#maybe three is too high of an estimate

[momhowell]

very nice of phil to give the context for dan's eye emergency for his 3 viewers who still have no idea who this dan howell guy is

[izzy-b-hands]

I will be forever grateful i can be on this new med. it's one a lot of folks also need and can struggle to have access to! It's important i be on it, especially if i start doing any vid collabs

(some of which, really, all of which, i unfortunately actually need to cancel that were in the preplanning stages, bc the election results have me wanting to wait and see how the general atmosphere of the country is before i agree to meet up with anyone. I feel bad for cancelling, but also i just can't know for sure how safe things are/might be going forward and I'd rather avoid the potential of. ya know. various not great things that could happen at a meet up, tho i would certainly hope they wouldn't. i don't feel like actually addressing them rn, u guys know what i mean)

That said, if the truvada initial side effects could fuck off asap would be so lovely. three weeks at worst, then they should be gone/much better or so i am told. really hope that's true bc losing my mornings to being dizzy and nauseous is Not Working for me lmao. im on week two, and now understand why my new doc said to call if i needed any 'cheerleading' and support to get thru the side effects, bc apparently she's done that for several ppl to make sure they actually make it thru the three weeks and keep on it (lovely of her!!)

[yunamoona]

I’ve talked before about Satoru being a terrible, clumsy high school flirt, and this would be a rare instance where him and Suguru can barely relate.

Suguru’s also a bad flirt, but not in the same sense. He’s not a bad flirt— more like a baaad flirt. He has a recipe and it’s definitely not Satoru’s, but his isn’t completely right either, ykwim? At least it has a higher success rate than his though.

Before you and Suguru even started dating, it seemed like the universe’s will brought you together in any way possible, like it was meant to be.

Little do you know, the universe’s will is Suguru’s will.

It was never meant to trick you by any means. Suguru just happens to be opportunistic. Opportunistic, and just so, sooo infatuated with you. Which led to this first of his subtle, strategic advances.

“Where is it, where is it…” You muttered to yourself with a defeated sigh, throwing your hands down against your thighs as you rock off your tiptoes back onto your heels. It wasn’t above your locker, or in it, or in your bag. You’ve already scoured your homeroom and other odd places around the main building, but your umbrella seemed to have simply…vanished. You swore you remembered bringing it in today, anticipating the downpour of the afternoon that was now thundering against the roof of the overhang as you stepped outside.

“Need an umbrella?”

Just as you were mentally preparing yourself to make a break for your dorm, you’re met with the sight of a familiar benign grin and kind narrow eyes. Oh, and that crazy weird side bang. Geto, was it?

He only hums in amusement at your stilted nod and exasperated explanation of how you swear you had it earlier. His smile only widened, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes at your animated frustrations.

“How unfortunate,” Geto sympathized as he shifted his umbrella to shield over your head as well. “Come on, I’ll walk with you. I insist, it’s no trouble.”

Of course you didn’t refuse the gesture, following with a flutter in your chest as he so generously escorted you to the dorms, shoulders brushing occasionally along the way.

What a coincidence, that he happened to be there, ready to offer you his umbrella. How kind of him. At least, it seemed that way to you.

Earlier that afternoon Geto had raised a hand to his curse before making one more quick check over his shoulder to make sure you were still out of sight. Coast clear.

“Don’t swallow it. I plan to return it later.”

The blubbering grotesque jumble of round faces and swollen lips gargled and slobbered all over your half gorged umbrella, regurgitating it at his command.

And maybe clean it too, he mentally noted as he cringed at the string of curse-saliva dribbling down the handle. Not that you would ever know it was dirty, of course. He’d look like the perfect gentleman when he kindly returned your lost umbrella the next afternoon, claiming he had stumbled upon it in the lost and found whilst looking for his lost keychain.

