneers, stepping out of the van. You bark a laugh and nod. 

“I’m not crazy about it— I just raise my animals and tend to my crops when I’m not out being Veil.”

“Why would you decide to live here?” He asks and you notice his tone isn’t as harsh as it once was. His eyes scan over your fields with a look almost similar to contentment. He looks at the cow with a fondness you can share while you collect your bags. “You’re an assassin, not a farmer.”

“I can be many things,” You shrug. “I’m a farmer, a vigilante, a painter, a former assassin. I’m not bound by one thing. Don’t you have hobbies?”

“I have no time for such trivial matters,” He turns his nose up as he pushes inside the house. 

“Ra’s is a doctor on the side. Dick is a detective. Jason takes care of the orphaned kids. Tim runs a company. I’ve seen his skateboard collection. I’ve seen Dick teach gymnastics at the local gyms. Bruce has his charities and all of his foundations. Jason has an enormous collection of books.”

“I only read informative books, anything else is a waste of my time.”

“Maybe,” You shrug. “Let me show you to your room, you’ll settle down and then meet me in the kitchen. Take as much time as you need, there’s no rush.” He nods and you show him to the guest room. It’s incredibly plain but nice. You shut the door behind you and text Bruce that you’ve arrived without any hiccups. He doesn’t reply but you see that he’s read the text and you go about your day. 

You have a pair of old working boots from your spouse's nephew visiting; they should fit Damian just fine. Setting them on the bench, you slip yours on and wait for him. He doesn’t take long, walking down with careful eyes until he sees you. 

“I assume I’m to wear these?” You nod and he tuts, slipping them on. “What type of training is this?” 

“You’re going to learn patience and to enjoy life.” You smile, ruffling his hair before tossing him an egg basket. 

“That’s ridiculous.” 

—

Dick reacts with hearts as you're sending him pictures of Damian collecting duck and chicken eggs. Videos of him milking cows and cleaning out the pig pens. He’s glad that Damian is having fun, each picture and video seems to have Damian in a better mood. You send him pictures of his drawings and he remarks that he’s already talented with a pencil. You don’t tell him that he’s gotten into reading, too. But you do tell Jason, swearing him to secrecy. 

You look up at Damian as he sits on your porch, an easel and canvas in front of him as he paints your backyard. It’s only been three days but you’d like to think you’ve made an impression on him. He’s woken up earlier than you to feed the animals, he enjoys talking to them and tells you that your defenses are subpar. So you took him into town to grab items to make your fence stronger. 

He hated when the townsfolk would coo at him, remark that he’s such a strong boy for carrying the wood and bags while you carried the metal and other bags. You wonder how he’s going to like the flea market. You hope it won’t be overwhelming for him; you know it was for you the first time you went. 

“What happens when they die?” He suddenly asks, still painting one of your cows. Looking up from your phone, you stare at the back of his head and then the painting. 

“You know how I’m a metahuman, right?” He nods. “I can… see how much longer anything living has. And I can communicate with animals, so, I tell them. I tell them that they don’t have much longer. Sometimes they ask to be left in peace. To die naturally. Other times they tell me to get it over with; they’re ready. If they ask that, I’ll… take them to the butcher. They agree, of course.”

“So the meat we’ve eaten these past days…”

“That was from my chicken Mile and my cow Dan-Loop.”

“Why? How could you?” You notice that his grip on the paintbrush is tightening and you inch closer to him. 

“Because it’s what they wanted. They know they’re farm animals, they know that humans eat their meat. They know. And some of them don’t care. They live happily here. And I give them the option of what they want to do. One time, one of my pigs was dying and SeaSaw told them that he wanted to be released. Travel as far as he could before he returned to the Earth. I watched that pig run and run for a while before he turned and looked at me. He thanked me and went up that hill and stared at the sunset.”

“Isn’t it hard?” He asks. “Raising all these animals knowing you’re going to outlive them.”

“It is. But I also know that I’m giving them an amazing life. It’s better than them being stuck in cruel mills. They’re seen and heard. And trust me, if those ducks and chickens were angry, your hand would be picked at for trying to take their eggs.” Damian nods, looking down at you. You’re looking at your animals, taking in the setting sun. 

“Do you think father would let me start a farm?”

“Maybe. Ask him on a good day. If he does, you can take Jerry. He likes you,” Damian beams, knowing exactly which animal you’re talking about. 

“Okay, thank you.”

—

“Why did you leave and come here?” Damian asks as you’re driving to the flea market. “You mentioned you couldn’t stand being around father.” The question makes you think about your years with Bruce, all the things he’d taught, and the things you spent years unlearning. Things weren’t all bad with Bruce, though. You still cherish your fond memories like the first time he’d taken you to the ice cream parlor or when he’d taken you to the Monterey Bay Aquarium after he saw you watching Nemo too many times in a row for it to be a simple obsession. 

