#lots of hidden things in this part that sets up nicely for the last 2 parts :)

[ja3yun]

The Sun That Always Burns | S.JY pt.4

sim jaeyun x afab!reader

warnings: suggestive, heartache (lots of it), flirty heeseung bc i can't resist, angst, confrontations, pet names, ynjake are so obvious it hurts.

wc: 9.7k+

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

part 3 | part 5

a/n: so i was gonna stop this chapter earlier than it is here but I think having the last scene in this chapter makes sense! also I know nowt about physics so when they start talking about it just pretend it makes sense pls <3

In the guest room, Eunseo is deciding what to wear, it’s between her usual jeans and a crop top or playsuit she bought 2 years ago that she swears makes her look ‘snatched’. In your eyes, she always looks beautiful. “Why are you stressing? It’s just dinner.” 

“Um,” She looks at you like you have 12 heads, “YOU should be stressing, Heeseung and you are sat next to each other.” 

“Wait, what? We have designated seats?” You question.

Rolling her eyes she fixes her hair in the mirror, “Obviously, I mean, there are like 14 of us.” You knew that but no one came up with a breakfast seating plan so why now?

“I’m fine in this,” You look down at your midi dress and white cropped cardigan, “It’s simple and cute, and I am NOT trying to impress Hee.” You cross your arms to protest but Eunseo turns sharply and quips up, “You just called him Hee! That’s a nickname, see, destined to be.” If only she knew. In your defense, it was never that Heeseung was unattractive but Jaeyun was the only person you ever thought of, you didn’t have to think about anyone else. 

You point to the playsuit for her to choose. As she goes to get changed there is a knock at the door, “Come on in.” you say just lower than a shout and Mrs Sim walks into the room. Urgently, you stand up and brush yourself down, ironing out the creases as best you can, “Hi Mrs. Sim. What can I do you for?” 

“I’m just here to let you girls know that everyone is downstairs waiting for you.” She nods and eyes you up and down. “Tell Eunseo to hurry up please.” She smiles and goes to leave but you hold her arm to stop her.

“Why didn’t you use the money you saved up for this wedding?” You question, too impatient to wait and ask Heeseung later on. With a sigh she turns to you, cursing Heeseung’s name under her breath.

“She’s rich, I’m not, the family didn’t need my money.” Her face is screwed up, wanting to tell you more, wanting to tell you the truth, "Honestly, Y/N? We aren't thrilled with the wedding but at the end of the day it is happening. Nothing I can do."

“Mrs. Sim?” You call out to her as she is leaving, “I missed you.” 

Her shoulders slump but a smile adorns her face, “I missed you too, Y/N. More than anything.” As she finishes her sentence you rush to hug her tightly, making up for the lost years. “Shh.” Her hand strokes your back as you hold in your sobs, “You had your reasons,” Mrs. Sim pulls away and looks you deep in the eyes, “If those reasons don’t matter anymore, you should do what you think is best.” As you look at Jaeyun’s mother leave you take in her words and how she looked at you, like she was telling you a secret you didn’t know, and you’re still clueless. 

Eunseo emerges from the bathroom, dressed and ready for the night, “Ta-da!” 

You give her a thumbs up and a weak smile, “You look amazing.” She jumps happily and clasps her hands. “Then if we are both ready,” She reaches her hands to yours, “Let's go.”

Making your entrance to the dining room was weirdly calm, knowing you had Heeseung by your side set your mind at ease. Eunseo addresses everyone with a hello and bow and you follow, the whole family smiles and greets you. A single place next to Heeseung and…

Jaeyun.

“Shit” you mumble under your breath as you walk towards your seat, smiling at everyone as you pass. Heeseung’s hand strokes your hip, guiding you to your seat, “I was wondering when you were going to come down.” His smile dazzles up at you as you tuck your dress under and sit on the white satin seats. The set up for this dinner is a little fancy but this must just be how rich people did things.

“Eunseo takes forever to get dressed.” Playfully rolling your eyes you get comfy, ignoring the tempting presence to your right, but it’s harder than expected. Jaeyun is wearing beige trousers with a mint green jumper accented by a white collar, and he looks beautiful, like the sun on a cold winter day, “Hi, Jake.” 

His face frowns, not used to you calling him Jake, “Hello, Y/N.” His head tilts forward in your direction before facing forward pretending to listen to the conversation happening between his and Yeoreum’s parents. You want to reach out for his hand, tell him you missed him, tell him what a stupid mess you are, but as you stretch your hand out, Heeseung’s fingers interlock with yours. “Don’t” He whispers, pulling your body with his other hand to face him, “Focus on me, Y/N.” You nod and shift to Heeseung as he smiles, “You’re too close to the attentive members of the family, pretend I’m the one you want even for a few hours.” 

It takes all your will power but heading his advice, you focus on him. “Thank you, Hee.” 

Jaeyun hears it all, how Heeseung’s voice holds adoration, he sees how your fingers are intertwined. He is furious, his jaw clenched, and as much as he tries to remind himself he shouldn’t be possessive over you, it comes so naturally that he can’t help it. In every atom of his being, you are still his and he is still yours.

Heeseung’s thumb brushes over the back of your hand to settle your nerves. As Mr. and Mrs. Son bring out dinner, they place a vegetarian meal in front of you, and you glance at everyone else who has steak on their plate. You aren’t a vegetarian by any means but you are thankful since you hate red meat in general. But how did they know? You never told them about your distaste for red, especially bloody and rare, meat, and that's when a voice interjects your thoughts, “I told the cook you were veggie since you can’t eat any red meat that isn’t burnt to the heavens.” A chuckle follows the sentence and you turn to your side to face Jaeyun.

“Dig in!” Mrs. Son exclaims and gestures to the expansive amount of food in front of you all. You don’t know where to begin but Heeseung helps you as he picks up the bowl of marrowfat peas and scoops some onto your glistening white plate. You hold it up as he continues to pile the plate with food for you, not asking what you like because through what seemed like 20 million conversations about you with Jake, he learned enough about you. Heeseung sets the tongs and spoon down in their respective places and glances at you.

“Thank you.” your voice comes out no louder than a whisper. Just like the pepper incident earlier, Jaeyun knew you well enough to cater to your needs and it made your stomach flip. He nods courteously and faces his fiance once again, leaving you grateful but your heart is tired of pretending that his actions aren’t making you fall more in love with him. All the effort you made to try and bury your feelings deeply is unraveling with every passing moment. 

“That okay?” It was more than okay, he picked all your favourites, but you simply nodded and smiled at him in gratitude and he smiled at you briefly before eating the food in front of him.

This was abnormal for you. Your parents were loving and affectionate of course, but you never really had dinner like this, a feast upon your eyes and having the option to choose. Usually, your mum or dad would come home from work, come in, find something in the freezer, and shove it into the oven. Nothing fancy, nothing extraordinary, but enough. You were always grateful. 

“Baby, can you pass the salt?” Jaeyun says lowly and without thinking you reach out and pass him it, which he accepts gladly. You don’t notice the air shift until Heeseung’s eyes fall on you, wide and uncomfortable, and unfortunately, he isn’t the only one with that look on his face. As you scan around, half of the table, including Mr. and Mrs. Sim are looking at you incredulously, and then it dawns on you what you did. You aren’t his baby anymore. 

Jaeyun is none the wiser, pouring the problematic salt on his food before setting it down and digging into his food. Yeoreum side-eyes you both, and only you seem to notice, making you extra uncomfortable because at least if Jaeyun acknowledged it, you could both cover your asses together, but you guess this is up to you now.

“Oh um, the salt was just there, thought I would save Yeoreum the hassle.” You say not daring to look at anyone. Your voice sparks Jaeyun’s attention and all eyes shift to him, who simply looks at you with confusion, but when your eyes plead with him to say something he understands the gravitas of the situation, “Thanks, Y/N. I guess the salt was closer to you.” 

It’s innocent, the scenario that just happened, but after the whispers, the apple juice, and now this, someone could easily suspect something. You nod and go to eating your food, however, you still feel eyes on you. Yeoreum. Her gaze is too intense for you not to feel but you don’t chance a look at her.

“Come here.” Heeseung’s raspy voice flutters through your ears and you look at him, his face inches from your own and then, his lips on your forehead. They felt different, foreign compared to your ex-lovers, but pleasant. Heeseung and you had observing your surroundings as a common trait so when he saw Yeoreum eyeing you, he had to throw her for a curve.

Yeoreum’s eyes widen and fall back to normal in record time causing Jaeyun to follow her stare.

Red. He sees red as he witnesses another man’s lips on you, regardless of who it is, it should only be his. He grips his cutlery tightly and rips his gaze away before he does something crazy like grab his best friend and beat him to the last inches of his life. 

“Hee, it’s okay.” You smile and place a hand over his, “Let's eat, yeah?” Jaeyun scoffs and flicks his food across the plate, suddenly losing his appetite. Jaeyun has always been jealous, this isn’t new information to you, but it makes your brain wonder how he still gets riled up like this even though he isn’t yours anymore. 

Your hand instinctively wants to reach to Jaeyun again to reassure him, but you stop yourself, aware of how that would make the situation a million times worse but also, he wasn’t yours to comfort. 

The meal goes on and no one bats an eye at you anymore, well, the two boys beside you steal glances as you all eat, but the majority have disregarded salt-gate and you’re thankful. 

“Jake, how is the new job?” This is the first time you’ve heard about his new life outside Yeoreum as Mrs. Son asks him the dull question and it makes you remember that the Jaeyun you knew wasn’t the Jaeyun sitting next to you right now.

“It’s good. I’m still learning the ropes but the team is super nice.” He smiles and bows his head lowly when addressing his seniors, something he always did with your parents. Maybe he hasn’t changed that much at all. The answer seems to be acceptable enough as Mrs Son smiles and doesn’t press further. 

Jaeyun smiles at you and his demeanor changes to one of glee, “You remember the Jo twins that started that enterprise with aerodynamic cars?” He asks quietly and you nod, eyes getting bigger as you piece the puzzle together before he can even finish the sentence, “Well for my dissertation I did a study on aerodynamic cars and their resiliency in weather adverse conditions, focusing on autonomous vehicles, and they loved it,” His eyes sparkled just like they did all those years ago when he spoke about science stuff, “Offered me a starting position with them in assisting the theory I proposed.” 

“What’s the job?” You whisper to him but don’t look up, playing with your food just as he did earlier in the evening. 

It was in that moment of Jaeyun speaking that you realised as unorthodox as your leaving was, it was 100 percent the right decision. He had stars in his eyes that would never shine as bright if he hadn’t gone to Apollo and got this opportunity, and for the first time this week, you’re content. Seeing him achieve a dream, or at least on the way to achieving it, made you feel elated. 

“I’m so proud of you, Jaeyun.” It was a sincere statement and Jaeyun smiled widely at your words, like they were the words he had been waiting to hear his whole life. His heart is beating rapidly and you think you can hear it thumping against his ribcage, but you don’t mention it. He thanks you and that’s when Yeoreum pulls you both back to reality.

“My Jakey is so smart, aren’t you.” She caught onto your conversation halfway through his excited outburst, “I have no clue what it means but-”

“So you would propose a framework that tested all the elements to understand just how reliable self-driving cars truly are when faced with weather stress and how to adapt them to overcome the stressors?” You don’t mean to butt in but you always loved to speak about these things with Jaeyun, even if it was basic-level knowledge you had.

His focus was on you, his puppy energy radiating through and if he had a tail, it would be wagging right now, “Exactly! Fuck, the main focus these developers had on the vehicles was sensors that focused on detecting other cars and members of the public but say there is a massive hurricane coming, the sensors would trip out, I proposed a study to test the sensors in adverse weather conditions; fog, rain, wind, heat, all of them.” 

Jaeyun rambles on about his theories and you fall right back into how it used to be. You listen intently and learn about something you didn’t care about until he starts speaking about it, and he teaches you something new. It was just like old times. Almost.

“Babe, Y/N doesn’t want to hear all that.” Yeoreum laughs and strokes his arm, “Sorry, Y/N, he gets into all this complicated sciencey stuff that no one has a clue about and forgets to stop.” You notice his face turn red in embarrassment as if he’s just been caught doing something indecent. There is a silence that follows Yeoreum’s words until you speak up.

“I think it’s interesting, I would love to hear more about it.” 

He’s so in love with you and he really feels it at its purest form in this moment. It’s a simple thing to listen to his interest and he’s grateful you want to engage more in it. You’ve always been like this, supportive of his ways, never judgmental or dismissive. He’s thankful for you.

“You might be the only one.” Yeoreum and her parents laugh, but as you scan the top half of the table, you see Mr and Mrs Sim smile at you, appreciative. You give Jaeyun a look as if to tell him to continue he shakes his head. “It’s okay, it’s boring anyway.” 

Your heart breaks a little seeing the fire in his eyes extinguish as he goes back to eating his food. There isn’t any part of you that hates Yeoreum, but right now you are not her biggest fan, but you let it go. His mood changed but he tried to hide it from everyone, smiling and laughing with them. Recklessly, you place a hand on his thigh and squeeze it to reassure him just like you always used to. Usually, it was to comfort him during his friend's teasing, but now seemed as good a time as ever. His eyes drop to where your hand is situated and he smiles, his left hand weighs itself on yours and he’s calmer. “Tell me later. I want to know all about it.” You whisper to him.

“Thank you, Princess.” The nicknames he used to call you fall so easily out his mouth that he never has time to stop them, but you don’t mind. “And by the way,” He says, his voice lower than ever, “I was asking you for the salt earlier.” 

______

The next day, Mrs. Son enters you and Eunseo’s temporary room as you straighten your hair. She is dressed up casually for the first time since you arrived, even her pyjamas seem classy and elegant, so as your eyes take in her loose mom jeans, a grey old university jumper that reads ‘Boston University’ across the chest, and her hair covered with a navy baseball cap. 

You remember all the walks you and the Sim family went on, your hand glued to Jaeyun’s as you took in the sights of the city, sometimes even taking hikes of your own early in the morning to watch the sunrise. It wouldn’t be like that this time.

“Girls, we’re going for a walk, Jake’s father's idea,” she rolls her eyes at Eunseo who chuckles, continuing to apply her strawberry chapstick, “Wear something comfortable.” Her sigh indicates that she is in fact not thrilled with the choice, never mind the clothing situation. Not to stereotype but it doesn’t seem that the Son family is common enough for a simple walk. 

“Um, I think I’ll stay here, this seems like a family thing.” Your voice is a whisper as you try to get out of seeing Yeoreum take your place beside Jaeyun. This was also a good time to get out of this house and go back home before the wedding. Eunseo shakes her head and stands up. 

“Be ready in 5 minutes.” Mrs. Son says and leaves the room. It doesn’t take 5 minutes because with Eunseo it takes 23 minutes and 13 seconds according to her dad who timed her. 

“Absolutely not! You’re coming with me. I need my girl to motivate me.” Her eyes are pleading and a pout forming on her lips and you find yourself saying yes, just like you did in that cafe earlier in the week. That was the poorest decision of your life so, this couldn’t be much worse. 

We walk downstairs to see everyone waiting and Mr Son is impatient, either from Eunseo’s lack of urgency or because he wants this over and done with just like his wife. “You guys are so impatient, I had to find these cute leggings!” Eunseo scoffs and turns around and models the navy blue leggings that do wonders for her ass.

Jaeyun’s eyes roam over your body as you bend down to put on a pair of old trainers Eunseo dug out from her cupboard so you could match “It’s important to colour match, Y/N! I have a pair of shoes in here just give me a minute” she told you. His teeth find their way to his lip as he bites down, the habit he picked up throughout your relationship because he could never hold in his want for you. Jaeyun wants nothing more than to grab your hips and hold you against him because truthfully he missed your body on his. 

“Eunseo, sweetie, you’re going for a walk, not to Seoul Fashion Week.” Mr. Son laughs and starts to tie his shoes. She looks disgusted at her father's insinuation that she would ever wear this outfit to a fashion week and grunts as she sits down, putting on her trainers. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t pack any appropriate attire for this so you’re clad in Eunseo’s tight leggings and crop top. It’s exposing and not something you usually wear but it was either that or a sundress and wedges. 

Scared of getting caught ogling you, he turns to his fiance and looks down as she clings to his arm, engrossed by a conversation she is having with his mum. He grabs her face towards his and kisses the side of her mouth, aching for a distraction from you but all his mind is occupied with is you. Even as he kisses Yeoreum, he’s thinking about how your lips used to taste, how they felt, he’s starting to forget how they feel and it sinks his heart into his stomach. All these years without you causing his memory to lapse, only remembering how you used to wear cherry lip balm, or was it oil? He needed to kiss you one more time just so he never forgets. 

He feels shitty using Yeoreum as a distraction, kissing her not because he inherently wants to but because at least it keeps his mind and eyes off you.

Yeoreum’s hands glide down his arm as she kisses him back, her lips soft but not yours. He knows it’s wrong, to be thinking about someone else while his fiance is draped over him, her hands in his and giggling as she smooches his face.

You finish tying your shoes and turn round to see Jaeyun’s hand on her waist and mouth all over hers and a wave of sickness comes over you, you can’t do this, not now and not ever. Every time you think you’re okay and can control your emotions he does something that sends you spiraling. 

A broad chest blocks your vision of him and you feel two big hands land on your shoulders. Heeseung. You glance up and softly smile at him in gratitude for tearing your eyes away from the horror scene of your love’s tongue down someone else’s throat. Heeseung’s hands squeeze your shoulders and his lips on your temple. You don’t recall Heeseung being affectionate like this before but it has been 4 years since you’ve seen him, he’s probably changed a lot, just like Jaeyun.

“Just stick beside me, yeah?” His voice is gentle and sweet, and you agree to stay with him. He has become your unofficial saviour this week and nothing you do will ever be enough to thank him. 

Mr. Sim clears his throat to disrupt the couple’s PDA and starts to speak, “We have two cars to get us to the trail since it’s only,” Mr Sim starts to count heads since some of the family are staying behind,“5,6…9 of us, we should be able to fit 5 and 4. I have a bigger car so I’ll take the 5, Jaeyun can take the 4. Who wants in what car?” 

Everyone looks around like it's the first day of school and you’re being asked to partner up. Yeoreum is the first to speak, raising her hand excitedly, “I’m in the car with Jakey obviously.” Jaeyun’s bottom lip protrudes as he nods his head. Of course, it made sense, but knowing you would have to witness her in the passenger seat, his hand probably laid on her thigh, you wanted in the other car more than anything else right now.

“I’ll go with Mr. Sim,” Jaeyun’s eyes dart to yours confused but you shrug it off. Eunseo, who is the opposite of Heeseung, seems to be your worst enemy this trip pipes in, “How about all the adults go in one car and we go in the other? I’m sure Y/N wouldn’t mind sitting on Heeseung’s lap, yeah?” Oh, you are going to kill her. Mr. and Mrs. Sim look between each other and share a personal laugh. You’re glad someone is finding it funny.

“Great! It’s settled then. Let us go.” Mrs. Son barges past everyone to get to her seat, mumbling annoyance along the way. 

“It’s fine, I hope you got some meat on those thighs.” You say trying to lighten the mood, and it works for a second. Heeseung laughs and wraps his arm around you and guides you to the car before whispering, “My thighs can hold you just fine, Y/N.” 

“You okay with that?” Heeseung’s voice is low but filled with concern, he knew what Eunseo was doing and he wasn’t uncomfortable with the idea, but considering you would rather ride with 4 parents, 2 of whom you don’t know and the other 2 aren’t exactly pitching for your team, he guessed you didn’t want to be in Jaeyun’s car.

Heeseung’s laugh runs through your ears and you feel instantly calm. 

Jaeyun and Yeoreum get in the front and the three of you sleek into the back. It’s in this moment that confusion clouds your face. “There are enough seats in here? Why would I have to sit on Heeseung’s lap?” Your question is pointed to Eunseo but Jaeyun answers,

“Oh, we have to pick someone up on the way.” His smile was bright and wide, “She’s a diva and likes her own seat.” Tilting your head at him, Jaeyun looks down and laughs lowly as if you should know.

“You can avoid Heeseung’s lap for now until we pick her up.” Eunseo states as she slides into her side. “But after that…” She winks at you as you scoot into the middle seat. Your best friend really was something else.

You decide to focus on the interior of Jaeyun’s old but new to you car. It’s a lot less shabby than the one you knew, with black leather seats that don’t have cracks in them from years of wear and tear, and his old cassette player has been upgraded to a built-in CD system. 

“Let’s put on some music!” Yeoreum says as she trifles through a CD case but Jaeyun quickly takes it from her and laughs nervously.

“Why don’t you take the aux like always? I've said before these CD's aren't your thing.” Jaeyun puts the CDs in his glove box and continues to drive forward. It piqued your curiosity about what was in the case. Probably a surprise wedding mixtape he spent forever on with all Yeoreum’s favourite songs, just like he used to do with you. That sickness from earlier starts to bubble, but you swallow it down. 

“Fine. Y/N, what do you like to listen to? I know everyone else’s taste but yours!” Yeoreum is so sweet, and it’s killing you a little. If only she was a bitch. 

“Um, I think everything,” You say as you watch her add songs into a queue, clearly picking an eclectic mix to keep everyone happy. 

The car jerks forward as Jaeyun almost emergency brakes when Heeseung calls you angel. You’re body lunges forward a little at the jerk but Heeseung shields your body, acting as another seatbelt. “Mate, watch what you’re doing.” Heeseung scorns his best friend as he rubs your arms, “You good?” Nodding in response you get comfy again.

“Put some Monsta X on,” Heeseung’s face turns to you as he speaks. “She loves them, don’t you, angel?” 

The rest of the car is filled with Yeoreum’s hand-selected playlist and tension between the driver seat and the one behind.

Jaeyun turns into a quaint little area with a few shops and buildings about 20 minutes into the drive. “Are we here already?” you ask Heeseung but he shakes his head. “Did you forget we have a passenger princess to pick up?” You let out a silent ‘oh’ and nod. 

As the car stops in the parking lot you shift a little uncomfortable. “I’m going to stretch my legs.” Heeseung steps out of the car to let you out but you stumble out of the car, luckily, Jaeyun is there to catch you, his hands placed on your shoulders to stop you from face-planting. He doesn’t say a word but his expression is laced with concern to which you shake your head and whisper a thank you.

You brush yourself down and straighten up. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He says to you and lets his hand linger down your arm. All you can do is nod and watch him leave.

“You know her well.” Oh no. Not another ghost from 4 years past. You can’t face another stern face cursing you to oblivion for your previous actions. 

“Who are we picking up?” You stretch your right leg and look at Heeseung who laughs. 

Yeoreum squeals and gets out of the car, “There she is!” Your sights set on Yeoreum and follow to where she is staring and your heart leaps out of your mouth. As you cross round the car you see the familiar blonde charging her way to you.

“Layla!” You shout, a shit-eating grin plastered on your face as the dog bounds towards you, happiness evident on her face. 

In a blur, you kneel down and she jumps up to give your face sloppy licks. Layla was Jaeyun’s family dog, a precious piece of their family, and admittedly your favourite, even before Jaeyun. “Whose my good girl?” You hug her tight as she barks, her tail wagging excitedly, the feeling of missing each other is mutual. Ruffling her coat she jumps around you and barks loudly. Jaeyun smiles down at you both, and you smile back at him, however, you’re the only two smiling as Yeoreum and Eunseo have a look of bewilderment.

“I thought you said she was reserved around new people?” Eunseo asks Yeoreum who hums to confirm. 

You miss out on this as you give Layla long-awaited kisses and cuddles, whispering ‘I missed you’ and ‘good girl’ into her fur. 

“Um, Jakey? Isn’t Layla shy around people she doesn’t know? She was like that with me when I first met her.” The question from his fiance brings him back to earth and his smile wipes from his face, clearing his throat to buy him some time to think of an excuse.

“Eh, maybe she just trusts Y/N because she’s with all of us.” A pathetic reasoning but you weren’t exactly any help, too busy playing with the excited animal.

Shit.

Heeseung crouches beside you and gives Layla a pet, nudging you in the process, “Remember where you are, Y/N.” 

You look around and everyone’s eyes are on you. “She must just sense I’m a dog person. Are you a dog or cat person, Yeoreum?” If there was one thing you perfected over the years it’s how to deflect situations onto another person and that's through the art of asking them questions about themself.

“I like dogs!” She smiles, “But I do like cats.” Her pondering face is matched with her hand on her cheek, “Jakey, do you think she didn’t take to me because I like cats?”

“Yes!” Jaeyun claps and points to her excitedly, happy to have a reason for this scenario in front of him. “Must be that, Reumie.” His shoulders relax and his eyes fix on Layla. She’s clueless, just happy that you’re back.

Getting back into the car you sit on Heeseung’s lap and Layla looks at you, like if she focuses on anyone else you’ll disappear again. You pet her to reassure her and it doesn’t take long for her to lay her head on your thigh, just happy for your presence. Jaeyun’s heart flips at the scene as he watches it through the rearview mirror. 

As you’re getting comfy on Heeseung’s thighs, you hover a little to not put all the pressure of you on him, but Heeseung is Heeseung and he notices. His hands grip your waist and plonk you down until your whole weight is on him. “You won’t break me.” He chuckles and rubs circles into your hips. A slight nod of your head is all you offer him and you get comfy.

Jaeyun starts the car, reversing out the car park, one arm resting on the seat as he looks behind him, for a split second he looks your way but quickly goes back to focusing on not crashing the car, his tongue pointed out the side of his mouth in concentration. You shift in Heeseung’s lap as heat bubbles in your stomach. There is something about Jaeyun driving that always made you think out of church hour thoughts, the way the veins run up his arm, how his tongue pokes out and wets his lips, his one hand on the wheel reversing, it was all so hot. There were times on occasion you couldn’t handle it and got him to take you in the backseat, those were not the thoughts you need right now while you’re on his best friend’s lap. 

“Hey,” Heeseung rips your gaze from Jaeyun’s hand with his voice as you turn your head to him, his voice low enough only you can hear, “If you leave a wet patch on my sweatpants I will have you pay for my dry cleaning.” He huffs out a laugh as your face falls and goes bright red.

“I-I, shut up, Hee!”  You whisper and slap his chest. 

__

One hour later you arrive and see the couple’s parents waving Jaeyun over. As he parks the car you all clamber out and greet the others, Layla ping-ponging herself between you and Jaeyun. 

A tap on your shoulder has you turning to face a serious Eunseo, “How did you know her name was Layla?” The question catches you for a new one but you just spout the same excuse you have this whole trip. 

“Jake told me.” 

“You know.” She crosses her arms and taps her foot a few times before continuing, “You seem to have spoken to Jake a lot and yet, I haven’t seen you talk to him once.” The tone of her sentence is accusatory but you keep calm.

She hums, “He knew about your distaste for black pepper, you knew he was captain of his high school football team, and I heard him request a vegetarian dish for you to our cook so I presume he knows you hate red meat. All that was way before dinner.” Her stance is strong as she leans back and waits for you to explain, but you can’t.

“W-what do you mean? We spoke last night, about his job and stuff,” your hand points to her, palm faced forward, “you saw.”

“Oh Eunseo, Jaeyun is actually the love of my life, we dated for about 4 years and then I left without a word. Now he’s going to marry your sister and I want to die at the thought.” 

That is what you probably shouldn’t say, so you settle with, “Just small talk I guess.” A nervous laugh leaves you but she doesn’t let up. “Y/N-”

At the same time Eunseo is saying your name, Heeseung comes over and hugs you from behind, “You coming, ladies? Or do you want to stay here with all the screaming children?” Heeseung points over Eunseo’s shoulder to the crying toddler and their sleep-deprived parents.

“You two need to be more careful. If Eunseo finds out, she tells Yeoreum, and I don’t think you want to be the topic of that conversation right before the wedding, yeah?” 

“Coming!” You say and rush off, grabbing Heeseung’s hand and getting you both out of Eunseo’s earshot. “Thank you.”

He’s right. He always is and it exudes a heavy sigh from your lips. “I know, it’s just so easy to forget.” You admit and his silent nod is all you need before the group of you head for your walk.

It’s peaceful, every so often you throw a stick for Layla, and chatter amongst the parents is all you hear as you make it your mission to not look Jaeyun’s way. Eunseo walks alongside the happy couple and you do as Heeseung suggested and stay by his side. The scenery takes your breath away, the golden sun burning your skin, not a cloud in sight. You take some time to reflect on the past 4 years and realise the sun doesn’t come out so much in Pyeongchang. 

“Y/N?” You turn to see Yeoreum looking at you, “Can I ask you something?” Oh no. Eunseo told her, fuck, maybe Mrs. Sim did. Is she going to throw you over the cliff, is all this one big ploy to get rid of you? 

“Oh, sure.” You look away and prepare for the worst-case scenario.

“Tell us more about your ex. I can’t stop thinking about it.” Your eyes widen and look straight at Jaeyun who, despite his golden skin, is suddenly pale white. “I don’t know why you broke up with him if you were so perfect for each other.” 

Jaeyun and Heeseung look at each other in confusion. They weren’t there for the conversation when the football game was going on, so they had no idea what Yeoreum was talking about.

“Yeah!” It’s Eunseo’s turn to chime in, “Y/N is such a closed book, I still know hardly anything about her. Tell us. You said you had challenges.”

“I-”

“It’s not really our business though, it is? We don’t have to know.” Heeseung speaks up in your defense but Yeoreum just scoffs. “I know about everyone’s exes, I love hearing about them. I know all about yours,” She points to Heeseung, “I of course know all about Jake’s.” She rolls her eyes as she spits the last sentence out, clearly, Jaeyun had said some bitter things about you, but you don’t mind. You deserved it. “So tell us about yours, Y/N. Jake, you should have seen the way she spoke about him! It was true love, I know it, maybe we can give you advice and get back together?”

Jaeyun coughs and looks up to the sky, wishing a bright light would come from between the clouds and either obliterate him like in that War of the Worlds movie.

“It was just,” You stop, uncomfortable at the idea that the subject of conversation is only a meter from you. Maybe this was your chance to really explain yourself in a controlled environment where emotions had to be under control, not like that night in the kitchen. 

“I just was scared I think. I didn’t really handle the situation well. I was scared of long distance so I didn’t tell him I was going to college in Pyeongchang and just up and left.” 

“I thought it was the right call. He had dreams, and honestly? He would have given all of it up for me. His dream school, his future, just to follow me and I didn’t want to live with the guilt of it.” Your head hangs low, and Heeseung’s hand grazes yours in an attempt to comfort you. “In the moment, I thought it was the right choice.”

“Damn,” Eunseo slows down her pace and looks at you, “You mean you just, left him behind?” 

Eunseo stops completely, “Your parents…”

“Left them behind too. I didn’t want to risk him finding out where I was going. I didn’t tell anyone. Literally.” It was all clicking in Eunseo’s head and her jaw hung open.

“That’s cold, Y/N. I can’t imagine how he feels. Does he know where you are now?” Yeoreum asks the wrong questions every single time and you almost laugh at the irony.

You shrug, “I-” 

“What do you think about it now?” The Australian accent jolts you to attention and interrupts what would have been a lie. Turning your head to him you wish he wasn’t looking at you with his eyes wide, like they’re desperate for something only you can give him.

Swallowing you nod slowly, “I think- I think I made the wrong choice.” You should have stopped the sentence there but you continue, “He’s everything to me still, I would do anything to go back and change it.”

In another world, Jaeyun is tearing himself away from Yeoreum, picking you up, and kissing you because you are the only one that matters. But this isn’t a romance movie, and you’re both deep in this tangled mess.

“I think you should reach out. Then you can have what me and Jake have.” A scoff is heard behind you. Turning, you view Heeseung with disgust on his face, his jaw is clenched and his eyes don’t even give Yeoreum the time of day. “What? You don’t think she could have that?” 

“I think Y/N can have anything she wants,” He’s biting his tongue. Jaeyun’s gaze is looking pleadingly at his best man to shut the fuck up. He doesn’t, “It’s just Y/N is describing a love that sounds like once in a lifetime.”

It’s Yeoreum’s time to stop in her tracks. “And you think Jake and I don’t have that?”

“Yes.” If gagged had a visual representation next to its definition in the dictionary, it would be a still-frame picture of your face right now. “It’s not that you don’t love each other obviously,” damage control Heeseung was coming to fruition as he saw the shocked faces staring at him, “It’s just love like that isn’t easy to find.” He mumbles, cursing under his breath that he even opened his mouth. 

“Well, for your information, Heeseung I brought Jake back to life after his high school relationship. He was nothing but a hollow body until he met me. If it wasn’t a ‘once in a lifetime love’” She air quotes the phrase, “then he would still be moping around over a shitty, second string ex that never deserved him.”

“Enough.” Jaeyun’s voice is stern, not like you’ve ever heard before, “Both of you just shut up. I love Yeoreum,” He faces Heeseung almost trying to convince him, “I wouldn’t be marrying her otherwise, “and you don’t get to shit on my ex.” His attention now on his fiance, “You don’t know her, she had her reasons, and yeah she hurt me, but she deserved all the love I gave her. So keep her out of your mouth. Got it?” 

Maybe Yeoreum’s face right now should be next to gagged in the dictionary. Scratch that, just have this whole scenario play out on a projector. Jaeyun strides ahead, annoyed that anyone in their right mind would ever say anything like that about you. The silence is loud as you all continue your walk, Layla still none the wiser.

As you reach the top of the trail, Jaeyun’s emotions have settled but he doesn’t look at you or Yeoreum once, focused on the sun. Even though it’s shining bright, it’s a lot colder with the breeze from the height where he stood.

Layla is pulling at you to follow her and with her leash in hand you do. She paws at Jaeyun who looks down with a smile and pets her head. “I’m sorry.” He whispers and you take a moment to register he’s talking to you. “She shouldn’t have said that.”

Your heart beats loudly because even after all this time he’s still looking out for you, still caring about your feelings even though he would have every right to hate you and curse you just like Yeoreum had.

“Jaeyun, It’s okay. She’s not wrong. It was shitty.” You suck your teeth and then you laugh, “You’re gonna be a terrifying dad,” He doesn’t say anything but his eyebrows scrunch together, “The way you put them both in their place, I’ve never seen you get angry.”

“Ah, that’s not true.” Now it was your turn to adorn a face of confusion, “Your birthday party, with Sunghoon?” Oh. Yeah. That. You shift from one foot to another, wrapping Layla’s lead around one of your hands. “I think that was the only time though.”

“I’m sorry about that.” He laughs loudly and shakes his head. “Baby, that was like 7 years ago. I forgive you. I forgave you that night.”

“Then go forgive Yeoreum.” The statement causes Jaeyun to lean back. “You should forgive her. It wasn’t nice but she didn’t mean it like that, she was protecting you because she loves you. If you can forgive me that easy then you can do the same for her.”

He sighs and sticks his hands in his pockets. “It’s easy to forgive you.” 

“Do you?” Your voice is a whisper, your heart rapidly hitting against your chest, “Forgive me.”

Jaeyun nods his head slowly and turns to face you properly, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Taking his hand out of his pocket he grabs yours and squeezes it. He loves you and that is never going to change. It’s just that he loves Yeoreum now. You can try to find contentment in that.

_______

For the car ride back, Yeoreum storms into the backseat without giving any warning, clearly mad at her future husband. Heeseung guides Layla into the middle seat before situating himself on the seat beside her and waiting for you to crawl onto his lap. That however does not happen. Eunseo decides to sit on Heeseung’s lap instead and he is less than impressed. “Um, Eunseo?” She turns to Heeseung as if sitting on his lap is the most obvious decision in the world. “What? I’m not sitting next to him after he shouted at my sister.” Jaeyun opens the driver seat and throws himself down onto the leather, muttering a barely heard ‘I didn’t shout’. You look at Heeseung to help you out but he shrugs and mouths a sorrowful ‘Sorry.’ which is no comfort at all. “Y/N can sit in the front.” Yeoreum huffs and you follow her instruction mindlessly. You get into the passenger side and buckle your seatbelt for the awkward 2 hours that await. 

“Let me put on some music, yeah?” Your voice is calm and quiet like you’re trying not to disrupt the tension. Heeseung is the only one to agree but you still grab the aux and plug your phone in. Unlike Yeoreum, you don’t ask what songs people want and settle for one of your playlists but just as you go to hit play, your phone says it’s at 5% and you mentally curse yourself for taking so many pictures. You have a choice; you can either play the songs right now and have your phone die in 2 minutes, or sit in silence. You sit for a while and the silence causes Jaeyun to turn to you.

“You okay?” he asks and you hum explaining about your phone, “Here.” Opening the glove box he hands you the CDs he hid from Yeoreum and she notices, crossing her arms and holding back from making a sarky comment.