Funny, you were sure you checked there at least three times yesterday…

But it’s no harm no foul, really. Plus he’s fairly good at covering his tracks, so you won’t find out for a good while. If the universe is in his favor, he estimates you won’t catch on until at least after your 3rd anniversary— give or take. And more likely than not, the universe is in his favor.

a/n: he a little crazy and obsessed like that ໒꒰ྀི⸝ꈍ ꈍ꒱ྀིა but it’s okay bc ngl I am too. I have stuff to add onto this but it’s 2am and I’m tired so it’ll probably be another drabble

tagging my girl @nanamisbbygirl here’s that Geto fluff ૮꒰˶ ◝ᵕ◜˶ ꒱ა🩶

[from-izzy]

WITHIN HIS FRAME | THE BOYZ KIM SUNWOO

The familiarity drives you insane, as much as it makes you sane.

synopsis » three years, limited communication. usually you would listen to your mum. but not this time. not when your heart still inevitably belongs to kim sunwoo. it's just that...does he still have space for you in his life?

pairing » the boyz kim sunwoo x fem!reader

trope/au » friends to lovers, slight strangers to lovers, (implied) rich girl x (not so) poor boy, non-idol au, slight high school au (flashbacks), university/college break au (is when the story takes place)

genre » super fluffy, hurt/comfort >>>>>>, SLOW-BURN (just look at the wc...), sunwoo and reader are blind and soooo lovesick for each other that i got really pissed at them both (...and i wrote them-), sunwoo takes care of reader so well, the boy is super in love with you, photographer sunwoo who loves to look at pictures of you (and him)

word count ; estimated reading time » 27,768 ; ...i am so sorry-

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » slightly suggestive, toxic family dynamic (reader with mother), mentions of unknown sharing of live locations, kissing, assuming others' feelings/thoughts, reader and sunwoo being unsure of themselves, swearing, insecurities, pet names (bubs), reader implied to be physically shorter and smaller than sunwoo, proofread chapter-by-chapter

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 the boyz masterlist 🤍 part of 'especially to you...'

hmm...honestly, i'm not too sure how to start off with introducing this story 🥀 you're about to read a story that i've had in my drafts for a very long time because 1) i've been scared to write it and 2) i didn't have a lot of energy to write a story that means so much to me.

this story is a very dramatised way of what my life could be like if i followed my heart more. a happy ending...? maybe? we'll never know because we never know where life takes us. my mum is actually one of the biggest supporter in my life so the reader's mother role in this story is like a 'what if my mum wasn't the person she is?' 🥹 i'm super thankful for her, but sometimes i think about what would it be like if i got more support, you know? and sunwoo in this story? he represents everything that i would have chased if i wasn't so easily controlled by the world.

i'll forever be stuck with the 'if only i did it' but maybe-just maybe-i'll learn bit by bit to do what i want to do ❤️‍🩹 so here i represent you cupid's mistake's sibling and my longest fic by date to be published 🫂

thank you to everyone who listened to me yap about this baby and happy birthday, kim sunwoo 💗

ONE: SHE'S WHAT?!

It's a peaceful morning for Millie who has decided to reward her early mornings by sleeping in for the Sunday. Tomorrow, a new weekday would begin and rest is essential if she wants to deal with energetic primary school children for another week. Habitually, she reaches for her phone on the bedside table, scrolling through less important messages until one immediately rids any tiredness from her system.

"What?!" Her back springs from the mattress, eyes wide on the photo message from you.

Smiling like nothing matters in the world.

With a peace sign beside your face.

Beside you, an oval-like window.

Outside, blue sky and white clouds.

You're on a plane.

And judging by the way you decided to send this to her, Millie can only assume you're on the way here. Back to Korea. Back to your homeland where you haven't set foot for three years. You missed Christmas, your birthday, New Year and even Halloween with your best friend and her high school sweetheart as well as your cousin, Eric Sohn. Sure, care packages were sent and video calls were made despite time and body clock differences, but nothing can beat being in the same place with your loved ones.

Other than the fact that Millie had to borrow her mum's car without much explanation, the only thing she could think about is your unplanned arrival.