“Bruce and I have a complicated history. And sometimes, to love someone, you need to stay away. I can’t see your father too often; it’s too painful. I care about him; I’m sure he cares about me but it’s too much. We’re too different. And coming here was like…” You purse your lips. “I was finally free from what I'd become. I could live a separate life from my place in the family. I had no obligations here; I made it my own.”

“What’s your place?” He asks, sparing you a glance. 

“I wasn’t the best at what I did. I was angry, a lot. I don’t know if you’ve met yet, but Mr. Fox would say I was moodier than Bruce. I was violent; I wasn’t sure of my place in any of this. I kept trying to prove myself to Bruce but I kept failing. I felt like a mistake for a long while.” He looks down at his lap, messing with his jeans before he speaks up again. 

“What made that feeling go away?”

“Getting hobbies.” You admit. “I drew a lot. I made friends. I got closer to Dick and Jason. I removed Bruce from that pedestal and saw him for the man he is. Not as the man I wanted him to be.” 

“What man is he?”

“He’s like us. He’s flawed and he makes mistakes. He’s not perfect and neither are we. We’re all trying. Now, come on. Your father gave you five thousand so you can buy whatever you want.”

He smiles and grabs the bag from the dashboard, leaving you in the dust while he admires the homemade objects people are selling.

[lucygraysboy]

“would you like to supervise the process?” he offers with a smile, figuring she ought to have some sense of control over what’s happening to her most precious belonging. “also, i’ve been thinkin’… i’m sorry ‘bout what i said last night. ‘bout my ma’s scarf.” how he initially thought she must have stolen it and decided to take it away from her. “that was very wrong of me. it’s not like my ma will ever wear this scarf again or like just lookin’ at it, lyin’ there collectin’ dust, will bring her back or somethin’. maybe we could use the fabric to replace the missin’ ruffles on your dress? i think she’d like that.” it would give the dress a fresh look, some more color, and they would be reminded of both their mothers every time lucy gray put it on. of course, only if she allows it. “well, i don’t think there’s a covey as unique as ours out there. we win,” he laughs, dragging the twigs through her wet ringlets, fingers following. repeating the motion until there’s not a single tangle left. “horse playin’,” he echoes with a chuckle, basking in the sound of their happiness. suddenly, the little hut feels almost cozy, homey. filled with laughter and jokes, with a sense of togetherness. what else could anyone need? “no!” he’s quick to protest, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily just in case she decides to turn around and stand up, determined to protect her dignity and innocence. “i mean, no, thank you. an anatomy lesson won’t be necessary. not that i’ve ever seen a…” goodness gracious, what is he trying to confess? and why? what for? he scolds himself, cheeks burning, tongue tied with embarrassment. “i’m — it’s… oh! there’s other kinds of soap here!” he lays the makeshift brush on his lap and picks up the box that the previous owners must have left behind, occupying himself by taking out different bars of soap and sniffing them. “this one smells like lavender, and look, it’s such a pretty shade of purple, too.” he extends his hand, presenting the small, oval-shaped soap to the brunette. “how do you even make soap?” he wonders aloud, not the most subtle subject change but he prays it will do. 

listening intently, billy finds himself nodding his head in agreement. the subject of coriolanus seems to be a sore one for the both of them, in their own way and for somewhat different reasons. “oh, that one,” manipulation, “he’s been great at always. guess that’s an inherited talent,” he muses with a chuckle, trying to make the conversation a bit more light-hearted even if it’s ultimately impossible. “i think you know him a lot better than i do, and so you’re most likely right. somethin’ must have switched at some point.” as a boy, he seemed very much capable of loving others. or so it seemed to billy. who really knows? “you don’t know who the third was? what’d he say when you asked ‘bout it?” he wonders, scooping up some more water to pour down lucy gray’s back and shoulders. the one sentence that haunts him being — coriolanus seemed as nice as you. well, was he faking it the whole time? or is it some generational curse? “i’ll never lie to you, lucy gray. never turn on you,” he swears and then is left wondering whether she’d heard the same exact words before, from the mouth identical to his. “i’d never try to kill no one i hated either. i don’t think most people have that in ‘em.” the ability to just take life. “if one of my loved ones was in danger and it was either the bad guy goes or the person i care for… that’s the only time i would pull the trigger.” he would stop at nothing to protect her because a part of him feels deeply responsible for her, because she’s brought so much joy and meaning to his life, but would he kill his own twin brother if it came to it? he doesn’t even want to think about having to make that choice.

“you’ll always be safe with me, lucy gray.” feeling her warm skin on his, slender fingers keeping his hand in place, billy’s heart expands so impossibly that it’s a wonder his chest doesn’t just burst open. his cheeks rosy. she nuzzles into his palm like an affection-starved cat and something inside him cracks, his own eyes filling with tears. it’s a monumental moment, gaining some of her trust, and he promises to never jeopardize it. he won’t ever betray her. before he can do something stupid like leaning in and bumping their noses together or kissing her forehead, he clears his throat and speaks up, “is the water still warm? want me to boil some more?” the pad of his thumb stroking her skin, ever so carefully and with all the affection he has. 