Flicking through the CDs you see the mixtapes he made over the years until one stops you dead. ‘Y/N #1’. Your fingers flip through and all of them are named something similar all the way to ‘Y/N #38’. The last one has drawings of rings and keys all around it and you lightly trace your fingers over it, scared that if you touch it you’ll break it. 

To confirm your theories, you pick it out and enter it into the CD player and your heart skips at least 5 beats as the first notes play from Love is All Around by Wetter. You choke on nothing as the memories of that night come flooding back to that night. He had taken all those cassette tapes and made them into CDs. Even after you abandoned him he still took the time to transfer every single mixtape. Your chest feels heavy and you feel like you’re going to pass out until Jaeyun places a hand on your thigh to calm you down. His touch is so familiar and comforting that instantly you feel relief wash over you, your hand intertwining with his. Just like how you used to be, you’re seeking his comfort. 

Yeoreum is in too much of a sour mood to notice how his thumb rubs your skin, and how his whole body suddenly feels like it’s found the missing limb that’s been detached from him. But Heeseung doesn’t. He sees it all and he wants to cuss you both out for being so obvious. Still, instead, he’s engaging Eunseo in meaningless conversation, distracting her of any chance to see how Jaeyun has his fingers tracing hearts into your thigh.

As the song’s final chorus blares through the speakers he brings your hand to his lips and kisses it gently. It’s a foolish move and Heeseung panics, looking between the sisters to see if any of them notice and somehow they don’t. He is going to have some words for you both when they all get back. 

Alan Watt’s monologue at the end of the song doesn’t help the way you’re feeling, like for the first time in years you are exactly where you should be, with the love of your life. But his hand leaves yours as the journey goes on due to worrying that Yeoreum could turn her head and see it, and you’re pulled back to reality. He isn’t yours, and he’s getting married in two days.

____

Stepping out of the car you watch as everyone walks into the house, some sullen, and some oblivious about what happened. You wish you were the latter. Jaeyun walks with his hands in his pockets, head down as he follows a pouty Yeoreum up the stairs and into their bedroom. The house’s once light atmosphere is now heavy and by this point, everyone can feel it. Mr. Sim pulls Heeseung to the side and they share a whisper. Mrs & Mr. Son kidnap Mrs. Sim and Eunseo to the kitchen to help them prepare dinner.

You don’t follow your best friend, instead, you tread up the grand staircase, ready to shower and wash off the antics of today, craving the battering of hot water against your skin. Your foot is not but a second on the first floor when you hear shouting. It’s muffled and honestly, you shouldn’t be listening but you’re nosey and you one hundred percent know who it is.

“I just don’t understand why you shouted at me like that. And in front of our friends!” Yeoreum cries out. Don’t eavesdrop your mind is telling you, but your feet are gingerly walking to their door, it lays slightly ajar.

You don’t see lots but you can see Yeoreum’s back and sometimes when she moves, you can see Jaeyun. He looks lost, guilty, and bored all at once.

“Reumie, I did not shout at you. I told you to not speak about my ex. What is your fascination with her? You bring her up whenever you get the chance.” 

Yeoreum scoffs and folds her arms, one foot pointed out to the right and her hip jutted out. “Me?! Fascination?! You have some nerve to ask me that.” Jaeyun looks at her confused, “Jake, you are so sensitive whenever I bring her up.”

“Because she’s my fucking ex, Yeoreum. It’s a sensitive fucking topic for a lot of people believe it or not. I told you talking about her makes me uncomfortable” He’s mad and he’s scared she’ll say something that will have him saying something regretful. Jaeyun’s hands are in front of him and his fingers are joined as he tries to calm down. “Look, let’s just forget it-”

“Get over it, Jake. She probably has. I am the one who got you out of your rut, I am the one who held you on those nights you’d cry over her wishing she would come back even though I, your girlfriend, was right there, and I sure as hell am the one you asked to marry you.”

Jaeyun stills at the memories of him laying on his dorm bed, willing you to come home to him, Yeoreum hugging him from behind, lulling him to calm down. He couldn’t even pretend to care about her presence when thoughts of you struck into his mind. She didn’t deserve the way he was back then and he’s surprised she stayed around.

Jaeyun opens his mouth but she cuts him off before he can even respond, her eyes are on him with a deadly stare, “Do you still love her?” It’s his turn to scoff but she doesn’t let up, “Tell me you don’t love her, and I’ll put it all behind me. I will forget this ever happened and drop it.” She knows the answer, but she wants him to lie to her.

“I- Yeoreum everyone still has feelings for their first love.”

“If she walked through that door right now, would you leave me for her?” 

A gentle hand enveloped the top of your arm, causing you to gasp and turn around panicked. Mr. Sim’s gaze meets yours. He gently leads you from the door and into your room, “I think you’ve heard enough.” Although the statement can come across as rude from anyone else, his tone is comforting. He was taking you away from the possibility of the answer you knew he was going to say. Of course not. He wouldn’t leave her if his ex walked into his life again because you did walk back in and he is still very much engaged.

Jaeyun’s dad shuts the door behind him and sighs, “Y/N, Heeseung told me what happened.” You nod.

“It wasn’t a big argument, they’ll get over it in a minute.” Looking up you see him shaking his head and waltzing towards you, guiding you both to sit on the edge of the bed.

“He told me everything.” Oh. You nod again, this time heavy and with dread, as you think about the prospect of how this conversation will go. 

The next words to leave his mouth are not in a million years what you would have guessed,  “Thank you.” Shifting your body to face him completely you stretch your neck forward to make sure you heard him correctly, eyelids invisible as your eyebrows dart up.

Mr. Sim laughs and gently shakes your leg affectionately. “I know I didn’t give you the best welcome back reaction but you have to understand.” You daren’t say a word, trying to listen carefully, “When you left, you left behind my son but you took him with you. His livelihood, his character, his heart, he lost himself and I think it’s because you accidentally packed him up with your bags.”

“I’ll be candid, we lost all respect for you,” His face is sour and all you can do is nod because he had every right to feel this way, “But after these past few days, and Heeseung telling me why you left, I realise I have to thank you.”

The guilt your heart feels is astronomical, you knew it would hurt him, but something about the way his dad is putting it is like having someone poke multiple pins in your heart and dragging them down slowly, and painfully, torturing you as you awaited death.

“Why? You should hate me, you said yourself, I destroyed him.”

“Emotionally at the time, yes. But every step you took was always with his interest at the forefront. You knew he would reject Apollo if you told him you weren’t going with him.” A chuckle leaves his lips and his hand pats your leg again, “One thing about my boy? He is stupid when it comes to mind over heart. And you are so smart, baby girl.” Mr. Sim’s eyes are just as they used to be, full of adoration for you.

“If Jaeyun had left with you, he might have started to resent you and the relationship, wondering if he made the right choice, it would cause arguments, you’d drift and it would all have been for nothing. You saw that didn’t you?”

Yes. That is exactly how you saw it. When you made the decision to not tell him, long distance was your main reason, but as you stewed with it for years you truly know the guilt of keeping him from his dream school and ultimately sabotaging his future was the main reason. You wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye. “Something like that.” Is all you mutter to him, “I knew how hard he worked for all of it, Busan, Apollo, his career, I didn’t want him to jeopardise it for some girl. And he always said long-distance scared him.” Tears are ricocheting down your face and you taste the salt as the liquid slips past your lips. For the first time, your feelings and actions are being validated.

“He also got Yeoreum.” You say smiling sadly. He grabs your chin and turns your face to his delicately.

“My son was always your number one priority, even when you didn’t realise it. Now do I wish there was a better way you could have gone about this? Categorically so.” He laughs and for the first time in the whole conversation so do you, nodding your head and your eyes looking up. “But you deserve a thank you because look what he has; honours in one of the most prestigious colleges in the country, a job he loves and is so dearly passionate about, I mean really, I cannot get him to shut up about it,”

“Do you love him?” You agree without hesitation and try to focus on anything but his eyes, too painful and far too similar to his son’s. “Then let me give you some advice,” Shouting can be heard, Jaeyun and Yeoreum’s voices getting louder but you’re too busy hanging on to every word Mr. Sim is speaking to tune in, “Do what you think is best, for you and him, either together or separate. You’ll make the right choice, Y/N. I know that now.”

[hanchette]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 : ( wind breaker characters )

a/n : SUMMER VACAY IS SO BORING HNGGG, part 2/3 of long fluff scenarios

consist of : fluff, gender neutral reader, established relationship — relationship thingies

𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐇𝐈𝐊𝐎 𝐍𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐈, once he had you in an ambush, he was too giddy to 'kidnap' you, hence nirei had set up a wonderful idea of a café date. "ah, before anything i bought you some food from saboten! ta-dah! i saw that they have some milk bread and uhmm melon bread—also cream puffs! unless you want something savory? hold on i have some-"

you watch him, having fun with how his expression changes from one thing to another.

"oh! here, do you like these?" nirei showed you a few packet before shoving it in the paper bag and pushing the bag over the table onto you. "you can have them!"

"aki-chan, you bought a lot." you took the bag gently from its place on the table, peeking at the many contents, "this will last me for a few days."

"ah! sorry, was it too much?" he clapped his hand in a praying motion, hissing in grimace at himself for maybe being too overboard with his bread giving.

"it's fine, saboten has tasty breads anyway." you nod, taking one out of the bag and giving it to him, "there's many for us to share too."

"ah" he seems at awe as he pictures you, his blush evident, nirei scratches at his nape as he whistled to himself, "ri-right.. you're right, y/n-chan!"

despite being in a relationship with nirei, he has his moments where he does get shy on you, you noticed that it's specifically when you're acting 'like an angel!' he would say.

"i really like this date idea, aki-chan." you compliment, taking in the scene before you, nirei had taken you into a café where he managed to secure a seat on the second floor where the veranda is. the view of the townspeople below is a nice scene before the eyes.

"really? hehe.." he turns pinkish red at that.

this was a hidden gem since it is located at the second floor, not much people inside so the two of you are given privacy, "how did you find this, aki-chan?"

nirei beams, always eager to tell you informations whether it is regarding people or places that he knows and has interest about, "that's because you mentioned a few days ago that you wanted to try something new! so i gathered and asked a few people around if they know a good place and i was pointed this way."

he proudly beams, teeth out as he looks at you in a bright expression, one out of adoration. to think he even remembered your words and took it to heart.

"thank you, aki-chan."

he stiffens, looking at you in owlish wonder before nodding, "to be honest, i still don't know much about you, y/n-san." granted, the relationship between the two of you is still fresh like dews on a meadow after the rain.

"i- the reason i brought you here was for my selfish desire to get to know you more." nirei admits with a genuine passion in his eyes, reaching for your hand, "please, tell me more about you."

and there is nothing in his hand, not the iconic notebook you've seen him, nor the pen, just him, looking at you with hope and affection in his gaze.

he didn't need his stuff. everything about you, nirei would take everything to his heart.

𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐘𝐔, "here ya go, y/n-chan." kiryu hands you a console with a smile, his soft melodic voice always calms you down.

"thank you, just so you know, i'm not good at this game." you tell him, settling down on the couch as he hums.

"that is fine, this is just for fun."

kiryu smiles at you, his hand, bigger than yours and rougher—with how much he has fought in the past and still does, "here, this is for your character to maneuver and this is how it attacks," and although he speaks, you are distracted with the close proximity that you both share.

"y/n-chan?"

you felt fingers shift your head, delicate touch of his fingers on your cheek, "you good?" he's ever so patient with you.

"mhmm.. i am."

"heh, but you didn't listen to my explanation, didn't you?" he chuckles, pinching your nose lightly as a tease, "i will tell you again, so focus on me, y/n-chan."

true to his words, kiryu didn't performed in a competitive nature as he usually does when it comes to games, deciding to merely idle and have fun with you—although there are many times in occasion that he goes slip into a range of competitiveness before realizing what he's doing and simply relaxes.

although you are briefly aware of the fact that there were multiple times that he has allowed you to win on purpose.

alright, this is enough, he should take you seriously now! "take me seriously for our next game!"

kiryu blinks, surprise at the sudden demand before he eases into your side, "really? then, loser grants one wish of the winner." he proposes. though kiryu doesn't sport a smug look, he is pretty confident with his skills.

you're almost reluctant to disagree until you had an idea, "alright!"

"don't regret it then, y/n-chan." he chuckles.

and the next game started, kiryu, no longer going easy and in ease now started to maneuver his character in impressive ease. though his expression is stiff, his finger movements are flowing and smooth.

just as he is near the finish line with your character next in line, you smoothly shifted to press a sweet kiss on his cheek.

kiryu's finger movements halted and you took the opportunity to place first in order to win.

"i won! i hit the mark!" you cheered, brightly laughing at your win before you're pulled into kiryu's arms.

"you did not hit the mark." kiryu echoes, his hold on you a bit firm but loose enough to be able to escape. "i did!"

maybe he didn't like the idea of losing with a bet in place, moreover, you did kiss him to surpass him in the game. was there something he really want from you?

"no," his voice is breathy, "you didn't." his face neared yours, lightly pressing his lips against yours.

maybe he is right, you didn't hit the mark, but hey, atleast you still won the game.

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐀 𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎, it took a lot of convincing and trials until sugishita finally relents on letting you touch his hair.

it has been months into your relationship that he finally trusted you to.

now you're sitting behind him while he's slump on the couch, leaning against your thighs while he's situated on the floor, a sour look on his face as he repeatedly switch the channels of the television.

"are you comfy, kyo?" you asked, although you know the answer, sugishita won't do something he doesn't like after all.

although you happen to be an exception, with how he hates tying his hair up, always allowing it to flow freely. sugishita merely nod once to tell you he is indeed comfortable in his position.

"you know kyo, many girls would be jealous of how long your hair is, and the fact that it is in good condition." you hummed, picking through the strands to pull at the slight tangles but it is overall a good look with how once a month, sugishita do get the treated.

"hn." he grunted, "are you?" somehow, there's a smug tone in his question.

too bad you can't see his expression.

"lowkey, yes." you sheepishly admit, reaching to bunch all his hair back as you pull on them slightly, fingers starting to braid them.

sugishita threw his head back unto where your thighs are, "don't." he says, brown eyes staring at you.

there is an awful pause in between, at this point in your relationship, you've become accustomed to listening to him well to know whenever he wants to add in a 'but' in his words.

"your hair is fine."

with his eyes closed, he sighed through his nose, almost huffing as you craned your neck, leaning down to catch his expression only for sugishita to beat you to it.

"pretty." and it's almost so soft that you barely caught it, fortunately, with the close proximity, you have it to thank for.

"really now?"

he didn't want you to doubt his words, sugishita nod his head once in a serious manner.

his actions incite a small giggle to escape your lips, "maybe i should braid your hair always if you're this sweet to me." you tease your poor boyfriend who could only blink at you in reply. his mouth parting and his expression, serious.

"i am sweet."

well, he's not entirely wrong.

𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐆𝐀 𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐄𝐔𝐑𝐀, "are you sure i am not heavy?" you question, sitting on his back as he does his push up—his back straight and core tight. this has been a usual with the two of you ever since you've entered a relationship with taiga tsugeura himself, a passionate man through and through. while you don't join him in his exercises, you do help him with it, like for instance, you sitting on his back now.

"nope! not one bit!"

"then isn't my help useless??" he asked you to sit on his back so he could use your weight after all, if you weren't heavy enough, then isn't it all for nothing?

taiga paused in his push up, "ah, maybe i could do plank instead then?" his arms tremble a bit as they adjusted into proper position, now finally feeling the strain but you are sure that this still is nothing compared to the amount of exercises he is used with in doing.

you watch him idly, "your back is.. sweaty." you mentioned, feeling how his sweat stick on the skin of the back of your thigh for a bit, even with him wearing a sleeveless tank top—frankly, you've remembered telling him once that it is called a wife beater shirt but taiga didn't liked it one bit.

"sorry about that babe! you can get off if you want to!" there's sheepishness in his tone as he responds to you.

you shook your head, only to realize that he can't see you before replying, "i can help you in another way?"

"oohhhh! a new exercise way?!" he seems pumped up, enthusiastic for your help no matter how small it may be.

"somewhat." you agreed, setting you feet down the wooden boards before walking in front of your boyfriend, taking a face towel that's folded neatly on the side of his bed.

it was a trend that you once saw, especially used in fanfics, hell, maybe you can do it as well, taiga looks up at you, curious but still with that awfully charming smile that you find so precious.

you lay down, slipping underneath his face so you're looking up at him.

"hi."

"hello," taiga smiled, "you're awfully close."

"i am."

you breathe in before softly explaining how it works. "so here's the deal, you can resume your push up and i can wipe them..?"

"but you're close?"

"then there's a kiss as a bonus?" you offer, a sweet smile on your lips, taiga's lips parted, looking at you in a moment of shock.

"woahhh..." was the only word he can say.

"it- it is fine if you don't want to though-" before you can finish it, you feel a small touch on your lips, your view momentarily obscured by the sight of his adams apple bobbing.

"that works for me, yoooshhh!"

safe to say, he has a newfound strength to continue even more just to steal your lips.

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

Preludes and Nocturnes - Part 3

Paring: Rafe Cameron x InnocentPogue!Reader

Summary: Rafe discovers your hidden talent and now he has seen it, you have his full attention.

PART 1 / PART 2

Warnings:  18+ Smut. Darkish!Rafe. Virgin!Reader. Romance, Angst, Dub-Con, Oral (w receiving) hand job (m receiving). Not Proof-Read so mistakes are my own.

Word Count: 6K

Author Note: Sorry it's taken me long to update we've had a death in the family and it's been a lot to deal with. Writing was the last thing on my mind at the moment. I'm just putting part 3 out there but once things are settled I'll write part 4. I'd like to think there'll be more parts than 4 because the story is now starting to pick up. But it depends on how well this part does. 🧡❤️🧡

Also, I changed part 2 slightly so it may be worth re-reading before reading part 3. 🧡

For those who asked to be tagged. Thank you so much for reading and sticking with the story.  Much love and take care. ❤️

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

Curled up on the sofa beneath a cozy blanket, you slowly blinked open your eyes, adjusting to the room's muted glow. Rafe's voice, a deep murmur, sliced through the quiet ambiance. He was sitting on the edge of an armchair, his phone held to his ear while his other hand absentmindedly glided over his buzzcut.

"Why are they stalling?" his voice barely above a whisper was undeniably firm.

"And their counteroffer? No. Not for a piece of that size. They're well aware of its rarity, right? The clarity? They stand to gain at least 40% profit once it's resold. They know it. I know it. Ninety, and that's me being generous." His fingers stilled their exploration, and his thumb wandered down to his bottom lip, hinting at the storm just beneath the surface. "No, it's non-negotiable. Look, I'm trying to be nice here, alright? But if they keep fucking around with the number, they'll soon find out I’m not so accommodating after all. No more games. I'm done with their shit—Ninety. Final offer."

Your heart pounded, every beat magnifying the gravity of Rafe's words. This was clearly far more than just ninety dollars; it hinted at an intricate web of dealings far beyond your understanding. While whispers of his dubious associations had always floated around town, hearing Rafe speak with such authority was jarring. The sheer force he wielded and the unmistakable power resonating in every syllable revealed that he wasn't just a small player in whatever this game was. He was at its very epicenter, a dominant force controlling the strings. And as this realization washed over you, a sinking sensation set in: you barely knew him at all.

"Now, about that other forty. I want it. Today." He let the words hang for a moment, his tone colder "You keeping office hours now? What the fuck do you mean 'after six'?" His voice tightened with irritation. "Nah, I don't want to hear that shit." he spat. "It's either you have it or you don't, and you should have it since you had one job yesterday; to collect."

Despite trying to stay unnoticed, your numbing arm forced you to shift slightly on the couch, catching Rafe's discerning eye. Rafe's penetrating gaze bore into you, suspending the world in a split second. Amidst the pitter-patter of raindrops against the windows, the weight of the silence pressed in until Rafe finally looked away. "I'll be there in an hour," he murmured, his voice suddenly calmer. "I have some things to take care of first."

As he disconnected the call, you swallowed.

"Is everything okay?" You asked, your voice trembled as you propped yourself up on an elbow.

Rafe approached, confidence exuding with each step. "Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about," he reassured, leaning in for a gentle kiss on your lips.

"How long was I out?"

"About an hour, give or take," Rafe responded, his thumb brushed away a stray eyelash from your cheek. The simple, tender gesture contrasted starkly with the side of him you had just heard on the phone.

You hesitated, your curiosity getting the better of you. "Did you manage to get much done while I was asleep?" Hoping for some insight into his earlier phone conversation.

Rafe's smirk held many layers. "Yeah, handled some business, made a few calls, and I might've watched you a little...."

"Watched me? You mean you just sat there and watched me sleep?"

He moved closer, his warm breath brushing against your skin. "Not often do I see you so… relaxed around me. So yeah, I indulged a little." He murmured, pressing his lips to your cheek. "Besides, I like knowing I can make you feel good. Make you cum til you pass out. It’s up there with watching you squirt,” he grinned.

The change in topic, from shady dealings to fevered intimacy, was a dizzying experience, and you found yourself taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

"Listen," he suddenly said, leaning back to look you in the eye. “I have some business I need to wrap up. I could also do with a shower and a change of clothes." His gaze slipped down to his attire; he had changed back into his shirt, now less damp but very wrinkled. “What's your plan for dinner?

"Dinner?" You tried to keep up, the rapid change in topics leaving your thoughts scrambled. “Uh... Leftovers, I guess.”

“Wanna come over? Eat at mine instead?”

The invitation caught you off guard. The unexpectedness of it made you feel like you were navigating through a dense fog, with every step bringing a new, unanticipated revelation. But you nodded, despite the uncertainty coiling within.

Rafe's expression softened, picking up on your hesitation. He leaned in, his lips brushed against your ear. “You do know what this means, right? You'll have to deal with my company a bit longer. Think you can handle that without making a run for it?"

You tried to muster a playful retort, but his lips captured yours before you could speak, a deep, overwhelming kiss that made you weak.

Pulling back, he smiled, "I'll pick you up around six, yeah?"

“Okay.” Your voice was but a whisper.

As he moved toward the exit, the shadow of his phone call loomed over your thoughts. Only when you heard his truck roar to life did you finally exhale, sinking deeper into the sofa. Your mind was a whirl with questions you didn't know how to begin to ask, let alone answer.

By the time the clock struck 6, you were already fresh from a shower and dressed in jeans paired with a simple white vest top and an oversized cardigan. Right on cue, the low hum of Rafe's truck resonated outside, its headlights casting a gentle glow on your porch. After ensuring you had your phone and keys, you gave yourself a quick glance in the mirror and then headed out to meet him.

Suave as ever, Rafe leaned across his truck to push the door open for you. Offering his hand for support, he helped you up into the seat. A warm smile naturally bloomed on your face, and with a soft "Hey," you acknowledged his chivalry.

"Hey," he echoed, the familiar gravelly timbre warm and inviting. Without another word, he leaned in, capturing your lips with a kiss. As you pulled away for a breath, your gaze wandered over him, taking in every detail. He smelt amazing, something rich and woodsy, while the crisp black shirt and jeans he wore accentuated his toned physique. It gave him that distinct, effortless style he carried so naturally — the very essence of a kook.

As you settled beside him, a wave of self-consciousness washed over you. It wasn't a lack of confidence in your appearance—Rafe had always been vocal about how beautiful he found you. He had a candid manner of complimenting, and today's earlier affectionate proclamations were just another testament to his feelings. Yet, a nagging voice inside you questioned why someone as polished and affluent as Rafe would be into someone like you when he could easily have anyone from his own elite circle.

As the journey began, the ambiance in the truck was tranquil, but underlined by a tension you couldn't ignore. Rafe seemed to be miles away, his eyes barely leaving the road ahead and memories of his earlier phone conversation played on repeat in your head. Could his aloofness be about the business deal you overheard? Did something go wrong? The only breaks in the silence were his occasional clearing of his throat or sniff, causing you to swallow hard and stare out of your passenger window to calm your nerves.

When you exited the vehicle at Tannyhill a rush of nostalgia hit, interwoven with memories that weren’t as endearing. It was weird being there now for pleasure rather than work and at the behest of Rafe not Rose. Possibly sensing your hesitation, Rafe gently grasped your hand, leading you toward the entrance. As he swung the front door open, an overwhelming quiet enveloped the surroundings.

"Is Rose and Mr. C around?" you asked, noting the dimly illuminated hallway that stretched toward the kitchen and beyond.

"Nah, they're in the Bahamas. Business trip. They'll be there for a while." Rafe replied, his voice echoing in the quiet expanse of the house.

"What about Wheezie?"

"She's with them.”

"And Sarah?"

Rafe's face twitched slightly. "Don't know, don't care. Haven't seen her in, what, three weeks? She could be in a ditch for all I care—" His gaze met yours, "I'm kidding," he smiled. Yet, a flicker of something shadowy behind his eyes made you think otherwise.

"So, it's just the two of us tonight?" you asked, hoping to lighten the mood.

Rafe gave a nonchalant shrug, "Looks like it."

Entering the kitchen, your eyes flitted to the island, noticing several neatly stacked pizza boxes. "Planning a feast or what?"

His grin broadened, revealing the playful side you always adored. "Thought you'd be hungry after your day. Vegan, pepperoni, or drowned in cheese. Take your pick."

Laughing, you approached, your finger tracing the edge of the closest box. "Always one step ahead, aren't you?"

Rafe pulled you closer, warmth radiating from him. "Well, yeah. Gotta keep my girl happy and fed,” his voice husky as he leaned in for a kiss.

After devouring slice after slice and transitioning from the kitchen to the cozy ambiance of the living room, you and Rafe settled in, surrounded by plush cushions and the soft glow of the floor lamps. As conversations ebbed and flowed Rafe's gaze followed yours, landing on the Steinway.

"Do you want to play something?" Rafe asked lips curling into a small smile.

"Oh no you don't.” you said with a shake of your head. “I'm not falling for that, again.”

Rafe leaned in, his grin widening. "What do you mean?" he prodded, matching your playful tone.

"Every time I play, we end up..." You left the sentence hanging, heat creeping up your neck.

Rafe leaned in closer, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "We end up doing what?" he asked with faux innocence.

You gave him a knowing look, your eyes saying everything that words didn't need to. Really, Rafe?

"I like when you play." he said slowly with a shrug.

"I know you do... a little too much," you replied, your voice laced with humor and a touch of fond exasperation.

“Alright, don’t play.” He said with a sly smile as he patted the space beside him on the sofa. You found yourself irresistibly drawn to him, nestling close, the comfort of his warmth enveloping you.

Lost in a dance of gentle touches and lingering glances, Rafe pulled you closer. With each soft, deliberate kiss, the world outside faded away. His fingers toyed with the collar of your cardigan, his middle finger hooking the fabric, gently sliding it off your shoulder, as he peppered your skin with slow soft kisses.

"I think... yeah, this is the least clothing I've seen you in, not including earlier today," he murmured against your skin. "I like it. I like being able to have access to you."

As he spoke, his fingers ventured under the back of your vest, soft digits skimming upwards past your bra strap to your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His affectionate kisses stirred a profound desire within you, compelling you to cradle his face and initiate a fevered kiss of your own, a blend of lips and intertwining tongues.

"Stay," he murmured, his words a gentle plea brushing against the corner of your lips. "Stay with me," he whispered, his eyes locking onto yours.

"Tonight?" you questioned quietly, a hint of uncertainty tinging your voice.

"Tonight, tomorrow, as long as you like," he shrugged, his tone revealing a deep yearning. His candidness took you aback, causing your heart to flutter.

"I have a class in the morning," you responded, your hesitation evident.

"Of course, you'd have class on a Saturday. Who takes a class on a Saturday?"

"It's for extra credit," you playfully huffed.

"I'm sure it is, you lil freak.” Rafe remarked with an amused smile as he bit down on your shoulder. You hissed in response to the sudden, sharp pain. He immediately soothed the area with his tongue, a slow and sensual gesture that had you pressing your thighs together.

"What time?" he murmured against your skin.

"Hm?" you managed to reply, your mind struggling to focus.

"What time is your class?" he repeated, his lips still dangerously close to your neck.

"Ten," you answered, regaining some semblance of coherence.

"Okay," Rafe said, his voice low and husky as he made plans. "I’ll drive you home, you grab your stuff, and then I'll take you to class…" His words trailed off as his lips grazed the soft skin of your neck once more. He paused, pulling back slightly to search your face, his gaze filled with understanding. "But it's not just about your class, is it?" There was a knowing look in his eyes, a hint that he comprehended some of your apprehension, even though it remained unspoken.

"Don't…" you began as you licked your lips. "Don't you think we might be moving a bit fast?" you whispered. The pace of things had taken a sharp turn; just yesterday, you were literally hiding from him, and today, not only had you let him finger you into a coma you now found yourself wrapped around him like a scarf, his hand exploring beneath your clothes like he owned you. It was only natural to worry that things were progressing way too rapidly, burning too brightly, and possibly destined to fizzle out just as quickly as it had started.

"Nah, I don't." Rafe drawled as his nose brushed against your shoulder, inhaling your scent. “If we were moving fast, I would have fucked you a long time ago.”

You jerked your head away, staring at him with wide eyes while Rafe smiled, clearly enjoying your worried expression.

"What?" you asked softly.

“Oh, yeah.” Rafe nodded, “In fact, I would have fucked you quite a few times by now, in every position I could think of.” he said nonchalantly. A deep chuckle escaped him as he relished your deer-in-the-headlights expression. “But I also get that all of this is new for you, so..." his fingers traced your jaw. "We’ll take it slow. Until I can't hold back any longer."

"Rafe!" you breathed, and he threw his head back with a hearty laugh.

"I'm kidding," he laughed, his eyes sweeping over your features like a tender caress. "I'm kidding."

"So if I stay over..." you began, shifting nervously in his embrace. "We’re not..."

"Nah, we won't," he assured, understanding your apprehension. “But I can't promise to keep my hands or mouth off of you. It’s only fair, right? After all the stress you’ve put me through.” He murmured. 

“Stress! I give you stress-”

“So much fucking stress” You could feel the smile on his lips as he pressed them against your cheek, and you wondered if he could tell you were blushing. “Stay,” he said again, his tone resolute, treating it as the final word on the matter.

"Alright... I'll stay."

As the night wore on, the comforting cadence of your conversation intertwined with the weight of the day, gradually lulling you into a drowsy state. Feeling your eyelids grow heavy, Rafe kissed your temple softly. "Come on," he whispered, wrapping his fingers around yours and leading you up the winding stairs to his room.

Stepping into Rafe's bedroom for the first time, you were taken aback. The space was pristine, a stark contrast to the wild, chaotic tales of mayhem that accompanied him. Everything had its place, from the perfectly aligned books on his desk to the immaculately ironed shirts in his open closet.

Rummaging through his belongings for a brief moment, he emerged with an old jersey and a pair of shorts. "Here, try these” he suggested, handing them to you.

"In just one day, we've exchanged a lot of clothes” you said with a soft chuckle.

Rafe's eyes danced with mischief. "Well, if you want, I'm happy for us to ditch the clothes altogether."

Rolling your eyes playfully, you retorted, "Keep dreaming, Cameron."

His response was accompanied by a sly, teasing grin, "Oh, I already have." As he began to methodically unbutton his shirt, his captivating eyes held yours in a magnetic pull. Although you had already seen him shirtless. Tonight, the ambiance carried a different weight. There was an intimacy in the air that made your cheeks flush, causing you to divert your gaze to the wooden floor.

"I'll just… uh, freshen up before bed," you stammered, trying to find an escape from the mounting tension.

"Sure," he said, pointing towards a door on the side. "Bathroom's right there. There's a pack of toothbrush heads in the cabinet; help yourself."

"Thanks," you replied with a grateful smile, seizing the opportunity to step out just as the sound of his belt buckle being opened reached your ears.

In the dimly lit bathroom, you sank to the edge of the tub, your hand pressing hard into the porcelain, feeling its cold, smooth surface beneath your fingertips.

Sharing a bed with Rafe wasn’t just a simple act of two people sleeping side-by-side. It symbolized a budding intimacy, a fragile trust slowly unfurling between the two of you. And yet, the weight of his weird phone call pressed heavily on your chest. Could you really trust someone whose life seemed tangled in webs of secrets, lurking just beneath the surface? Could you willingly let yourself be drawn into his world, knowing full well it could be dangerous?

Biting your lip, you pushed those turbulent thoughts to the back of your mind, you changed into the clothes he had lent you and brushed your teeth. After a lingering glance in the mirror, searching for some kind of assurance, and taking a deep, steadying breath, you braced yourself for the night ahead and headed back to the bedroom.

Rafe was already cozied up in bed, the soft light from his phone casting a glow on his face. He had changed into a pyjama pants his chest bare.

"I haven't even left the room for two minutes and you're already sliding into some girl's DMs?" you teased.

As Rafe met your gaze, warmth filled his eyes as he admired your appearance, clearly liking the way you looked in his clothes. “The only DMs I'd ever slide into are yours, but I've already got the real thing." he casually remarked, his voice carrying a hint of affection.

You couldn't help but laugh, your nose scrunching up at his comment. "Damn, that's some next-level cheesiness. You're quite the cheeseball, you know that?" you teased.

A mischievous twinkle sparkled in his eyes. "Only 'cause you're a sucker for cheesy romantic gestures. That shit gets you wet." he replied with a small smirk.

Mouth agape you looked at him flabbergasted only for Rafe to downright smile his pearly white teeth on full display.

“Rafe! You really can't go five minutes without turning something sweet into something, just--" You playfully tossed a pillow at him which he caught. Pulling you to him Rafe planted a quick kiss to your lips before heading to the bathroom.

With Rafe momentarily out of sight, you took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The reality of sharing a bed with him was nerve-wracking. Sliding beneath the soft covers, you felt the smooth sheets against your skin, their coolness momentarily providing a reprieve from the weight of your racing thoughts.

The bed, although large and spacious, suddenly felt like a confining space. Each moment of hesitation, every heartbeat, every fleeting memory of your past interactions echoed loudly in the silence of the room. Sharing a bed with someone was always an intimate act, but with Rafe, the stakes felt higher. It was more than just physical proximity; it was about letting him into the vulnerable spaces you had never shared with anyone including your heart.

As you laid there in the soft glow of his side lamp, you tried to focus on the present. You reminded yourself that Rafe said you'll take it slow. Tonight was about simply connecting, not necessarily about taking a step further.

The bathroom door opened, and you saw Rafe's silhouette framed by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. He approached the bed, his movements careful, perhaps sensing your apprehension.

"Everything okay?" he asked softly.

You took a deep breath, "Yeah, just...thinking."

Rafe sat down beside you, his hand gently caressing your arm. "If you're not comfortable, we can figure something else out."

You shook your head, mustering a small smile. "No, it's not that. It's just as you said... It's all new. But I want to be here. With you."

Rafe leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Alright we'll take it one step at a time, yeah?"

With that assurance, you snuggled closer to him, feeling the warmth and security of his embrace. "One step at a time" you repeated softly.

As your eyes flutter open, the silhouette before you takes shape, dominating your field of vision. Gradually, your gaze adjusts, revealing the familiar features of Rafe as you shake off the remnants of a deep dream. The surroundings come into focus bit by bit. The early hour is apparent; it's so early that the outside remains cloaked in darkness, illuminated by a luminous full moon.

You had drifted to sleep cradled in Rafe's embrace but now he's beside you. His touch is a gentle caress, his thumb tracing the smooth curve of your jaw. He regards you openly, his gaze intense enough to cause warmth to spread across your skin, prompting you to look away. You wondered how long he had been staring at you... touching you...

"What time is it?" Your voice is a soft murmur, barely breaking the tranquility of the moment.

"Four thirty"

"Can't sleep?" you asked softly.

Rafe shook his head no. "Can't sleep, either huh?" he asked his words tender.

You manage a small smile, "I think I'm just not used to sleeping in someone else's bed."

Rafe nodded in understanding. "Maybe I can help with that, hmm? It worked pretty well last time.” Gently Rafe turned your face towards him and leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. Your heart flutters as his kiss lingers, his tongue delicately exploring yours.

Sheets thrown back, your jersey inches upwards, as Rafe moves on top of you, his lips creating a scorching trail down your neck and further south. Each feather-light kiss ignites a tingle, intensifying as his tongue meets your nipple. His lips move lower, soft kisses meet your sternum while his fingers brush the edge of your shorts and underwear, prompting your hands to instinctively stop him.

"We won't go all the way," he promises in a voice thick with longing while lust blown eyes stare up at you. “I just want a taste. One little taste. I deserve it, for being patient.” His lips linger around your navel, and you grant him a hesitant nod. Gently, he removed your shorts and underwear, leaving you vulnerable and exposed.