"How annoying." She isn't sure if she's talking about you or the traffic piled up nearer to the airport. "And the parking fee, too?! I'm going to make her pay for that..." A fake, somewhat menacing smile makes its way on her face at the double-digit fee at the first hour.

Regardless, you're still her best friend, and even though she has so many ways of scolding you, Millie would be there whenever you needed her. On the way, her mind couldn't help but wonder about the answers to your actions. You're not necessarily the type to do something so unplanned, yet at the same time, maybe she should've expected this with your insistence in coming back. 

To come back to breathe Korea's air. To be back to celebrate all those missed occasions. To eat ramen with Eric by the Han River. To go on a shopping spree with her and regret the low figures of your bank account later.

Or to come back because you miss a certain someone.

Millie heaves a sigh, relaxing her shoulders and leaning against her seat. Her eyes drift to the photograph on her dashboard: a group graduation photo. There's a bittersweet feeling for the boy who has his arm wrapped around your lower back. Kim Sunwoo’s smile is not what they should be paying attention to, but his other clenched fist by his side, and the spark gone from his eyes.

"Can't blame him," a sombre smile forming on her lips. "Kim Sunwoo is a coward who has been pining for you for a long time, you know?" 

It’s excruciating for everyone to watch you and Sunwoo hopelessly in love for the longest time. She and Eric promised not to involve themselves too much during high school, believing that there was still a lot of time to be spared. As time passed, so did the lingering wish that she at least nudged in some way. Given the external circumstances, though, would anything have changed even with her or Eric’s interference? 

"The world isn't fair to you both. It sucks."

The grip on the leathered steering wheel supports Millie’s words. A few seconds later, another thought emerges, and her grip loosens. The fact that you're here, assumingly through your actions, could it be? 

That you're trying to at least be fairer to your heart?

TWO: HALF OF THE GROUP REUNITED

It's totally unplanned- well, to a certain extent.

You were fully awake when you booked that plane ticket, fingers dragging across the cold touchpad. You were aware of putting in the dates of your one-way flight, clicking away. You were aware of the last minute packing accompanied by the sunrise, yawning mid-way.

Even on the plane right now, as the flight attendant asks you to put your window cover back up, you're aware of how the letters surrounding you will change. People will speak in Korean, almost foreign to you now. But that's okay. Because you're home. At the very least, with your heart racing like crazy, you've stepped foot into the place you've been longing for.

With that, not only the place but also the people. The ones you've missed dearly. The ones you kept in touch with for your years abroad; the ones that you were on the brink of losing as well.

"Oh," kind of breath taken with the bustling pace of the airport.

The adrenaline has run out as your shaking legs make it hard for you to walk. The shops within the airport have slightly changed, some undergoing renovations so you couldn't even take a peak. You chew on your bottom lip at the unfamiliarity of your homeland, wondering if this anxiety will fade. When your phone is spammed with messages, you know it will soon.

WTFKFJFFJ HUH?!??? WDYM YOURE JN THE AIR? BITCH WIPE THAT PRETTYS LIFTLE SMILE OFF YOUR FACR THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MY DAY OFF INSIDE THE FUCKIMG HOUSEEWTFFFFF WE HAVE A LOT TO TALK ABIUT MISSY

"Some things didn't change," you chuckle as you react to Millie's messages. Before you can go through all of them, your screen flashes with your cousin's name, bright and clear with the profile picture you haven't changed since high school.

"You’re in Korea?!" His surprised voice blasts through the speaker. You flinch, distancing your phone away from your ear. "Girl, why didn’t you tell me?! Did you tell Millie?! Or Sunw-”

"Not even a 'hi' or 'hello'?" Grumbling at the lack of greeting. "Millie is picking me up soon, okay? I'm gonna have to listen to her yapping, so spare me the double lecture, Eric Sohn."

"You have no right to use my full name!"