"alright, i'll trust you with it." he's been so gentle with her hair, so she gives his forearm a pat and believes he'll do the same with her precious mama's dress. how kind of him too... to promise. "alright, mr. hair stylist." a little laugh dances out of her throat, doe eyes watching him get up and go over to the bed. "that's the best part about a covey... the more unique it is, the more special it is." lucy gray points out, sweetly smiling. "well, you ought to be careful there. don't go horse playin' around like that..." creating puns causing her to laugh as she watches him playfully stumble around with his eyes covered. "you're actin' like i showed somethin' already. if you need me to, i can just show you if you need schooled on female anatomy lessons." he clearly isn't the type to take her up on things like that, which is why she's saying it. just to provoke a shy look out of him again.

"no, believe me billy, you're entitled to your own opinion. i don't blame you for not agreein' with me at all. i don't even know if i agree with myself when there were moments coriolanus seemed as nice as you, i think he could have just been fakin' it the entire time. he's great at manipulation. but it sure is a mystery if all he was– was stuck up as a little one. then, all grown up he turned so cruel, selfish and dead on inside. maybe somethin' switched... between a father like that and the loss of your mother, somewhere between there. but it just hurts when someone betrays you. i felt he betrayed me when he lied to me about how many people i asked that he killed, two were valid. but the third... guess i'll never know. he betrayed me pretendin' he was coming along with me to live in the wilderness and the entire time, he was just lookin' out for himself. he betrayed me tryin' to kill me. it's the lord's work to take me outta the world, not him." angrily she spoke, and she truly feels sad for coriolanus and his soul. "he might not been born evil, but he was absolutely born with somethin' rotten. i'd never try to kill no one i hated– let alone cared for."

flinching in the slightest, but her hand comes up to keep his hand in place. she doesn’t want him to remove it. she wants to embrace a kind touch, feel it, as she turns hand over to feel his fingers against her skin. eyes watering, lower lip curving upwards, before affectionately nuzzling into his palm. it makes her deeply emotional. the kind touch, embracing she can’t always be scared of touch, the reassurance, the horrible conversation and ideas that someone she cared for would want to kill her. essentially, twice. because billy taupe nearly sent her to her grave getting involved with mayfair who sent her to the hunger games.

[brokenmutations]

Angry Little Wolverines

Logan Howlett • She/Her Pronouns • Mutant!Reader [Speak to Animals/Mind Reader for Animals] • Have you even seen a Wolverine before? • SFW • TW: Minor injuries

“Okay, you’re called the Wolverine. Have you ever seen one before?” Y/N scoffs when questioning Logan as he was left speechless given it was indeed true. He’s never seen one before. “Jeez, Logan! You can’t take their whole style and not know what they look like”

“I didn’t name myself! How the fuck am I supposed to instantly know what they look like?”

“You lose your memory. Find out you’re named Wolverine…you weren’t curious?”

All the man did was shrug to such, making his partner scoff at him again before heading toward the garages promoting him to quickly follow in confusion.

“Where are we going?”

“To the worse place in the world” Y/N snatches the keys to his truck off the hook. “The zoo”

“How is that—-“ Logan stopped himself when she whipped her head quickly back at him in anger. “Right. Animal captivity. But why go if you hate it there so much?”

“Because I’m not driving all the way to western Canada to find wolverines in their natural habitats. Plus…”

“We ain’t doing a prison break. The cops are still pissed last time”

“UGH fine” Y/N sighs, opening the drivers side and letting herself in while Logan got in on his side.

The drive was pretty quick given Y/N went on and on about wolverine facts.

Did you know that the scientific name for wolverines is Gulo gulo and it comes from the Latin word glutton?

They average around a weight of 30-50 pounds and can take on grizzlies!

Wolverines chirp and coo at their young maybe that’s why you have a softer tone with Marie compared to everyone else

Not a part of the wolves family! Weasels actually

And she went on and on, Logan found himself irked in the beginning but eventually ease into the comforting rambling that came from Y/N about the creature.

Once they arrived at the zoo, Y/N couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed when they arrived given she could hear everything the animals were talking about. More specifically what they were complaining about. Logan expected to go straight to the wolverines but stuck by Y/N as she went to every animal talking to them to make them feel a bit better.

That stupid child wouldn’t stop tapping the viewing glass! The lioness roared at Y/N from the exposed area of the enclosure as she instantly turned to glare at said kid only for Logan to block her gaze.

“Are you going to fight a kid?”

“I will if I must!”