Despite your urge to shield yourself, Rafe, ever-so-gently, parts your legs, positioning himself in the intimate space between. His lips graze your hip, making your skin flutter. "Ever had a guy go down on you before?" His voice is an alluring mix of curiosity and yearning.

With a deep breath and a gentle shake of your head, you whispered “No”

Rafe smiles at your answer, his lips brushing your skin again. "So many firsts," he murmurs seductively.

His attention returns between your thighs, teasing and exploring, with soft kisses leading to your mound. His head drops lower and he slowly swipes his tongue over your clit. The sensation is a mix of ticklish delight and sinful pleasure prompting a soft gasp from your lips.

Rafe licks you slowly, teasingly, humming in approval with every wet swipe of his tongue. The swirl of his tongue between your folds begins to overwhelm you, and you try to pull away only for Rafe to firmly yank you back, his grasp keeping you anchored to him and your legs spread.

His tongue stops its gentle caressing and probes deeper, his lips nestling against your sex while his tongue hungrily delves within.

“Ooh—” you whimpered, tremors shooting throughout your body with each stroke of his tongue. His enthusiasm grows as he drinks in your reactions, his own moans blending with yours in a symphony of pleasure.

“Too much- too much- ah-” you squirm when his tongue began to flick at your clit.

Pulling away from your wet centre Rafe licked and sucked on your inner thigh. “No- you’re fine.” Rafe commanded, his determined gaze pinning you in place. “You’re fine. Just relax...”

He guides your hand to his buzzcut and as your fingers move hesitantly over his head, he returned to lapping skilfully at your pussy.

“Oh, my god, Rafe-" you whimper, your fingers scratching at his scalp as you buck underneath him.

Wrapping his arms around your legs, Rafe continued to lick your wet centre until you’re shuddering. He pulls his head back slightly. You could see his mouth shiny with your arousal, a smile curling his lips.

“Fuck, you taste sweet. Like honey.” his voice is like gravel, raw with pent desire. “Nah, sweeter than honey...” He muses. His fingers part your soaked pussy lips exposing your swollen clit and his tongue lovingly suckles it while his fingers tease around the entrance of your tight hole.

“Ohmygod, ohplease…"

"Yeah? This what you want? Want me to finger your sweet little cunt?” he chuckled teasingly.

"Please… please…” you beg, until finally he sinks his middle finger in you. You let out a cry as he slowly worked his finger back and forth within you, stoking your walls and coaxing your orgasm to the surface.

The feel of his tongue lashing at your clit, his finger twisting deliciously, along with the unrelenting focus of his gaze, hunger blazing in his eyes, has you moaning in abandon.

Your back involuntarily bows off the bed, a strangled cry leaving your lips as your fingers curled the back of his head.

It’s glorious when you cum.

A kaleidoscope of colour appears behind your closed eyes, created by the vibrations of Rafe groaning in approval and the succulent swirl of his lips and tongue.

Rafe removed his finger and his tongue quickly replaced it, delving deep into your creaming pussy. His nose pressed against your clit as he noisily slurped and lapped at you. The explicit, wet sounds of him devouring your pussy so raw and unashamed create a beautiful symphony that fills the room.

“Holy shit ha—“ you gasped with a smile. Sudden, swipes at your clit with his tongue had you oversensitive, your hips twitching with aftershocks.

Your eyes open, landing on Rafe still positioned between your thighs. With a tenderness that belies the moment's raw passion, he places soft wet kisses on your inner thighs, grounding you in the present. The weight of what has transpired gradually dawns on you – the unexpected progression from kissing to oral, something you hadn't anticipated, let alone think you'd enjoy as much as you did washes over you.

Before you can overthink, you lean in, initiating a passionate kiss, fueled by a desperate hunger intensified by the taste of yourself on his lips.

Rafe's fervor shows no signs of waning. He pushes you back against the pillows and then crawls over you, his desire unmistakable. Bracing himself near your head, he slowly lowers his pajama pants, causing your eyes to widen as you gaze downward.

He's big.

Big, long and thick.

Suddenly, his cockiness and confidence makes perfect sense. All that big dick energy. Naturally, you find yourself yearning to feel his raw power. Want to feel him thrusting inside you. Yet amidst this desire, a sudden thought emerges—a fear that you might not be able to handle all of him. You might not be able to please him fully when the time comes.

Rafe takes your hand in his, guiding it along his already weeping cock, and you feel him tense up and take a sharp breath as your fingers make contact. Encouraged by this reaction, your other hand wanders over his body, feeling the hardness of his abdomen. Both hands exploring him curiously, hesitantly.

"Like this…" he murmurs. With his hand over your own, holding his cock, Rafe sets a pace which brings forth soft moans from his lips. He moves his hand away to watch you carry on without him, completely entranced by the sight before him. The sight of you working his thick cock.

Clear pearls of pre-cum bead at the tip as an indication of how turned on he is by your touch. Rafe leans in to kiss you passionately while taking your hand once again and leading it up to his sensitive tip.

“Right. Here," he breathes into your mouth as he tells you to focus there. Your fingers instinctively curl tightly around the mushroom tip, fisting it as you become more confident, eliciting groans from Rafe's lips.

His hand moves from your fingers, finding its way to your throat. It curls around your neck in a possessive grip, while his lips reconnect with yours. His moans escalate in intensity, his desire palpable, and his voice becomes choppy. 'Keep going... keep going... just like that, baby. Just like that...."

Closely following his gestures and facial expressions. Your gaze remains fixated on his captivating face, magnetized by the range of emotions playing across it — the awe knitting in his brows, the quickening pace of his breath, and the roped corded muscles of his neck as his body became rigid.

"Fuck....” He releases a long sigh, color creeping up his chest, throat, and cheeks. “Long strokes- long strokes…” He commands his voice cracking. You obey, your hand stroking his length from root to tip. Your fingers glide easily, lubricated by his pre-cum.

Rafe's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he muttered something inaudible, but soon they found yours again.

"I want to fuck you so bad. I’m tryin to be patient. I’m tryin, but god I want to fuck you… I need to fuck you...” His voice trailed off into a desperate whimper, deep from the very core of him. His hips swayed to the rhythm of your hand as he fucked into it, each thrust quickening in pace.

"How?" you find yourself whispering in awe, astounded by the shift in power between you. You've heard him bark orders over the phone, full of confidence and dominance, yet here he was wrecked and vulnerable just from your touch. You would be lying if you said you didn't relish your newfound power. "How would you do it, Rafe? How would you fuck me?"

Rafe stared into your eyes, cock twitching in your grasp.

"I want to watch you ride my dick... watch you scream while you squirt all over it..." His confession hangs heavy in the air as he bares all before you.

"What else, Rafe? What else do you want?" you whisper, your fingers gently circling your clit while your other hand worked his cock.

"I wanna fuck your mouth. Want to fill your soft, pretty mouth with my cum. Watch you swallow it." His fingers softly brush against your lips, his middle and index finger pressed at its entrance. Entranced, you twirl your tongue around his digits before greedily sucking them into your mouth. Rafe utters a throaty groan before removing his fingers, his lips crashing onto yours in a crude kiss.

"What else?" you moaned, rubbing your clit and stroking his cock faster.

"Want to fuck your ass," he whispered through gritted teeth. "Have you on all fours - make you fucking take it.”

"Oh god, Rafe-" you whimpered, eyes wide with shock. You’ve never had a guy talk about doing sexual things to you let alone anything so vulgar. And yet- you could feel your orgasm on the brink of flooding your senses just from his words.

“I want to fuck and fill every part of you and I know you’ll let me. I just know you will…” Rafe repeated softly, confidently, "Do you know why? Hm? Why you'll take whatever I choose to give you? Why in the end you'll let me fuck you however I want?” He whispered his eyes boring into your own. “Because you're hungry for this just as much as I am. You want me. Just as much as I want you.”

His dark words sent you spiraling into a chaotic climax. Crying out in pleasure, waves of euphoria washed over you, causing your hips to involuntarily jerk and thrust up off the bed.

In harmony with your climax, Rafe reached his own. Droplets of his thick white cum painted your bare stomach and thighs. His body trembled with pleasure, his breathing stuttered, while his throbbing cock continued to pulse in your grasp.

His moans, raw and desperate, are tinged with a clear sense of relief. It's the relief that comes from finally having his pleasure reciprocated by you, even if only through the gentle touch of your hands, and the utter bliss that this brings.

Breathless Rafe collapses back against the pillows, his hand trembling with pleasure found yours once more, and together you slowed the rhythm of your stroking, savouring the final drops of cum from his spent cock.

Exhausted but utterly content, Rafe closes his eyes for a moment. When they open again, his dilated blue pupils are fixated on you. He cracks a satisfied grin.

He doesn't take his gaze away as you observe your hand. It's covered in his cum, an indicator of his pent up desire for you. Without uttering a word, your hand moves towards your lips, and curiously, your tongue tentatively darts out, brushing against your fingertips.

The taste is unlike anything you've ever experienced before, earthy and slightly salty and yet uniquely him. You moan as your tongue continues its exploration, carefully cleaning each digit.

"Fucckk... you'll be the death of me..." Rafe groans before pulling you in for a desperate kiss.

The gentle morning light filtered through the curtains, illuminating your face and the figure beside you in a soft, dappled glow. But the tranquility was abruptly interrupted by a glance at the time on your phone.

You were late.

Terribly late.

For someone who valued being on time, the day was already spiraling out of control. Scrambling into your jeans, you noticed Rafe stirring, his sleepy eyes meeting the clock, then your frenzied actions. Silently, with a steadiness you envied, he started dressing.

Your vest and cardigan from the previous night lay draped over a chair. Snatching them up, you slipped them on in a rush.

Rafe's offer to drive you to class was a godsend. Ten minutes later, freshened up and emerging from his bedroom, you expressed your gratitude with a beaming smile. As you walked past him, Rafe playfully swatted your butt, eyes twinkling with mischief. You let out a playful yelp, your laughter blending with his soft chuckle as you admonished him, promising to get him back later.

At your house, you grabbed your bag, textbook and notes in a flurry. You considered changing outfits but ditched the idea after another anxious glance at the time. It was only a two-hour class anyway and wasn’t worth the additional stress.  As you darted to his truck, a realization hit – your dad was coming home today. Another night at Rafe's was certainly out of the question. 

During the drive, you explained the situation to Rafe, expecting, perhaps even bracing for, a hint of disappointment. But instead, he simply nodded. Now, as the silence stretched between you, you were wrestling with the idea of revisiting the words he'd uttered last night. But decided it wasn't worth mentioning. They were merely fantasies after all—desperate things said in the heat of the moment, just to intensify the experience... Right?

As he pulled up in front of your building he leaned in to kiss you. You cut it short with an apologetic smile promising to call him later.

No sooner had you settled into your seat in class did your phone vibrate. It was a message from Rafe.

"Friend's having a party tomorrow night. Think your dad would be cool with it?"

A pause ensued as you deliberated, finally responding. "Should be. But I don't have anything to wear. Is it a bonfire type of thing?"

His reply was swift. "Don't worry about it. Shopping later. My treat."

A surge of conflicting emotions threatened to spill over as you absorbed his words, your fingers quivering slightly over the screen. "Rafe that's too generous. I can't."

But his resolution was clear even in text. "Why? You're with me. Right?"

You paused, chewing on your lip. It wasn’t lost on you what his words meant. What they implied. "Yes. But are you sure?"

He sent back a single word, filled with resolve: "Always."

—————————————————————————————

Thank you for reading. I hope you've enjoyed it. Thanks for liking, commenting and reblogging. 🧡🧡🧡 Part 4 coming soon

MASTERLIST

[starsapphire]

hello i would like to ask you about your spreadsheet

i got so excited when i saw this u do not understand. i love talking about my spreadsheet

so basically early last year i got into dc for real and i was like i'm going to read red robin (2009). but then i was like, or i could not do that, and instead of just reading whatever like i do with marvel, i could take advantage of the relatively short block of canon that is post-crisis dc and just... read all of it. and i wanted to log all of the dc issues that i read and record when i read them. why? i don't know. i like lists. so i put both of those things together and set about making this giant, obsessively-chronological reading list.

i started with batman: year one and death in the family, and then i spread out into more stuff -- mainly robin, batman and co, but also titans and jla and such and so on, and then decided i wanted to go back to the 80s catalogue and also read green arrow and green lantern. i read everything up to infinite crisis (2006) and then used that as a starting point to make a second, more functional spreadsheet. so this spreadsheet is actually my second, and eventually the first spreadsheet will get sorted into this one.

i feel like the vertical axis is pretty self-explanatory 👍 sorted by series and issue number and then colour-coded by arc; sometimes multiple issues go together or an arc is only 2 issues and those get collated in grey but not named. there's also a hidden column on the far left for character lists, which is basically if an issue is important for a particular character, it gets highlighted in a corresponding colour (bart allen is green, rose wilson is orange, etc). i don't really use that column much so it's usually hidden. i like to leave myself notes on issues 1) because i am forgetful and 2) so i know which issues i liked most (for later rereading and also so that if i'm looking through back issues at the comic book store, i can go "hey i loved that one a lot"). continuity notes are part of the obsessively-chronological thing i mentioned. mostly it doesn't look this nicely colour-coded and mostly the dates are more sporadic.

i also have a spreadsheet for post-flashpoint canon 😁 i do not have a spreadsheet for marvel because i will never be able to remember all of the marvel comics i've read over the last decade and i'm not even going to try

[worseforwords]

Exposed (Ona Batlle x Reader)

Thanks to @footygirl114 for the title idea! Buckle up everyone, this is a long one.

“Heads up!” Ona’s voice called from behind you and you felt her leap onto your back a moment later. Today was a good day. United had just beaten City 2-0 in a home game and you had even managed to score one of the goals. Your girlfriend waved at the supporters as you strolled past the stands, but your gaze drifted towards an unusual figure sitting some way down the row. With black hair tipped in blue, striking make-up, dark and frayed clothes, and a plaited choker around her neck, she seemed out of place in a football crowd. You were intrigued, something about her felt familiar, though she was too far away to say exactly what it was. As you caught yourself staring at her for a little too long, you noticed she was staring right back at you, and as you drew closer, she gave you a wave. You suddenly recognised her, and your smile faded. She must’ve noticed your sudden revelation, as she sent you a quick wink. 

Your stomach dropped and panic set in as you considered what to do. Ona still sat on your back, basking in the glory of victory. You knew you had to go say hi to the girl who was now smiling broadly at you from the stands, but you wanted to do so discreetly, without any teammates, especially Ona, joining in on the conversation, or any cameras for that matter. You let Ona down on her feet, to which she send a quick pout your way, before turning her face back towards the fans to continue the walk around the field. Waiting until everyone was distracted, you hastened to the railing to greet the mysterious girl. 

“Hi” you said, quiet as a whisper. “Hey Y/N, long time no see.” she replied, leaning over the barrier to pull you in for a hug. You smiled uncomfortably, scanning your surroundings before reciprocating her hug. As she pulled away, she chuckled, “So, soccer, huh?” “We call it football here.” you answered, trying to match her laugh.

The conversation was short-lived as Ona wandered over, curious as to who you were speaking to. “Hey, who’s this?” she asked, her attention fully on you. “This is Nia, erm- an old friend.” you answered quickly, avoiding eye contact. “Nia, this is Ona.” Ona looked at you confused for a second, probably expecting some sort of label in your introduction, before she brushed it off and quickly shook Nia’s hand. “Hi, nice to meet you.” “Likewise.”

The small interaction sent shivers down your spine. Until now, you had managed to keep your past safely hidden. You had traveled a lot when you were younger, which had allowed you to leave certain things behind, and it had never caught up to you until this moment. It hadn't been hard, as you just omitted certain parts of your youth, namely the two years you spent in LA as a teenager.

Nia broke the silence, turning to you. “So,” she said, “you do remember my name. I was afraid you’d forgotten about us for a second there, Picky.” You froze. Picky. You hadn’t heard that nickname in ages. You avoided Ona’s questioning expression as you tried to laugh it off. “Of course I remember you. It just took me a second, what with your hair and make-up.” you said, pointing at said attributes. “Fair enough,” Nia giggled, “I’ve probably changed my hair about 40 times since we last met. I’m not the only one who’s changed though.” she continued, eyeing your bright red Manchester United shirt. You laughed, “Yeah, I suppose I have.” “Do you still have the tattoo at least?” Nia asked, causing Ona to look up with surprise.

The tattoo. It was the one and only thing you had left from your previous life, a permanent mark etched onto your skin. You had planned to get it removed at some point, but the laser removal was quite expensive, and since the tattoo wasn’t often visible to others, you never bothered to actually get it done. When you started dating Ona however, you knew she was bound to notice it at some point. When she did, you had momentarily forgotten about it when she started pulling down your underwear (really who could blame you for your mind being elsewhere), and you were taken aback by her immediate questioning about the small violet on your hip with the words “can’t take back the bullet” scribbled underneath it. Luckily you were still quick on your feet and you made something up along the lines of it being a reminder to not let your emotions get the better of you and Ona let it slide after that because she too had other things on her mind.

“Yeah, I still have it.” you said with a shy smile, still avoiding Ona’s gaze. “Good, me too.” Nia said, making Ona turn to her sharply. “By the way, Picky,” she started, changing the subject, “you still owe Casey some money, remember?” This was the final straw for you.  Too much had already been said, and you needed to get away as fast as possible. You took advantage of a group of fans who called out your names to excuse yourself, pulling Ona with you towards them. After signing a few shirts and taking selfies, you hurried inside.

“What was that all about?” Ona asked as she caught up with you. “What was what about?” You stalled, trying to come up with an excuse for your strange behaviour. “Why are you being weird?” she asked directly. “I’m not, just tired from the game, that's all.” you said, unable to come up with anything better as you headed towards the changing room, avoiding eye contact, gaze straight ahead. “Shit,” you muttered as you sat down, “forgot my coat, be right back.” 

As you walked back onto the pitch, you couldn’t resist checking if Nia was still there. To your dismay, you saw her talking to Millie. “Mills!” you yelled, running towards them. “Come with me, now.” You grabbed her wrist, pulling her away from the conversation. “Woah, Y/N, calm down, what’s going on?” she asked, shocked by your sudden intervention. “It’s just that,” you paused to think as your eyes scanned the stands, quickly finding just what you needed. “I saw some little girls over there who want your autograph, and I think they’re about to leave without it,” you said, pointing towards a group of young girls holding up a sign with Millie’s name on it. “Oh, thanks. Maybe next time, don’t be so intense about it?” she chuckled. “Noted.” you said, walking with her towards the excited children. “So, erm, what were you talking about with that girl?” you asked carefully. “Nothing really. I just told her I liked her style, and then you pulled me away. Why?” You scanned her face, trying to see if she was telling the truth. For a moment, you thought you saw a small smirk in the corner of her mouth, but you decided not to dwell on it as it would only arouse suspicion. “Nothing, never mind.”

Ella’s voice resounded through the changing room like a joyful bell. “Woooo, party at mine ladies!” she exclaimed. As she settled beside you, she turned to address you. “You coming, Y/N?” she asked, a friendly grin etched onto her features. “Sure, but I have to pop home for a quick shower, forgot my towel,” you replied, hastily pulling on your joggers and coat. Ona began to offer her towel, but before she could finish her sentence, you had already bolted out of the door. 

As you plopped down on your bed, trying to recover from the events of the day, your mind raced with thoughts and questions. You tried to make up reasons for your strange behaviour earlier, but nothing seemed to make sense. You knew that no one could know about what happened. It would change how they see you, and you couldn’t bear that. Those two years in LA were supposed to stay in LA, and thus far, no one had a single clue about it. Nia suddenly showing up made you terrified that someone would find out, so when she messaged you asking if you wanted to hang out, you ignored her. You couldn’t risk anyone finding out your secret.

You went to the party, hoping to take your mind off things. However, things only got worse. Ona made quick work of pulling you aside to interrogate you about earlier, asking a series of questions that made your heart race. “Can we talk?” she said. “Who is she? Why did she call you Picky? Why do you have matching tattoos? Why were you acting so weird? And who is Casey, and why do you owe them money?” 

You knew that you couldn’t tell her the truth, so you made up some stuff on the spot, hoping that it would be enough to satisfy her curiosity. You told her that Nia was just an old friend from LA that you hadn’t seen in years. You added that she was always a bit of a weirdo and that you weren’t that close. You explained that the matching tattoos were just a silly thing that you and Nia did when you were young and naive and the money thing was just some inside joke. You hoped that Ona would buy your story, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that she was still suspicious.

When Ona finally left you be, you quickly checked your phone, which had been buzzing in your pocket a lot. You’d received a series of messages from Nia, the last one of which being: 

“We need to talk. Where are you??”

As you felt increasingly anxious about Nia’s persistent messages, you decided to leave the party early to meet up with her. You quickly came up with an excuse to your teammates, telling them that you suddenly felt unwell and needed to go home to rest, and you texted Nia your address.

Shortly after arriving home, a knock resounded from your door. Hastily, you answered it and welcomed Nia into your apartment. “You’ve got a lovely place here, very grown-up, Picky,” she remarked as she stepped inside. “Please don’t call me that.” you muttered in response as you finally snapped. “Why not?” Nia asked, looking with a confused expression. Mentally debating how to deliver your message, you began, “I’m not the same person anymore.” “Obviously.” She mumbled. “When I got my chance to make it in the football world, I left my old life in LA behind. The person you knew back then is gone, I am no longer her.” you explained. “I don't believe that,” Nia responded, “you can't simply leave and become a completely different person.” “Well, I did,” you answered coldly, “and I’d like to keep it that way. So, please, don’t talk to my teammates again.” Nia remained silent for a moment as her eyes widened.

“They don’t know about us, do they?” she asked, her voice growing louder. “No, they don’t.” You replied quietly. “Woah, are you ashamed of us?” Nia practically yelled. “Of course I am!” you answered a bit too quickly before immediately regretting it. “Sorry, I mean- I didn’t mean it like that, I-” you stumbled over your words, but Nia continued to stare at you with disbelief. “Alright, got it.” she said as she turned back towards the front door. “No, Nia, please, I’m sorry, I-” “Good luck with your new life, I guess, Y/N,” she said, purposefully emphasising your name, walking away before you could finish your apology. Despite feeling guilty, you didn’t make an effort to chase after her. You convinced yourself it was better this way.

“What was that all about?” a voice called from beside you, making you jump. “Ona, hey, what are you doing here?” you asked. “You left the party so suddenly, and I came to check on you,” she explained, “but I suppose you had company.” “How long have you been standing there?” you inquired, curious about what she may have overheard. “Not long, why? Are you afraid I heard something?” Ona asked suspiciously. “No, I just- it’s chilly out here. You should come inside.” you said, holding the door open as she walked inside.

As Ona stepped into your home, she immediately turned to you with a look of frustration etched on her face. “Y/N, what happened with Nia?” she demanded, her voice tinged with anger. “You’ve been so secretive lately, it’s hard not to feel like you’ve been lying to me.” Despite her annoyance, there was a note of confusion in her tone, as if she couldn’t quite understand why you were behaving this way. Once again, you brushed off Ona's concerns, insisting that there was nothing to worry about and that Nia had just wanted to chat. However, Ona was insistent and demanded to know why she had seemed so upset when leaving your apartment. 

You found it hard to articulate your thoughts, feeling caught off guard by the sudden confrontation. “Please, Ona, can you just trust me on this. Please just let it go.” you pleaded, hoping to avoid any further conflict. Eventually, she relented and let the issue slide, but an air of concern still hung around her. The two of you went to bed in a tense silence, the events of the day lingering in your thoughts.

Two days later, as you were getting ready for training in the changing room, Millie approached you. “Hey, do you know that cute girl with the dyed hair from Sunday?” she asked. “You mean Nia?” you clarified. “Yeah, that’s the one! Ona told me you knew her. Can I get her number? I want to ask her out.” Millie explained. You hesitated before responding. “Sorry, Millie. I don’t think that’s a good idea. Nia’s bad news.” Millie looked confused. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with her?” “I can’t really explain, but trust me, she’s not someone you want to get involved with.” you insisted. Millie looked rather disappointed. “Okay, I guess. Do you have her number though?” “No, I don’t.” you replied, putting an end to the conversation as you quickly finished up getting ready.

As you entered the changing room after training, you noticed Millie with a smile on her face, gazing at her phone. Ella also spotted her and inquired her about it. “Who’s got you grinning like that, Mills?” “No-one.” Millie quickly replied, and attempted to hide her phone. However, Ella had already caught sight of it and snatched it from her hand. “Who’s Nia?” Ella asked, looking at the screen. You felt a pang in your stomach as you worried about what she could find out. “Millie, what did I tell you?” you asked, annoyed that she had contacted Nia despite your warning. “How did you even contact her?” “I slid into her DMs. Y/N, did you know sh-” Millie began to say, but you cut her off, worried she might reveal too much information. Grabbing her wrist, you dragged her out of the room to talk in private.

You pulled Millie into an empty room as she struggled to free her wrist and kept asking what was going on. “Y/N, what's the big deal? Why can’t I talk to her?” she asked. “Millie, I need you to stop contacting Nia. She’s bad news, and I don’t want you getting involved.” you explained firmly. “But Y/N, she seems so cool.” Millie protested. “Please, Mills, just trust me on this.” you pleaded. After a moment of hesitation, she reluctantly agreed. “Okay, I guess.” she said with a sigh.

You returned to the changing room and took a seat next to Ona. “I suppose that was nothing too?” She remarked sarcastically. You simply sighed in response, feeling unsure of what to say. You gathered your belongings and shot a final stern look at Millie before making your way out and heading home.

During training the next day, you warmed up with Millie, passing the ball back and forth, when suddenly you heard her hum a familiar tune. The sound of her humming that melody made your heart race faster. “What’s that you’re humming Mills?” You tried to stay calm as you asked Millie about the song whilst continuing to pass the ball to each other. However, your clenched jaw gave away your anxiety. Millie stopped humming and looked at you, seeming caught off-guard. “Oops." she said, looking down at the grass. You repeated the question, trying to sound composed, even though your anger was simmering inside you. She looked up with a slight smirk on her face. “It's a nice tune, innit?” You cursed under your breath. “Fuck.” 

You gave millie a pleading look as you took the ball in your hands and walked over to her so you could whisper. “Mills, please, I don’t know what you know, but please don’t tell anyone, I beg you.” you said quietly. “What are you talking about? Are you okay?” she asked innocently, but you didn’t buy it. Before you could answer however, Marc called for all of you to gather together to start the first exercise. You desperately tried to compose yourself as the team gathered, your mind racing with thoughts of what Millie might know. Throughout training, you couldn’t shake the feeling of paranoia that someone might find out your secret. Every time Millie came near you, you were on edge, wondering if she was going to reveal what she knew.

That evening you were sitting on the couch in your living room, lazily flipping through the channels on TV when the doorbell rang. You weren’t expecting anyone, but when you got to the door and opened it, you found a package sitting on your doorstep with no return address. Your curiosity piqued as you eagerly brought it inside and began to open it up. As you lifted the lid, you found an old, tattered photograph of yourself with a group of people, all dressed in black. You couldn't believe your eyes as you stared at the photo, realising that it was taken during the time you lived in LA.

You started to feel a sense of unease as you examined the photo more closely, trying to remember the people in the picture. You could recognise a few faces, but most of them were unfamiliar to you. You began to wonder if this was somehow related to Nia, who had recently reappeared in your life. You had a sinking feeling that she wasn’t going to let go of your earlier outburst, which made her getting closer with Millie even scarier.

As you sat on the couch, staring at the old photo, the sound of the door opening made you jump. Ona walked in, surprised to see you home so early from training. You quickly tried to hide the package, but fumbled with it and ended up dropping it on the floor. Unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough and she caught sight of the old photo. “Who are these people? And why are you all dressed like that?” Ona asked, pointing to the group of figures in black, their clothes torn and frayed. You tried to play it off, “Oh, that's just me and some old friends in our Halloween costumes. We used to go all out, you know?” Ona laughed at the idea, but then noticed the date on the back of the photo. “But it says April on here, that’s not Halloween.” she pointed out, looking at you suspiciously.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to come up with another excuse. “Oh, right, that must have been some other dress-up party we went to. I can’t really remember.” you said, hoping she would buy it. Ona raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. You could feel the weight of the secret bearing down on you more and more with each thing that happened.

That night, as you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep, the fear and anxiety that had been brewing within you all day finally caught up. Your mind raced as you tossed and turned, and soon the nightmares began. In one particularly vivid dream, you found yourself playing in a huge match, the stadium packed to the rafters with cheering fans. You were playing well, confident and in control, until suddenly the crowd began to chant a name - a name that you hadn’t heard in years, a name that made your blood run cold. “Picky, Picky, Picky,” they chanted, and you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach.

As the chanting grew louder and more insistent, you tried to block it out, to focus on the game, but it was no use. You were Picky, the name you’d tried so hard to leave behind, the name that had haunted you for years. And now, in this nightmare, it was back, threatening to undo everything you’d worked so hard for. 

You jolted awake, your heart racing and your body slick with sweat. For a moment, you lay there in the dark, trying to steady your breathing and make sense of what had just happened. “Are you okay?” Ona asked, clearly awakened by your midnight antics. “Yeah, just had a nightmare. Go back to sleep Ona.”

The next morning, as you mindlessly scrolled through Instagram, you noticed Millie’s recent close friends story. You felt a knot form in your stomach as you saw a picture of her and Nia together, smiling at the camera. You knew that if Millie didn’t know your secret before, she definitely did now. You frantically searched for any clues in the photo, trying to see if there was anything that could give away your past. The fear of losing everything you had worked for began to consume you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that your world was about to come crashing down.

You quickly called Millie, hoping to get some answers about the previous night. When she answered, you could hear the sound of a bustling coffee shop in the background. Millie sounded chipper, but her cheeriness quickly evaporated when you brought up Nia. You explained that you had seen her in the Instagram story and asked what happened. Millie hesitated before finally admitting that she had met up with Nia last night. As you listened to Millie defend Nia, insisting that she wasn't a bad person, you felt your frustration growing. It was clear that Millie was taking Nia’s side, and you couldn't believe it. How could she not see what Nia was trying to do? You tried to explain your side of the story, but Millie wasn’t hearing it. “Well how would you feel if someone called you an embarrassment, Y/N?”

You felt your stomach twist with guilt as Millie’s words hung in the air. She was right, you shouldn’t have said those things to Nia. You knew that now. “I’m sorry, Millie,” you said quietly, feeling ashamed. Millie took note of your silence and sighed. “Look, let’s meet up and talk about it, okay? You don’t have to apologise to me, but you should probably make it right with Nia,” she said, her voice softening. You agreed to meet up, feeling grateful for Millie’s kindness and for the opportunity to set things right. As you hung up the phone, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. How were you going to face Nia and explain yourself?

That night, you met up with Nia and Millie at a bar to try and make amends. You felt nervous as you sat down with them, but you knew you needed to do this. You told her you were sorry for hurting her and acting the way you did. She seemed to take it well at first, but then she asked, “So have you told anyone about us?” “No, Nia, I haven’t.” You said quietly, which seemed to frustrate her. “Well, well, well, there it is. So nothing has changed, you are still just as embarrassed. Is your apology supposed to mean anything to me?” 

Luckily, Millie stepped in and suggested some drinks to lighten the mood. You all took some shots and Millie brought up some lighter subjects as the alcohol was starting to kick in. Before you knew it, you were singing karaoke with Nia, belting out some tunes you hadn’t heard in years. It felt liberating and for a moment, you forgot about the tension between the two of you. The music brought back so many memories, making you realise your embarrassment had overshadowed all the good memories from your time in LA. You wrapped an arm around Nia as you yelled, “I really am sorry Nia, I will make it up to you, promise.”

The next morning you woke up with a raging hangover, but a small smile grew on your face as you recalled the events of last night. You strolled towards the living room to be met with Ona, who had clearly been waiting for you. “Where were you last night?” She asked coldly. “I was out,” you said, “do you know where the paracetamol is?” “Out? Where? Who with?” Ona quickly followed up, voice stil frigid. “Millie, and also Nia.” You mumbled. “Mia? I thought you weren't that close with her.” 

You stumbled towards the kitchen, wincing at the pounding in your head. “Nia, not Mia. And it was just a night out with Millie, nothing more.” you say, searching through the medicine cabinet for paracetamol. Ona followed you, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Y/N, you’ve been acting strange lately. Is there something you’re not telling me?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion. You swallowed the pills with a glass of water and turned to face her. “No, everything’s fine. I just needed a night out with friends.” Ona gave you a long, hard look, once again clearly not convinced.

“I can’t keep pretending I believe these lies you tell me. I think I might need some space, Y/N.” You felt a pit in your stomach. You knew she was right. Your recent behaviour had been mysterious, and you hadn’t been entirely truthful with her. You took a deep breath and tried to explain, “You’re right, I haven’t been completely honest with you. I promise I’ll tell you everything soon, I just need some time to figure things out, okay?” Ona looked at you, her eyes softening slightly. “You can’t keep pushing me away like this, Y/N. I need to know what’s going on.” You nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. “I know, and I will tell you, but I need a little more time to figure out how to say it.” Ona nodded, and you felt the weight of your recent actions settling in.

The inevitability of revealing the secret had finally caught up with you. You had kept it buried deep within yourself for far too long. As you recovered from your hangover, a plan began to form in your mind. You reached out to Millie, knowing that she likely knew everything at this point, and asked for her help in bringing the truth to light. 

The next day, with the help of Millie and some staff members, you gathered the whole team in a conference room before training. Everyone sat down and as you stood in front of them, a big screen behind you, they all sent you confused glares, especially Ona, whom you told very little about your plan for this morning. Millie hushed everyone, and your nerves began to take hold. “Greetings, everyone,” you began, “for a long time I have kept my past a secret to all of you, but today that changes. What you’re about to witness might be shocking at first, but rest assured, that stuff is in the past, I am no longer involved in such practices, and I am not the person I was back then.” 

You took a deep breath as you moved away from the screen, giving Millie a small nod, who then hit play. You sat down on the front row, not wanting to face any of your teammates reactions. A video started playing, showing a bunch of alternative looking teenagers in a car. “We are on our way to Vegaaas.” One of them said. You cringed as you waited for the realisation to dawn behind you. “OH MY GOD,” Ella shouted suddenly, “Y/N, is that you with the pink hair?” You buried your face in your hands as a song began playing in the background.

You kept your face hidden in your hands as the video kept playing, showing you during the most embarrassing period of your life, singing and dancing with the members of the poppunk band you used to be a part of. The laughter and screaming of your teammates rang loud in your ears as you endured the three-minute video, each embarrassing detail pointed out feeling like an eternity. When the last chorus ended, which everyone had sang along too, Millie yanked you by the wrist, pulling you out of hiding and into the spotlight. Your heart pounded as you stood before the team, their eyes fixed on you, most of them still recovering from the laughter. “It’s time for some questions.” Millie declared, a sly grin spreading across her face.

“Alright, go on then, ask away.” You said, knowing an intense interrogation would be inevitable at this point, to which several hands shot up immediately. “You, pink shirt.” Millie said, pointing at Ella, pretending to be hosting a press conference. “Oh my god, where to start,” Ella began, “just- what was that?” You sighed. “When I was a teenager I lived in LA for two years. During that time I joined a band, this was them.” you answered. “What instrument did you play?” Alessia inquired. “Bass, next!” “Were you famous?” Leah asked, to which you chuckled. “We had one minor hit, but not really. They did have somewhat of a breakthrough after I left though.” Some people audibly gasped at that. 

“Do you still talk to them?” Maya asked. “Not really. When I left I kind of dove into my football career, never looking back. Although recently I have been getting in touch with one of them again.” You answered. “Do you have any regrets?” Millie, momentarily losing her role as moderator, caught you off guard with her question. You pondered the question for a while before stating, “No. I don’t.” A small smile growing on your face.

As the interrogation about your past came to an end, the staff interrupted, signalling that it was time for training. The teasing followed you into the changing room where your teammates continued to poke fun at your previous life, singing the song and scouring the internet for embarrassing photos. Despite their laughter, you couldn’t help but notice the quietness of your girlfriend. She remained silent throughout the morning, refusing to participate in the banter, and you knew something was wrong. Trying to be discreet, you quietly approached her as you laced up your shoes, “Ona, can we talk after training?” She nodded, but the unease lingered in the air. Training couldn't end soon enough, as the jokes persisted, and Ona seemed to avoid you at all costs.

When training was finally over, you and Ona hastily left to your apartment. As you sat with Ona on the couch, you couldn’t help but feel guilty about the way you had been acting lately. You knew why she had been quiet all day. You had hurt her by making her think that the secret from your past was something far more sinister than it actually was.