Arguing with Eric over the phone like this, without seeing his wide eyes and flared nose feels weird as you're so used to videos. But you reassure yourself that this is better as you'll be able to see all of that first hand soon anyway.

"Ok, well, surprise? I'm in Korea!"

"No shit, you're in Korea?!" Eric cheers on the other line. "Clear your schedule out today! And tell Millie to pick me up after! Actually, you should come to sleep over at my house today!"

Right...the accommodation problem. There isn't one, especially when Eric is offering. But you also did promise yourself to muster the courage to at least go home, greet your parents first (and maybe get their lectures first and foremost) before going out to clear your head afterwards. 

They don't know you're here. 

You’ve gathered all your wages for the plane ticket, even upgrading your check-in weight for the one-way ticket. Millie is the first person to know of your arrival, and you only hope that it stops with Eric, but you're beginning to doubt that with his excitement. At this point, his whole neighbourhood would know of your return.

You've been dreading to see them, but you know dragging it out would be worse. You're in trouble for going against their words big time. For all you know, they could send you back without another word. "I have to tell my parents I'm here, Eric."

Your voice is low, head hung down as you stare at your lap. Eric realises the severity of the situation by your tone. Are your parents even going to let you live after showing up like this? Your parents are strict, expecting obedience with no explanation needed. The only difference is that the man isn't always home, and you hope that’s the case this time too so that you'll only deal with one thing at a time. 

“You bitch!!” The booming voice attracts bystanders and takes you out of your thoughts. You couldn’t even identify where the voice came from when your back takes the weight of friendship. “You are so dead!”

“Let me live!” Smacking Millie’s hands away.

“You let me live! I’m supposed to be rotting in bed, yet it’s twelve. I haven’t eaten breakfast, you’re here without a warning and-”

“Okay, I’ll buy you food! Just let me go!”

THREE: BELLY FULL, WALLET FULL

You swear that getting free food has been Millie’s plan all along. What made it worse is that you had to pay for your cousin, who you’re also convinced is on a mission to clear your wallet. As the two lovebirds chomp on their food with satisfying hums and thumbs, you know that some things didn’t change. With your three years abroad, Eric did visit you once in a while, and so did Millie last year. Both still stayed pronounced in your life.

 “You booked the ticket three days ago?” Eric exclaims with a full mouth. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“Whatever. I know you’re happy that I’m here.”

But the truth is that you knew that if you left it for too long, you would never have gotten on the plane. The ticket is expensive despite factoring the cheapest date and time. Even so, you know it’s best this way.

“And so? Are you going home, or are you staying over at my place?”

You shrug at the question. “I think I’ll just go home and break the news today. There’s no point dragging it on for longer.”

“Or your mum doesn’t have to know,” Millie suggests.

“Got a tracker app on my phone. It’s not gonna work. Honestly, I'm sure they know that I'm here and waiting for me.”

It’s a grim reminder for the couple who stops chewing on their food, solemn eyes on their half cooked beef. They understand that being abroad, it’s not a bad thing to keep a GPS tracker on your phone. They would understand and agree with that, but in reality, your mum has kept a tracker on you ever since you had a phone. 

Throughout high school and twenty-four-seven, she sent messages when they knew you weren’t going to make it home before curfew. As your friends, they try their best to keep their thoughts calm, respecting the set boundaries. Deep down, they’re sick of your controlling parents, and Millie rolling her eyes is an indication of it. Your shoulder bumps into her intentionally, giving her a smile that isn’t quite genuine. 

Millie dropped the topic, moving onto one that she had been dying to ask since she picked you up. “Does he know? Did you tell him that you’re here?” 

No name has been given, but everyone at the table knows exactly who is being referred to. The table is quiet; only the meat crackling on the stove and the loud ventilation of the overhead vacuum hide your nervousness. Millie spots your fingers playing with the cuffs of your sleeves, finding out the answer herself. 

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, Millie,” a blatant lie. “He really did limit his interactions with me for the past three years,” a painful truth following.