“Fight the parents instead, sweetheart. But also let’s not get kicked out of the zoo before we see this animal that shares my name”

Your boyfriend is the Wolverine? Another lioness came up to her friend on the perch, chirping at Y/N as she nods. Resulting in a huff from the lioness. Do you know what the exhibit has?

That brought a bit of anxiety to Y/N as her tensed posture made Logan instantly wrap an arm around her shoulders to ease some of it.

Even if the worry was toward nothing once it revealed the few signs at the wolverines enclosure that “There’s a hero named after us” and has images of Logan that he didn’t even know was taken of him.

“Least the rest of the world knows what wolverines are, Wolverine”

Logan scoffs as he watches Y/N approach the railing, she leans over to find a few wolverines huddled around something.

Need to escape

Need to escape

Baby doesn’t deserve this

Baby needs to escape

Let’s just say, Logan shouldn’t have turned away when he heard some bird cawing in a different part of the zoo.

“Well now I know what they look like and I should change my name”

“No! You’re a hero to them too yknow” Y/N gave him a soft smile as she sits in the passengers seat this time around, holding her chest for a moment that concerned Logan until it started to move. “What?”

“…You gotta stop reading their minds”

“What are you even talking about?!”

Logan squints at her leaning back in his seat crossing his arms. “They have a baby, a baby doesn’t deserve to live in captivity!” He repeats her words back at her, same words she uttered when they left the enclosure and INSTANTLY left the zoo. “Charles isn’t going to let you keep it”

“Well he can argue with me til he’s blue in the face!” Y/N opened the first few buttons of the flannel she wore to reveal the wolverine cub. “You can’t blame me!”

“This is kidnapping!”

“Not when the parents consented and helped me get the baby!”

“HOW DID YOU EVEN GET THE CUB OUT?!”

Angy The small cub started to growl at Logan, only for the man to growl back resulting in the baby hiding in her shirt.

“DONT BE MEAN TO OUR BABY!”

Logan face palms to such, but to her surprise, he started the car and started the drive back to the mansion.

Someone else can argue with her about whether to keep it or not…and to make sure zoo security doesn’t ban her.

[cybersvoid]

❥ A Pirates Treasure

──⇌••⇋──

♡ Pairings: Dabi x Reader

Summary: Captain Dabi’s crew accidentally caught a creature they never thought existed outside of drunk rumors pirates would spread amongst each other, yet here you are, a mermaid. So cute and frightened. Such a rare find, he can’t let you slip away.

ღ Warnings | AU, Mermaid AU, Pirate AU, etc.

Do not repost my work anywhere. If you see anyone reposting or copying my work please let me know. Thank you!

──⇌••⇋──

You hated fishing season, but this year was especially grim. Even though the fish supply was always low, the pirates were constantly floating atop the waters in abundance. It was well-known to both land, and sea creatures that fish always stuck to the southern waters of the ocean during this time of year, with winter fast approaching. It was also where most ships were spotted during the fishing season. You really wanted to be safe and not go over there, but you were starting to get desperate. It had been three days since you had last eaten. All the fish were nowhere to be found, and a few of your people had even become hopeless enough to leave and search in deeper waters. None returning. 

One of your closest friends was one of the missing victims. He said he would be right back, determined to return with food for both of you, but that was almost three weeks ago. You didn’t like the thought of him no longer being a part of your life, but you couldn’t help the gnawing feeling in the back of your head that he was gone forever. As vast as the ocean is when it comes to predators, by far the scariest predator of them all was man.

You heard the stories growing up. There used to be a time when humans and mermaids would work together. Mermaids dove deep enough where the pirates couldn’t reach, and pirates, in return, taught them the law of the land and welcomed them with open arms. Whenever your bodies became dry enough, your tails would split into legs and the mermaids would use them to visit the people of the sand, who often waited with gifts in hand. But that was in the past. Before the humans became greedy for the abilities of the mermaids. That was about the same time a rumor started, stating that the sea creatures got their abilities from the scales on their bodies. 

If they had their abilities, then the humans would have no need for the mermaids, so they decided to steal their scales. When the mermaids came onto land, they were led to the village, where they were doused with water to force them to transform and take away their ability to run away. Their scales were shucked from their body, as they screamed in agony. It was centuries ago, and now the existence of mermaids is nothing more than a rumor amongst humans, but the fear still haunts your kind, keeping them locked away in the water. You weren’t even sure it was possible to transform anymore, and no one you knew even dared to risk going on land and being caught just to find out.

The story of your ancestors was playing on a loop in your head as you swam south, ignoring every fiber of your body begging you to stay put. You couldn’t just wait there to die. You had already lost a friend to this season and you refused to become the next victim. You wouldn’t be able to survive much longer without getting something in your stomach. You had no choice but to push forward. You knew you were in the southern waters when you started feeling the temperature rise, but there was still no sign of any fish, so you kept going.