“I’m sorry, Ona,” you began, turning towards her. “I should have told you about the band from the start, instead of acting all suspicious and making you think it was something terrible. I know I hurt you and I feel terrible about it.” Ona remained quiet for a moment, her eyes fixed on her lap. Finally, she looked up at you and spoke in a soft voice. “I was just scared, you know? I thought you had done something really bad, something that would change the way I saw you. But now that I know the truth, I just feel silly.”

You took her hand in yours and squeezed it gently. “You have nothing to feel silly about, Ona. I understand why you were scared, and I should have been more open with you from the start. I promise to be more honest with you in the future.” you said genuinely. “You made me think you were secretly married, or something, or a murderer!” she chuckled, playfully smacking your leg with her hand. “Wait, you really thought that?” you gasped. “Well not really, but I just got confused and my mind went places!” she said, looking a bit embarrassed at her confession. “I’m really sorry Ona.” you said once more.

“So bass, huh?”, Ona said, changing the subject. “Can you still play?” “I do still have my old bass hidden away in the back of my closet, but I haven’t practiced in a long time. Though I guess playing an instrument should be like riding a bike right?”

It wasn’t. You opened the old hardcase to reveal your beige fender precision bass, covered in old stickers you had picked up whilst touring and attending concerts back in the US. “Wow, you were such a loser.” Ona teased. “See, this is why I didn’t want anyone to know!” you replied, sending her a pout. “I’m kidding, I love it. Now play something for me!”

After tuning your bass for what felt like minutes (it was so out of tune you were afraid a string might snap), you tested your muscle memory by attempting to play one of your old songs. You cringed at the sound of the first few notes and quickly stopped playing. Your fingers fumbled over the frets, struggling to find the right notes. The song that used to come so naturally to you now felt like a foreign language. It was like trying to reconnect with a version of yourself that no longer existed. 

“Hey, keep going!” Ona encouraged as she noticed your defeat. “What, you didn’t think that was terrible?” you quipped, raising an eyebrow. She laughed, “Oh, your playing was definitely terrible, but the bass looks good on you.” she said, sending you a wink.

With Ona's encouragement, you kept playing for a bit longer, trying to remember the bass lines. Gradually, it started to come back to you, and the song began to sound more familiar. Ona watched you intently, her smile growing wider as you got better. “You know, I like getting to know about your past,” she said, still smiling at you. “Even if it's embarrassing to you.”

You felt a little pang of guilt wash over you again, but you were grateful for Ona's understanding. You decided to take the opportunity to show her more about your past, and pulled out some old photos from your teenage years. As you scrolled through them together, you told her about your experiences touring with the band, the crazy things you did on the road, and the friends you made along the way. Ona listened attentively, asking questions and laughing at your stories. It felt good to finally share this part of yourself with someone, and you were glad it was with her.

“So this Nia girl, are you guys good? Things seemed so intense with you two.” Ona inquired. “Yeah, I may have hurt her in my embarrassment.” You answered, looking down at your feet. “I know just what to do to make things right.” Ona said as she shot up to grab her phone.

That evening, you sat in a bar, taking a sip of your beer whilst nervously wiggling your feet. You couldn’t believe you had agreed to this, but your girlfriend had convinced you it was the right thing to do. “You didn’t tell me the whole team was coming.” you said, frowning at Ona. She grinned back at you. “Don’t be nervous, querida. You’ve played to bigger crowds before.” You couldn’t help but feel like this was some sort of payback for your recent behaviour, which you definitely deserved. “They’re here!” Ona exclaimed, making you turn around to find Millie and Nia walking into the bar, Nia’s eyes widening when she saw you. 

You made your way to the small podium opposite the bar. You grabbed a microphone and signalled to the sound guy that you were ready. “Hello everyone,” you said into the microphone, taking a deep breath. “Could I have your attention please?” You grabbed your bass from behind the curtain, causing several gasps from your teammates and, of course, Nia. “I have an apology to make to an old friend of mine who’s here tonight. Nia, I'm truly sorry for the way I acted. If you can forgive me, please join in with me.”

As you began to play the bass line from one of your old songs, you could feel the weight of everyone’s attention on you. You were nervous at first, but as you played, you started to feel more confident. After a few bars, Nia hesitantly joined in, her voice blending perfectly with your playing. You shared a smile, both of you finally letting go of the tension that had been building between you. As the song progressed, you could see the your teammates tapping their feet and nodding their heads along to the beat. By the end of the song, the whole bar was cheering and clapping, and you felt a sense of pride and relief wash over you.

As the song came to an end, the bar erupted into applause. You looked out into the crowd and saw your friends, including Ona, with wide grins on their faces. But it was Nia who surprised you the most. She walked up to you and hugged you tightly, whispering in your ear, “I forgive you, Y/N.” “It’s Picky.” You smiled.

As you walked Nia towards the bar to order her a drink, you casually asked, “By the way, that photo was yours, wasn’t it?” Her face broke into a sly smile. “Photo? I have no idea what you are talking about.” she retorted. You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with her denial. “Really? So it was just some random stranger leaving that package on my doorstep?” you inquired, your tone laced with sarcasm. Nia’s grin widened. “I guess so. Perhaps they got a little mad after being called an embarrassment and were hoping to remind you of some positive memories.” she suggested. You playfully nudged her elbow. “Some insightful stranger they were.”

After your performance, the evening blossomed into an unforgettable night out with your team. The occasional teasing towards your past, fuelled by Nia’s humorous anecdotes, only added to the lively atmosphere. Everyone hit it off with Nia, and you were relieved that she decided to forgive you. The night was filled with music, and your teammates kept requesting your old songs to the DJ, who was gradually becoming visibly annoyed. It was heartwarming to witness everyone having such a great time, and it felt freeing to let your hair down and revel in the moment with your friends. As the night came to an end, you walked out of the bar with your arm around Ona, feeling grateful for the amazing people in your life.

[bbitess]

skater boy prt 2-clyde x f!reader

part 1 here

shower sex‼️ smut >>> plot

warnings‼️ smut, fingering, oral m!receiving, oral f!receiving, throat fucking, cum eating, ass slapping, hair pulling, p in v, cream pie, aftercare

another normal day rolled around. about two days later i decided to go over to the skatepark again and i saw clyde. he was sitting on his skateboard on the ground. i calmly rode towards him so my board would nudge his and when he noticed, he looked at legs and followed up my body to meet my eyes. he looked up at me with his lips slightly parted, and i smiled. “hey.” was i all i said.

clyde quickly got up from his board and pulls me in for a hug while i am still on my board. “why are you so happy to see me?” i asked. he looked confused, tilted his head and slightly raised an eyebrow. “i need a reason?” he joked, “but in all seriousness, i’ve been skating here everyday, noon to night, since i last saw you, and you just showed up. maybe the anticipation is making me mad.” he joked. i laughed and then thought how sweet that was.

his eyes locked with mine. i blushed a little but kept skating. later once the sun had gone down i was pretty much done skating and clyde looked exhausted. i skated up to him and nudged his leg with my foot. “are you okay?”

“yeah im okay.” he said rubbing his eyes and sitting up on his board. he inches towards me and says, “im just really tired, skating for the past three days you know.”

i laughed, “that was your choice!” she smiled, “and i bet you got a lot better.” clyde laughs and smiles but lays back down with his face in his hands. his shirt pulling up a little to reveal a small happy trail.

i got bold, “you know clyde, you could come back to my place and stay there.” my stomach sunk. he sat up when he processed the invitation, “really?” he asked. “yes,” i nod.

“but how would i shower?” he asks, “i have a shower too.” i said grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet. his smile covered his face, “okay, i’d love to.” he said and we walked to my car and packed up the skateboards before we left and drove to my house.

i opened my door and set my things near the door. clyde did the same, his eyes scanning the interior. “wow, this is a nice place” he said smiling at you. “thanks,” i smiled, my blush hidden in the dim house. i stepped towards clyde and watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. i grab his board from him, grazing my fingers against his for a moment. i set the board aside and walked behind him.

he was nervous, i placed my hands on his upper back softly, i heard his breath hitch and felt how tense his shoulders were. i pulled his flannel off his shoulders and hung it on the coat rack. i began to massage his stiff arms and shoulders, feeling the muscles unknot. he began to breathe deeper and almost grunt as i kneaded his skin. his arms were skinny but toned and the wife beater was snug to his pecks and waist. he turned to stand in front of me, facing me with his lips slightly parted. i snaked my arms around his waist slowly and faintly smiled. he returned the gesture and our faces leaned together to meet for a sloppy kiss.

clyde was making out with me like it was his last time ever, he savored the flavor that he had been longing for since the first taste. the sound of light moans and loud kissing filled the mud room. i pulled away and lead him to my room and into my bathroom. he looked a little confused.

“do you still need to shower?” i asked, a slight smirk on my face. clyde didn’t know what to say so he just nodded. i smiled turning to go grab towels but clyde grabbed my arm, stopping me. he looked into my eyes and said “i may need some help figuring out the water pressure and stuff, though.” he smiled. i was suprised, he had never made a move like this before. i smiled and felt like i was going to melt in his grip. i was speechless and just pressed my lips to his once again. he began kissing back ferociously and even started cupping my boobs and pawing at the bottom of my shirt.

i pulled about for a second to pull off his wife beater, exposing him and all his radiance. i followed suit pulling my shirt off swiftly. clyde’s jaw dropped and his hands and lips immediately connected to my chest. he kissed down my cleavage and sucked hickeys on my neck. i whimpered under his soft touch. he kept panting, blowing his warm breath over my bare skin as he continued kissing my chest.

i pulled my bra over my head and he continued swirling his tounge around my nipples and holding my tits harshly. i moaned and reached for his belt, quickly undoing it and letting his pants fall to his ankles. he helped me step out of my pants and panties leaving me completely bare. he didn’t have much time to look before i pulled his boxers down exposing his hard cock to the air. he winced a little as it popped up on his stomach, the tip was red and angry, a pearly bead of precum dotted on the tip. the veins pulsated down his multiple inches of member. clyde had the prettiest cock i have ever seen.

i couldn’t help but kiss the tip, rubbing the precum on my lips and meeting clyde for a kiss. he moaned into my mouth at the the taste of himself. i giggled a little when i pulled away to step into the shower. i turned on the warm water and felt it run down my body. clyde had followed me inside the shower and was admiring me as i rinsed my body. i turned around and grabbed him by the back of the neck, pulling him into the stream of water and meeting in the middle with another passionate kiss.

it didn’t take long for my hands to slide down his stomach and onto his hard cock. i stroked it slowly in my hand, and clyde built up the confidence to move over of his hands from my tit to the heat between my legs. he mumbled and whined as i toyed with his dick but i froze when i felt his index finger enter me. it caught me off guard and i leaned my head back, letting out a lewd moan as the hot water sprayed on my tits. i was so wet for him already.

i tried to keep a steady pace as i moved my hand on his cock but he just kept fingering me. “clyde you are so good!” i moaned. he began to speed up, even slipping a second finger in. i felt my insides behind stretched and i clenched his fingers inside me. “your so fucking tight.” he mutters into my ear quietly, i could barely hear it over my own moans and the splashing sound of his hand pounding into my cunt.

“oh my god clyde, please i’m going to cum.” i muttered whining and moaning his name as he mercilessly finger fucked me. his other hand lifted and left a harsh slap on my round ass, i felt heat rise to the spot and the pleasure only heightened. i let out pornographic sounds that filled the shower. “cum for me, baby.” he says, i looked into his eyes, and that was all it took, hearing clyde call me baby and seeing his wet hair framing his face, his lustful eyes digging into mine, his fingers hitting the soft spot inside me again, and again, and again. my face contorted as i came to my climax and squirted all down his fingers.

i rode out my orgasm and he licked his fingers dry. i kissed him deeply and grabbed his cock once again, happy to return the favor.

i began kissing down his neck and chest leaving red smudges littered on his skin. he whimpered at the contact and sighed deeply when i started licking at his shaft. he moaned quietly, “shit, you are so fucking hot.”

i took this as a signal to deep throat his length. he filled my mouth up to the brim and hit the back of my throat making me gag on his hard cock. he whined loudly and i slowly began bobbing on his dick.

his moans repeated with my motions. he carefully moved my hair from my face, i looked up through my eyelashes to meet his gaze and he threw his head back with a groan. his hand was planted on the back of my head, gripping my wet hair in his fist. i felt my wet pussy leaking down the drain and as he started guiding my head, it only felt better.

he kept his hand firm on my head and pushed himself down my throat at a rapid pace. i thought it was almost to much to handle, he showed no mercy as his hips worked on their own, pounding into my face. i gagged and sputtered all over his cock, the spit running down my chin and his balls. i reached up and gripped them in my hand, massaging them slightly and looking up at him with teary and cock drunk eyes.

he couldn’t help but cum right there. he moaned and whined as his pace slowed and my mouth filled with his seed. my mouth was almost overflowing with his cum and he loved the sight of it. i swallowed as much as i could and licked my fingers clean. he pulled me to my feet with a big smile and kissed me quickly, tasting his cum on my lips.

i pulled away. “please clyde…” i muttered, my pussy throbbing between my legs, “i need you to fuck me, so bad.” was all i could say, a low whisper in his ear but it sparked his desire to cum again, this time inside my tight cunt.

he swiftly flipped me around and pressed me against the wall of the shower, my ass raised to the running water. i grabbed my behind and started spreading my ass cheeks to show him my aching hole. his cock hardened once again and he pumped it in his hand to keep it erected. i moved my hands, one to squeeze my tit and finger my hard nipples, and the other i moved over to messy pussy, dripping with lust.

i carefully began pumping my fingers inside my sore cunt, my thumb pressing on my hard clit. moans slipped from my mouth as i pleasured myself.

clyde raised his pre-cum-covered hand and left a harsh slap on my ass. i let out a sharp whine and fingered myself harder. he raised his hand again, leaving another slap on my tender skin, staining my ass red. i whined again and played with my clit lazily. “please clyde…” i mumbled.

“what?” he questioned, leaning over me, pressing his erect dick to my back. “fuck me, clyde!” i moaned a little louder. clyde chuckled a little and lined himself up with my hole. i leaned back on him, my wet cunt quickly swallowing the pretty tip.

he immediately felt pleasure overflowing his body, he didn’t know how much longer he could keep himself together when he was fucking a pussy as good as this. he pushed in further, the inches filled me up. i let out pornographic moans as he bottomed out and then began thrusting in and out. i thought he would split me in half, but his gentle movements melted the pain into pleasure.

i let out a lewd moan and slapped my other ass cheek, making me whine and tears pricked up in my eyes. i moaned his name like a prayer as he kept pounding into me under the stream of the hot shower. the water splashed all around us and it felt almost primal, being so wet, naked, and close to one another.

clyde grabbed my hair again, pulling my head up as he pushed me into the wall, grinding into me. he knew he was close, “cum for me, please,” he begged, gripping my hair tighter. he left another harsh slap on my ass and that send me over the edge. i had a second orgasm, spasming on his cock. i clenched around him and he came quickly after, squirting cum into my hole, it overflowed and dripped out around his cock. when he pulled out, cum flowed out of my hole and down the drain like a white waterfall. clyde quickly got to his knees and took my ass in his hands, lapping my cunt dry. he moaned into me, his vibrations stimulating my sensitive clit. i had to push him off me because the pleasure was getting over stimulating.

he got up and turned me around, moving the hair from my face and kissing my puffy red cheeks. i turned off the shower and when we got out i could help but notice how fucked i looked when i got out the the shower. i could tell i had been crying and the redness on my ass hadn’t gone down. clyde looked closely and swore he could see his hand print as clear as day.

“then everyone will know you are mine.” he purred into my ear, wrapping me in his towel and nibbling on my ear love. he continued to suck at my neck, claiming his territory. i smiled at him and kissed him again before taking him back to the bedroom. i gave him some of my pajamas that would fit him and we helped each other get dry and dressed. i swore i had never seen a man more beautiful then clyde when i was drying his hair.

we snuggled into bed and clyde kissed the top of my head, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me flush to him. “goodnight,” i said, but there was no response. he was already fast asleep.

i didn’t know much about clyde, the skater boy, but i really enjoyed tonight and will remember it as the best time i’ve had in a while.

[raineandsky]

A Date in Exchange

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)

My parents are asking if you’ll come over again. Are you free this week?

That’s the text message the villain received two days ago. They’d checked their calendar, only to find a lack of an excuse. They’d replied after a minute of racking their brains for a way out, only to send back a short i guess

So the villain is, rather stupidly in their mind, getting into the hero’s car for a second trip. It’s only a matter of time before this backfires and they get dropped off right outside the agency doors.

“Hey,” the hero greets as they slump into the seat. It’s the kindest greeting the villain’s ever gotten. “Surprised I didn’t have to promise you a banquet for this one.”

The villain slams the door behind them, careful to keep their gaze pointed out of the window. The reflection boasts the tinge in their cheeks at the insinuation. “If there isn’t one I’ll rob them again.”

It’s the hero’s turn to blush, a lot harder to hide. “And look how that turned out last time.”

-

“It’s so lovely to see you again!” the hero’s mother greets the villain, as if this is all some pleasant surprise and not an event practically planned by them. “Please, both of you, inside.”

The villain truly cannot believe their last visit here hasn’t put the hero’s parents off. It was hilarious to watch the hero fumble to correct their nemesis’s phrasing, but bringing the whole ordeal to an end would’ve been a nice bonus. It’s a shame that they clearly took the villain’s insanity in their stride.

“How’re the physics classes coming along?” the hero’s father asks when the pair of them are ushered into the living room. “Blow anything up yet?”

Ah, yes, the villain’s ‘studies’. The hero had mouthed sound smart! at them, and they did exactly what they’d asked. “I’m studying physics at the city university,” they’d told the hero’s parents, but that garnered too much praise, so they’d added: “Gonna learn to blow things up with science.”

“Still working on that,” the villain tells him with a grin. “Professor won’t let me. Not yet, at least.”

The hero looks genuinely relieved to find a small buffet set at the dining table. “Thank god we can get you fed, my love,” they say with a friendly pat on the villain’s shoulder, and from the slight raise of their eyebrows the villain knows they have no chance of nicking anything a second time. The name makes their stomach churn in a way that has little to do with the food in front of them all the same.

“How’re things between you both?” the hero’s mother asks sweetly once they’re all settled at the table. “You look well.”

Clearly the villain’s agitated undertones are going unnoticed. That’s consolation to the hero too, from the way they throw her a smile in poorly hidden relief. “Yeah, good. Still going strong, aren’t we, my love?” the hero asks, and plants a quick kiss on the villain’s forehead for realism.

The villain laughs tightly to avoid giving away the heart attack they think they might be having. “Yeah, strong as anything.”

“How long's it been? We only heard about you recently,” the hero’s father comments idly.

This was not a question either of them had discussed answering. The two sit in silence in case the other starts answering, the villain pretending to do the maths and the hero staring thoughtfully into the distance.

“About five months,” the villain says when it’s clear the other isn’t going to say anything.

“Five?” the hero’s mother echoes in disbelief. “Why, your father was giving me a ring as big as my hand by five months. What’re we waiting on?”

“Oh my god, mother,” is all the hero says in defence.

Suddenly this whole plan just expanded from a few months to years. The villain’s brain is close to shutting down suddenly planning out the rest of their life from this point forward. The hero says something but they don’t hear it, already imagining the sacrifices a life of lies would entail. A hand settles on their shoulder, and the touch startles them to their feet.

“[Villain]?” the hero asks, and the barefaced concern in their voice tips them over the edge.

“Sorry, I, uh…” Fuck, they’re stuttering. When have they ever been this uptight? “I just remembered I have a, uh, appointment soon, so I, ah–”

They’re at the dining room door. They’re not entirely sure how they got here. The hero’s parents watch with wide eyes, the hero themself already on their feet. All they hear is a pissed “Why would you say that?” before they shut the door behind them and make their great escape.

(Next part)

[breezybangtanbebe]

Got My Number: Hyunwoo❤️ Part One

A/N: Hyunwoo(Shownu) x reader. I wrote this in celebration of Daddy Bear completing his mandatory military service...a nice story of childhood friends being reunited after years.

First love, Friends to Lovers,Cheating 🌚 (don't you judge..the song is saying "holla at me if ya mans aint doing it right" ) , passionate smut. Grown folks type vibes.

Part 2 TBA🥰

4k words

"Booger?"

You abruptly stop loading your groceries in the back of your car and lift your head.

The sound of his voice was almost haunting and for a moment you think you're mistaken or hearing things until you hear him again. Turning away from your reusable bag-filled cart, you spot a tall figure walking towards you blocking out the sun.

"Booger...I can't believe it, it's really you..."

"Hyunwoo?" You said, shielding the brightness with your hand until he was close enough for you to see.

It was him, though very different from the last time you'd seen him.

He was taller, perhaps an inch over 6 feet. He was leaner, having shed away his adolescent fluffiness to replace it with bulking muscles that were apparent even under his layers of clothing.

Even the shape of his face was drastically different, dawning a more chiseled jawline and cheekbones that were hidden by his boyish roundness for the years you knew him.

But you couldn't mistake those eyes and that smile anywhere.

It was him.

And good lord, how puberty did him well.

"Holy shit...look at you." He smiles brightly, stopping a foot away from where you stood with a small watermelon in your grasp. He gives you an appraising once over, probably thinking the same thing you were in reaction to how much you've changed since he last saw you.

But in your winter coat, sweater, and jeans, you hardly felt like much to look at next to him.

"What are you doing here?" Is all you can stammer out, regarding the baby melon ruefully before setting it down to join the rest of the groceries in your trunk. Hyunwoo smirks.

"Um...this is where they sell food right?" He asks sarcastically, pointing to the entrance of the ALDI behind you. You glance back as if you didn't know it was there and scoff.

"No! I mean here..back in the city."

Hyunwoo shrugs at the question as he stepped forward, now observing the amount of bags you still had left to load in your trunk with a slight frown.

"Just visiting. My cousin is getting married Saturday so I just touched down last night." He resumes and you nod in understanding.

"Oh! Thats Awesome. Good for him...So, how's everyone doing?" You follow up, now back to loading your trunk. But this time Hyunwoo joins in, grasping a few bags by the handle and lifting them effortlessly from the cart.

"Everyone's good. Thanks for asking." He says distractedly as he figured out where to place the bags.

"What about you? How's your mom? And hey, I'm sorry to hear about your grandmother. She was such a sweet woman." He pauses his movements to say and you smile at the concern in his voice. Growing up, the two of you spent many days hanging around at your grandmother's house. Especially during the summer.

Both of your parents worked a lot, especially Hyunwoo's single mother, and it was common for him to spend those overtime days with you and your family.

Essentially becoming a part of it.

"Thanks. We all took her passing hard but other than that, everyone's great." You respond honestly, your sad smile melting into one of gratitude that Hyunwoo appreciates.

"That's good to hear.." he smirks.

After loading the final bag in your trunk, Hyunwoo reaches up to pull the door down just enough for you to reach it without jumping, and his teasing smirk at your lack of height have you blushing.

"So...I hear you've been traveling the world huh?" You divert quickly to seem unphased, slamming the trunk door down to secure it shut. Once it is, Hyunwoo nods in confirmation and leans his shoulder against the back window of your SUV.

"Something like that. My company kinda takes me all over the place. Where ever they need me, I pretty much go. I'm actually considering taking an extended assignment here." He adds and you perk up with interest without realizing it.

It had been damn near 20 years since you had seen Hyunwoo in person and while he was your closest friend during childhood, much had changed.

"Yeah? Thats great...I mean, I bet your family would love that. Having you back home and stuff...Especially your mom."

Hyunwoo's little smile widens at the mention of his mother. The woman who sacrificed so much to ensure he had a future beyond the city he was brought up in.

"Yeah, she's the main one encouraging me to take it. It'll be a change of pace but I could use a break from moving around so much. So it's on my mind."

You nod at his response, failing to keep your gaze from dropping to his chest which was damn near level with your face. He couldn't possibly have gotten taller...

"Well as you can see, I haven't left." you chuckled, blinking away the distraction of imagining Hyunwoo's pecs. He frowns at your words, tilting his head curiously.

"It's a big city. Most people don't." he shrugs and you shake your head.

"You're just saying that to make me feel better. Sure the city is big but...I don't know." you trail off, feeling your mood take an unexpected turn that you were sure Hyunwoo could detect.

You went to college and you traveled some when you could. Not far but just enough to get that 'change of scenery' feel. But you couldn't bring yourself to uproot your life and step out on faith in a completely new place.

Truth was, you were afraid to leave. Everything about this city was so familiar and fear kept you from broadening your horizons in favor of remaining content in your comfort.

The thought is more depressing now that you were standing before someone from your past, reminding you just how much has changed beyond the little slice of the world you called home.

A forced smile of indifference tugs at your lips and you shrug the thoughts away.

"Doesn't matter though. Anyway...so you'll be in town for about a week, you said?" you ask and Hyunwoo nods.

"Give or take a day. I may or may not head out right after the wedding. We should catch up though. Maybe we can meet for lunch or something this week and you can tell me all about what's changed around here.." he suggests casually.

Your mouth opens just as you're about to respond and as cruel as fate tends to be, a gentle hand at your waist has your response dying on your tongue. You turn and are greeted by an abrupt kiss on the lips from David.

Your husband of 8 years.

He'd appeared so suddenly that you flinch when he kisses you, blinking up at him guiltily for a second.

He doesn't seem irritated though by the softness in his gaze and he smiles fondly at you.

"I looked up and you were gone, what happened?" he asks, acting as if Hyunwoo weren't standing well within earshot.

"Well your phone rang so...I told you I was heading out to the car.." you begin and David abruptly turns his head to finally acknowledge the 6-foot-tall specimen leaning against our car.

"Who's this?" He asks politely, regarding Hyunwoo with a curious smile. You have to blink a few times before remembering your manners and you clear the roughness from your throat to introduce your past to your present.

"Oh, um...Babe this is Hyunwoo. We pretty much grew up together. He's in town for a family wedding. Hyunwoo, this is my...Husband. David." you prattle out as your husband reaches to shake Hyunwoo's offered hand. The words feel like 20-pound weights straining against your tongue for some reason and you stand by awkwardly as they greeted each other cordially.

At the word, Hyunwoo's eyebrows shot up in surprise as he releases David's hand.

"Husband. Wow... that's... that's great. Congratulations Booger.." he says and David's brow crinkles.

The nickname isn't any more charming now than it was back then and you roll your eyes at it in resentment before smiling.

"Thank you.." David responds for you, hugging you close into his side possessively.

Now, you hadn't known your husband to be an insecure man but you could tell he felt the need to exaggerate his claim on you in the presence of such an obviously attractive man. And to be honest, you couldn't blame him.

Making eye contact with Hyunwoo for more than a few seconds felt like a sin and part of you was glad David had shown up when he had.

An awkward spell settles over the three of you where Hyunwoo regarded me with an unreadable yet amused look on his face, while David glanced between the two of you with a melting smile and furrowed brow.

"Well......we should really get going. Wouldnt want the ice cream to melt.

" he says suddenly, nodding stiffly towards Hyunwoo as he grabbed the shopping carts handle. Hyunwoo reaches for the other side, insisting that he had it and would take it back in for them.

"You sure?" David asks half-heartedly and Hyunwoo nods.

"Of course! Don't let me hold you all up. Boog, hit me up this week. We can all get lunch on me if the two of you aren't busy.." he says and you smile at the idea just as David uses a bit more force to guide you towards the passenger side of the car.

You resist a little, glancing back at him curiously before waving goodbye to Hyunwoo.

"Uhm..yeah! Sure...We will" you respond, a little to David's dismay.

Hyunwoo bites down on his smirk at the way David opens your door with a little more force than was needed as he began pushing the cart towards the store's entrance.

"Great. You've got my number..." he calls over his shoulder, making you pause.

"The same number from 2010?" you toss back and Hyunwoo turns to nod.

"Same one." he smiles, its effect much more dazzling now that the sun was shining directly on his face. And it's then that you see a semblance of the boy you once knew. Friendly and dependable. Honest and endearing.

You're admittedly taken aback by the effect his smile has you falling silent and David gives you a questioning look before making sure you were tucked into the car as he shut the door.

Approximately a decade and a half ago...

"Just close your eyes and put your lips like this"

Hyunwoo wrinkles his nose humorously at the way you were pursing your lips at him, seated on your knees in front of him on the grassy ground behind your grandmother's house.

"You look stupid." he chortles, shaking his head. You opened your eyes when you heard him snort and couldn't help but join him. You shove at his shoulder gently as he laughed at your offended expression.

"You wouldn't know what I looked like if you were listening. I told you to close your eyes..." you scold. Hyunwoo rolls his eyes behind his thick-lensed glasses.

"But then how will I know where my lips are going?" He blinks slowly and you pout at the question, glancing around in uncertainty for a moment.

"I don't know...You'll just know! Look, do you want my help or not?" you huffed in frustration. Hyunwoo's expression crinkles skeptically and he scrunches his nose as he pushed his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose.

"I'm starting to have second thoughts. Doesn't seem like you know what you're doing."

That was because you didn't.

At 12 there wasn't much anyone would know about kissing beyond what was seen on television and in movies. And those paid actors and actresses made it look simple enough.

So when Hyunwoo expressed his worry about being the only boy on the junior swim team that hadn't kissed a girl yet, you felt like it was high time he had some sort of experience.

Even if it was just with you.

"Well you're the one who lied and told everyone you knew how to kiss," you remark, making Hyunwoo's expression go sour.

"I only did it 'cause they were messing with me..." he sniffles to adjust his glasses again, turning away to scowl at the grass and dirt beside him.

You didn't understand the fascination those stupid boys had with Hyunwoo and where his lips had been.

He was quiet, unassuming, a little awkward, and the least likely in the school to be seen smooching with girls their age because of how shy he was.

"I don't know why it matters that much to abunch of boys anyway. They should mind their business." You say, sucking your teeth.

Hyunwoo shrugs with indifference as he picked at a fallen twig next to his leg.

"Yeah well... there's one upside to me moving..." he mutters and you lift your head at his pause, now watching him lift the twig and snap it in half passive-aggressively.

"I won't have to deal with those jerks anymore..." he finishes, tossing the stick across the yard and dusting his hand on the knee of his pants.

"Yeah..." you say, your tone painfully melancholy.

He says nothing as he examined his palm, crinkling his brow and pouting as if his thoughts were far from the splinters and dirt scattered over his hand.

After exhaling, he sits up on his knees.

"Alright. I'm ready now."  Hyunwoo sighs again and relaxes his shoulders in surrender before doing as you'd told him before. His small eyes are reduced to slits behind his glasses and his lips pout adorably as he waited.

For a moment you hesitate, only staring at his lips and the steady flow of sadness overcomes you.

Not because the idea of kissing your best friend was appalling.

It was the fact that it would be the first and last time you'd ever do it. Since in 24 hours, he would be getting on a plane with his mother and brother and leaving the childhood he spent with you behind.

New life and new opportunities were something to be celebrated in most cases but the idea of losing the one person who didn't make you feel as ostracized by your peers when he was around made your stomach turn.

Hyunwoo was..is..your best friend.

And perhaps back then you didn't understand the twisted ache that churned in your chest when you were around him to be butterflies, but you knew at that moment that you felt something that wasn't platonic for him.

And this kiss might be all you'd have...

"Ugh...this is dumb. I'll just take my chances with.."

Cutting him off mid-sentence, you place both of your hands on Hyunwoo's chubby cheeks and place your lips against his.

He tenses at first, his eyes going wide and his glasses tilting slightly. But the longer the warmth of your lips pressed against his, he relaxes and his eyes flutter shut.

The butterflies swarmed in your chest and fluttered frantically in your belly. There's no movement. There's no sound.

But it would be a lie to say that the world didn't stop moving for a moment when you finally kissed him.

You pull away just in time to see Hyunwoo blink dazedly, his glasses pushed crooked and his lips stuck in the same adorable pout they were before. Except now, the pink of his lips shined a bit from your lip balm.

For a second you sat there in disbelief, questioning what had come over you so suddenly and why the hell did kissing your best friend make your heart gallop.

Hyunwoo's eyes slowly peeled open and they fall on your blushed face.

He swallows nervously and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth out of habit, tasting your strawberry chapstick.

Your eyes widen at the action, making the dorkiest and most adorable chuckle bubble up from inside of your best friend.

His eyes are reduced to slits when he smiles and a blush ran rampant over his cherub cheeks so suddenly that you couldn't help but join him.

You expected him to be stunned or repulsed even.

But he's only tickled.

"Well?" you ask timidly, your giggles tapering off as Hyunwoo finds his breath. He shrugs his shoulders with his usual nonchalance, pushing his glasses up by scrunching his nose in his usual way.

"Well...it didn't suck" he grunts and you roll your eyes.

"Gee..thanks." You respond, trying to sound as if you didn't care what he thought of the brief connection.

The cyan sky fills your view as you leaned back to lay against the earth, not caring about the dirt and bugs that could be crawling beneath you.

You don't spare him a glance but you could tell Hyunwoo was staring at you dubiously and you resist the urge to scoff and ask him why.

You knew why.

But the boy says nothing as he slowly eased onto his back beside you to join in on the cloud gazing.

"Hey, Booger?"  Hyunwoo says after several minutes of semi-comfortable silence.

You shift your head in the grass to look over at him.

"Yeah?"

Hyunwoo doesn't reciprocate the regard, remaining with his squinted eyes fixed on the rolling billows of white above him.

His expression give nothing away, as it never did, but you could tell in the way his brow shifted that he was conflicted.

"Thanks." is all he can think to say and you smirk at the sentiment before resuming your gaze up at the sky.

"Don't mention it..."

"So....booger huh?

Your husband's voice interrupts your deeply sated daydream that's disguised as interest in whatever was on the screen of your laptop. You lift your head from your abandoned work to find David walking into the bedroom from the master bathroom.

He's fresh from the shower, wearing a pair of grey belted slacks with no shirt. He shuffles a towel through his damp hair roughly and your eyes glazed up his body, pausing at his face as he regarded you expectedly.

Your brows perk up behind your glasses.

"What was that?" you ask and your husband chuckles dryly as he approached his side of the bed. He exhales as he sits, tossing the smaller towel aside.

"Oh I was just wondering about that nickname your friend called you earlier.." he glances over his shoulder at you, amusement clear in his expression.

It only takes a millisecond for your expression to respond for you, and your eyes roll sardonically as they returned to your computer screen.

"Oh, that. Don't ask." You mutter with a tiny shake of the head and David smirks.

"Well, now Im really curious. I bet there's an interesting story there" he resumes, turning his back to you once more and leaning over towards his dresser.

"Not really. It's just a nickname that Hyunwoo made up and would use to bug me when we were kids. It just kind of stuck." you shrug, tapping away at the keyboard.

David grunts at the response, its indication is clear.

"Sounds like you two have been friends for a while. When did you lose contact?" he follows up as he pulls a sleeveless undershirt over his head.

"Um....back in middle school I think. We were in contact a little in high school and college but I haven't seen him since we were kids," you respond distractedly, glazing over some article you were reviewing and David makes the sound again.

The same little grunt jutting from his diaphragm that has you glancing over at him over your glasses.

You watch your husband's back for a moment, admiring the way his muscles and broad shoulders were complimented by the fit of his undershirt. Your head tilts as you watched him shrug on the navy blue button-up shirt he'd ironed and laid out earlier.

"He's handsome," David says suddenly and you straighten your head with a frown. Before you can respond, David shoots you another amused look over his shoulder as he buttoned his shirt. Your eyes narrow into incredulous slits at the way he was looking at you, almost as if he'd caught your hand in the cookie jar and was waiting for you to admit that you were guilty.

"Is he? Looks the same to me as when we were little.." you respond with a shrug and David scoffs humorlessly as he turned away.

"Right.." he stands, finishing off the top button of his shirt before tucking it in.

You watch David continue to dress himself and pack his suitcase silently, him not even acting as if showering for 30 minutes and wearing cologne to go back to catch a flight on a weeknight wasn't suspicious.

He'd told you before he hopped in the shower of his plans but you felt like probing.

"So tell me again why you're flying out to Chicago this late?" you ask, trying not to sound so accusatory and David furrows his brow at you as he kneeled to tie the staple waxed cotton laces of his dress shoes.

"I thought I told you earlier, babe.... there's an issue with my client. They need some help with their upcoming testimony and this was the best time for them to meet," he responds as casually as he told you before.

That's when the tension set in your jawline and that uneasy feeling of your intuition nagging at you boils in your gut.

He was lying.

You knew he was lying when he'd told you the first time.

For months you'd notice a change in David's behavior. It started subtly. The impromptu out-of-town meetings on weekends or staying at the firm long after business hours were over.