“Why are you here then? I know you’re not here just because you miss us. Or Korea. Or that you’re homesick.”

Hesitancy fills you, your voice refusing to come out. “I don’t know,” you repeat your denial.

“I know you know,” Millie called you out. “You know what? This isn’t productive,” she chugs the rest of the water in her cup, distributing the rest of the food between three plates. “Hurry and eat. We’re going somewhere.”

FOUR: A GLIMPSE OF HIM

The streets outside slowly shift from familiar buildings to new ones. At first, you thought that maybe being away from Korea was to blame, but looking at the street name and the GPS on Eric's phone, you're sure that you've never stepped foot in this area. Asking the purpose of why you're at this seemingly random street that has been shut down multiple times, Millie’s “you'll see” becomes the routine answer.

The side of your head leans onto the window, eyes gazing over the new sight. Even though nobody’s telling you anything, you can't help but be mesmerised by the new buildings. The purpose of this ride becomes evident when Eric secures a side road parking directly in front of a camera shop. From the exterior, the paint job is pristine and smooth. Either the weather hasn't eroded the white colour, the owner repaints often or the paint has some tough defense. 

Millie peeks through the rearview mirror, your raised eyebrows wanting an explanation. “We're here. Get out of the car.” She and Eric hop off, prompting you to do the same.

The car door shuts in one swing, but your arms flail exhausted next to your body. “I still don't understand why we're here-” It seems like Millie is growing impatient with your lack of analysing your surroundings.

Your best friend holds both your shoulders firmly, aligning your body with the camera shop. At first, your head shakes at your tattered reflection, and your mouth opens to complain until the figure inside the store shifts your attention from yourself to them. 

On the opposite side of the glass, Kim Sunwoo kneels to be on the same eye level as a weeping child. His hair is jet black, unlike the brown that you last saw him with. His strands are all over the place, not an unusual sight when it comes to him. Your fingers twitch as your instinct from high school comes, recalling all the times you parted his hair neatly, brushing his bangs out of his view. Sunwoo’s distinct toothy smile calms the child, the parent beside him heaving a sigh of relief. But for you, you stop breathing for a while, breath taken away by the sight that you have missed the most.

“It's actually him…” Your eyes refuse to blink in fear that he might disappear. 

Three years seems to be enough to change some things while others stay the same. However, the lingering feelings that you have for the boy just by a flash of his smile resurfaces. Suddenly, you know coming back is the right choice, but seeing Sunwoo right now isn't just yet. 

“This store is his,” Millie informs softly beside you. “It’s a small store but never his efforts. Did it all by himself.”

You audibly gasp at the news. You could imagine all the hard work Sunwoo had put into the store, both mentally and physically. The privacy inside the store is partly protected by a cloudy sticker, but shelves of his products peek out, lenses of cameras on display, waiting to capture someone's memories.

As the sunlight reflects off a lens, you let the light guide your feet forward. You let your feet gravitate closer, curiosity piqued at the store before you. The first step is easy, but the second displaces the light from its position. 

"I'll come back tomorrow. I'm sure he's tired and doesn't want to see anyon-"

“Go and talk to him,” Eric cuts you off. “Besides, it's his birthday today.”

"We’re gonna go buy a cake really quick. You go on ahead and surprise him," Millie encourages with a slight push on your lower back.

Your eyes flicker to your two best friends, smiles reaching their eyes as their gazes point to the entrance door. They don't spare you a chance to rebut, linking their arms and skipping away. The 'open' sign has just been flipped away by its owner, and even through the clouded glass, the full body stretch that Sunwoo rewarded his tired muscles with relaxes your heartbeat. Your feet slide towards the door, cold fingertips reaching the metal handle. All you need to do is push, and the hinge of the door will welcome the cooler air inside. It would also give you a proper introduction to the boy that you have been missing.

And that's all you want. 