Not, but a few moments later you started feeling a change in the water, frantic waves grabbing your attention. The second you turned your head, you were surrounded by a school of fish, the force of their movements spinning you around, and disorienting you. You didn’t start to officially panic until you felt yourself being dragged up from the water, lost within the pile of fish, you felt the water pour off your body as you were dragged into the air and then tossed roughly against a hard surface. Fish flopping desperately around you. You started hearing shouting and rough voices yelling as thumping sounds began to grow closer.

“Aye, hurry up over here, this is a heavy load today.”

“Doubt there’s anything worth keeping—these waters are dead.”

“Don’t say that we… oi, what’s that?”

You felt yourself being released as the rope became limp around you, freeing you from its confinements as the humans huddled around you to get a better look. You pushed yourself as far away from them as you could manage before your back hit a wall. Instantly wrapping your arms around your body in an attempt to bring comfort to yourself, but also as a way to get warmer. The harsh winds collided with your skin leaving you shivering. This was it. They were going to kill you and shuck you for your scales.

“It’s a person?”

“Ya must be one hell of a dumbass. That look like a person to ya?”

“I ain’t never seen a person with a fishtail before,” One of the men spoke up, reaching down to stroke your tail. The feeling of his skin against your scales caught you off guard. You gasped, pulling your tail to your chest to keep it away from him. You started feeling so overwhelmed doing your best to hold back tears and not show weakness.

“Should we tell captain?”

“Tell me what?” A deep voice questioned, silencing everyone’s chatter, as they made way to give him a view of what everyone was staring at. His eyes widened, as you gazed up at him helplessly. He had a red bandana tied around his head, black hair forming around it. His skin was scarred and his eyes were bluer than the sea you desperately wished to be returned to.

“Uh, Captain?” A man asked, causing you to tear your eyes away from him, locking them on the floor instead. “What do ya reckon we do?”

“Get back to work...NOW!” He shouted a bit harsher when no one moved, you flinched as the men began scrambling to look busy. When the crowd faded, he slowly made his way over, kneeling in front of you. “Can you talk?”

You said nothing.

“Alright, then.” He lifted you swiftly into his arms, a frightened gasp leaving your lips as he carried you into a room away from everyone else. You were sure you couldn’t be light for a normal human to carry. So this ‘captain’ man must be strong for his kind.

There was a strange flickering light in the middle of the room that captain set you down right in front of, the heat immediately enveloping your body. He stepped away for a moment, rummaging for something behind you. You took his absence as an opportunity to scoot closer to the light in an attempt to get even warmer. It felt so nice on your icey skin, you reached out trying to grab just a bit more before-

“Hey!” Captain shouted out, but it was too late, you cried out as you yanked your hand away, a burning sensation already spreading. It was a pain you could only compare to a jellyfish sting, something you’ve only experienced a few times, but this was especially painful. “Shit!” The sound of digging continued before he came to sit in front of you, large cloth and silver container in hand.

He leaned forward with the cloth, making you jump back, but he only wrapped it around your shivering form, the material covering your skin and shielding you from the cold. While you were distracted with the soft cloth, he grabbed your injured hand, rubbing a strange oil from out of the container on it. His rough touch over your tender injury hurt, and you tried to pull away, but his grip was strong.

“Stop fussing, this’ll help.” Captain mumbled, “Didn’t think about the fact that you probably don’t have fires underwater.” You cocked your head at the word. The land jellyfish was called fire? You were sure you’d heard that word when your elders were passing down stories of the humans. It was different experiencing it in person though. A bit scarier. “Don’t touch it again. I’m not gonna patch you up every time you get hurt, we’re running low on supplies as is.”

You slowly began opening and closing your hand. The stinging was there, but it was less noticeable than before. “Thank you…” You whispered, but he seemed to have heard you, freezing for a second before regaining his composure.

“So you can talk, huh? Then what are you?” If he didn’t know that you were a mermaid, was there still a chance you could get away? But if so, what should you say? 

While you were debating, he had walked away and returned with a book in hand, he flipped to a certain page and shoved it into your face, interrupting your train of thought. You stared at it with confusion. It had a bunch of random scribbles all over it, but off to the side, you noticed a drawing of something that looked almost like you. “You’re a mer… creature, right? Guardian of the sea?”

Guardian of the sea? Now, this was the first time you’ve ever heard of this, but if he already knows what you are. Does that mean…

“Are you going to rip off my scales and eat me?” You questioned, eyes watering at the thought of never seeing your family again. They were probably so worried about you as is. But when you looked up at him, you noticed his face was covered in not only confusion but...disgust? 

“What the fuck are yo-”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“What!?” He hollered. You jumped, not noticing the look he gave you out of the corner of his eye.

“Dinner, cap’n.”

“Enter.” One of the men from earlier came into the room handing a tray of food to him. Eyes lingering on your covered form before captain commanded an ‘out’ causing the man to scurry away. “Hungry?”