The constant excuses to take a call in another room or leaving his phone face down at the dinner table.

You didnt want to make an issue of it at first. David hadnt given you any reason before to suspect him of being unfaithful and his absence had been something you'd grown used to when he was assigned big cases in the past.

But something was different lately.

"This short of notice though?" you say anyway, just wanting to be humored by his lies. David is finishing up on his other shoe by the time you respond and he nods distractedly as he stood.

"Yep....look I'll try to be back by Friday but you know how these things are babe. This is a big case..everything has to be..."

"...has to be perfect. Yeah. I get it." you interrupt him, not hiding your resentment at all now.

David pauses to look at you, watching the way you were now nose-deep with focus on what was on your computer, refusing to engage any further.

He waits a moment, expecting another question to come as he buttoned his cuffs, but you said nothing.

You were tired of asking questions you knew you wouldn't get the true answer to and part of you felt like he knew it too.

David sighs before turning away and you steal a glance at his back as he collected his luggage, wallet, phone, and keys from the shelf near the door.

"Oh...Don't wait around ok? I don't want you to miss out on any beauty rest. We have that banquet coming up." he stops to say and you mumble something amidst his rushed 'I love you' as he made his exit.

He didn't even bother to kiss you goodbye like he used to, and it admittedly stung despite part of you being grateful.

And as the door closed, the leak in the dam of your emotions springs free and rolls singularly down your cheek.

"Love you too.."

A/N:

Smuts in Part 2😜

[pfirsichspritzer]

Answer the Questions and Tag 5 Fanfic Authors

tagged by @menina89, thank you. Doing this required more introspection than I initially thought, but it was a lot of fun 💕

1 . How did you get into writing fanfiction?

I had my first encounter with fanfiction when I was around 12 or 13 and discovered the (no-longer online) site myfanfiction.de. Back then I was really into twilight and so I created an account and started writing (in German). My first story was like 200 - 400 words per chapter and I think I gave up after 5 - 6 chapters. I posted a few more one-shots but honestly, the site was terrible and overly moderated. Two of my stories got banned for apparently being wrongly rated G and that was pretty frustrating. I wrote a few more stories for myself, but during most of high school and university years I only wrote assignments and papers. I stopped reading fanfiction altogether too for a while and only came back to it when discovering fanfiction.net and then ao3. There were so many stories and so much more engagement on those English sites, which was amazing. I did think about writing a few times but I was intimidated by the thought of doing so in English, which is not my mother tongue, so for years I was simply lurking in the shadows.

Then came 2022, which was a very rough year for me and induced a lot of anxiety, so in autumn after a spontaneous idea for a fic, I just started writing again to cope with some of those feelings. I posted the first chapter for the hell of it, but the Rogue One fandom was so nice and encouraging, that I just kept writing. 

The idea for my first story in the Lockwood & Co. fandom was born because I was looking for a specific story I. When I could not find it, I simply wrote it myself. 

2. How many fandoms have you written in?

Four fandoms I published something in. Probably one or two more, writing just for myself. 

3. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

The first fic on my ao3 account was posted October 2022. 

In my teenage years maybe another 4 years ?

4. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

Definitely read. 

5. What is one way you’ve improved as a writer?

Writing multi-chapters. I used to lose interest in them pretty quickly. But I’ve actually finished 2 in the last one-and-a-half years, which I am actually kind of proud of. 

Other than that, I like to think that my English has gotten better (I hope) and I am less critical of myself, actually enjoying reading my own stories once in a while. 

6. What’s the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

I once went down a rabbit hole researching the Jacobite uprising and the Glencoe massacre, including watching a 1,5 h documentary (for a 1000 word case fic). That was probably the most niche topic. 

Other than that, I often research medical conditions, to not get them completely wrong. I did a lot of research on pregnancy and childbirth, including making a detailed calendar on gestational age and events that should take place. I generally like to make timetables for longer fics, to get the seasons and months right and to not give a month too many days. 😉

7. What’s your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?

I love each and every comment. I maybe tend to reread comments more often of people pointing out things they liked, their favourite part, or swooning over characters. Also, when someone catches a hidden meaning or reference to another chapter, that is really amazing. But honestly, every comment makes my day and puts a huge smile on my face. 🥰

8. What’s the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

Probably struggles with fertility. Other than that I think I’m pretty mainstream.

Though, I wrote a Christmas market one-shot set in the city I live in once, which could be considered niche because of the non anglo-american or British setting. 

9. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

It takes me a long time to write descriptions. Often there is a scene in my head that I want to bring to paper (or computer screen). But then I realize that I lack the vocabulary to formulate the sentences as flowery and beautifully as I’d like. So, I end up googling words for hours. 

10. What is the easiest type?

Fluff. I love writing tender scenes between characters. 

But also Angst, I think. Probably because I am a very anxious person. 

11. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

On my computer. I write in MS word. Then I copy the whole text into google docs, and do the editing there. 

Most ideas come to me while commuting, going for a walk, or showering. So, I either take quick notes on my phone or actually sit down and type it into my laptop, if I have time. Mostly, I end up writing in the evening, but I am actually more productive in the morning (again if there is time) 

12. What is something you’ve been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

Smut. 

13. What made you choose your username?

I chose it, because I am a microbiologist at heart. It could be argued that Saccharomyces cerevisiae, also known as bakers’ yeast, is one of humanity's oldest production animals. It is also one of the first microorganisms I was able to observe under a microscope and I think the cells look adorable. Apparently, someone else thought so too, because the username was already taken. That’s why I chose Saccharomyces_97

Tagging: @alphacrone @woahpip @oceanspray5 @cate-deriana and @the-biscuit-agreement (I'm terribly late and don't know who has done this before. So sorry, in case of double tag 😉 )

[glorious-blackout]

Milex/TLSP/AM Fic Recs 💖

I was inspired by @puzzlebeanficrecs' recent posts to share some of my all-time favourite fics in this wonderful fandom. This is by no means an exhaustive list as the sheer number of amazing works I've read by incredible writers over the past couple of years is too many to count, but here are some fics that I keep going back to time and time again 🥰

1) Somewhere Darker by @elorianna

Alex hasn't slept properly for weeks. His days are plagued with writer's block, and his nights are haunted by strange and frightening dreams. Progress on the second Puppets album has all but ground to a halt.

Miles is haunted too, by the nights that he and Alex have shared, and the boundaries that they've crossed. Now, he's caught in a game of pretence which neither one of them seems destined to win.

But all is not as it appears, and when a working break away from LA turns into a strange misadventure, Alex and Miles must each decide where their real priorities lie, and how much they're willing to risk in order to attain their hearts' desires.

Will they find a way to repair their fragmented relationship? Or will they remain trapped in a nightmare from which neither one of them can ever wake up...?

One of my favourite fics ever and I cannot recommend the sequel 'Baby, He Can Find You' highly enough if you haven't read it yet!

2) All's Well That Ends Well (To End Up With You) by @yellowloid

Asking Miles to marry him is something Alex has been wanting to do for far too long now. After months of meticulous planning, the day has finally come ‒ and yes, maybe he's a bit nervous, but he's firm in his decision, and he can't wait to just get down on one knee and pop the question. Nothing ‒ nothing ‒ is going to get in his way.

The universe begs to differ.

This entire series is so beautifully written, but this particular fic owns my heart. Such a perfect balance between angst and warm fluff.

3) under these lights you look beautiful by @alexturne

Miles got completely lost in his voice. There was a faraway quality to it, like he belonged somewhere else entirely, but somehow had decided to grace them with his presence and Miles felt blessed to be near him if even for a short while. The subtle elegance hidden in his slender figure, the mannerisms of his fingers wrapped around the corners of his notebook. His words were spoken softly, quietly, but without any hesitation or faltering.

Alex is an elusive poet, who has a way with words and Miles is a bartender, who is completely mesmerized.

The queen of beautiful, heartfelt AUs! Every story of hers is like an escape into a warm hug, but this may be her magnum opus.

4) you cannot turn away (but nice try) by @kisameanslight

Alex Turner thought he got over the love of his life, but then they run into each other again a decade later. Whether they’ll be able to let the past go or not, only time will tell.

I have such fond memories of following this story as it came out and being kept on the edge of my seat with each new update. Her Vampire AU 'c'est horrifique!' is equally incredible 💖

5) The 'Amerlie' Series by @lanatural-books

Welcome to the universe of Amerlie.

All parts intertwine and should take you on an interesting adventure.

I can't begin to pick a favourite entry in this series so I'll simply recommend the whole thing. Such an exquisitely written, cosy love story between our favourite two idiots.

6) Joie de Vivre by @gasdancer

"Two young men decamp to rural France to make an album together. It ~is like love."

Possibly the best Baby Puppets fic/series ever written (and there's a lot of competition for that title). I have such a weakness for stories set in France during the recording of TAOTU so of course this series owns my heart.

7) Last night, what we talked about... by @rock-n-roll-fantasy

... it made so much sense... This little story came into being because of three obvious prerequisites: 1. Baby Monkeys were the cutest band in the world 2. Especially Baby Alex 3. Indie bands get drunk from time to time -> Conclusion: At least once, Baby Alex must have got too tipsy to walk back to the tourbus, so his equally tipsy friends had to take care of him. Further conclusion: It must have been very adorable :)

Not Milex, but just pure Baby Monkeys sweetness distilled into one adorably written fic. I'm in love 🥰

There are so many more fics that I love and wish I could mention but I'd probably be here all day. Feel free to add your own fic recs and share your favourite works in the fandom - I'd love to hear about them 💖

[dailyautophagy]

I have off tomorrowwwwwwwsa

we all do probably but

it doesn’t feel like Saturday to me

I’m a big fan of that lol

I don’t have a ramble in me but imma force one out because

This Tom papa special is pretty good but i don’t wanna give my undivided attention to it

He is making jokes about food influencing your behavior and mood and I know he makes his own bread cause I listen to him on podcasts lol and he is just good at his job and doesn’t preach to people he just does good jokes that might make people think twice before eating a bag of cool ranch Doritos because a while after you want to kill yourself a lil

I think I typed that 5 hours ago and then i came back to this to ramble more and then tumblr did a crash and it didn’t save the rambles after this ramble (sad, because decent lol)

there are four married men at my work that go out of their way to be nice to me and like not other people and just

why

i mean know why (and no I ain’t gonna touch it) but like why do they think that’s okay lol are they just being nice out of pity

I know it is not ideal to be aware of motivation existing for every and all things but like it does and therefore no these people are not just being nice to be nice there is a reason

There’s always a reason for everything even if it’s not a good one or

Like I don’t know the reason we evolved brains that are painfully aware of our imminent death but I know there IS ONE lol

I know a lot of the reasons for things now, health issue things, sadnesses and such

Don’t pretend being depressed is just part of life and it won’t be / I think therefore I am / if you say you can you will & if you say you can’t you’re right /

You get it

I am tired

I want to cum

I need to drink water

We’re all the same really lol

The thing about ants not tryna leave the boundaries when someone draws circles around them and then showing all the BORDERS OF COUNTRIES like I get it lol but we need them at this point because without them the places that suck will trickle into the places that are nice - if we had started with no borders everyone would be the same maybe lol or dead

I know nothing John snow don’t fucking listen to me

You can actually :/ i do know a lot of things and it’s not like hidden secret knowledge it’s just not ever addressed lol because guess what’s easier? Popping pills

I don’t like that about the world

It card to find someone without a prescription lol even I smoke weed ffs that kinda counts plant or not

The only person raw dawging life is ….no one.

Find me someone not drinking caffeine and not prescribed anything. I thought did but he sneaks cans of Coca Cola and has prescriptions now (cause he didn’t take care of his damn body)

AND NOW IT IS 3AM

It’s three am I must be lonelyyyy

No it’s actually 411 according the the fucking alarm clock this asshole downstairs is sleeping through lol it’s set for 405 so even I didn’t hear it for a whole 6 minutes .. but I’m not IN THAT ROOM LIKE HE IS. Idk how people sleep through loud noises like that lol DRUGS?!?

I mean dude makes almost 1000 a week and I take 300 because life is expensive and this isn’t a goddamn homeless shelter but he’s somehow always poor lol which like how - I’m buying the groceries

Which I forgot I said if I had to pay for them I wasn’t going to be also preparing all his meals like you want a slave you gotta stock my shit lol

But last night he was napping (last night aka like 5pm yesterday) so I went in the kitchen WHERE I BELONG to make dinner and put dishes away and I made rice (which just requires patience like you gotta wash the rice and then let it boil - I do a cup of rice almost 2 TBSP of oil and 1/2 tsp salt and 1.75 C water and I hate American measurements lol I think that was one way they tried to fuck up our ability to use food as medicine. Cause back in the Florence nightingale time (and location) they had recipes we prolly never even heard of. Remedies and recipes

I get so mad now when people don’t understand that our own body is responsible for our own healing and you just gotta it the right conditions lol like definitely SET broken bones and definitely antibiotics have saved lives but MOST things most illnesses and even most diseases are within our realm of fixing. You don’t need doctors. We didn’t evolve from cavemen because doctors existed. I’d venture to argue that doctors now do more harm than good. Granted we are not taught the things or given the tools to know how to fix ourselves lol but like the truth is out there man lol

Seriously though I wish I found Barbara O’Neill when I was in school. I graduated highschool in 2008 and dropped out of college after people started dying from pills and getting their drugs laced with fentanyl lol but alas my career didn’t require it.. despite everyone else I work with having a college degree.. So LOL at them.

I’d be in legitimate debt instead of just bad at money

Also I swear to fucking god these assholes are going to make me take my days off around Christmas so I don’t get all the OT again lol

Trust me, your omnipotent creator doesn’t get offended by words, and since I’m not a believer like that I’m not actually using the lords name in vain or whatever the fuck …. Wait yes I am because I am using it in an empty or meaningless way … I always thought it meant thinking like “this is gods fault” and being so disappointed by god you then curse him

I don’t know

Spiritual, yes. Religious, no. Religion is responsible for all the wars. And those imaginary lines we decided were worth killing people over. I mean now it’s too late the lines are necessary because some countries are shit holes and some are not but maybe if we had never segregated ourselves we wouldn’t be so different from eachother but TOO LATE what’s done is done and now I don’t want people imported from other hemispheres and TBH neither do their gut biomes you’re supposed to eat the food indigenous to your area lol that’s why I can fuck with everything apples forever like I wasn’t raised on milk I was raised on apple cider lol AND IVE NEVER BROKEN A BONE I’ve really fucked up my elbows and tailbone but nothing to my knowledge ever broke perhaps teeny tiny fractures and for sure bruises but never casts never snaps 🤞 I hope I hope I hope the universe never makes me / I never do anything to warrant that karma lol my brain is the mob btw if I disrespect the order of the world instant karma and thus far it (my karma) has been eerily accurate

If I’m mean or do a rude thing, something bad happens to me lol usually nothing too serious but low key (so low key I would never actually say this to humans esp my sister) but I think my XL abortion is why I don’t have parents - which I know is like not how cancer works lol I know they grew that shit over so many years and it was a direct result of their lifestyle / dietary choices - but yet I still feel that(low key) if I had had that baby they would not be dead.

And that’s a weird way to feel.

But I don’t think there’s anything after this lol because I think energy gets recycled but not SOULS or whatever makes us have a spark of electricity in every cell. Salt water I guess lol shits crazy

There’s so many layers to health and once you realize the building blocks matter

Like do people not liken it to gas grades and cars

Put premium in your body it is worth it and ultimately over time regular will fuck up the engine

Our body our cells our mf dna is made up of what we eat lol well it’s actually nucleotides but NUTRITION AFFECTS HOW WE MAKE NUCLEOTIDES and therefore our dna BUT we cannot change our chromosomes and we cannot fully detox from an mRNA vaccine lol

I should go back to sleep lol

I want to brag about famous people living near me and being on my ro…can’t even say that lol as I don’t wanna dox myself or career

If you know my job don’t fucking tell people please lol they don’t need to know

Suffice it to say that I only own a home because my parents are dead and not because my career is a real money maker lol but

See can’t even brag about the benefits without basically doxing

Doxing is a such a faggot word lol

And concept tbh like mind your business troll

I hope every human responsible for the squirrel euthanized in NEW YORK okay caps gets mugged Or assaulted Or like some not death but like a physically painful thing happen to them because what the fuck is wrong with you lol you did this because you were “concerned”? Well now it’s dead, are you happy? Nothing to be “concerned” about. Fucking disgusting. And obviously voting for Kamala so like

The type of people who are voting blue blindly are the type of people who can’t mind their own business and need the tv to tell them what to believe

Also imagine setting a ballot box on fire and genuinely believing you’re on the right side of history

You don’t have to like trump personally but you do have to respect the fact that millions of us do and we literally elected him to be a presidential candidate despite the television programming everyone to hate him - we don’t watch news lol maybe someone watch fox but like I do think most of us don’t even have cable anymore like

Now tis 6am and I am still not back asleep lol but it’s not dark anymore so I might have to stay awake

I love my nails and I’m so grateful for the glass files the pretty blonde one told me about (I mean I think I knew they existed but I didn’t use them lol) and my nails like so useful so strong so GOOD FOR PICKING MY FACE which is BAD lol I can’t not pick my face I hate this for me

Like I’m probably better off touching my phone cause then I’m not picking my face lol but being perpetually on tumblr feels like not a good thing but also it is the best way to not spend money lol not shopping online OR FIND US IN THE APP or whatever something about capital letters in advertising always made me feel like a robot was yelling at me

Rumble is the best way to watch Barbara I always just listened on SoundCloud whilst at work but the viewing of her and the white board is a much different experience lol not hugely better but a little better

Seinfeld and laying with bobo

Bison steaks!!! I forgot they are amazing and ground bison burgers are kind of not lol so just be aware

I think they’re less fucked with than cows but it’s possible that’s just wishful thinking

End ramble heavy eye shallow breaths maybe i will see you inn the dream world WHO WHO WHO WHO what are you an owl lol sometimes i want to say things just

To be able to make a joke after

And sometimes

I can’t stop wanting

To fix my teeth they are not okay on the bottom like I’m gorgeous my smile is gorgeous but if I talk you can see the bottom teeth are not good and i want it fixed i want it fixed i bought the things to fix them one time and then i did not do it i just used the ugh no doxing me it was like I didn’t truly feel I paid for the jawns?? I assume that’s why i had the gall to waste almost 2k like that

They are useless at this point like my teeth didn’t just go back to how they were before that would be too convenient they’re a new type of screwy now

Whatever I don’t know why I’d use the same people imma prolly try… not byte lol cause I already did byte

But I don’t want one I gotta go to dentist for ever like if I was willing to sit in those chairs and breath those gross airs every month 🤷‍♀️

Okay lay down sleepy lol

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Mokum Part 2 (Alfie Solomons x Reader, Modern AU)

Genre: Romance, Angst, Humour, Modern AU

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Alfie Solomons x Dutch Fem!Reader

Word count: 20K

Warnings: Swearing/Cussing, allusion to eating disorders, lots of self-doubt and melancholy, Alfie being a tooth-rotting fluffy gentleman, vaping, Papa Solomons/Wolfy antics (yes, that is a warning in and of itself).

Summary: Sequel to Mokum Part 1.

Alfie

It’s funny, innit, ‘ow I get to meet the little dove in a city that’s called a safe haven. A place where I don’t ‘ave to worry about the business or me whole bloody kingdom. Yeah... real nice place, Mokum.

Exactly what I saw in a recent revelation too. I saw myself sittin' at a window, a cup of coffee in front on the table. The scenery outside was as evanescent as always, slippin’ through Time and Space like the steam from the coffee. Unsteady, waverin’, fluid. Impossible to catch and anchor, to make a concrete world, an existence to fully live in. 

But there’s also always another presence across from me. I merely assumed the shadow in the other chair was a person, a spectre of myself to forebode the end or Yahweh ‘Imself wantin’ to talk or give me a proper send-off to Hell. Never assume things you aren’t certain of, right, because you end up makin’ big mistakes that way.

I was wrong.

It was Y/N.

Inside the little bubble in that vision, she stopped time and gave me a chance to live. To forget me health and enjoy the minutes I have left.

I want to live slowly with her.

I don’t fully understand yet why or the weird effect she ‘as on me. But what I saw will come to fruition one way or the other. Even if I will only get to enjoy it for a second, right, I will do my damn best to get through that thick pretty ‘ead of ‘ers and ‘ave that moment.

A last cup of coffee with my little dove.

Afterwards, I can let go.

Open the cage and set ‘er free.  

Y/N

There is something wonderful about chasing dreams, an ideal like Love. You keep thinking you are worthy of it until you have it because it’s unfamiliar. The heat seeps into the walls you’ve created to protect yourself, crumbling them bit by bit. Yet you fight to prevent them from collapsing, terrified of the aftermath should it happen.

But sometimes it’s worth the wager, the ruin of those high walls. After all, who knows what might arise from the ashes?

One wolf tried and failed, a false victory on my behalf. To this day I regret I didn’t end the war with my heart and mind sooner.

However, now it’s Alfie who’s knocking at the gates with books and coffee.

And I stand on the other side of the door, twiddling with the key.

The sound of butterfly wings being torn ringing in my ears.

Author’s Note: Oh my days, here it is at long last. My hand definitely slipped with this one. However, I won’t lie, it kinda makes me want to dabble into novellas. Maybe I should properly attempt NaNo this summer. Anyway, cracking on!

I’ve thrown some Russian and Dutch into the mix of languages this works seems to become quite rich in. Nevertheless, as before and the same goes for the use of Yiddish, if you see any mistakes when it comes to Russian, please let me know! I will edit the text immediately.

TH Masterlist

Tag List: @hecatemoon87 @potter-solomons @buttercupsandboys @zablife @babaohhhriley @rose-like-the-phoenix @dreamlandcreations @elijahssuit​ @liliac-dreamer​ @alikaheroes​ @wandawiccan60​ @vir-tual​​​

Shoutout to the fathers who believe the blatant lies of their daughters.

“That’s a nice scarf. Is it new?”

“Yeah, I bought it recently.”

Shoutout to the fathers who don’t ask any relevant questions.

“What are you dressing up for this early?”

“It’s Saturday, remember? The fabric market.”

Shoutout to the fathers who don’t converse with their daughters.

“Ah, right! Well, have fun.”

Here’s a shoutout to their absence, their silence.

And the hidden life we daughters live in it.

There’s only a limited amount of luck in a day, but it seems I used up two days worth yesterday. 

It isn’t unusual nowadays for there to be a strike and it influencing public transport. 

Neither is it for my sister to ask me what I’m up to, although it is strange I have to lie to her. Normally I would never for it is sometimes better to keep my silence rather than tell the sometimes harsh gods-honest truth. However, the question for who the Delftware and white fluffy wolf plushie is came a little too close for comfort.

“A friend. I’m meeting up with them after the fabric market for a pumpkin spice latte.”

Not a full lie. 

A half-truth, half true.

I smiled to myself, temporarily having forgotten the rush to get to Amsterdam Central Station.

Funny, that sounds like something Alfie would say.

Shoutout to the sisters who readily accept your word.

At last I reach the destination. I mingle into the crowd to get off the train, but slip from the throng of bodies once my foot hits the platform. As per usual, they stream right to the escalator, where they form a new queue. It will be a miraculous day if the same happens at the stairs a little ways ahead.

Clutching my bag tight and pulling Alfie’s scarf closer, basking in his familiar scent and grateful for its lingering, I descend the steps into the station hall. No matter how many times I’ve been here, I always have to look both ways to make sure I head in the right direction.

Left.

Right.

Ah, there's Starbucks.

Right it is.

Outside, it’s as chaotic as ever. People walk between the trams, aggravating the drivers to no end. All around there are hellos and goodbyes, fragments of various languages on the wind which interrupt the incessant noise from the construction that is still going on. Then again, maybe it isn’t a far-fetched guess to say it’s started anew because of whatever it is they have broken up terrain for this time.

I scan my surroundings in hopes of finding Alfie. Yesterday it was fairly easy to spot him, towering above the rest of the people in the mostly empty parking lot. However, this is a spot where finding a person whose number you don’t have is like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Anyone with a Vape?

The thought makes me uneasy, worry making my fingers itch with the urge to clutch his arm and beg him to stop smoking. Unfortunately, I am not in a position to ask such a thing from him. After all, we only have today. Besides, why would he listen to a girl he barely knows? 

I fish the white and Deltware wolf plushie I made out of my bag and look wistfully into its beady eyes. Whatever the outcome of today, I have no regrets having put hours into making the wee thing. If anything, it was good practice.

Though I hope it gives him something to remember me by.

A moment.

A memory.  

But you’ll stay with him, won’t you? Until the end.

My breath hitches, my throat constricted by dark melancholy. The world slows down, bodies blurring and melting together, each face as vague and indistinguishable as the next one.

I have to find him. Jaysus fuck, where are you, Wolfy?

It’s ridiculous, a grown young woman clutching a stuffie frantically looking around. But what else can I do, desperate for what little time we have and a reason to apologise?

What if… What if he gave up? Left because I’m late? No, dear gods, no.

A wave of relief lightens the burdens off of my shoulders when I notice a long grey tweed pea coat and wolf cane by the metro entrance. Today’s outfit consists of a navy blue knitted cardigan with a beige tartan blouse underneath, both of them hanging open, and a grey button-up shirt with the top buttons undone. As I approach, I notice some of his chest hair peeking out, dark brown peppered with grey.

Fluffy wolf. Oh my days, where’s your sanity, woman? Your honour?

“Alfie, I’m so sorry, but I got held up at home and the bus was late and then my train got cancelled and-’’ I blabber, my knuckles turning white like the plushie in my hands as my nails dig into it. Even to my own ears, the apology sounds silly.

“Shhh,” he places a hand on my shoulder, “Take a deep breath, darlin’.”

Basking in the warmth of his touch, I inhale deeply and exhale through my mouth.

“There. That’s better, innit?” I nod, indeed feeling a bit better. A twinkle illuminates his eyes. ‘‘You’re wearin’ my scarf. Like it that much?’’

I tug at the fabric, the tips of my ears warmer than before. ‘‘Yeah, it’s- it’s nice. I can return it, though! Right now or I’ll wash it and send it.’’

‘‘Keep it. It looks good on you.’’An eyebrow raised, he shifts his attention to the plushie in my hands. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, right!” I present the half-forgotten surprise gift to him. “I made this for you. As a, let’s say, little ‘thank you’ for yesterday and my leg.”

Alfie takes the plushie from my hands. A smile slowly spreads on his lips as he looks it over. “This little chap needs a name, doesn’t ‘e? I’m not gonna travel with someone without knowing their name, way too dangerous, right, because you don’t know who or what you’re dealin’ with. Then again, yeah… I think I know.”

“Know what? A name?”

“Wolfy the Second,” Alfie proudly declares.

“Who’s the first?”

“Me.”

Is he serious? Judging by that grin, he is. That… That’s kinda cute, though. You’re an idiot.

I press my lips together, cheeks aflame and not from the lingering summer heat. “I see.”

“But ‘e goes by Velvel. Means ‘wolf’ in Yiddish.”

“That’s kinda on the nose, innit?”

A twinkle sparks in his eye at my response. “We could also go with another variant of the name. William or Vladimir, which do you prefer? Or maybe Volf?”

Head tilted, I purse my lips. I snap my fingers at the first idea that pops up. “How about Vladimir Volf?” 

Alfie makes a face.

Okay, maybe not.

“Hey, he’s your travel buddy now. You decide.”

“But you’re ‘is creator. You choose.”

“He’s yours to look after.”

“You brought him into this world. A name is a powerful thin’, makes one whole. The honour is yours.”

“Are we seriously debating a plushie’s name?”

“We wouldn’t ‘ave to if you bloody decided.”

I open and close my mouth, gobsmacked by his argument. “Excuse me? If I decided? I gave him to you.”

“You’re cute when you get angry,” Alfie smirks.

Were you simply trying to rile me up just so you could say that? You… you bloody bastard! You idiot!

“I hate you.”

“Now, now, ‘’ate’ is a strong word, don’t you think?”

I cross my arms. “Well, you won’t like the alternative.”

“Which is?”

Don’t make me say it.

“Y/N,’’ he lowers his voice, slowly yet clearly pronunciating his words, ‘‘what’s the alternative?”

I lose the will to remain defiant when he leans in, my body ready to submit in the face of power. “Meanie.”

Alfie laughs heartily. “You don’t ‘ave a bad bone in your body. I think I’ll go with Velvel.”

“Ve- Vel-’’

“Velvel.”

“With a schwa?” He nods. “Velvel. Yeah, you know what? I like that.”

“That’s decided then, innit?” He stuffs the wee thing into his backpack. “So, my fair guide, what are we goin’ to do today?”

“I thought I’d show you Mokum through my eyes. I mean, the Dam and Rijksmuseum are nice and all, but there’s more to Amsterdam. Although, the Rijks does have a nice art collection, so, if you’d like, I mean, I don’t know how much you like art galleries-’’

“‘Ow do you think I gain inspiration for my designs?”

“Well, uhm…’’ I rub the back of my neck, eyes averted to the ground, ‘‘Internet?”

“Fucking ‘ell, I’m only pullin’ your leg. You’re not wron’, though. ‘‘But,” he rests his hands on the handle of his cane, “if my guide thinks it barbarous for me to miss the, ‘ow’d you say it again?”

“Rijksmuseum, often nicknamed ‘het Rijks’.”

“R- Rey-’’

“Rijks. I can’t really think of a word in English that has a similar ‘ij’ sound.”

“Ij- ij- Rijks. ‘Et Rijks.”

“Not bad, not bad at all,” I beam at him. “But it’s quite a wee bit away from here and I think it might become too much for your leg.”

“Darlin’,” he boops my nose, “stop worryin’ that pretty little ‘ead of yours. I’ll strain meself ‘owever fuckin’ much I want. First things first, though, let’s get you your pumpkin spice latte.”

You remembered! 

However, there is no chance to let myself be swallowed by the storm of butterflies inside my body to drift on their wings, because my companion seems to be in a rush. 

Alfie starts walking ahead, head held high and with a resolute stride like he is on his way to proclaim victory on a battlefield. I scramble after him, gobsmacked by his confidence. “Do you know where you’re going?”

Surely you haven’t spent enough time here in the city centre yet, having been busy with the convention?

Then again, I don’t know what he did before I arrived, after I left, or at night. Who he spent his time with.

I swallow the bitter taste on my tongue and force myself to unclench my jaw while trying to catch up with him. Although his leg is a problem, it doesn’t seem like it is today considering how swift on his feet he is. Alfie is even faster than I am during rush hour and high on caffeine.

“To the Starbucks near the Dam,” he says casually. “It’s the only place I can find ‘ere. You’d expect you’d be able to find anything you desire in a city that claims to be a safe haven.’’

‘‘Maybe your greatest desire right now is a cup of coffee,’’ I say in between breaths, closing the last bit of distance between us with a light jog.

How fast would you be if you were revved up on caffeine and your leg wasn’t hurting? 

Alfie blinks, eyebrows raised with a sudden realisation, and then hums in something that holds the middle between amusement and displeasure. He slows his pace to match mine. ‘‘Could be, yeah, but I still need your guidance. Otherwise, I don’t know where your world is. And I’m done with wanderin’.”

“The bookshops of this city are part of it. If you lose me, look for me there. Or, you know, shoot me a message over IG.”

“Or we could call.” 

He loops his arm through mine to safely guide us across the street, where we come to a halt. Alfie fishes his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, creates a new contact, and hands it to me. Apparently, he named me Funny Accent. “I promise I won’t make unsolicited calls. You ‘ave my word, darlin’.”

I frown and glare at him. “My accent’s not funny.”

“It is, considerin’ who you are.” He bounces on his feet, chuckling. “You give me your number, I change the name.”

“To what?”

“You won’t know till you put it in, won’t ya?”

“I could also not give it at all.” I shrug. “Guess I’ll remain the lass with the funny accent.”

“Except you don’t want to be, do ya?” He tilts his head, full lips pulled into a lop-sided smirk. “Your number, Y/N.”

Grumbling about how he can so easily read me, I fill out my details and hold out his phone to him. “There. Now please change it.”

“Because you ask so nicely,” he purrs. “A promise is a promise.”

Alfie bites his lip, dreaming up a gods-only-know what kind of nickname. Then he nods, types it out, and shows me the screen. “‘Ere. ‘Ow’s that?”

Little dove.

Hardly capable of not giving into the warm fuzzy feeling inside, I nod. “Better.”

“I also have an alternative.”

“Which is?”

A sly smile spreads on his lips. “Let’s first get to know each other a little better and maybe, yeah, if you play your cards right, I’ll tell you.”

“So mean.” I shake my head and place my hands on my hips with feigned hurt. “Here I am, kind enough to be your guide and this is how you treat me.”

“I am terribly sorry, my lady, but we ‘aven’t known each other that long, ‘ave we? Your ‘umble servant merely stated a fact.”

You’re not wrong, though. This is only the third time we’ve seen each other.

“That may be so, but I might forgive your transgression if you give me your number as well, good sir.”

A few people turn their heads and look at us, puzzled by our theatrical bickering. Alfie and I exchange glances. He raises a sarcastic eyebrow and rolls his eyes. I giggle and curl a finger under my nose, head bowed. When I look back at him, he’s grown still, observing me. “What?”

“Nothin’. Never mind, just me old mind goin’ places.” He clears his throat and holds out his hand. “Your phone.”

I pull it out of my bag, create a new contact, and hand the device to him.

“Wolfy?”

Caught red-handed committing a blatant crime of the heart, I turn my face away. “Yeah. I- I can change it.”

“Don’t.” His fingers fly over the screen, typing out his number. Then he hands my phone back to me. “And call me that as much as you like.”

“Wait- You- Hang on, you seriously won’t mind? You know I was being weird when I said that, right?”

Is he for real? Surely he’s joking.

“You were bein’ yourself. And,” he groans, muttering under his breath as he continues, “I kinda like it. Very much.”

“Wolfy,” I tug on his sleeve, lips pulled into a pout and filled with an uncharacteristic amount of bashfulness , “can we please get a pumpkin spice latte now?”

“‘Ow am I supposed to say ‘no’ when you do that, eh?”

“Do what?”

“Entshant mir.” Alfie’s expression brightens when he notices I perfectly understood him. He holds out his arm and instinctively I clutch his bicep. “Let’s go, you clever little dove.”

Unsurprisingly, the coffee shop is stacked to the brim with people, most of them foreigners and teenagers. I let go of his arm and scan the area, but there’s no available seating. “I can check if there’s another branch nearby. Hopefully, we can plop down there. Although, the station has a Starbucks as well and there’s always room.”

“Or we stay ‘ere, I chase a few people away, and we ‘ave a nice and quiet coffee moment together. ‘Ow about that, eh?”

I turn on my heel, searching his face for a clue he doesn’t mean what he said. “You can’t be serious. About the ‘chasing people away’ part, I mean.”

“I am. Really, it’s no trouble.” He runs a hand through my hair. “You get me a cappuccino, right, and I’ll find us a place to sit.”

“No intimidating people. Stay here.’’ I grab his sleeve when he makes to go on his coffee shop war. ‘‘We’ll order together and drink it outside.”

“And where do you think to sit, hm? Maybe I wanna do some people watchin’, a bit of drawin’.”

“What would you draw? Also, no working. It’s your day off.”

“I draw for a livin’, Y/N, but also for pleasure. And maybe,” he leans in close enough for his breath to ghost over my lips, “I want to draw my little dove enjoyin’ her pumpkin spice latte in a nice and cosy environment.”

“You could also do that somewhere else.”

“Nah, my vision is of you, the place ‘ere. It’s good to be stubborn as an artist.” He slips me his card and kisses the tip of my nose. “Go on. Wolfy will find a place to sit.”

With total disregard for the mayhem he unleashed inside me, he mixes into the throng of people. I gawk at him as he does so, my tongue paralyzed, incapable of calling him back.

Which might only make matters worse. 

I’m fairly certain an exploded heart is lethal.

He… He kissed me! The tip of my nose! What- What the fuck?

I flip his card between my fingers, biting my lip to suppress the smile tugging on the corners of my mouth.

That was actually quite nice.

A sweet little fragment to be left with.

The queue moves forward at a snail’s pace, but fast enough for me to start panicking about how to order.

One cappuccino, medium, and one pumpkin spice latte, small. No, wait. One venti, is that the medium size? Or grande? I’ll just say medium. And a tall pumpkin spice latte. With no cream. Or should I go medium too? And a focaccia, to share. Yes.

I repeat the order over and over in my head, silently mouthing the words as inconspicuous as possible. Step by step, the moment approaches.

And passes without too much hassle. Well, without too much stuttering and plenty of effort to maintain my composure. Nevertheless, the order came out much smoother than anticipated.