You just want to see Kim Sunwoo again properly. So your arm pushes against the curved surface, feet stepping into glossy tiles from gravel. The room is minimalistic, with barely a speck of dust infiltrating the crevices of the shelf. The walls are kept clean and white, seemingly expanding the room. Each shelf is neatly polished, and the names of the products, along with the price written to avoid confusion. Various levels of shelves, ranging from the floor to the ceiling, to fully glassed cabinets for display surround the room’s perimeter. The goods are placed neatly in rows, the label facing the front to greet the customers with no doubt of what they're looking at. The space wafts of musky cologne and new cardboard behind the front desk. Just from a single glance, Millie is right: it's obvious that Sunwoo put his all into this store. 

Then the cashier table: slightly less organised, stationery scattered all over the papers that hid the surface of the white table. It brings a nostalgic smile to your face, knowing that Sunwoo is still as messy. The number of times you gulped did nothing to the tears that gathered around the bottom of your eyelids, and you tried your best to stop them from escaping. Behind the desk, the owner sits and clicks away on his computer for a little longer. When he registers the tapping on the floor to not be his impatient ones, he looks away from the big screen.

“Sorry, we're clo-”

The customer service smile that Sunwoo has prepared, the higher pitch and the louder volume vanish at the sight of you. His eyes widen, making sure that he's not hallucinating from the lack of sleep, his lips parting. The hand on his mouse clatters when he stands, feet rooted to the ground as he proceeds to stare and blink at your presence. 

“Hi…” are the only words that come out from your lips as you will yourself deeper into the store. Soon enough, you're centimetres away from the other side of the desk Sunwoo stays stuck at. You held onto your bag as tightly as your chest is starting to feel with his stare.

"A-Am I dreaming? Are you real...?” A hand sweeps his hair back. “W-What is going on...?"

Your heart swells at his reaction. At the very least, it's nice to know that he isn't kicking you out. "I came back this morning. Millie picked me up,” shrugging your shoulders away as if it wasn't a big deal.

But to Kim Sunwoo, it is. It's a very big deal. 

His eyes scan over your figure, dressed lightly in the coming warmer months. Your fashion style didn't change from memory, and neither did the way your eyes sparkle. Sunwoo steps out from behind the counter, his blue hoodie and long baggy pants coming into full view. He's dressed very casually, contrasting the professionalism of having a job, and that's so Kim Sunwoo of him. 

No barrier stands between you and Sunwoo now. You didn't think you would be reaching into your bag today as you had no expectations of seeing him. A box rests on your palm as you extend it towards Sunwoo. The boy averts his gaze to your wonderful wrapping skills. 

“Happy Birthday, Sunwoo,” you congratulate him. “Just a little something from me to you.”

He left your arms hanging for a while, his forgetting how to move from his side. Your heart grows wary as he examines your handwriting of his name on the tag, your arms slowly retracting back to yourself. Before you can, Sunwoo mutters his gratitude, finally accepting your gift. You release the tense breath, shoulders loosening with the touch of his skin. 

Then, you announce something that would drastically change Sunwoo’s schedules, “I'm home.”

FIVE: (SOMEWHAT) EXPERT ADVICE

Eric and Millie show up with a fully decorated cake with declarative toppers a few moments after. The four of you clutter around the front desk, devouring dessert before the main dinner meal. Conversations are loud, not letting silence take over at the reunion. You and Sunwoo haven't interacted much ever since the other two came, but you're satisfied with the shared moment now. Smearing cream onto each other's faces, photos clicking to capture the tradition, blasting music from Eric's phone as Millie fills the unknown lyrics with gibberish. 

It's so nice to be home like this. 

You didn't realise the eyes stuck onto you the whole time, stolen glances on top of it as the past two hours flew by. Sunwoo didn’t expect to close the store with a bright smile with sweet remnants on his face from the last few days of exhaustion. Today, though, the only thing exhausted is the storage space of his phone.

“Let's go for a proper dinner!” 

“Convenience store dinner?” You add on to Eric’s words, “Just like back in high school.”