You were. In fact, it was the entire reason you were in this situation, but was accepting food from a human something you wanted to do? Letting him patch up your hand was one thing, but this would definitely be pushing your luck. Even if the food did smell incredible, and you were sure your stomach was about to growl any second, you shook your head ‘no’.

“What is it you guys eat down there?”

“...fish.”

“That all?”

“Sometimes sea plants, but we can’t eat too much, or else it’ll take away from the other sea creatures and it’s not very tasty.”

“You’ll like this then, it’s fish stew, the fish is cooked and it’s got some beans in it. You ever had ‘em before?”

“We eat fish raw… I’ve never had stew or beans.”

“Try it.” He stated, extending the bowl out to you, but you turned your head away. Causing him to sigh. His calloused fingers squeezing your face harshly and forcing you to look at him. “I fucking told you supplies were low. So you should be grateful I’m givin ya this. We’ve barely been able to catch a cod, maybe 20 or fewer fish this past week have ended up in our net, so I know you probably haven’t gotten much either, and I think you’d be much handier to me alive, than dead. So eat! Or I shove it down your throat myself.”

He shoved the bowl in your hands, the liquid inside sloshing around, almost spilling out completely. You looked at him, then back down at the bowl, gulping down your nerves and bringing the bowl to your lips. Captain’s hand quickly came up, pushing the bowl back down, and pulling out a wooden stick from inside the bowl. It had collected a bit of soup on the end of it. He handed the stick over, commanding a ‘blow’. You looked at him strangely, thinking it must’ve been a strange custom they had. You brought in a deep breath of air, ready to blow it before he covered your mouth. “Gently!”

He brought the wooden stick to his lips, gently blowing on it a few times before bringing it to your mouth. You took a bite, nibbling on the stick a little before it fell into your mouth. It was like nothing you had ever tasted—better than any fish or sea plants combined. You swallowed it, the warmth enveloping your stomach in such a comforting feeling. You opened your mouth, ready for more, and captain only smirked, giving you another bite.

“You like it then?” You only nodded, giving your tail a quick itch, as he continued to feed you, “Good, Twice’ll be happy to hear someone likes his cooking.” He gave you a few more bites before, grabbing something else off the tray, tearing it in half, and handing a piece to you. “This is bread, you’ll like this.” It was a bit hard on the outside but so warm and soft on the inside. It was delicious. As you continued to chomp on your piece of bread, captain began eating the other half, and whatever was leftover of your stew. By the end, you felt perfectly stuffed.

“I’m gonna bring these dishes to the kitchen. Keep that blanket on, I don’t know if you can catch a cold, but I’d rather not risk it and find out. Can’t get you any medical help out here. And don’t touch the fire either!” He called out before the door shut behind him.

You gave your tail another itch. A tingling sensation began to grow, becoming almost unbearable. Why was it so itchy all of a sudden? Have you been on land too long? You trailed your nails up and down your patchy scales.

Wait...patchy?

You removed the blanket completely, giving yourself a clear view of your body, automatically noticing the change. Your scales were fading, and your tail was separating. You were growing… legs? Just like you had heard stories about. You must’ve been dry enough for them to finally start taking form. And it wasn’t a long wait at all, your tail fading into something entirely new before your very eyes.

As your lower body continued its transition, Your eyes glazed over the rest of yourself, looking for anything else new when you landed on a marking on your upper arm. There were flowing lines of light blue circling around your upper arm like a band, almost as if it was mimicking the elegance, and flow of the ocean. It was as if, even with your new legs, the sea was still claiming you as one of its own.

Changing focus you began looking back down at your new legs, hands grazing the newly formed skin. It was so soft. You didn’t know human skin could be so soft. And it looked like legs weren’t the only new human parts you gained. Your whole lower half was entirely different, but you didn’t have much time to admire it before captain was barging back in.

“Here, why don’t you…” His words died just as fast as they came out as he stared, mouth agape, obviously taken aback by your new form. “Now, isn't this interesting?” 

[yoonjae20]

A series of snapshots of how the public views Danny’s return [Bruce/Danny; Spirit Halloween]

I can't believe it's been already 5 days since I last written something. University has kept me so busy.

Anyway — on to the next part! I tried something different for the first half, I hope it's not too jarring. I thought it would be fun to have a sort of outside view of how the public see Danny and Bruce.

Read on ao3. Masterpost.

Previous. Next.

“Did you guys see the interview Lois Lane did with Bruce Wayne and his husband?” 

“I was so shocked when I heard the news. They do look cute together though!”

“I still can't believe that the most eligible bachelor of Gotham had been married all along! It does explain why he never dated anyone.”

“I know right! But they must be super private for it to only come out now.”

“Actually they said in the interview that his husband was busy with other affairs outside the country.”