I join the rest of the people waiting for their drinks, scrolling through Instagram to gain some inspiration for future tattoos. However, from underneath my lashes, I scan the café to look for Alfie. Casually I glance around the space when the former doesn’t work out, my chest tightening with the suspicion I look like a skittish moron.

The feeling fades, though, when I notice him sitting by the window. The sunlight illuminates the grey strands in his hair, which form silver highlights in his tousled locks. Sitting at an angle that allows him to watch everyone from the corner of his eye, he’s drawing on his tablet while Velvel watches over him.

He looks as serene as he did in the harbour yesterday, lost in thought as he taps his Apple pencil against his lips. To be honest, I’m glad that in moments like this he seems removed from the world.

Unable to see other women staring at him.

Lusting after him.

Out for what’s mine.

Although, is he really? Alfie can be humorous, casually playful or for reasons yet unknown. But the kiss on the nose, the argument about Velvel’s name, the way he insisted on being noted down as ‘Wolfy’ in my phone, the whole of yesterday.

Is there an ulterior motive?

Or is it plain fun, something to pass the time?

My breath hitches, my fingers growing cold and restless with the need for warmth.

For assurance.

A safe anchor to ground me in reality.

I wish you were right here, holding my hand.

Like he’s read my mind, Alfie turns in his seat and our eyes meet. Whatever he’s seen in mine makes him ready to get up, hand already on the handle of his cane. Nonetheless, he sits down again when I gesture for him all is well.

Sort of.

“A cappuccino and pumpkin spice latte for Y/N?”

“Yep, that’s me!” I turn and grab the drinks.

“Enjoy.”

It’s funny how the mind works. One minute you’re in the present, and in the next a cruel wave of nostalgia hits you with a half-forgotten memory.

The same drinks.

Chris sitting in one of the worn leather chairs in the middle of this very same Starbucks, drawing in his notebook.

Chimes.

Norigae.

Dark eyes bright with a joyous tenderness I’d never seen before when my ghosts sits down across from him and passes him his cappuccino.

Once again testing his ‘puppy taste buds’ even though he clearly hates coffee, nose scrunched for a moment before he forces himself to drink it anyway.

Laughter.

Our laughter.

The high screeching of the steamer pulls me from my reverie.

Shit, Chris, where are you? Do you… Do you still think about me?

The world turns watery while my heart feels like it’s forced through a shredder.

Are you still in love?

I inhale a shaky breath, mentally chastising myself for such a display of weakness.

Turns out I still am. Have been all along.

I breathe in deeply, blink a couple times, and sniffle.

No, this isn’t fair towards Alfie.

Cruel, isn’t it, how the heart remains engraved with the stories you thought had ended long ago? But it isn’t only the heart.

You remember.

Like the forest does.

Acting as if nothing happened, I rejoin the man by the window’s company and put the medium cup in front of him. “There you go. I also got us something to eat.”

He doesn’t pay the food nor coffee any attention, gaze focused on me. I sit down on the chair next to him and take a sip from my pumpkin spice latte. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he grumbles after yet another moment of scrutiny. He clenches and unclenches his fists, the beads of the bracelets around his wrists rattling. “Nothin’.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

For a while we remain silent. Alfie occasionally sips his coffee when he’s not looking at or poking the cup, nibbling on a piece of focaccia I feed him or drawing on his tablet in the meanwhile. I watch the massive crowd manoeuvring the street, tourists trying to make sense of the trams, some afraid to be run over by a car or bicycle, unaware of the policy of ‘just bloody go’. You need to be daring if you hope to get anywhere in this damned city.

“At this rate, we won’t make it to the Rijks.” I glance at my watch, almost half past one. If we are to have proper lunch, surely there won’t be much time to leisurely wander around the museum.

“Mhm.”

“You don’t mind?”

Alfie shrugs, still drawing. “There’s next time. Besides, you owe me a museum trip now.”

I lean in, not that it will prove I misheard him. “I owe you?”

“Let’s phrase it like this. I, yeah, owe you a museum trip. For today, live slow with me.” He smiles softly. “You always seem so rushed.”

“I’m Dutch, we always have business to conduct. We’re merchants.”

He pokes my head. “I mean up ‘ere, mostly, ya silly girl. But so am I. I think we need to do somethin’ ‘bout it.”

“Oi!” I put my coffee down and rub my forehead. However, my stomach churns when his words dawn on me. “What goes on in yours?”

“You don’t wanna know.” Tenderly he kisses my forehead and hums like a pleased wolf when he nuzzles my nose with his, his whiskers ticklish on my skin. “Live slow with me. Let’s just sit ‘ere, drink coffee. I’ll draw, you read. Velvel would like it too.”

“Attached to him already?” I take a big sip from my latte to swallow the last piece of the bread, basking in its spiced warmth.

“Maybe.’’ Alfie pets Velvel with his Apple pencil, moving it in between his ears. ‘‘I’m still jealous, though.”

“How so?”

“You made ‘im. ‘E knows the power you ‘old. Your touch.”

I put my cup down again and reach out to trace his jaw. His beard is coarse yet smooth against my fingertips as I run them through it. “You do as well.”

Brow knitted, his lashes flutter shut. A low groan erupts from his throat as he leans into the touch. “Only, hm, only like this, yeah. Very shallow.”

His hand snakes up my thigh, leaning on it without putting his whole weight on it. It’s the same kind of grip he used back in Birmingham, securing my leg without hurting me. I suppose it can be said it’s rather thoughtful.

Nevertheless, it tightens when I trace his bottom lip with my thumb, using me for support while he rushes forward. In reflex I flinch and lean back, hands on his shoulders to maintain some distance between us. His breath is shallow, his whole body shivering with restraint. 

Alfie swallows hard and moves his hand to the side to clench the edge of my seat. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Can’t behave, can I?”

I wrap my fingers around his wrist to put his bear-like palm back on my thigh. “I’m not well acquainted with your touch either.”

“You’ve already seen its rough side.” Lips pulled into a straight line, he brushes my cheek. The touch is light, close to jittery. Like he is handling precious porcelain and mortified at the thought of breaking it. “It ain’t swollen. No damage. Did it ‘urt much after I… crossed the line?”

“No, it was okay again by the time we drank coffee.”

“Right.’’ His voice is lacking conviction, cold in its acknowledgement of what happened yesterday.

“It’s okay, Alfie.”

“Right.” He traces the shell of my ear, barely touching it and quick to retract his hand. “Drink your latte. Enjoy the view. Let me do the work and capture this moment, eh.”

So we sit, the chaos of conversations held behind us dimming into a low buzz. Alfie occasionally sips from his cappuccino, but only when I throw him a hint it’s still there. Brow furrowed, his lets his stylus glide over the screen while sometimes mumbling under his breath in Russian, Yiddish, or English. The frown only fades when he glances at me, his features smoothing out into studious wonder.

In the meanwhile, I’m reading on my phone. Nevertheless, it’s difficult to focus on the story when I’m continuously wondering whether Alfie likes books and what he would recommend. Then again, given he’s fascinated by religion and symbolism, I wager he at least likes stories. But does he lean more towards fiction or non-fiction? Or does he prefer the fine line between the two of them?

Outside, Amsterdam gradually transforms into an impossible to navigate sea of people. It’s perhaps the thing I loathe the most about the city, be it here or abroad. It’s gets too busy, too chaotic, too fast. Yet, today, it’s actually less irritating since there’s no obligation to pull us away from here, pop our bubble and throw us back into the throng for work or suchlike.

We sit here, enjoying ourselves in the warm sunlight.

Basking in each other’s presence.

Happily on a date.

Could… could we call it that? I mean, I’m simply his guide, just a friendly local. But, he did kiss my nose. And then there’s what happened just now. Does that mean… no, no, it’s not. This isn’t a-

“Penny for your thoughts?”

I snap out of my reverie, blinking in astonishment. Alfie’s looking at me, head tilted and a frown marring his handsome features. “What do you mean? I was just looking out the window.”

“No, you weren’t. You were too far away for that, darlin’.” He puts his tablet down and leans on the table. “Don’t even think about lyin’. What’re you lookin’ so pale for?”

I squirm in my seat, embarrassed by my own words. “I- I was just wondering if this is… a- a… you know…”

“No, I don’t,” he answers matter-of-fact, but the gleam in his eyes tells me he wants me to use my words.

Like a good girl.

His good little dove.

“Alfie, you know very well what I mean,” I grumble, though even to my own ears I sound like a whining child.

“Go on. Say it.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Say. It. You’re a clever little thing, so use your words.”

“A date,’’ I relent. ‘‘I- I was wondering if this, here, now, is a date.”

“Seems pretty obvious to me.”

“Not to me.” I avert my gaze to my hands, clasped tight in my lap. “I’m a little stupid, so please tell me.”

A big warm palm covers my trembling fingers, a pleased hum vibrating through them. “It is.”

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

It’s okay. I wouldn’t blame you. There was nothing there to begin with, was there?

Above the buzz of conversation and woven into the tunes playing over the speakers, the strange sound I have been hearing since we met resonates in my ears. Like butterfly wings tearing apart.

Rip.

The squeeze he gives my hand was meant to be encouraging, but is firm to the point it hurts. Alfie’s words match the gesture, hasty and desperate despite the effort to keep his emotions under control. “I do. And before your funny little mind is gettin’ ideas again, this is the first time, right, the first time I’m doin’ this. Ollie would be ‘avin’ a bubble if ‘e ‘eard me, but it’s true.”

I look up to take him in, waiting for the lie to break the mask of frantic blue eyes. “You’ve never before-’’

“You’re the first girl, listen, bloody first girl I’ve met up with outside work. The first in a long time, in general.”

“Never married?”

“Never.”

“Partner?”

“I avoid permanent intimacy.”

“Flings?”

“Don’t like ‘em. Only when I couldn’t take care of meself.”

“So, you’re not one for relationships.”

“Don’t mean I’m not willin’ to try.”

“You just said you, and I quote, ‘avoid permanent intimacy’.”

“Maybe I’d like to change that?’’ His features soften, a hopeful calmth smoothing the lines in his face and making him look younger. ‘‘Never simply assume, yeah, makes for dangerous business. You don’t sign a contract you ‘aven’t read, do you?”

“Uhm, well…” Truth be told, there have been times in the past where I blindly signed a contract, simply glad to have a job, a form of income.

He pokes my head again, stressing each word with an additional poke. “You’re indeed a little stupid. Never sign anythin’ without readin’, ya hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah.” I swat his hand away, a dull pain throbbing between my brows.

He grabs my face like he did yesterday, fingers digging into my cheeks. Alfie lowers his voice, a threatening tone lacing his drawl as he leans in, our noses touching. “I asked if you ‘eard me.”

“Y- Yes,” I stammer, caught between panic and the haze caused by the combination of the warmth between my thighs and his presence.

“Yes what?”

“Yes… Alfie?”

“Almost.”

“Yes, Wolfy.”

“Good,” he purrs, loosening his grip. “Glad we’re on the same page again.” 

He packs up, drinks the last of his coffee, and puts Velvel in one of the side pockets of his backpack before he slings it over his shoulder. Cane in hand, he looks at me expectantly. “C’mon. Let’s carry on.”

“Hang on, give me a second.” I finish my coffee too and scramble to my feet. Clutching his arm, we leave the building. I hold him a little tighter as soon as our shoes hit the pavement.

“Busy, innit?”

I hum in agreement.

“Easy to lose each other in.”

I grab him a little tighter, reluctant to let go.

What’re you on about?

“Let go of my arm, darlin’.”

“Why?”

What if I don’t want to?

“Because otherwise you’re bound to lose me in this fuckin’ ant nest. Go on. Let go.”

I do as he says, forcing myself to stop clutching him.

But the hesitation immediately disappears when he grabs my hand, his palm warm and rough against mine. “There. Much better. Now we can’t lose each other.” A satisfied grin spreads on his lips. “Where are we off to?”

In spite of trying to suppress it, I hum contently. Only to crumble in the next second, having forgotten the routes I planned for us on the way here. “Um, well, we have two options. Either we crack on to Scheltema, which is a very large bookstore and go from there. Or, we first go to the fabric store I frequent that’s a little outside the centre and work our way back to Rokin, which is just past the Dam.”

“I like option two. It would be good for me leg to get some exercise. ‘Sides, I’d like to see the little seamstress in her natural ‘abitat.” Lips pursed, he tilts his head. “Though, you’re not that, are ya. You’re more like this goddess who creates life with needle and thread.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as call myself a goddess. I’m just a girl who sews.”

“Dos meydl hot geshafn lebn fun di keytn, vos zi hot opgeshnitn fun dem volf, vos hot zikh farvandlt in a mentsh, gekhidusht fun ir magish.”

A girl… something about a wolf… a human, person, individual, whatever, and something ‘bout magic. C’mon, this isn’t fair.

“What did you just say?” I raise an eyebrow. “Don’t shut me out by switching to a language I don’t understand.”

“Just a little story of the woods. One your words made me think of.” He gestures in the distance with his cane. “Lead on, my fair guide.”

“Not until you tell me what you said.” I try to yank my hand out of his grip, but Alfie holds on tight. A flicker of disappointment flashes over his face, mixed with a strange sentiment I can’t name.

“It’s part of a story me mum used to tell me, an old legend of her people. But it’s also a tale told by the people in Scandinavia. In fact, it’s originally a Norse myth. ‘Owever, it’s a strange one since I found it bore similarities to an Irish myth I ‘eard from a couple of Travellers. It’s almost as if it’s a fusion of things. Then, when I was in Israel, and according to my faith, the story was also linked to the life of one of the prophets.”

“What’s the full story?”

“I’ll tell you some other time, yeah.” A weathered look, which makes him look older than he is and tired to the bone, twists his handsome features. “It’s quite a long one.”

“If you don’t wanna tell me, just say so.”

A shock of butterflies kickstarts my body when he kisses my temple. “Come to England and I’ll tell you. There’s an art piece in the British Museum about it, so I’ll get to make good on that date, eh?”

“Promise?”

“I solemnly swear so, my fair lady.” He gives my hand an encouraging squeeze. “Now, can we carry on?”

“That eager to see me browse a fabric store?”

“It’s part of your world, innit, which also makes it part of your mind. Gives me an inklin’ of ‘ow it works. So of course I am.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “Weirdo.”

“I’m a little funny, yeah.” His gaze turns distant. “Both mad, but sharing the same insanity.”

A gift given to a select few so you told me in Birmingham. I’m glad we both have it.

“C’mon, Wolfy, let’s go.” I gently tug on his arm.

As planned, the nickname brings him back to me.

To us.

Here.

Together.

We navigate the mass of bodies back to the crossing near the central station. Some people make way to let us pass after being glared at by Alfie, who keeps me close at his side and towers over me like a human shield. In the meanwhile, I scurry after him, half hidden in his coat. After making a left, we cross the bridge.

Alfie points at the hotel we pass with his cane. “Currently stayin’ ‘ere. Ain’t bad, but it’s a shame there’s a two-person bed when there’s only one of me.”

I follow his gaze, staring at the edifice too. “Sometimes it’s nice, though, to have a big bed all to yourself.”

“Still feels empty. ‘Aven’t been sleepin’ well ‘cause of it,” he grumbles in response.

There’s more to that comment, isn’t there? I’m hard-pressed to believe you missed me so much it kept you awake.

“You don’t have to anymore.” His brow furrows at my remark, questions floating around his head. I nod to the wee plushie in the side pocket of his backpack. “You got Velvel now.”

A dark chuckle bubbles from his throat. “I do, don’t I? ‘E don’t take up much space, though.”

I would. I’d gladly take his place.

Glancing around the plaza with its brown cafés and restaurant, I clear my throat. “Let’s… let’s move on, eh. We’re almost there, just gotta walk right on through.”

We enter the narrow street leading away from where we stand. It passes through Chinatown and leads towards Nieuwmarkt. It’s a big square where, honouring it’s name, there’s basically always a market going on. In the middle of it stands The Waag, a fifteenth-century building that was once part of the city’s walls and acted as a gate. At one point in time, it’s been a guildhall, museum, anatomical theatre and much more.

Totally did not look it up in the train and rehearsed the entire Wikipedia page.

While telling Alfie about the building, we pass by my favourite boba shop. I point at the sign depicting a bunny drinking a milk tea. “That’s one of my favourite places to get milk tea. Shame we just had coffee, but otherwise I’d say we get us some. Or, well, me. I- I’d quickly go get some boba. I mean, I don’t know if you-’’

Fortunately, as he seemingly tends to do, he saves me from breaking out into a ramble. “Never ‘ad it. That’s that Taiwanese drink, right, the one everyone’s losin’ their damned minds over? The one with balls in it?”

I snort at his description. “Yeah, but those balls are called tapioca pearls. And I used to be a sceptic, but it’s actually quite good. However, I have to be in the mood for it. Especially since it’s also a calorie bomb. It’s definitely good for when you’re low on sugar, though.”

“It ain’t wrong to indulge every once in a while,” he says, the grim twist to his mouth hardly hidden beneath his beard. “Food isn’t meant to be worried ‘bout.”

“I like to watch after what I eat. Nothing wrong with that, right?”

“You’re pretty as you are. There won’t be any worryin’, right, when you eat or drink with me. Not ‘ere, not when you come to Margate, not ever. Only, yeah, I, me, Wolfy, gets to worry. ‘Bout the bill tonight, ‘bout being able to provide properly for you. The only thing you get to worry that little ‘ead of yours about is what you want on your plate later.”

Surprised by the twist in the conversation, I squint as if it would help me discover whether I heard him correctly. Judging by his humourless expression, I did. “I didn’t know we were heading out to dinner.”

“We are. We’re on a date and I want to treat you right. Coffee, dinner, a nice long walk, explorin’ the city. Livin’ slow together.” He comes to a halt, grabs my chin with his free hand and tips it upwards, forcing me to look at him. He tenderly swipes his thumb over my bottom lip, in the same way I did earlier. “There’s little I’m serious about when it ain’t business. But I am ‘bout this. Greed is a sin, but one I seem to be guilty of committin’ yet again.”

“How so?”

“Because I want you all to myself today.” A shadow casts over his face. “But that boy, the one who drew in ‘is notebook, ‘e’s still on your mind too, ain’t ‘e?”

I step away, slipping my hand out of his, and shake my head. “No, he isn’t.”

“Don’t lie to me!’’ Alfie roars, but tones down his volume when he notices how it scares me. Nevertheless, he doesn’t do the same for the rage boiling inside him. ‘‘‘E’s the reason you spaced out. ‘Ow much did you two do? Did ‘e take you out like this? ‘Ow far did you go?”

We likely didn’t even make it past the beginning. I created a false start.

One step forward. 

“What’s ‘is name?”

One step back. 

“Doesn’t matter. None of it does. Yes, I do still miss him sometimes. But I am here with you. With you on my mind.”

“You’re dealin’ with a man now, not a boy” He grabs my sleeve, putting thought into grabbing a part where there’s only fabric, and pulls me to him with enough force to not make me stumble over my own feet. The distance between us closed, Alfie leans in, lets out a deep sigh, and nudges my nose with his in apology. “A man, damned as ‘e is, who will show you what it’s like to be treated right. Because that’s what you want, innit? To be treated well, to be loved right.” He places a hand on my hip and pulls me closer against his warm body, its heat tempting to trigger the uncharacteristic tendency towards complacency I seem to have around him. “By a man older than you. A man with experience. A king.”

I put a hand on his chest to gently push him away. To create some space to breathe.

To make room to forget.

Alfie’s gaze flits my hand to my face. Eyes squeezed shut, he grimaces as he mumbles something in a berating tone under his breath. With a slight tremor in his hand, he envelops my fingers. 

“I’m sorry. It’s just,” he begins, his voice devoid of its former fierceness, “I ‘ave this funny thought. Really funny. So much so I loathe it.”

“I think I know what you mean.” I rub his upper arms. “But we’re going very fast.”

“Perhaps we are. Yet, you deserve to know my mind. At least this part.”

“I… I thought, no, never mind.”

Maybe this won’t be a one-time thing.

“Let me do the thinkin’.” He cups the back of my head to draw me in for a kiss on my forehead. “I want you to simply enjoy yourself today. Which means, no thinkin’, no worryin’, no nothin’. You deserve a break.”

“You do too.”

“I wouldn’t know ‘ow. It’s always one fuckin’ thin’ after another. This comes close to it, though, bein’ ‘ere with you.”

“You have my number now. You could call or text me for a break.” Feeling bold, I move in to hug him. Automatically, he wraps me up in his arms. “When I finally get to England, I want you to take a proper break. Put your feet up, have a glass of rum, unplug.’’

“I still have to teach you ‘ow to shave a man, though.” His chest rumbles with a cheeky chuckle. “I do see it as self-care to put you in me lap for a trim.”

A flush of heat treks through my body as I imagine us sitting on the edge of the tub. His dreamy eyes are focused on me while I glide the razor over his skin. He’d easily be able to pick me up and place me wherever he wants.

“What if I mess up? Cut you?”

“You might, but it won’t matter.” He curls a finger under my chin again to make me look at him. “I won’t get angry, I promise. You’ve never done it before, so ‘ow could I expect you to do it perfectly on the first try, eh?” He frowns as he thoughtfully hums. “Funny.”

“What is?”

“Funny,” he repeats. A moment after, as if pulled from a fevered dream, he blinks. “Anyway, enough dawdlin’. Lead on, my fair guide.”

We move on, crossing the Nieuwmarkt and following one of the streets leading off of it. A little further ahead, we round the corner, stepping onto Nieuwe Hoogstraat.

I point to a shop on our right. “Here we are.”

The fabric store consists of three narrow but deep spaces filled with everything you could possibly need for a sewing or knitting project. In the utter left and utter right space, the walls are lined with rows upon rows of fabric. In the middle, you can find the smaller things like buttons and patches. It’s truly a seamstress’s Valhalla.

“Anythin’ you need in particular?” Alfie asks while trailing behind me.

“I use a specific kind of fluffy fabric for the bottom of my plushies. Should be somewhere round here,” I answer as I nod to the woman behind the till and crack on to the space on the right.

The roll of fabric I’m looking for is in its usual spot on top of the display near the front window. I look at it from where I’m standing, mentally cursing my height. “I hate being small.”

Alfie makes a dissatisfied sound. I raise an eyebrow even though I can already guess the reason behind his displeasure. “Being tiny can be a curse.”

But I’ll admit it’s a blessing when it comes to you.

Without waiting for his response, I grab the nearby ladder and set it up. I set a foot on its lowest step after giving it a slight shake to test whether it’s steady.

From behind, rough fingers warm the back of my neck, giving it a light squeeze. “Let me.”

“Really, it’s no problem.” I turn in his grip, oddly comforted by the hold, but don’t step down. “I’ve done this before.”

His hand falls away to push his cane towards me. “Hold this, darlin’.”

“Alfie, you’re not going up the ladder.”

“Well, I sure ain’t goin’ to stand ‘ere while you’re riskin’ your neck.”

I put another foot on the ladder.

“What’re you doing?” A note of sternness mixed with caution sharpens his voice. He taps the floor in annoyance. “Get down.”

I cross my legs and plop down on one of the steps, staring at him in defiance. “Either it’s me who goes up or you who goes down.”

Alfie cocks a sarcastic eyebrow. “Threatenin’ me, int’ya?”

“For your own good.” I sigh in exasperation and roll my eyes. “Alfie, I’m serious. It’s alright, I got this. Like I said, I’ve done this before.”

“I don’t want you to fall, Y/N. Maybe it’s different for you, but I, yeah, I don’t particularly fancy a trip to the ‘ospital. Even less so to drop you off.”

“Just hold the ladder. It’ll be alright.”

He opens and closes his mouth, but groans when he realises protesting is of no use. Instead, he does as I ask and keeps the ladder steady while I clamber up. 

With a bit of pushing, pulling, and forceful manoeuvring, I manage to pry the roll of fabric free from the pile.

“Look at you, doin’ big girl things,” Alfie calls from below. There’s an oddly proud yet affectionate twinkle in his eyes, which makes my heart somersault.

“Oh, shut it.” The roll of fabric tucked under my arm, I clamber down. 

Alfie puts his arm around my waist once I’m in reach, holding me tight while guiding me down. ‘‘C’mon, nice and safe on the ground. Next time, I’ll go up. No negotiatin’.” 

He continues to grumble under his breath about his leg and how he’s perfectly capable.

I giggle and pat his arm. “Okay, okay, no more ladders. Anyway, this is everything I need. If I start browsing, we’ll be here for quite some time.”

“Wouldn’t mind it.”

You say that now. Just you wait until I get going. You might regret it, love.

“But I want you to see more of my world.” I nudge his shoulder with mine. “My favourite bookshops are next, if you don’t mind.”

“Bookshop?” Alfie perks up.

“You like to read?”

“I do. Whenever I ain’t workin’, I’m down at Foyles. You ever been?”

“The one on Charing Cross Road?”

“Yeah, you know it?”

“I’ve been to London multiple times. ‘Course I know it. It’s one of my favourite spots in town.”

“We could spend a day there, if you fancy.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll show you my world. Not just me kingdom in Camden and Margate.”

I nod, abuzz with excitement. “I’d like that.”

Yay, a bookshop date!

“Good,” he purrs. “Good.”

While we wait as the fabric is being cut, I feel Alfie reaching for my hand again. Hesitantly, his fingers brush past mine, asking for permission. I wrap my fingers around his thumb, feeling like a silly girl yet indescribably pleased. After paying and receiving the plastic bag with the fabric, we step outside.

Me still holding his thumb.

“‘Appy?” Alfie asks once we step into the street.

“I am.”

“Good.”

“Right, now, let me check Maps to see how we need to get to ‘het Spui’.”

“That sounds funny.”

“What? Het Spui?”

“Yeah. What does it mean?”

“Ah dinnae ken.’’ I shrug. ‘‘I just know it’s where the Waterstones and American Book Centre are and that it’s close to Rokin.”

“You ‘ave Waterstones ‘ere?”

“We do, but only in Amsterdam.” I chuckle. “That’s another reason why I like England so much. There are Waterstoneses… Waterstone… multiple branches in one city.”

“Careful now. Don’t let the Irish hear ya.”

“Oi, no one does the book trade like the Irish. Although, I mean, Dublin is the best place bookshop-wise. The rest of the country does it, well, so so at best. Don’t tell them I said the English and Scots do it the best.”

“I won’t,” he muses. “Or else me and the London boys will take care of it.”

“There you go again, protecting me.”

“Because I’m fond on you.” I give him a quizzical look. Alfie squares his shoulders, each word perfectly clear and proud. “Yeah, you ‘eard me and I’ve no shame sayin’ it. I’m fond of ya, Y/N.’’

Regardless of it being nice to hear, the confession leaves me conflicted. I turn my face away from him, focusing on the road ahead. “Hm.”

You barely know me. We’re talking of me visiting you in England after only having met twice. Of dates like we’re a thing. I’m holding your hand like this because you make me happy, but I’m scared shitless at the same time.

Everything comes at a price and those who say they’ll stay or like you will end up leaving. People can’t be trusted, especially men. 

Men like him, who come on strong to women half their age making promises of a rosy future. And if they’re handsome, it makes you question where the line is. Perhaps, this time it’s different. This time he’s serious.

Until you get to the part where you’re talked into sex, the only thing they’ve wanted from you all along. Afterwards, you’re either discarded or as a piece of meat to satisfy their urges.

Chris wasn’t like that.

Or perhaps he is and I simply never found out. 

I suppose the walls I kept up left me too guarded, too blind to the possibilities with a wolf boy I used to call mine. Or maybe the solemn fort I have locked myself in has protected me from a gruesome yet sad truth.

Guess I’ll never find out.

Something squeezes the back of my neck.

My fingers hold air.

“… you, little dove?”

I frown, surprised to find ourselves on Rokin. It’s strange how your subconscious can be there and nowhere at the same time. How your body can move in a set direction while your mind wanders.

“Sorry, you were saying?” To hopefully add credit to my show of casualness, I look left and right to situate us.

“I wasn’t sayin’ anythin’. I was askin’ you where you were.”

“Just lost in thought.” I grab his thumb again and point across the street. “Right. We need to cross the road and take one of the side alleys.”

“Sure you were,” Alfie says, ignoring my directions and evidently not done with the topic. All the same, he lets me guide him. “Lyin’, right, ain’t proper. Now, then, tell me what funny thought you ‘ad.”

Halfway.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, it does!” Little specks of spittle fly through the air while some get stuck in his beard.

Safely across.

“It fuckin’ matters to me! Look at me. I said,” he grabs my face like he did earlier today when I don’t, coercing me into looking at him, “look at me. I, yeah, ‘ave been nothin’ but ‘onest with you. I care, right? I bloody care about you.”

“You’re only saying that.”

“Why would I, eh? Why would I?”

I pry myself loose, hardly finding any resistance as I wrap my fingers around his wrist and push him away. In hopes of concealing my shaking shoulders, trembling with hardly contained sobs, I try to keep my voice even. Nonetheless, I can’t prevent it from cracking with each word. “This is only a joke, innit? Just some charade to talk me into sex.”

Eyes wide with disbelief, he gawks at me. “You think that’s what this is?”

One step forward.

One step back.

“You fuckin’ think that?”

“A girl can’t be too careful around men, Alfie.”

“If I wanted sex, right, only sex, then tell me why I feel like this. Why, right now, it feels like me chest is being ripped open and me ticker pulled out of it, put right through the fuckin’ shredder. Why I feel like there’s a brick in me stomach and a ball of cotton in me throat each time you drift off or seem upset. Fuckin’ tell me!” His chest rises and falls in quick succession, nostrils flaring and panting plush lips parted. There’s a crack in his voice too when he continues. “Tell me because I don’t understand it.”

“You feel that way?’’ I sniffle, blinking away the tears obscuring my vision. ‘‘You’re not pulling my leg or anything?”

Give me one thing to believe. Prove to me I’m wrong, that it’s different this time. That this is real. Legit.

“Fuck, Y/N! I would never lie to you. I swear so on every holy book in this damned world.” He points at the bag in my hands, his rings reflecting the sunlight. “If you don’t believe me, smack me with that. If you do, come closer.”

I’m a little stupid.

So, after a moment of assessing him, I step forward.

And place my hands in his as he closes the distance.

“Can this old chap be really selfish?”

“Don’t cross the line.”

Alfie leans in, nudging my nose with his. Our lips brush past each other, his whiskers ticklish against mine. “Is this?”

“No.”

His lips are soft and tender, genuine in their affection. I answer the kiss in kind and cup his cheek, feeling how he leans into the touch. I clutch his shirt, holding on tight to the fabric with determined fists. A warm palm rests on the small of my back, pulling me further against him.

Further into our own world.

From which we have to retreat sooner than expected.

He’s the one to break away, to let the moment end with a shivery breath longing for more and a kiss on the tip of my nose. “I’d never touch you, yeah, without your permission. I’ll wait till you’re ready, but know this ain’t about sex for me. I won’t lie and say it wouldn’t be a nice addition to what we ‘ave. But this, right ‘ere, us, it’s about you. That kiss? Because I like you. Fuckin’ ‘ell, that don’t even begin to describe it.”

“Same here.”

“Yeah, you like me too?”

I bite my lip and nod.

He lets out a pleased sound holding the middle between an amused chuckle and satisfied hum. “Glad to ‘ear it because I ‘ave plans for us. Speakin’ of which, I ‘ave one right now. One which involves you givin’ me one more?’’ He taps his slightly swollen lips. ‘‘For the road?”

“Sure,” I say, smiling into the gentle peck he steals.

“Can’t get too greedy.”

Fingers entwined, we leave the argument behind us and crack on with renewed vigour.

On to the next moment.

Since Alfie is more than familiar with Waterstones, I propose going to The American Book Centre first. I hear him take in a short sharp breath like he’s preparing himself for a difficult task before he makes to cross the plaza. Using my body, I gently redirect us to walk around it instead. 

Brows knitted together, he looks down at me.

“The cobblestones,” I point to the side. “They’re uneven.”

He lightly squeezes my hand as he hums in gratitude.

We walk towards the bookshop, where Alfie holds the front door open for me. I shuffle through the small opening and he follows closely behind.

Before us is a big round open space lined with magazines. A man is leaving through a gardening-related one while a girl sits on the steps with the latest issue of a gossip one. On our left are tables and a small section with books related to tattoos and the art of tattooing. In front of us and to the right, next to the tills, are racks with stationary.

A soft groan falls from his lips when Alfie spots the big staircase leading to the first floor. Walking already takes a heavy toll on his leg, so I can only imagine the amount of pain he has to suffer through when climbing stairs. A stone sinks to the bottom of my stomach when I recall how he had to pay the price for straining himself too much yesterday.

And I refuse to put him through that again.

“There’s a lift.” I nod to the other side of the shop.

“Would you…” he begins, hesitant yet suggestive. Though I know little about him, I have noticed it’s difficult for him to admit his weaknesses. 

“I’m claustrophobic, but I’ll brave it for you.”

He pets my hair and wraps his fingers around the back of my neck. “Attagirl.”

I let out the breath I’d been holding when we arrive on the first floor.

“Proud of ya,” Alfie murmurs into my hair, kissing the top of my head.

“I’m glad to be out in the open again, not gonna lie. Anyways, here we have fantasy, sci-fi, crime, thrillers, young adult and the romance section. Upstairs are the non-fiction, general fiction, spiritual, drama, poetry sections.” The mechanical whirring of a coffee grinder resonates loudly in the background. “Right, there’s also a wee café here.”

He looks around, leaning on his cane. “What do you like to read, darlin’?”

A warm fuzzy feeling spreads in my chest at his bright expression. It would seem we are both in our natural habitats, a place where our worlds overlap. 

“Well, I’ve found myself drawn more towards general fiction since my studies. Even then, though, I still pick up canon literature. Call me a bloody classist, but they don’t write like the writers of old anymore.” I smile wistfully as we walk among the shelves and navigate among the other customers. “They don’t write letters either.”

“What did you study?”

“English literature with a particular interest in Irish lit.”

“What a surprise,” he chuckles.

“Oi, say what you will, but it’s hard for me to find anyone who writes like W.B. Yeats and James Joyce.”

“Favourite books?”

“A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and The Picture of Dorian Gray. Hands down the best. And my professor was right about the former. It was life-changing.” A wave of peace and contentment washes over me as I recall the feelings the novel instigated, my mind filled with the memories of the moments I could identify myself in Stephen Dedalus. “I finally felt understood. Found someone with the same vision. I felt… legit? No, that’s not the word. Ehm, what’s it called again when you feel like you finally matter? Are part of something?”

“Validated?”

“Yes! Validated. I felt validated. I should re-read it, actually.”

“Out of pleasure or,’’ his shoulders drop as he slows his pace, ‘‘a need to be accepted?”

“Both, perhaps,” I admit.

Because the world has little to no place for people like me. Not anymore.

“I see you.” We come to a halt at the end of the rampway. Alfie lets go of my hand to brush my cheek. “I am curious about your mind. Your vision. The artist within.”

“She’s a little twisted.”

“Likely less than me.”

“Read Acts of Desperation. I think it could enlighten you a little about how she thinks and feels.”

“Maybe I should pick it up then, eh, if we ‘appen to find it.”

We saunter back over to the grand staircase to check out the romance section. Usually I skip it, but occasionally I like to see what titles are currently being published and what type of stories publishers are apparently looking for.

“Anything you recommend?”

“Ollie would be havin’ a bubble if ‘e ‘eard this, but” Alfie sighs and bites his lip, “I like Jenny Colgan’s books.”

I blink, gobsmacked by his answer. “Jenny Colgan? Small town romances concerned with bakeries and bookshops Jenny Colgan?”

He shifts his weight, groaning in discomfort. “Don’t tell anyone, alright? It’s a guilty pleasure. A more innocent vice, basically. But otherwise I can recommend The Half Drowned King by Linnea Hartsuyker or The Last Kingdom by Bernard Cornwell. Recently I also picked up this book called River Kings. Can’t remember who wrote it. It tracks the heritage of a certain bead and shines a light on the Viking expeditions to the east.”

Unable to help myself, I clap my hands in excitement. “That one’s so good!”

“You read it?”

“Yeah, picked it up during my last trip to Ireland. In Cork. I normally don’t like non-fiction, but give me anything to do with Vikings and you make me one happy lass.” I calm down a bit and lead him back up the ramp forming the walkway between the sci-fi, horror, and fantasy sections. “I don’t really like fantasy. High fantasy, that is. Take Ben Aaronovitch’s books, for example. Those I like. In fact, I recommend them.”

Alfie scans the shelves, focusing in on the row with the author’s name. “Which one’s the first? Or are they standalones?”

“They’re a series of standalones connected by a red thread. The first is called Rivers of London.”