“Broke dinner,” Millie agrees with the idea.

Your eyes shift to Sunwoo, waiting for his answer. It's then that you notice him already striding away. “You guys go on ahead. I need to head back first. Thank you for today.”

To say that your heart drops at his answer is an understatement. Did Sunwoo really not want to be near you that much? Did you possibly ruin his day? You automatically occupy your mind with such thoughts, missing the way he turns his back to start walking the opposite way, and the last glance he spares your way. You take notice of his deflated shoulders, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, and you had to force yourself to look away to save the rest of your heart.

“Actually, I just remembered that I left something at Sunwoo’s house! You two go on ahead!” Eric attempts to be subtle, but not with how he rushes to blurt out his words.

Millie takes notice of your clenching hands, sympathetic eyes falling onto you. “He's not happy to see me, I guess," a lifeless chuckle followed after.

"Don't be ridiculous," Millie reassures. "He's just shocked, that's all."

"But he looks kind of disturbed with me being here, you know? Maybe he doesn't want to have anything to do with me anymore. He has spent the last three years barely texting me after all…"

Millie has always been the friend to say otherwise to your negative thoughts. She has an almost perfect success rate in making you feel better whenever you feel down, but this time, she's speechless. There’s nothing that she can offer other than an engulfing hug, letting some of your tears fall onto her shoulder while she pats the back of your head. No one knows why Kim Sunwoo decided to cut you off from his life.

And that’s what Eric Sohn wants to know, or at least confront him about. 

"Way to go, Sunwoo.” Eric’s remark is snide, a hint of amusement but also expectancy of his treatment towards you.

Sunwoo scowls at his company, "Stop it, Eric."

"Why don't you give her a chance? Your heart a chance?"

“Yeah? Don't you remember what she went through because of me?"

Eric scoffs, disbelief at a past event that Sunwoo has evaluated negatively without hearing your side. He turns to his friend. "What did she go through, Sunwoo? When was there ever a time when she was sad with you?"

His steps pick up, wanting to avoid this conversation for the nth time, "Maybe not with me, but because of me."

"Really?” Her tone rose sharply, "Because as far as I remember, the only time she was sad because of you was when you weren't there to see her off at the airport because you apparently overslept.” A grimace makes its way to Sunwoo’s face. “As if anyone believed you.”

Sunwoo shakes his head, fist wanting to wreck havoc, "It doesn't matter. None of that matters. She's going to leave again, and we’ll be out of touch. It's better that way."

"You're an idiot,” Eric raises both hands in despair. "Give your heart a chance because for the last three years, all I see in your eyes is longing." And you need to see the same thing in her as well, the cousin thought to himself. 

“Give it a chance only for it to break?”

His best friend decides to ignore the comment, phone lighting up with a reminder set for tomorrow's events. “The festival is tomorrow,” Eric raises a corner of her lip, plotting something in his head. “You're on pick-up duty.”

“What? No!”

“You can't just wait for the right circumstances to come, you coward.” The two friends arrive at the end of the shared road. Eric waves his exit, leaving a flabbergasted Sunwoo behind, intending to cut the birthday boy some slack. But true friends being true friends, his words still leave him with no mercy after all. “Some are made.”

SIX: TAKE ME AWAY

The last time you attended the mentioned beach festival was four years ago before you left. It was the last year of high school, stakes running high as students buried their noses into teared-up textbook pages. With how harsh each page flip gets with each passing second, it’s a miracle that the page is still intact with the book’s spine.

The memory seemed so distant yet everytime this time came around each year, you couldn’t help but to long for it. For now, academics is for another country and you're not there right now. You occupy the next half an hour on your phone in bed, scrolling through social media when the annual beach post festival reminder pops up on your screen. 

“Oh…” Your thumb hovers to the comments section, scrolling through countless usernames tagging their loved ones to inform them of the event. “Should I go…?” But then the no company makes you swipe the app close, “Nevermind.”