“Don’t you think it almost makes it sound like he’s a royalty from a far away land? He was so serious when he said he needed to take care of his duties and responsibilities.”

“No way you are believing that conspiracy theory. There’s a thread that debunked it already. Apparently he’s from some no name city in the Midwest.”

“I did think he had an accent I couldn’t place. Did you watch the clip of the interview where Lois Lane asked who proposed first?”

“Wait, what? I can’t believe I missed that, I hadn’t had time to watch the full interview!”

“Me neither.”

“Here let me pull it up.”

“-So who proposed first?”

Danny and Bruce look at each other for a moment and the latter groans at the expression his husband wears.

“Please not, love.”

“But it’s such an adorable story!” 

“Now I’m only more curious,” Lois chuckles. 

“Well we were quite drunk that day to be honest,” Danny laughs. “It was almost midnight when we decided we needed a hotel. Unfortunately all rooms were booked other than a Love Suite.”

Lois leans forward, eager to hear more.

“The receptionist said they don’t have a room for us both unless we are a couple-“

Bruce buries his face into his hands.

“And Bruce said and I quote ‘Actually we are fiancées.’ I don’t know if the receptionist or Bruce was more flustered when we woke up in the morning.”

“Wow!” Lois exclaims. “I never thought I’d see the day where Bruce is embarrassed.”

Bruce still doesn’t look up from where he hides his face. 

“Yeah he couldn’t look me in the eyes for the entire following day,” Danny snickers. “I actually asked him when the wedding would be while we were eating breakfast. He almost choked on his food!” 

The clips ends and the girls giggle.

“And still people believe Bruce Wayne isn’t a huge himbo.” 

“I do wonder how his youngest came to be. Did he cheat while his husband was away on business?”

One of the girls opens her mouth but before she can share her opinion the other interrupts.

“If you tell me you believe the rumors he’s a clone too then I’m gonna hit you, Sarah.” 

“I’m just saying that we never saw his mother in public!” 

A loudspeaker announces the next stop.

“Come on, we’ll have to hurry to get the bus.”

Their voices fade as they leave the subway. 

“Huh, isn’t that Bruce Wayne’s husband? Who is that next to him?”

“I think that’s Jason Todd, you know the one who died and came back a few years ago? Apparently he was in witness protection or something.”

“Wow, I almost didn’t recognize him. They look so familiar with each other.”

They watch as the older man cackles as he throws fries in his mouth while the younger scowls and playfully punches the man’s forearm. 

“Yeah I heard that now that he is back in Gotham he has been on several outings with the rest of Bruce’s kids.”

“Even with his youngest?”

“Yeah they went to the zoo. With his oldest son he visited him at work I think. He also went to his daughter’s performance. I’m not sure if he did something with the Drake boy.”

“Talking about the devil…”

The door to the Batburger opens, Tim Drake as well as the rest of Bruce Wayne’s brood following him. The older man cheerfully greets them, ruffling the hair of Tim as he sits down next to him. Soon their happy chatter fills the fast food restaurant and the ones watching them move on to other topics. 

“I was skeptical but they do make a good pair.”

Bruce Wayne and his husband are greeting their guests for the charity with matching suits and beaming smiles. Bruce leans to whisper something in the man’s ear and he nods. He politely excuses himself before he hurries out of the room with a champagne glass in hand. 

“Indeed. I’m a bit surprised how well adjusted his husband is, considering I can’t recall ever seeing him at a gala.”

Bruce watches the man go with a genuine smile before he turns back to the people surrounding him.

“That brings me back to when Mr. Wayne first returned to Gotham. I can’t help but feel he looks more at ease now.”

“I know what you mean. He’s mellowed out a lot over the years. To think he had a secret lover he had been hiding all this time…”

“And he seems to be getting along with his kids too. Talking about them-”

Damian Wayne approaches his father, telling him something. Bruce hums before he excuses himself and his son as they go in the direction his husband had gone too. The two high society members quickly forgot about the strangeness of it. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tim Drake so serious.”

“To think that Mr. Wayne would have died without his husband there- It sickens me.”

“The fact that his son has to hold the press conference must mean his injuries are even worse than speculated.”

“I heard that he might need to relearn to walk too.”

“His husband looked furious when the reporters swarmed them once they arrived at the scene — honestly I would be too.”

“They have no shame.”

“I wouldn’t want to be them or the Clown now.”

“I can’t believe Red Robin and Signal let him slip away. Where were Batman and Robin anyway?”

“I have no idea either. And here I thought Batman favors Mr. Wayne and his family.”

“It did seem that way. If the Clown washes up dead, I’m betting on Mr. Wayne’s husband.”

“One can only hope.”

Danny opens the door with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Those damn vultures. If he had known how annoying they would be, he would have convinced Bruce to go live with him in the Infinite Realms — although he knows that despite their love for each other, his need for revenge had outweighed everything else once he finished his travels across the world. 