“This one, then.” He picks the title off of the shelf and fishes a pair of glasses from his backpack to read the backside. “Interesting. I’m also not one for fantasy, but I’ll admit this sounds good.”

Oh, come on. This ain’t fair. How? How does he look so fucking good in glasses?

Unashamed, I gawk at him. First a kiss and a somewhat love confession and now this is being thrown at me. I swear, if someone is going to pinch me and I jolt awake to find this was all a dream, I will go ballistic.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” He squints as he reads me, looking for an answer before I can give it.

“Your glasses.” I point at the thin golden frame on his nose. “I didn’t know you had them.”

“I’m far-sighted, so these readin’ glasses take the strain off me eyes. Also got a blue-light filter in ‘em.”

“Staring a lot at the screen, eh?”

“More than you think. When I’m not drawing, I have either a book or my e-reader in me ‘ands. There’s somethin’ about readin’ late into the night. The world’s silent. Even this fuckin’ city finally calms down a bit the same way London tends to go quiet at nightfall.”

“I really need to get back into reading. I mean, I keep buying books yet always end up never reading them. Or, rather, I end up reading a few. My bank account’s not happy.”

We head back to the lift, taking the walkway instead of the wee stairs to spare Alfie’s leg. While waiting, I grab his thumb, but evidently Alfie has other ideas and weaves his fingers through mine. 

Inside the tiny cabin, he gives them an encouraging squeeze and another one when we step out onto the second floor. 

As Alfie browses the history section, I explore the general fiction section. As per usual, I stop in my tracks to scan the shelves with the books which are on sale. After all, there could be an absolute steal among them. Furthermore, it seems I’m in luck because the three racks are well-stocked. Crouched in front of it, I pluck out a few titles to read their backsides and put a few aside to take with me.

“You know your account ain’t ‘appy with ya. Yet ‘ere you are, five books in your little hands,” a familiar raspy voice remarks, stern yet amused.

My heart somersaults into next week as my soul leaves my body. I scramble to my feet, jaw clenched and ears ablaze with shame. “They’re discounted.”

“I bet you say that every time you’re ‘ere.

I nuzzle into the scarf around my neck to hide my rosy cheeks. “Shut up.”

“C’mon, give me those.” He beckons for me to give him the books in my hands.

I take a step back. “No.”

He rests his hands on the silver wolf head handle of his cane. “At least four out of five will gather dust on your shelves. Said so yourself, didn’t ya? Go on. Pick one and put the rest back.”

“Hang on a minute.”

“I’m keeping your finances ‘ealthy, darlin’. One book. Pick wisely.”

“Alfie.” Sullen like a child denied a piece of candy, I pout.

“Don’t be silly.” He tilts my chin upwards, voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “Wolfy knows best.”

“Why do you have to be right?” I turn away and crouch to do as he says.

After a while of making comparisons, asking myself how likely I’ll actually be to read it, and comparing prices, I pick Nightshade by Annalena McAfee. At this point you can almost call it typical how I find myself drawn to the tormented artist.

“This one.” I hold up the novel.

“Let me know whether it’s good. In fact, never ‘esitate to tell me ‘bout what you’re readin’. Don’t matter if it’s my taste or not.”

“The same goes for you.” I narrow my eyes as a thought pops up. “Hey, just as a question, considering what you told me. Did… You tattooed me without glasses.”

“I wore lenses that day. Tried them out, really. Optician said I technically don’t need ‘em, but I thought I’d give them a spin anyway. Don’t ya worry. I would never tattoo someone if I’m as blind as Sheishet.’’

“And?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “And what?”

“Do you prefer them? The lenses, I mean.”

Gods, he’s absolute hubby material.

“Would you?”

“No,” I shyly admit, sharing his taste.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t.” He smiles brightly. “So Wolfy will stick to glasses.”

We head downstairs to check out. As at Starbucks, it’s him who pays. 

I try to get him to hand over his purchases - two books on Vikings in England - but fail. In Alfie’s words, I should think of my wallet rather than him. Also, ‘‘it ain’t proper for a woman to pay when she’s on a date with a gentleman, innit?’’

The attempt to tap my phone on the pin machine before he can with his card is as successful, kept back by the waist by a bear-like hand.

Purchases paid for, we head to the wee café upstairs. Alfie buys us two cappuccinos and a scone to share. Sighing in pure contentment, he plops down in the seat across from me. A dreamy look in his eyes, he gazes out through the window to the world below.

“Happy?”

“I am,” he mumbles. “A déja vu is a strange thing, innit? You’re in a moment that may or may not ‘ave ‘appened, maybe somethin’ you dreamt about in your sleep or in a daydream. Or it could be a moment your soul has lived, remembers, right, from a past life.”

“Did you have one just now?”

“I think I did… yeah.” He nods, slowly descending into one of the deep rabbit holes his thoughts create. “Wrong location, though. Different. Always different. Sometimes the same.”

“Can you recall anything else? Or, rather, do you have an inkling of what else goes on, went on, usually?”

“Always the same yet different,” he mumbles in response, cryptic.

I cut the scone in two and push the plate against his forearm to grab his attention. “Eat. If you don’t, I’ll eat the whole thing.”

“Crack on.” Features soft, he turns away from the window.

“I’m only joking. That focaccia wasn’t proper lunch. C’mon, dig in.”

“I’m not pullin’ your leg, Y/N. Eat.” He fishes his tablet from his backpack, ready to retreat in his own bubble again albeit with one foot across the border of reality. 

To stay with me too. 

My mouth dries up, throat constricted with his words. Alfie glances at me through his lashes, exhales, and reaches out to bring my fingers to his lips. The steam from our coffees is warm against my palm. “Don’t ya worry, I’ll eat tonight.”

“You’re beautiful,” I blurt out.

“What?”

“You don’t have to watch your figure.”

“Y/N…”

“You’re perfect as you are.” I sit up a bit to lean over the table and caress his cheek. “Scruffy wolf.”

“You forget, little darlin’, the old wolf is a king. That is, anywhere but when ‘e’s with the little dove.”

“What is he then?”

“A humble servant.” He nuzzles my palm. “A guard dog. Faithful.”

I retract my hand to take a sip of coffee. It’s warm, the milk feather soft and foamy.

A comfortable silence naturally descends between us. He draws while I look out the window, gazing into the distance.

If this is what living slow is like, there is no other type of life I’d want. 

“Alfie, I’m scared,” I say after a while.

He looks up from his tablet, eyebrows raised. “Of what?”

“Of going home.’’ Biting my lip, I stare into my cappuccino. ‘‘Is it selfish of me to say I don’t want to?”

“No,” he sits back and shakes his head, “it ain’t.”

“I think my parents have figured out by now I’m not at the fabric market.”

“Would it help if I introduce myself to them?”

“You don’t have to. We haven’t known each other that long.”

“Afraid I won’t behave?” His eyes are alight with mischief as a cheeky grin slowly spreads on his lips.

“Hm, maybe a little bit.”

Besides, how am I gonna explain you, a forty-five year old tattoo artist? Although, rather, the question is how or whether I’ll be able to explain how happy you make me.

And convince them and myself both that this is real.

“Don’t worry, I will.” He runs his fingers through his beard, already cooking up a plan. “Gonna have to do somethin’ ‘bout this. Gotta present the perfect picture, ain’t I?”

“Don’t shave. I like your beard.” Though I have nothing against clean-shaven men, I have no shame in admitting I like them better when they have facial hair. Especially when it’s more than a little scruff.

The way Alfie does it.

“I think I’ll have to go short and go with a stubble. It’ll only be for a short while, Y/N. You’ll get your scruffy wolf back, don’t ya worry.”

“It’s fine as it is,’’ I say, making an effort to keep my voice low. ‘‘Looks great, in fact.”

He chuckles at my determination. “I’m not sure your parents would agree.”

“They wouldn’t if it was like this bushy, unkempt wizard beard.”

“So, the previous version. What I had in Birmingham.”

“What? No! That wasn’t a wizard beard.”

“It was kinda unkempt, though. Rushed to get to the studio and be on time for you.”

“It was fine. And you didn’t.”

Don’t start bootlicking. It’ll get you nowhere. ‘Sides, you’ve likely used that line before.

“I did. Well, not at first, since I didn’t know what kind of person I’d be dealin’ with. But,” his expression softens with warm tenderness, “that was before the wolf knew what the little dove was like.”

I tap the sides of my cup, head bowed to hide the way I still can’t fully trust him. That I’m conflicted by his words, kisses, and other gestures. “And now?”

Where is the line? Why can’t I stop awaiting the moment this will all fall apart?

“Now ‘e’s gonna sit back and draw ‘is little dove while she eats a scone and reads. Slow day, remember?”

“I do.” His expression falters, devoid of emotion as his eyes glaze over. “Alfie?”

After a moment of not getting a response and too desperate to think about proper manners, I snap my fingers. “Alfie? You with me?”

“Yeah… yeah, I am,” he drawls, slowly returning to wherever his mind wandered. “Just ‘ad another dèja vu.”

“Or low blood sugar.” I cut the scone in half. “Please eat. If not the whole thing, at least eat bloody half of it. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can find a good place for dinner, eh.”

He leans in to wedge the half between his teeth, a few crumbs crumbling down into his beard.

“Charming,” I snort. “By the way, just in case, you eat kosher, right?”

“Mhm,” Alfie answers, mouth full.

“Good to know.”

While he draws, I scour the Internet for a restaurant that offers food according to our dietary wishes. Although, I’m more critical about whether they have kosher food rather than plenty vegetarian or vegan options. After some thorough research and a quick glance at the menu, having decided to forego my own diet, I settle for Meat Me Kosher.

“Alfie?”

“Hm?” He briefly stops drawing to show he’s heard me. Without looking up from his tablet, he signals with his stylus he’s waiting for me to continue.

“Coffee.”

“Mh,” he hums, taking a moment to nip at the cappuccino that’s likely to have gone cold in the meantime. Or, with luck, it’s still lukewarm.

I pretend to divulge in the novel I bought and my half of the scone. However, in reality, I’m glad Alfie’s caught up in his own bubble because it gives me the opportunity to unashamedly watch him. Lips pursed or moving with inaudible words, he looks down at his tablet like the masters of old did at their canvases. The pencil glides over the screen, his thick fingers occasionally tapping it in annoyance when something isn’t as envisioned.

After a while, he lets out a deep sigh and puts his tablet into his bag again. In its stead, he pulls out the book I recommended him, puts it on the table, and takes another sip of his cappuccino. Immediately, he scowls. “Pizdets.”

“What?” Feigning innocence, I glance at him from over the edge of my book.

“Gone cold. Be right back.” He gets up, briefly places his hand on my head, and walks over to the counter to order a new cappuccino.

Looking like a satisfied bear, he returns a few moments later.

“Happy?”

“Almost.”

“Almost?” I repeat, incredulous.

What’s missing? Did I do anything wrong? Is there something I can do?

“Yeah,” he mumbles as he takes a sip. Humming in delight, chuffed with the warm drink, he sits down and reaches out. “Give me your ‘and.”

Wary of his intention, I slowly do as he says. 

My breath hitches when his warm palm encloses my fingers and gives them a light squeeze. “Now I am.”

Albeit a bit clumsy, we continue to sit like that while we read, drink coffee, and, eventually, finish the scone.

Barely do we let go of each other, closely glued at the hip while we navigate Amsterdam. Even as we arrive at the restaurant, I’m still holding onto him. 

Alfie appreciates I've chosen a kosher place, but something in the way he orders for us both and shares his food with me betrays his own thoughts. He basically feeds me the entire falafel table we have as a starter, barely touching it himself. 

“‘Ere, try this,” he says, holding out his fork when our mains are served.

And again it trembles.

“Your hand’s shaking,” I remark, leaning in to snag the piece of pargiot off of it.

“Is it? ‘Aven’t noticed.”

“What’s eating at you?”

“Well, currently, you. You’re eatin’ off me fork, aren’t ya?” The feigned amusement fades when I give him a displeased look. He clears his throat and wipes his mouth on his napkin. “Right. First, yeah, let me say I appreciate it you goin’ out of your way for me. You truly didn’t ‘ave to pick a kosher place.”

“Course I did. Gotta take your diet into account. We’re out together. Can’t just pick any place without checking whether you’d be able to eat anything.”

“But you need to account for yourself too, Y/N. Do you ‘onestly like the food ‘ere? You weren’t so keen anymore when you saw the menu, were ya?”

“I normally eat vegetarian, true, but not out of any convictions. So, you know, every once in a while, I’ll gladly deviate. Besides, there are some tasty things on the menu I can eat. Sure, it’s only the starters, but, really, I don’t mind. Plus, this is some proper food.”

My words offer little comfort. Knuckles white with restrained violent sombreness, he clenches his cutlery. “Don’t put me before yourself.”

“Neither should you,” I say, calmly cutting the chicken leg on my plate.

But the act soon falls apart when he slams his fist on the table. A few people turn in their seats, curious about what is going on at our table. However, as at the convention, it only takes a deadly glare to make them mind their own business again.

Lips pulled into a straight line, Alfie turns his ice cold gaze to me. A shiver runs down my spine, triggering the fight or flight instinct. Nonetheless, I clench my jaw and make an effort to control my breathing. I have to stay put, to be brave. After all, he won’t hurt me.

I hope.

“Fignya! I will, whether you like it or not.”

Stop acting like you mean it. It feels good to be with you, but this won’t last. It isn’t real, despite what you said.

“What language is that?” Feigning ignorance, I take a sip from my ginger ale.

“‘Ow’d you mean?”

“That word before the statement with which, mind you, I strongly disagree.”

“Russian.’’ A faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, he sits back. His rigid posture loosens as the tension leaves his body. ‘‘Thought I’d stir it up a bit and pose my clever little dove another challenge.”

“As if I’m that good at Yiddish.”

“You seem to understand me very well when I speak it, though. Don’t discredit yourself. You’re a smart woman.”

“I guess I’m posing you quite the challenge too.” Absent-mindedly, I tap the sides of my glass.

“Are you? I wasn’t aware of one.”

“Loving me. Or, rather, being with me like this when I keep having these nagging doubts I can’t seem to silence. I know what you said and I desperately want to believe you, but… you know… I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m, yeah… sorry for being such a downer.”

“Oh, Y/N, no.” Alfie gets up, face pale with anguish and saunters over to crouch at my side. A grimace briefly flashes over his face when a fresh surge of pain rushes through his leg. “I’m ‘avin’ a wonderful time, for the first time in a very, very bloody long while. And I’d not want, right, to spend this time with anyone, any-fuckin’-one but you. I’ll put myself before you because I want to. Because if there’s one thing I can and want to do in this damned world, it’s to take care of you. I’m fond of you, my dear. Never doubt that.” He pokes my head, but the smile on his lips does not quite reach his eyes. “I’ll say it every time we meet. Fuck, I’ll tell you until the words finally register in that funny and pretty little ‘ead of yours. And even after it ‘as, I’ll tell ya.”

I lift one of his hands from my knee and place it against my cheek, hands wrapped around his wrist to keep it in place. The honesty in his voice isn’t a farce, too determined and true to be an act. It renders me silent, only capable of showing I am listening through gestures like this.

“This is real, yeah? You. Me. Us ‘ere. All real.” With gentle force he pulls me towards him, his nose giving mine an accidental nudge when we’re closer than he evidently planned. In his defence, he isn’t wearing glasses. “All real.”

“All real,” I repeat, blinking away the tears brimming on my lashes.

“Attagirl.”

During the rest of our dinner we talk about the small things like books we’ve read and places we’d like to visit one day. Alfie regales me with stories of his travels around the world, be it because of a guest spot or for leisure. One day, he hopes to travel to Japan.

Eventually, the conversation turns to conventions. After all, I have to know when the next time will be when we can meet.

“There’s a tattoo convention in Utrecht in October. Halloween weekend,” I say while a server clears our table and the wait for dessert begins.

“Too short notice. Got appointments, I think. Ollie knows for sure. Keeps my agenda.”

“Brussels in November?” There are no other ones I’ll be able to visit that still take place this year. The anticipation of a negative answer creates a heavy weight in my chest, slowly crushing my heart.

“Would you like me to?” His eyes glisten when I nod, frantic in my desperation. A slow lopsided smirk spreads on his lips. “Then I’ll make it ‘appen.”

Alfie is the one to pay the bill yet again, hijacking the server’s pin machine by playfully dismissing my debit card with a waving gesture. Afterwards, he helps me into my jacket before putting on his coat and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Holding my hand, we walk into the chill evening air to make the journey back to his hotel and the central station.

Along the way, he pulls out his Vape. Nevertheless, whereas he used it without care yesterday, he now thumbs the device and puts it away.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” I say, having noticed his hesitation.

“Nah, I think I should quit. Vices aren’t good, Y/N. They’ll only tear you asunder.”

The homebound journey comes to an end too soon for in about half an hour we’ve reached the imposing and elegant building of the hotel Alfie’s staying at.

“Well, I guess this is it.” We come to a halt in front of the stairs leading up to the entrance. I let go of his hand, turn, and look up at him. “Thank you for today. I had- I really had fun.”

For the first time in a very long while.

The last time was with a wolf boy at my side.

“Glad to ‘ear it.” He spreads his arms. “Can I get a ‘ug as a reward?”

I burrow into his coat as he wraps me up in his warm strong arms. For a few moments we remain like that, standing there yet adrift in our own world. An idyllic moment to cherish later.

Although reluctant, I eventually force myself to put some distance between us. Placing my hands on his chest to use as leverage, I gently slip from his grasp. If I don’t, I fear neither of us would ever leave. “I should go home.”

“Don’t.”

“Alfie, I don’t have any pyjamas or toothpaste or-’’

“No need to worry, darlin’. I think we can remedy that.”

He drags me along into the hotel lobby. My common sense urges me to resist, but the need for more time together and unwillingness to leave makes me pliable. Ready to give into our shared whim.

“Uhm, sir, I’m sorry, but no guests are allowed after ten o’clock,” the front desk worker says, standing up as she trails our movements towards the elevator.

“Guest?” Alfie stops in his tracks and turns towards the poor woman, who goes pale the moment his eyes centre on her. “She ain’t no guest. This ‘ere, yeah,” he points at me, half hidden behind him, “is my companion. Simply isn’t checked in, but I’m sure that won’t be a problem, innit?”

“Sir, I apologise-’’

I squeeze his hand when I feel the first trembles of rage coursing through his fingers. He briefly turns to me, his frown slightly softening when our eyes meet. “Breathe. I’ll go. You have my number.”

“No, you ain’t goin’ anywhere. It’s startin’ to get dark out and who knows what lurks in the shadows, eh? ‘Sides, I’m sure you’ll enjoy my little plan.”

“At least stay polite.”

“Fine.” He takes a deep breath and turns back towards the front desk. “Can I ‘ave a word with the manager?”

“Y- Yes, sir. I’ll- I’ll go get him.” Meek and hurried, she dials up her supervisor.

Without so much as a second thought, I squeeze his hand again and murmur words I hadn’t expected to use in relation to him. “Good boy.”

“Hm,” he returns the gesture, his voice lowered to a purr, “can be nice.”

A little while later, a man clad in a striped suit appears around the corner of the lobby.

“Evelien, is there a problem?” he asks in Dutch, glancing at the terrified woman. Her expression speaks volumes, so his attention automatically shifts to us.

“What ‘e ask?” Alfie leans in.

“Whether there’s a problem,” I translate.

“Mister Solomons,” the manager starts in what I can only describe as Dunglish. It’s occasionally duped Louis Van Gaal Engels, named after the terrible English spoken by one of our more famous soccer coaches. I’d argue Mark Rutte comes close to it too. Of course there are plenty others who sound and are as terrible at the language as them, but those two men take the crown when it comes to making my toes curl with cringe. “Is there a problem?”

Oh gods, please shut up.

“Yeah, there is,” Alfie grumbles. “Apparently, it’s not allowed to ‘ave my girl with me. Sure, she ain’t checked in, but there’s plenty space in my room. Now, she’s ‘ad a long day and it ain’t safe to send her back on ‘er own at this time of day. Considerin’ that, I offered she stay with me, yeah, because it ain’t safe to let a woman wander on ‘er own in the dark. Surely you understand.” He takes a few steps towards the manager, looming over him. “Right, little man?”

The manager opens and closes his mouth, chasing words that remain elusive. Eyes wide with panic, he awkwardly clears his throat. “Of- Of course, mister Solomons. She can stay. Would you, ah, do you need extra… towels?”

“Good man.” Alfie puts a hand on the manager’s shoulder. “I’m glad we see eye to eye.”

Leaving the question about the towels unanswered, he grabs my hand again and leads us to the elevator. I’ll be honest, despite my statement earlier today, I am unashamedly happy he has used his status to prolong our time together.

“Why were you bristlin’?” he asks when we are out of earshot of the now both very pale hotel employees.

“His English.” Alfie’s expression goes slack, eyebrows knitted together. “Not every Dutch person is great at English to the level they have an, I suppose, native-like accent like me. Most transfer the regular monotone Dutch speech pattern to their English, which makes it very flat. And I just can’t stand it.”

“Funny. You’re not even English and yet you react like you are.” He chuckles while we head to the elevator. “You’re a very strange woman.”

“You’re not the first to say that.”

“Oliver Cromwell.”

“Don’t mention that name,” I snap.

Alfie laughs at my outburst. “Are you sure you’re not Irish?”

The doors open and we get in. He pushes the button for his floor.

I lean against the wall, arms crossed. “Maybe in a past life. As you said yesterday, history has a funny way of repeating itself.”

“You think we met? Our past selves?”

“Who’s to say?” I avoid his gaze, trying to fathom who and what we could’ve been.

“Ir zent bakant far mir.”

Ik ben bekend voor je? What’s that in English again? Familiar! I’m familiar to you?

“In what sense?”

“I don’t know, darlin’.” The doors open and we step into the hallway. I match my pace to his as we make our way to his room. “Perhaps it doesn’t feel like it to you, but to me, right, it’s like I’ve known you for a long time.”

It’s starting to feel like that for me too. And I’m not sure yet I like it.

“I can’t say the same,” I say, entering the room as Alfie holds the door open. His gaze is cold, boring into my back. When I turn to him, leaning against the wall, his blue eyes have gone vacant and dull. Although, upon closer inspection, they rather seem haunted and hiding a grim pain he has carefully locked away. “Not yet, at least.”

“Right,” he murmurs. “I’ll run you a bath, yeah. It’s been a long day.”

“Alfie, don’t be like this.” I grab his wrist as he moves past me. “I just need more time. This is all new to me and I’m scared.”

He frees himself from my grip, mumbling to himself. “Eyn tog ir ken gedenken mir. Oder ir vet nit. Es tut nit enin enimor. Ir keynmol hobn fryer, azoy vos volt ir itst?”

He storms off to the bathroom. A few seconds later, I can hear the tap running.

A frog in my throat, I settle down on the edge of the bed. I hang my head and weave my fingers through my hair, quivering bottom lip caught between my teeth and my breath shallow.

One day I’ll… gedenken? In English, is that the same as remembering, remembrance? One day I can remember you? Or… Or not? It doesn’t something.

As for the last part, neither Dutch or my high school level German can help translate.

My vision becomes watery as his annoyed yet sombre words echo in my ears. We came this far. He’s got me in his room, the farce he put up broken the moment I don’t agree with him.

What the fuck am I doing? I already pissed him off. I should go. I’ll think of an excuse and shoot him a message. Yeah. Okay, gotta be fast.

I stand up and grab my bags. However, the second I turn towards the door, Alfie pops back into the room. Standing in the doorway, he takes me in. “What’re you doin’?”

An involuntary sob escapes me. Immediately he saunters over, a look of shock on his face when I take a step back. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

Another step forward.

Another one back.

“Talk to-’’

“Step back.”

“What?”

“Step the fuck back,” I roar, on the verge of breaking down completely. He does as I say, hands held in the air in surrender. “And don’t follow me. Don’t try to stop me.”

But of course he does. 

The idea was to walk around him with a bow and bolt out the door, take the stairs, run outside and straight to the station. Alfie, however, grabs me by the arm and pulls me flush against him, arms locking me in place. His heart is thundering in my ear, chest rising and falling quickly with the effort it takes to make me stop struggling.

“Calm- No- Calm- Y/N, calm down!” He caresses my hair, lips pressed to the top of my head and his voice stern yet worried and kind. “What was the plan, eh? You’ve gone fuckin’ mad if you think I’ll let you walk out that door without tellin’ me what the fuck you’re playin’ at. Tell me, yeah? Tell Papa Solomons what funny thin’ you were tryin’ to do.”

My breath tapers, knowing there’s no way out now. I swallow hard, hardly able to form coherent and audible sentences. “I- I’m- I thought you were mad at me.”

He presses another kiss on the crown of my head, softly swaying to help me calm down faster. “Why would you think that?”

“Because of what you just said. In Yiddish.” I inhale a shaky breath. “I-’’

“Oh, darlin’, if I were angry with you, I’d say it in a language you understand.”

“Better start learning Dutch, then.”

“I’ll tell you in English until I can. Even so,” he presses a kiss on my forehead and then tips my chin up so he can kiss away the stray tears rolling down my cheeks, “I promise I’ll never, yeah, never get angry with you.”

“So, what- what happened yesterday wasn’t- when I went to get coffee and after-’’

“No, I wasn’t angry with you. I was simply being a stupid old man ragin’ at life.” He tightens the embrace and cradles my head. “It wasn’t because of you.”

“Alfie, is it- No, never mind.”

It’s too early to say I love you.

“Nah, none of that.’’ He stops moving. ‘‘Tell me. What did ya wanna ask?”

“Nothing. Let’s leave it be. Thank you for running me a bath.” I wriggle out of his grip and rub his forearms lovingly. “I’ll go enjoy it.”

He rests his forehead against mine, eyes closed and his hands on my waist. “If you need anythin’, just shout.”

“I will.”

He tentatively presses his lips against mine, shaking with the strain of not bursting out in a fit. However, it doesn’t feel like anger.

More like deep-seated sorrow.

“Don’t forget this.” He lets go of me to rummage in the closet, pulling out a white hoodie with his studio’s logo embroidered on the left side on the front. He turns it around so I can see the back, which depicts a fierce Fenrir devouring the sun. “I ‘aven’t worn it yet, so it’s still fresh. It might be a bit big, but it’ll keep you warm. There’s also an extra toothbrush on the sink, the blue one. You can use my toothpaste. Oh, there’s also micellar water. I use it for me skin, but it’s also good to remove makeup with I ‘eard.”

“It is. Thank you, Alfie.”

He looks at me and nods, a grateful grunt erupting from his throat. ‘‘Told ya I had a plan.’’

Hoodie draped over my arm, I head to the bathroom.

The bath water is the exact right temperature, hot yet not enough so to scorch your skin. Like our silences, it’s comfortable. I undress and hop into the lavendel-scented tub.

Submerged into the water up to my chin, I repeat the conversations we had today in my head. Because I’m still waiting for the catch. A sign this is either a cruel joke or a feverish dream.

Apparently, it’s not allowed to ‘ave my girl with me.

This is real, yeah? You. Me. Us ‘ere. All real.

If I wanted sex, right, only sex, then tell me why I feel like this. Why, right now, it feels like me chest is being ripped open and me ticker pulled out of it, put right through the fuckin’ shredder. Why I feel like there’s a brick in me stomach and a ball of cotton in me throat each time you drift off or seem upset. Fuckin’ tell me!

There truly was a crack in his voice.

Tell me because I don’t understand it.

“Me neither, Alfie,” I mumble to myself. “Me neither.”

I raise my leg to admire Anubis, the first god to grace my skin.

We created a bloody masterpiece, ‘aven’t we?

He sounded incredibly proud, not of himself but of us both. The same genuine delight I spotted in the various little smiles he tried to suppress.

When I climbed down the ladder. Put back the books. Drank coffee while he was drawing, half concealed by his tablet.

When we broke away after that first kiss.

The feeling of his beard is still vividly imprinted on my lips, which grow ticklish as soon as I trace them. My cheeks remember the warmth of his hands, a bit rough yet affectionate and secure.

I close my eyes, inhale deeply and let out the breath after holding it for a moment.

Maybe I should have a little faith. Take the gamble with you.

I wash my hair with his shampoo, rinse it out, dry off, and put on my improvised pyjamas. All the while, I can’t shake off the idea of taking a bath together.

I’d lean against his chest, sturdy yet grown soft and supple with neglected muscle. Our fingers would lazily fumble with each other, tracing shapes or the tattoos on our skin. He could dry me off and dress me after wrapping me up in a cocoon of towels. Maybe carry me to bed, curled up in his arms like a small child.

Back in the room, Alfie is leaning against the headboard and drawing on his tablet. His glasses balance on the bridge of his nose. He sits up when he hears me enter, trailing my movements as I do.

“I know, I know,” I flail my arms, clutching the hems of the sleeves to maintain my sweater paws, “it looks about as flattering as a sack.”

He puts his tablet on the bedside table and places his glasses on top of it. “Not at all. C’mere, let me look at ya.”

I approach his side of the bed, taking slow steps towards where he’s sitting. As soon as I’m in arm’s reach, he pulls me down on his lap. To not smack head-first into his face, I steady myself by grabbing his shoulders. Hands on my waist, he holds me in place. “Mhm. Yeah.”

“Alfie?” He tilts his head, his hands trailing lower to my thighs. A shiver runs down my spine when his rough calloused palms glide over my skin, culminating in the growing warmth between my legs. I run my fingers along his jaw and beard, scratching it in the way he likes and makes his expression go hazy with distant dreams. “Wolfy? Ah- hm~”

His lips crash into mine, feverish and hungry, as he grinds my hips on his. A pleasant dizziness sets in, created by the few seconds he allows me to draw breath and his unashamed desire. A faint throbbing and hardening sensation is tangible through the thick denim of his jeans, wanton and yet longing to be closer.

Alfie swipes his tongue over my lower lip and gives my nose a little nudge with his to ask permission for more.

And more I readily grant him because, like him, I’m also guilty of subjecting to greed. I suppose that even in our sins we are united. 

The faint taste of the chocolates we had with our after dinner coffees mixed with his cologne and the underlying plea in his expression strangles each logical thought. 

There’s only here, a safe haven without consequences or concerns.

Only us, two people who seem to have found one another after a long time apart.

I surrender to the guidance of his hands, steadily rocking my hips against his to further put my underwear to shame. The dominance of his tongue, finding no resistance as it explores my mouth. The rapacity in his curiosity, embodied in my secret pride in coaxing out the wolf within.

Alfie slips his hands beneath the hoodie, enveloping my bum and spreading the cheeks so I can feel him better. A sound in between a gasp and a moan spills from my lips when he presses himself against me, ready to take this further.

Beyond the boundaries of comfort.

And it frightens me.

Too fast. We’re going too fast.

Abruptly, I pull back. Alfie chases my lips, evidently far from done. 

To show this is where I draw the line in the sand, I place my hands on his shoulders and push him back to create enough distance between us to speak. To hide the tremble in my fingers, I clutch the fabric of his shirt. A corset of guilt settles around my chest, growing tighter with each second and every word I try to utter without showing the cracks of fear. The disgust I feel towards myself, throwing myself at him like that because it makes part of me happy while my rationality keeps pointing out the likely longevity of our relationship.“Alfie, I- I’m sorry, but can- can we stop?”

I don’t want to seem easy.

I don’t want to be easy. 

He grows still, his gaze still glazed over but slowly sharpening as the spell breaks for him too. Languidly he raises one of his hands, which hovers a few millimetres from my cheek. I wrap my fingers around his wrist and bring his palm to my face, placing a kiss on it before leaning into its warmth. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s alright, Y/N. It’s okay. You ‘ave boundaries and that’s good. I’m proud of you for speakin’ up,” he purrs, voice gravelly and low. After a moment’s hesitation, Alfie rests his forehead against mine. “Can I at least see ‘ow our good pal Anubis is doin’?”

I nod and guide his hand to lift the hoodie just enough for the god to show in all its healed glory.

My breath catches in my throat as his fingers glide over my skin. “Good girl. Taken proper care of that, ain’t ya?” His gaze darts to my face when he feels me go rigid. ‘‘I apologise, I should’ve asked before touchin’ you. I know it ain’t a proper apology and I should’ve thought twice, perhaps three, fuck, five times before-’’

‘‘Alfie, it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean anything by it,’’ I cut him off, saving him this time from breaking out into a ramble. “By the way, everything smells like dragon blood now.”

The careful smile I give him makes him relax, at least enough to join in on the joke and erase the grimace from his face. “The smell ain’t that bad, right?”

I shake my head, feeling rather silly like a little girl. Free of the burden on my shoulders now that the atmosphere has brightened.

“I’m gonna shower. Can I kiss you before I do?”

“Yeah.”

He hums and presses his lips to my forehead. “I won’t take long. Lie down and get cosy. Read a bit. If you want, you can also browse through my designs or use my tablet for YouTube or Netflix. The code is 1888.”

An involuntary yelp erupts from my throat as he flips us over. He pulls back the sheets so I can scramble beneath them after propping up his pillow. Honestly, I had expected him to simply drape the sheets over me, but Alfie properly tucks me in.

“Comfy?” Alfie runs a hand through my hair, tracing the length of a lock to my cheek. He cups it, tenderly brushing his thumb over the skin.

I nod, smiling contently.

“Good.”

He saunters to the bathroom, picking up a pair of sweats and a loose fitting shirt along the way. A few seconds later the sounds of Alfie undressing and the shower fill the otherwise quiet room. I put on my glasses and settle in with the novel I bought, enjoying the silence.

Which is soon broken by a symphony of hardly stifled groans and bitten-back curses.

Is he… no, surely it’s his leg. Then again, don’t be naive, you bloody idiot!

I hide behind my novel, my ears as hot as my cheeks.

Oh, Lord.

Though I stand by my decision to not have sex with him, I can’t suppress a smirk nor deny the prickle running down the back of my neck. After all, how many times will I get to enjoy the pleasure of hearing him like this?

Proud as a peacock, basking in the knowledge I’ve reduced him to this state, I put the novel to the side and lie down on the pillow to listen to the going-ons in the bathroom.

His breath grows shallow, the growls deeper and feral. My fantasy makes a run for it and imagines him here in bed, sweating while mindlessly rutting into me. How many rounds would it take before he’s run out of stamina or for his balls to be empty?

Sooner than I would’ve liked, a snarl followed by low murmurs betrays he’s finished. Then again, he did say he’d make it quick.

Did you think about me? What you would’ve done if we hadn’t stopped?

To keep up appearances, I pick my book up again, put my glasses on and read until he’s done. Fortunately, he falls for the false show of innocence. Either that or he’s too wrapped up in towelling his hair dry and moving to notice I’m not thinking clearly either. 

A tad awkwardly he swaggers over to the bed, moving as if his clothes are in the way. I cross my legs, grateful the covers are there to conceal how his lumbering frame affects me.

“Why the grimace?” I tilt my head and try to keep my voice level, devoid of the amusement he unintentionally provided. Feigning ignorance is easy. It’s the maintaining of the act that’s the hardest part. But try I will.

“I-’’ He opens and closes his mouth as he scours his mind for an appropriate explanation. With a groan, Alfie lifts up the duvet and slides beneath it. “I’m not used to wearin’ pyjamas.”

Now it’s me who’s gobsmacked. I trail his movements, if only to hide the fact I have to let his confession sink in. Precarious information like that I need to register properly. 

Because my mind can get terribly creative. 

I scoot over to make room for him, still incapable of tearing my eyes away from him. “Uhm, I don’t know if this is appropriate of me to ask, but… do you sleep naked?”

“Yes, it’s how Yahweh means it to be.’’ Alfie lets out a content sigh, finally settled in a position in which neither his leg nor his body in general takes a toll on him. ‘‘The first ‘umans were naked. It’s our natural state, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate me goin’ commando. ‘Ence the bloody clothes.”

“If it’s really, you know… uncomfortable for you, you could, uhm, t- take them… off?”

“You’d run straight out that damned door if I did and I wouldn’t blame ya. And we can’t ‘ave that, can we? No, the clothes stay on. I can ‘andle it. Ain’t as bad as me health.” He wraps his arms around my waist. “Put the book away. Cute as you are with your glasses, it’s time to hit the ‘ay. I’m knackered.”

“I can leave only the reading lamp. I’m not tired yet.”

“No, darlin’, even big girls need sleep.” He props himself up on his elbow, plucks my book out of my hands, and reaches over to put it on the bedside table. Then he gently removes my glasses, folds them, and puts them atop the novel. “If I ever want you to do as I tell you, right, which, I know, isn’t very feminist of me, it’s now. Just this once, Y/N. Can you do that for me?”