He shakes his head and steps in the room, eyes trailing to the bed — Bruce should be still out on pain medications-

“Bruce!” Danny chides when he sees the man struggling to stand up from where he is seated on his bed. “What are you doing?”

He hurries to the man’s side and helps him back into the bed as he groans.

“What happened?”

Danny frowns as he sits down the chair next to his bedside. It pains him to see Bruce so obviously weak, face drenched in sweat — if he finds that Clown, he’ll-

“There was a Rogue attack during the charity gala,” Danny explains as he pushes away the dark thoughts — he can plan with Jason later. He is sure the boy will take him up on the offer. “Don’t you remember?”

“What about the target?”

Danny sighs as he leans back, eyes tired — he hadn’t slept a single wink since the incident, but leave it to Bruce to be concerned about anything other than his own health.

“Tim and Cass managed to detain them. We got surprised before you and Damian could change into your costumes.”

Danny knits his eyebrows together as Bruce raises a hand to his temple, obviously straining his memory to recall what happened. 

“You should rest, darling,” Danny leans forward and puts his hands over the man’s left hand. “My ectoplasm sped up things, but you were quite hurt. I'll tell the kids that you are awake.”

He moves to stand but Bruce grasps his wrist before he can move from his spot. It’s feather light — nothing like the reliable, strong grip Bruce normally has. Danny gnaws at his lips as he waits for Bruce to compose himself. 

“Stay,” he says, voice exhausted before he murmurs, “please.”

If this were any other circumstances Danny would have snorted at the man’s display of rather lacking emotional vulnerability, but this is also the first time in many years that he has seen the man seriously hurt and had been powerless to prevent it even though he had been right there. The comfort Bruce is seeking right now — it’s also something Danny needs. To make sure the man is still alive. 

The man scoots over as Danny climbs in the hospital bed and pulls him closer once Danny makes himself comfortable. Danny falls asleep to the rhythmic, slow sound of the man’s heartbeat.

Danny wakes up to hushed voices talking. He keeps his eyes closed as he becomes aware of his surroundings.There’s a hand in his hair and he can hear the rumble of Bruce’s chest as he speaks-

“-He looks too exhausted.”

“You should have seen him when he brought you to the ambulance,” Jason chuckles. “I thought he was gonna bite the next reporter that shoved themselves in his way.”

“We can be glad Daniel was there Father,” Damian says before he hesitates. “I don’t think I would have been able..:”

He trails off and the atmosphere turns somber. 

“Has there been a press conference yet?” Bruce asks as he shifts to hold Danny a bit closer.

“Yes, Tim took care of it,” Jason says. “He and Dick will come by tomorrow.”

“Very well,” Danny can feel Bruce nodding. “Go return to the manor, it’s getting late and I’m sure Alfred won’t appreciate you coming home after curfew.” 

Danny doesn’t need to open his eyes to know Jason is probably rolling his eyes.

“You say as if all your kids aren’t running around as vigilantes at night,” Jason says. “Besides I’m going to one of my safe houses for the night.”

Bruce grunts, displeased and Jason sighs. 

“Fine I’ll go to the manor,” he gives in. “But only because these are special circumstances.”

Bruce lets out a hum, now obviously pleased.

“Should we wake Danny?”

“No, Iet him sleep,” Bruce says, before a bit of amusement slips into his tone. “I’m sure the nurse will let it be once she recognizes him as Bruce Wayne’s husband.”

Jason scoffs, but doesn’t protest. Damian says goodbye to his father before both of them leave. It’s several minutes later that Bruce chuckles.

“I know that you are awake.”

Danny opens one eye, peaking at Bruce who is looking at him with a soft smile. He’s propped up against the headboard and Danny is relieved to see him looking better than when he stepped in the room a few hours ago. 

Danny sits up and raises an eyebrow.

“My breathing?” he asks and Bruce snorts. 

“It doesn’t need a Detective to notice that you suddenly started breathing again although you didn’t while you were asleep.”

Danny huffs out a breath — that tell is the only reason why Danny can never deceive the man. 

“I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation,” Danny says as he leans against the man.

Bruce frowns as he tucks Danny into his side.

“Have they-”

“They all have been very accepting and lovely Bruce,” Danny interrupts. “You have good kids. I just feel bad that I have been monopolizing their attention. After all, you are their father even if some of them try to deny it.”

“You are now too,” Bruce says, surprising Danny, “if you want.”

Danny smiles as he answers, “I know. But that’s up to them.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone who can refuse you.”

Danny snorts.

“You are just biased, darling.”

Bruce shrugs, expression content. 

“Guilty as charged.”

Danny laughs as he shakes his head. 

Yeah, they’ll be fine — no matter what others might think about them. (And if he has to kill a Clown for that to happen, he will gladly do so.)