Well, you also told me not to get a tattoo by Chester. Then again, I haven’t promised you I won’t.

I sigh, turn on my side, and shuffle closer to him. “Alright.”

Alfie pulls me flush against him, his chest seeming to radiate heat naturally. It’s exactly as I imagined it would feel beneath all the layers of clothing, beneath that white shirt back in Birmingham. Sturdy yet grown soft and supple with neglected muscle. Our legs entwine, the muscles in his thighs keeping mine firmly in place. I clutch his shirt like a koala, determined to hold on till sunrise.

One bear-like, no, wolf-like paw tucked beneath the pillow, he rubs my back with the other. All the while, he holds my gaze, looking at me with eyes as blue as Starry Night by van Gogh. It’s a shame he can’t see he’s the piece of art between us. I am merely the artist who can’t lay claim to him. “Nice, innit?”

Maybe not yet. One day. Until then, I have dreams in which I can confidently call you mine.

Involuntarily, I yawn. My eyelids grow heavy, the clutches of sleep slowly entangling my body. “Mhm.”

“I’d love to do this when you visit me.”

“I’d like that.”

“Good.” He kisses my forehead.

I raise my hand to run my fingers through his beard, still fascinated by the feeling of it as well as the intimacy. Although, it’s perhaps Alfie allowing it in general that’s most fascinating.

After a few moments, starting to lose the fight to stay awake, I let my hand rest on his neck. However, he puts it back on his beard, evidently having other ideas. “Didn’t say you could stop, did I?”

I let out a breathless laugh, too drowsy to make a louder sound. “Does it feel good?”

He closes his eyes, unconsciously guiding my fingertips to the spots that feel especially good. It could be because of the drowsiness, but his usual rumbles of delight have turned into the purrs like those of a very big pleased cat.

We continue to lie like that for a few more moments. Nevertheless, as soon as Alfie notices I’m losing what little momentum I already had, he takes my hand and places it on the side of his neck. “Go to sleep. Got a big day tomorrow.” He buries his nose in my hair, inhaling the scent. I don’t need to check to know he’s smiling. “Meetin’ the parents… fucking ‘ell.”

“Don’t have to,” I mumble.

“Ollie and Tom need to shut up. Maybe I should shoot them both.”

“No Timbuktu, Wolfy.”

“Right, no Timbuktu.” He leans in far enough for our noses to touch, places a peck on mine. “Geyn tsu shlofn, meyn mlkh. Deyn volf vet haltn ir zikher.”

A heaviness overtakes my body as I sink deeper into slumber, descending in the peaceful safety created by his arms and the knowledge there’s nothing to worry about for a few hours. Any problems created today will have to wait until tomorrow.

I remember dreaming of a Queen and a wolf sitting beneath a tree with nine branches spreading into the sky. They were looking out over a vast body of water, maybe a sea. And I’m fairly certain the wolf was keeping her safe.

I don’t know how long I slept when I wake up. Judging by the faint light falling in through the window, it’s still night or perhaps very early in the morning. We changed positions since we went to bed, me facing the window and Alfie firmly pressed against me, his chest rising and falling against my back and one arm draped over my waist to keep me close to him. I look over my shoulder, unable to suppress a smile at his calm expression which slowly etches itself out against the dusk.

He stirs, a grunt spilling from his lips as he rocks into me. Again I feel the same prodding sensation that woke me up.

Hang on.

Experimentally, I grind down on him, lip caught between my teeth to muffle the moan threatening to spill from the friction. The action gets rewarded with a warning snarl. Beneath the sheets, his hands grab my hips and squeeze them hard enough to cause bruises. 

His cock twitches when I press myself against it again. For a moment the idea to wake Alfie up to lend him a helping hand passes through my head. However, my common sense gets the better of me. We both have boundaries. Now it’s my turn to respect them.

It’s better to leave things, us, as we are. I don’t want to give off mixed signals.

So, having had my extra bit of fun and enjoying the clear display of possession, I drift back to sleep.

Perhaps I don’t need dreams. I’m yours and you’re mine.

Strange how the expected can turn into the unexpected only to leave you filled with suffocating disappointment.

I roll over in the bed, but whereas I could snuggle into Alfie’s chest just a few hours ago, all I can seek warmth from is the cold and empty spot next to mine.

Maybe he’s just making a call or he’s downstairs in the gym.

It’s nonsense, absolute rubbish. Yet, I need something to contradict myself, the incessant voice in my head called ‘conscience’. To suppress the rapidly spreading bleak feeling, my instincts tuned into the situation and not tolerating any flight of fancy.

I slowly sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes, making a quick mental prayer to have him there when I open them. It’s pathetic, of course, to hope for such a thing despite the clear signs.

It’s only me, in an empty hotel room in Mokum.

Clenching the sheets, lips pressed firmly together, I blink away the watery world.

The lonely reality.

Don’t cry. You could’ve expected this. What were you doing anyway? Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why do I have to be such a fucking idiot?

With tears still brimming on the edge of my lashes, I scan the room for any hints about Alfie’s whereabouts. Then again, how much can one find when there is no trace to be found?

His jacket, cane, phone, suitcase, backpack. Gone.

I check my phone, but the screen lights up with nothing but new notifications from online shopping apps. He also hasn’t left me a text or an Instagram message.

Well, at least he has Velvel with him. Or would he have dumped him somewhere? No, that doesn’t sound like Wolfy. He isn’t like that. He isn’t!

The thought of the poor little stuffie drowned in rubbish wrenches a violent sob from me.

At least you could’ve left him here, you bastard!

On the coffee table stands a tall white cup with a familiar holder around it. There seems to be something tucked underneath. Temporarily forgetting the plushie’s fate, I get up to get a closer look.

An envelope.

Inside is a letter, written in an elegant cursive reminiscent of the kind you find in really old vintage ones. I sniff at the cup and take a small sip of the, apparently, cold liquid inside.

Pumpkin spice.

How the hell did this get here?

Latte in hand, I sit down to read.

My dearest Y/N,

The coffee must’ve gone cold by the time you read this, but I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked too peaceful, like a little seraphim at rest. So I packed my stuff as quietly as I could so as not to disturb you. However, please do forgive me for this, I couldn’t help but murmur my goodbyes and kiss your forehead. You stirred, but I do hope I didn’t wake you up.

Yesterday, at the bookshop, you said that there are a lot of things people don’t do as they used to, especially writing letters. Yes, I heard you. This old man remains very good at paying attention, comes in handy when [crossed out text]. I could’ve sent you a message over Instagram, but I didn’t want to be that bloke. To be honest, you deserve better than that, love. It’s been a very, very long time since I’ve written a letter so hopefully my handwriting is still legible in spite of the years.

And even though I’m not there when you read this, I can imagine you wonder how in the bloody hell I managed to get a piece of paper and an envelope. I kindly requested them from the staff at the front desk. No force was used, I promise. Only a bit of coercion and intimidation. Nonetheless, I hope you can envision my desperation to leave you a personal note.

By the way, don’t worry about check-out. You can do so whenever you’re ready to go home. Speaking of which, I regret I made you the promise of meeting your parents and not being able to follow up on it. Something happened in Camden which requires me to return to England at once. I would rather have stayed here with you and let Ollie handle it, but he’s not the person who should deal with it.

Velvel is sitting at my side and he isn’t happy to leave you, either. But I’ll make sure he becomes a hardy boy, a London wolf like your man.

We’ll miss you. Yet, we also know you’re a big girl who can save herself (even when I don’t like it, next time I’m going up the ladder).

Don’t cry for me, sweetheart. I hate myself for knowing you likely are, so let me make the promise I’ll never make you cry again. Now you have my word on paper, a powerful weapon to use against me any time. For you are the only woman, the only person, who this king bends his knee to.

(The good one, right knee)

And let me make another promise.

I, Alfred Josef Menahem Solomons Jr., swear to you, Y/N L/N, that I will return once winterfall has come. If I don’t, it’s better if you forget about me. What good is a man who can’t live up to his word?

Until then, I cherish the time we spent together. You made me feel like a free man, a man of flesh and blood. Alive, risen again like Lazarus.

I’ll keep you in my heart and hold the ghost of your hand until we meet again, my love. For you have been the last dream of my soul and I refuse to let it, YOU, go.

Your sincere and faithful servant,

Wolfy

I squint at the letter.

Winterfall? What and when is that? You’re not coming back, are you? This is just a pretty way for you to say goodbye.

There’s a postscript.

P.S: I’ve left you the drawing I worked on yesterday. Again, there was no force used to have it printed and delivered to you, my dear. I asked the staff very nicely to help me out. Let me know what you think of it. Or, even better, write to me. There’s an address on the back.

On the table is the referenced artwork, revealed from its hiding spot beneath Alfie’s letter.

It’s not precisely what I expected. In fact, it’s drawn in a style entirely different from his tattoos, a watercolour portrait rather than black ink sketch. The background is blurry, the colours in the scenery flowing over into each other. Only a window is clearly drawn, a black cat holding a cup of coffee staring out of it.

My eye falls on the title of the piece, written in a neat elegant surface in the corner.

Bast.

I turn the piece of paper around.

There’s an address in Margate.

The world can get incredibly loud once a lost soul returns. Its happy wanderings are drowned out by yelled concern, anxiety mixed with guilt having created a heavy shroud to wear.

But I keep his letter and drawing tight to my chest.

And lapse into silence.

[jomiddlemarch]

let’s call this a win-win

33 hours, 2009 miles, 27 Chicken McNuggets, 2 mint Oreo Blizzards, one ill-fated round of 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.

It was a fucking miracle the truck hadn’t broken down on the way.

“It was a fucking miracle the truck didn’t break down—” Joel said, pulling out Sarah’s floral quilted duffle bag first from the pile of luggage. The last few miles through the woods, he’d muttered his mother’s favorite prayer to St. Christopher and to Tommy’s mechanic friend Al. They were close enough to walk but that was not how he wanted to arrive, especially when he imagined what it would take to keep his daughter from a sugar-crash induced meltdown trudging through the forest.

“Dad! Language,” Sarah scolded, stretching out the a in Dad for maximum guilt-tripping. She had to uncross her arms to take the bag from him but she kept her cherry Chapsticked lips pursed. Despite his fatigue and the ache in his lower back from the crappy motel mattress, he couldn’t help grinning at her expression, her ribbon-tied pigtails, her carefully curated tank top and jean shorts.

“Put it on my tab,” he said. “The curse jar’s going to pay for your college and study abroad at this rate, not just those boots you want so badly.”

“I need those boots,” Sarah said.

“Save that for Uncle Tommy. He’s a soft touch,” Joel said. He took a look around the parking lot. Packed dirt overlaid with gravel, it was ringed by towering pine trees, the cabins of the camp hidden from view. There were a couple of non-descript sedans, a shiny black minivan with far too many bells and whistles, and two other pick-ups, both in better condition than his. No vanity plates though, which he took as a good sign. He got the rest of their bags out and slung his guitar case over his back. He’d been told to head to the main lodge to meet the camp’s director but a woman was already walking towards them, so he nodded to Sarah to stay put.

“Welcome to Camp Firefly. I’m Meghan Williams, the camp nurse, it’s nice to meet you.” She extended her hand to shake and Joel was relieved that her grasp was warm and properly firm but not intended to suggest she’d break anything. She wore drab cargo pants and hiking boots, her dark hair tied back and covered with a red bandana, and had a sturdy, reliable calmness about her that offset her relative slightness. She was not much bigger than Sarah, who was tall for her age, but who had, after all, just turned eleven two weeks ago.

“Likewise,” Joel said. “My name’s Joel Miller, I’m working maintenance, and this is my daughter, Sarah, she’s in bunk 3.”

“That’s great—my niece Ellie’s also in bunk 3. It’s her first summer here, maybe you can show her the ropes, Sarah,” Meghan said.

“It’s my first summer here too, but I’ve been at sleepaway before,” Sarah said, honesty warring with the self-importance that she used to offset her anxiety, a state she had been in approximately 80% of the time since she turned 11. “I went to Girl Scout sleepaway last year for two weeks. They had a lake there too.”

“You’re a veteran then. You can make sure she doesn’t set anything on fire when you make s’mores. Ellie’s a menace in the kitchen, God help us all when she’s got access to a campfire,” Meghan replied, smiling warmly. Her expression shifted to rueful when she turned back to face Joel. “Maintenance, huh? Marlene didn’t let you know?”

“Camp director Marlene? Let me know what?” Joel said. He and Marlene weren’t close, it was Tommy who had suggested to her Joel might work over the summer with Sarah going for free as part of the payment, but Joel didn’t see how she could’ve hired someone else and not told him before he’d driven halfway across the country with his little girl. Still, shittier things had happened and he started planning what he’d say to Sarah because he and her mom sure as hell couldn’t pay for her to go to the camp on their own and he couldn’t expect to land a job in the Middle of Nowhere, New Hampshire overnight. The higher rate for her mom’s gig as a travel nurse was going toward keeping her Grandma Denise in her apartment, money Joel didn’t begrudge his ex. They’d had an amicable enough split and they kept it that way by not bitching at each other about their finances or new relationships, not that Joel had much happening in either category.

“You’re not working maintenance. Or, not just maintenance. Gary, the guy who was supposed to be the woodshop counselor, backed out at the last minute, so Marlene’s kind of drafted you to take over. She said you worked construction, so you can help the kids make whatever they make in woodshop,” Meghan explained. Joel must have looked somewhere between blank and dubious. He felt that way. “On the plus side, you were going to share a cabin with Gary, so now you have the place to yourself. I heard he was a slob, but that might have been something someone said to make you feel like you’re coming out further ahead, since Marlene didn’t mention she’d be paying you more and she’s basically a card on the table kind of person, so I wouldn’t bet on a bigger paycheck, just the extra space.”

“That’s it?” Joel said. 

He wasn’t even sure himself what he was questioning—the extra work, the extra space, Marlene basically deputizing a stranger to tell him and avoiding his justifiable anger.

“For now. I think. Though you’ll probably get asked to play your guitar if you’re good enough to bring your own with you for the summer,” Meghan said. “No lessons, just campfire songs, folk songs, a little bit country, a little rock n’ roll—”

“No show tunes,” Joel interrupted. He liked this Meghan, her humor and her easiness with Sarah, her lack of vanity evident in the cargo pants, her sense of whimsy in the red bandana. Still, it was possible what he’d intended as banter had come out as gruff, shutting her down instead of picking up where she left off. “It’s just—”

“I get it. A man has to draw the line somewhere,” Meghan said. “Bunk 3 isn’t too far, I could show you the way there if you’ve got all your stuff. Sarah can meet Ellie and wait for the other girls to get in,” Meghan said.

Joel nodded and Sarah nearly bounced in agreement. They walked quietly through the woods, Sarah rendered speechless either by the intense greenness of the forest or the imminent meeting with Ellie and any other campers who’d arrived. Meghan didn’t appear to feel a need to fill up the time with small talk, though she did point out the path that led down to the dock and the sharply peaked roof of the main lodge. There was a clearing that showed the lake, laid out like a mirror, the pines and the cloudless sky redoubled, a pair of red kayaks making a cheerful splash of color on the distant shore. Sarah glanced at him, her eyes wide, and Joel smiled at her. This was why he’d driven cross-country in the truck that had seen far, far better days, why he was going to spend the summer dealing with rotting floorboards and teaching kids to make what, maybe some birdhouses, and whatever else Marlene decided he was going to do, probably dish up in the kitchen and if Meghan was right, lead the singalongs. They’d been at Camp Firefly for under an hour and it was already worth it.

“That’s the main campfire site,” Meghan said, pointing to a sizable ring of smoke-stained stones surrounded by grass matted down by hundreds of campers. There were a few white Adirondack chairs clustered together and a low, broad slab of rock Joel would pick to sit on if he had the guitar on his lap. “I’ll be sure to spread the word—no show tunes!”

“You’re not going to play ‘Hernando’s Hideaway?’ That’s your favorite,” Sarah said, blowing his cover. He shrugged and Meghan chuckled. 

“My favorite’s ‘Make Believe,’ but ‘Hernando’s’ a close second,” Joel said. 

“Gaylord Ravenal in the flesh,” Meghan said, winning some real points. Secret points because otherwise he’d have to admit how much he liked Broadway musicals. The next step would be disclosing that he’d always wanted to try out for the lead in the high school show but had been too busy at his after-school job that helped pay the family’s electric bill to be able to swing it.

“I can hold my own with his part. But I make a mean Magnolia Hawks,” Joel said.

“We’ve only got a lake, not a river. But it’s a big one,” Meghan said. 

“Dad, are you going to talk here all day?” Sarah said, this time stretching out all day long enough to make him shake his head and Meghan roll her eyes in amused commiseration.

“That’s Bunk 3,” Meghan said, gesturing over to an unremarkable log cabin that somehow managed to suggest a certain cheery impishness. That might have been the little face in the window, brown braids topped with a blue bandana fashioned into sort of a headband. “And that, as you may have guessed, is Ellie, holding down the fort. Sarah, why don’t you head in? Your counselor should be along in a bit. I’ll make sure your dad doesn’t get lost on the way to his cabin.” 

“Okay, yeah, Love you, Dad, bye!” Sarah said, making a beeline to the cabin’s front door and opening it after the briefest pause.

“I don’t need you to walk me to the cabin,” Joel said once they were standing there alone, the moment of watching the Bunk 3 door closing having past, leaving them as two adults just awkwardly near each other. At least, he felt awkward, laden down with bags, his lower back twinging again, suddenly unable to keep the frustration with Marlene from his expression, all out of small talk, not that he ever had much. He probably sounded rude to Meghan, he’d been rude to her, dismissive, especially when he didn’t exactly know the way to the cabin he and Gary had been assigned, but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize.

“It’s on my way,” Meghan said. “And quite frankly, you don’t know where the hell you’re going so you do need me to walk you there. I’ll let Marlene know you’re settling in and you’d like a word with her before dinner. It’s at 6.”

She started walking, her boots’ tread audible on the leafmeal in the absence of any conversation, and Joel followed her. She was right after all. 

“I owe you an apology,” Joel finally managed to say. He looked her straight in the eye, there was that. Hers were a greyish green, darker than he’d thought when he’d first looked at her.

“No, you don’t. And I’ve never had one owed that was any good,” she said. “Relax. You didn’t offend me, not really, and I work in healthcare, I’m used to people mouthing off when they’re stressed. That’s before you add in dealing with my niece 24/7.”

“Don’t you get to be the fun auntie? She still gives you a hard time?” Joel asked. Sarah and Tommy got along like a house afire, as the saying went, largely because Tommy had never once said no to her and also never came to the Joel’s place without a bag of gummi bears that Sarah didn’t have to share with anyone. And a Barbie. He’d thought she’d tell him to stop when she turned 11, but she’d opened up Olympic Gymnast Barbie with the same degree of excited greed she’d brought to every other doll, secured more tightly in the pink box than whatever the hell they kept in Fort Knox these days. 

“I’m not the fun auntie, I’m all she’s got,” Meghan said. “I was 17 when my sister died when Ellie was a baby, her dad was never in the picture, it got really complicated for a while with the state, and you didn’t ask to hear any of this. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Joel said. “I get complicated. Plus, now we’re even—we both tried to apologize and neither one of us would accept it.”

“I guess that’s good,” Meghan said. “That’s your cabin, right there,” she added, pointing to a small building nestled right up against a pair of pines. 

“Good enough,” Joel said. 

[voraciousvore]

The Origins of Martin Maneater (2/3)

Part 1

Word Count: 2.2k for part 2, 9k overall

Martin didn’t sleep restfully, since he had a lot on his mind, and he woke up early. The first thing he did was check to see if his little human was still in the box. He felt a wave of relief when he saw her huddled up in a tiny ball, wrapped in a nest of blankets. She was fast asleep. Her clothes and hair had dried off overnight. She looked cute, like a little hamster. He saw the bruises on her and his chest tightened up with guilt as he was reminded of his mistake yesterday. He didn’t mean to hurt her, but she was so small and delicate. He needed to be more careful. 

He got ready for school and then returned to the box to wake her up. He tapped her gently with his finger, since she wouldn’t be able to hear his voice. Her eyes fluttered open and she glanced up at the giant sleepily. She recoiled with a sharp intake of breath and jumped to her feet, backing up against the wall of the box before she recalled where she was. Once she came to her senses, she relaxed, placing a hand on her chest. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you,” Martin murmured, flushing slightly at his misstep. “Um.. I brought you breakfast.” He handed her a small chunk of buttered toast that he broke off from his own breakfast earlier. She seemed eager to scarf it down, which Martin supposed made sense since he made her throw up last night. He didn’t know when she last ate either, but she didn’t look underfed at all. It wouldn’t make sense for his parents to starve humans they were planning to devour, after all. 

He wondered about her past, and where she came from, but now was not the time for that. “I have to go to school,” Martin announced as he reached his hand down to grab her. She stiffened as he curled his fingers around her and lifted her out of the box.  

“I’ll have to keep you hidden,” Martin explained as he stuffed her in his jacket pocket. “Just stay there. I can’t let anyone else see you.” He knew he didn’t need to explain further, as he felt her tremble in his pocket. He held the quivering lump within the fabric loosely in his hand, petting her with his fingers to calm her down. His heart warmed when she responded positively and stopped shaking. She was gradually learning to trust him—probably because she had nobody else to help her. 

Martin was able to conceal her from his mom when she took him to school, and from his teacher and classmates when school started. He was quieter than usual, and tried not to make sudden movements. When the bell rang for recess, he didn’t sprint out of the classroom to play with his friends like he normally would. Instead, he took careful steps to the library, which was blanketed in a pleasant hush. He perused the shelves for a minute until he found a book on sign language. 

He sat down in a secluded corner and removed the girl from his pocket, setting her on the table. She watched curiously as he opened the book until he found a section with the alphabet. Her eyes lit up when she recognized what his intent was. 

“What’s your name?” Martin asked. She signed quickly, too fast for him to decipher. “Um... can you do that slower?” She moved her hands slower while he said the letters out loud. “E... M... M... A... Emma?” She did a little hop of joy and nodded, grinning wide. Martin smiled back. “Emma... that’s a nice name. My name is Martin.” 

Before he could communicate any further, the bell rang. Martin hastily scooped her up and put her back in his pocket before returning to class. He couldn’t focus on the lesson at all as he thought about Emma, and what he wanted to ask her next. Above all, he needed to obtain information about getting her back to her home, with the other humans, where she would be safe. He kept moving his hand to his pocket, checking on her protectively. When it was time for lunch, he skipped eating and snuck back to the library for some privacy, bringing his lunchbox with him. He set Emma down on the table and gave her a small piece of his ham and cheese sandwich. She sat cross-legged and watched as he flipped through the book again. 

“Where did you come from? Do you have any family members to take care of you? Do you want me to take you back?” Martin asked in earnest. He figured those were the most important questions. 

Emma furrowed her brow in thought. Martin realized signing letters would be difficult to answer more complicated questions, but he didn’t know any words in sign language and it wouldn’t be so easy to find them, even with the book. Emma pantomimed writing and looked up at the giant hopefully. 

“I think a giant-sized pencil would be too heavy for you,” Martin remarked, but he fetched a pencil and paper for her to try nonetheless. The pencil was much taller than the little girl, and easily as thick around as her entire body. She wrapped her arms around it and struggled to lift it, but she couldn’t get the pencil upright without falling back due to the weight. She huffed with frustration. Martin had to repress a giggle at how adorable she looked when she was angry. So fierce and so tiny. 

She ruminated for a moment, then signed with her hands slow enough for Martin to follow along. “O… R… P… H… A… N… Orphan? You’re an orphan?” She nodded. “Oh… so those people my parents ate… they weren’t your mother and father?” She shook her head. “Did you know them at all?” She shook her head again. 

Martin sighed in relief. He would’ve felt awful, knowing that she had to witness her parents getting eaten alive, but the fact that she didn’t know them was a burden off his chest. Even so, he was sure the experience must’ve been beyond horrible for the poor girl. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He didn’t know what else to say. 

She shrugged and averted her gaze, her face twisting up with strong emotion. Martin gave her time to recover and waited for her to look up at him before asking, “Um... you want me to return you to an orphanage or something?” She frantically shook her head with an emphatic negative. She signed with her hands again, spelling out a single word. “S... O... L... D... Sold?” 

Martin was puzzled. “What was sold?” Emma pointed at herself. “You were sold?” She affirmed sadly. “They sold you to giants? To be eaten?” Martin felt a cold chill at this realization. He couldn’t fathom being betrayed by trusted caretakers, to be auctioned off as nothing more than a piece of meat to be consumed by much larger beings. He shuddered. “That’s so horrible.” 

She teared up and Martin’s heart broke at the sight. He had an urge to hold her and comfort her, but he wasn’t sure if that would help, especially since giants were the source of her troubles to begin with. He timidly reached over and patted her on the head with his finger. She ducked away as instinctive terror jolted through her, and he returned his hand to his lap with remorse. He could tell she needed some space, and he was hungry anyways, so he pulled out his sandwich and took a few sheepish bites. He was ashamed to be a giant, particularly a Maneater.  

His sandwich was made the same as always, but it didn’t taste as good as it usually would, for whatever reason. Strangely enough, Martin found himself wishing it had more meat in it. He just ate a big steak yesterday, but he was still craving something savory and juicy, perhaps even something alive, something moving and squirming. Martin’s heart dropped into his stomach at the unwelcome thought and he pushed it out of his mind. He didn’t like that idea, not at all. He wanted to be a gentle giant, not a hungry predator. 

He finished his sandwich and looked back at the crying human. He slowly moved his hand towards her again, hoping she wouldn’t cringe away from his touch. Instead of patting her, he merely offered her his hand, palm up. She froze up as she eyed his hand cagily. Martin wished he could see what was going on inside her head. He thought she was getting more comfortable with him, but she still seemed to be fighting her innate fear. Perhaps his line of inquiry had dredged up hideous, paralyzing memories of evil giants. 

Martin lowered his head so he was in her line of vision. “Please... don’t be scared of me,” he begged. “I’m only trying to help you.” She gazed into those stormy eyes, so full of tumultuous clouds, and she was conflicted. Before she could make a decision, though, the bell rang. Martin licked his lips, clearly agitated. 

“Um... we need to go back now...” he urged, twitching his fingers. Emma didn’t move, petrified in place. She wanted to trust Martin, wanted someone to protect her and keep her safe, but he was still a giant, and she knew giants were dangerous. She shirked away, ever so slightly, and Martin felt despair dribble into his soul. He didn’t want to do this to her, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Without her permission, he grabbed her up in his hand and put her back in his pocket. He felt terrible as he went to class, with her diminutive form shaking in his jacket. 

As his lessons resumed, Martin labored to come up with a solution to his predicament. The human had nowhere to go, nobody to take care of her and love her, yet she was still so afraid of him. He didn’t know what the future would hold, but he needed to find a way to make her less scared, if such a thing was even possible. He wanted her to be comfortable and happy, too—for her to feel at home, valued and cherished, and not so alone. It was a daunting task for a child, but Martin rose to the challenge. 

While Martin was zoned out from boredom, a brilliant idea entered his brain. He didn’t know if it would work, but he figured it was worth a try, for Emma’s sake. After school, Martin dodged his friends so he wouldn’t be tempted to roughhouse and waited in the parking lot for his mom to come get him. He checked his backpack to make sure he had his birthday money on hand. When his mom pulled up to the curb, he jumped into the car eagerly, forgetting in his earnestness to be gentler for his human passenger. 

“Hi Martin! How was school?” Mrs. Maneater asked, glancing over her shoulder at Martin in the backseat. 

“Mom, can we go to the toy store? I want to spend my birthday money,” Martin piped up, not bothering to answer his mother’s question in his haste. 

His mom blinked, surprised by his request, but smiled. “Sure, sweetie. We have time today.” Martin vibrated in his seat with excitement. He put his hand in his pocket to check on Emma. To his relief, she wasn’t quivering as much as before. He felt guilty for frightening her and grabbing her up as he did, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He couldn’t just leave her on the table in the library by herself, with nowhere to hide, while he went to class. And he would’ve gotten in trouble and raised suspicions if he skipped class or was late without a good excuse. 

The car parked outside the toy store, and Martin hopped out of the car and hurried inside. He rushed through the aisles, with the intent to ditch his mom so she wouldn’t see what he was buying. He was tempted by the wide array of cool action figures and toy vehicles, but he pressed on. Emma was more important than trivial hunks of plastic. 

Martin entered a toy aisle saturated in pink. He perused the shelves until he found what he was looking for: a little dollhouse, perfectly sized for his human companion. Since she didn’t have a home of her own, he would give her a new home, properly scaled to her size. He had enough money to buy extra accoutrements, so he picked out a silky purple doll dress for Emma to wear and, after some hesitation, a boy doll that could be her handsome prince. He fancied that the doll vaguely resembled his own physical appearance. 

The giant boy blushed when his mom finally caught up to him and saw him carrying the pink boxes. She raised a brow with a quizzical expression but mercifully held her tongue. Martin had never shown interest in those particular types of toys before. He examined his feet intently out of embarrassment as he took his selected items to the checkout area and paid for them, not looking at the cashier. The discomfiture was worth it, for Emma. He would do anything to see her happy. 

Part 3

[comicgeekery]

Sherlock & Co. : The Three Students

I really like the framing device on this one, Sherlock needing to make a speech and faking out like it's going to suck. Very clever. I want to take a moment to theorize about Mariana. Like I said in my last post, she obviously has some secrets going on. And now we know she's got at least a minor history of rule-breaking that she feels intensely self-conscious about. Maybe a clue that she broke some laws at some point and feels really ashamed? I also feel like we're just getting to know her better lately as more tidbits have been adding up. She cares a lot about looking respectable, but actually is an intense fan of a lot of things (Taylor Swift, problematic boy wizard, and the singer from The Dancing Men). Sometimes her self-conscious nature makes her a little mean about anyone being "weird". I think it comes up with John more than Sherlock, since John is the one who cares so much about being liked by everyone. If Mariana pokes him he'll actually understand and engage with her on debating what's acceptable. As for the Mrs. Hudson bit, I suspect that either Sherlock calls her that because it's some sort of sly hint that he knows something about her hidden past, or Mrs. Hudson was an important caregiver to Sherlock at some point and he often slips into calling kind women who take care of him Mrs. Hudson as a result. I hope at some point we get to see a significant one-on-one between Sherlock and Mariana. I wonder what their vibe is like at this point. Back to the episode! 1. It is very cute that John is calling Archie "their" dog now. 2. It was actually really nice to have a relatively low-stakes case for once. 3. John. Baby. You edit these episodes. Why did you make yourself into SUCH an idiot for this one? There was no reason to include you waking up Mariana and vomiting in her bathroom. Do you see your value as being the show's humor? Is this another thing you seriously need therapy about? 4. For some reason my Spotify has been switching to part 2 of The Red-Headed League whenever I let it go from one episode to the next and I got the brief impression that the conclusion of Three Students was going to be a mega-intense, pulling-from-all-the-past-episodes, season finale thing. I was very relieved that no, it's really just a student cheating on a test. 5. Kayleigh. Kayleigh. This is why students lie about their grandparents dying. There were much better options! 6. That's not a criticism of the episode though. It actually fits very nicely with Sherlock's points about crime. It's often spontaneous, emotional, irrational, and petty. Yes, there were better options for how to deceive the school, but the best option was to not lie at all and do the responsible, if disappointing thing. 7. Hot damn would I love to see a "speech" like this. But was that class list a stealth set of listener shout-outs? It's gotta be, right? 8. Excellent mystery and acting. A decent amount of racial diversity. Still needs more queer!

[sonicasura]

Side Story- Malroth's Journey

* Quick Note, after bit more research Fuku would be closer to luck and happiness then Kei, so ya quick little change*

Year 1

When Ramia came to Malroth and told him about the Heavenly Council's plan to help young Psaro, Malroth was immediately on board with it, gotta help his fellow demons out ya know. All deities got everything set up for Malroth, documentation of his exsistence, a alias to go under, a home, tons of money and a roadmap of where to go and what too do when he got there.

1. Get acquainted with the world around him

2. Register for the Defense Force exams and pass

3. Gain a high enough rank where he could get information on Psaro when the time came

4. Make sure that when Psaro's exsistence got brought forth ( and it would happen, no way a behemoth sized monster with that kind of power would stay hidden forever) to the people and especially the Defense Force, that Malroth could convince the big-wigs that Psaro was not a threat to humanity and was on there side.

5. Celebrate a job well done, by yours truly Malroth.

It all seemed simple when layed out like that to Malroth, but he was now learning that this was easier said than done.

Malroth knew that Psaro was born just a couple weeks ago by the time he got transfered to this world, and Grinin' Cheeky Tiki this world did not dissapoint. The technology was a lot more advance in some areas compared to his world, gigantic beasts that Malroth couldn't wait to lay the smack down on and pretty good food. Though first and for most for Malroth was getting to know and get used to this world, and that started with remembering his new last name, " Fu-ku-a-ku-ma" the name was wholey unfamiliar to him, wondered what it meant?

Year 2

Alright moment of truth after a year of learning about Japan and the world, he was now ready to take the Defense Force exams. The preliminary was just a witten portion, which Malroth had no problem with. Malroth was then told by the letter to come too Chiba Costal Base where the real first part of his exams would take place. Malroth was estatic he couldn't wait to see what cool stuff they would have him- annnnd it's just a fitness test. Now Malroth didn't want to seem whiny but where was the A.C.T.I.O.N. Well hopefully the action was next, so Malroth did the fitness portion and ended up with the top spot of the 215 applicants. Ignoring the gaze of his fellow applicants, he moved on too the second part the fighting, after putting on the suit they gave him ( seriously why was 30% such a big deal) it was time too lay the smackdown. The test went by quick the Youju and the one Honju were easy for Malroth, especially after he ditched that wierd gun, he just wasn't feeling that weapon. So he switched up to something better, a piece of rebar he impaled through a big chunk of metal, too make a mace. Of course he helped out a few other contestants if they needed it and let them kill the Youju they were battling with. Afterwards a few days after the test he got his welcome letter to the Defense Force, though he was surprised about one thing.

Malroth: The Captain of the 4 Divison asked me to come too Matsumoto Base?

Year 3

Well it was certainly a new experience being part of a entire Division. Thankfully it wasn't difficult, they gave him a home at the Base, money, food, and most importantly a near infinite well of enemies to beat up. It was cool and getting compliments from his commrades felt pretty nice. Appearently his performance on and off the battle field had caputered Captain Ogata's attention, though Malroth was not aware of this fact, even when the Scientist gave Malroth his own personalized weapon, a club similar to what an Oni would wield.

Now this was what Malroth was talkin' about.

Year 4

Malroth honestly expected it would take longer, but his likability and strength had convinced Captain Ogata to give him a trial run at the Vice-Captain position. Well this is what Malroth wanted a chance at a high-position and he wasn't one too disappoint expectations. It only took a month for Malroth's work and personality to win Captain Ogata over, and give him the Title of Malroth Fukuakuma of the 4 Division

Alright now to wait, for everything to go to Hell great....

Year 5

The year went quite nicely for Malroth, not sigj of the things going to Hell yet so, it was just buisness as usual. Killing Kaiju, training, doing reports and going to meetings, all that stuff

OH

There was something new, well 2 things. The first thing was a title he learned he had gained throughout the Defense Force

" Malroth The Breaker"

Appearently Malroth's ability to break through Kaiju Hides like Balsa Wood, had gained him quite the reputation.

The second thing was his rivalry with the First Division Commander Gen Narumi

That Malroth had no idea was even a thing.

Appearently Malroth beat Narumi in a offical popularity poll or something and Narumi got pissed about and I quote " A wierd upstart that has goofy hair and a stupid weapon" Malroth realky didn't care but he did take offense to the Hair and Weapon thing

Year 6

Well this was it, the news of the incident that happened in Tachikawa spread quickly and Malroth knew that the hard part of his quest started now

WELP, no time like the present

Malroth was definitely thankful it took quite some time before Psaro would become known to the rest of the Defense Force. Also the rivalry with Narumi is a definite, lol. He's in the group of people that wouldn't give a shit about Malroth's true identity either. (Narumi definitely challenge him to a spar involving his more monstrous form.)

Also Malroth would be the third person to drop another info bomb on Kafka's group. The Monsters hadn't exactly figured it was the gods who gave Psaro his second chance. Malroth does inform the rest of the Third Division first for two reasons.

One is that everyone is very close to Psaro and Kafka. Two is they are about to get dragged into antics involving monsters anyway due to the Lower Echelon refugees alongside their older comrade potentially becoming Master of Monsterkind. It's going to take a larger group effort to manage everything than build a case for the inevitable butting heads with the Higher Ups.

The 3rd Division is about to slip into a brand new role: 'Monster Rangers'.