Laying on your side, you’re met with your wall, allowing your mind to wander. You recall the time Sunwoo stubbornly got hurt a few years back just so that you could attend the festival, desperately wanting to take you. The dry air transports you back to the time when you surrounded yourself with the glossy finish of your chemistry, psychology and human biology books spread on your massive study table.

“This is so…” You let your sentence trail off, telling your conscious mind to read the next sentence, to just hold on for another page. 

The headphones are ripped out from the comfort of the top of your head, now dangling pathetically around your neck as you rest your forehead on the staggering amount of words. Doing this non-stop for three hours without a break is not effective, but you can't bring yourself to rest.

You knew you should’ve gone to the library, but you needed to be able to say the words out loud for memorisation. You knew you should’ve studied in the cafe, but the aroma of chocolate and coffee would empty your wallet. You knew you should—

“Ouch!” 

The thudding exclamation came from the left, where your open window is. Judging from the location of your room being on the second floor, you deduced that something (or rather, someone) must have injured themselves. Instinctively, your hand reaches for your phone to inform the guards, but it halts at the familiarity of the voice.

You cautiously approach the window, a pillow in hand as a (not so effective) weapon for whoever is waiting on the other side. Your head takes quick dips in and out of the sight of the outside world, a glimpse of a blank-haired boy sitting on the ground. Deeming it safe, half of your lower body is out of the comfort of your cooler room, the golden hour highlighting your face. Just as you expected, the boy looks defeated at the fact that he can’t reach your window’s apron, his butt glued to the soil and a hand clamped on the side of his head.

Sunwoo hasn’t noticed your presence, mumbling incoherent curses to himself as he continues to massage the pain out of his head after falling for a second time. You chose not to break the self-talk that the innocent boy is doing, now pacing around the area in a small, endless circle to the point that he could leave his trails on the grassed area. A hand slaps over your mouth, keeping the volume of your chuckles as minimal as you can as you hear the adorable self-encouragement.

“Ah, crap! I gotta be quick!”

“Wait, it’s six already?!”

“Okay, okay, okay. I’m getting a grip now! Let’s do this!”

You watch Sunwoo retreat a bit further from the wall of your house, a small smile appearing on your face as you see a similar expression start to take over his face, yet comparatively, it’s different and so much more genuine. If the raised corner of your lips is full of hesitancy, negativity and is fictitious, he holds the meaning of confidence, positivity and perseverance. It’s one of the many things that you love about him, and the rays of heaven shining down on him make you melt into the thought of Kim Sunwoo every time.

Maybe it’s not something that a ‘clueless eighteen-year-old’ should think about, as your mother says, but the heart knows the truth. But all it takes is one person to make you feel the emotions that you can't receive and feel in this household. Your shoulder muscles relax, and the weight in your chest lifts whenever Sunwoo is within reach.

“Kim Sunwoo…” fingers clenching the painted window frame, “when will you ever leave me alone?”

The easy answer to that is never.

Simple and true—just like your love for him and his love for you.

Clouded in your thoughts, you lose track of Sunwoo’s attempts to break in. Another exclamation breaks your daydream, and you feel bad for almost laughing at Sunwoo’s misery.

“What do you think you're doing?” Making your presence known to the boy downstairs.

It’s interesting to see how his smile sprouted more as he craned his neck up so much that you worry about the cramp that will arise later on. The beam plastered on his face takes your breath away.

“This makes my life easier!” Sunwoo jumps around like a child at the sight of you. “Come on! Let's go!”

The slight shake of your head and scoff tells Sunwoo your first thoughts, “You know I can't, Woo,” and it dulls the radiant atmosphere that he has been emitting.

“I’ll bring you back.” No doubt about that, and for some reason, it’s a miracle that your parents have never caught you. “Your parents won't even know,” he reinforces his will of bringing you out.

“It’s funny how you say that when you can't even enter through my very open window.”

“I’m sorry that I haven’t mastered the art of floating,” he sassily remarks with an eye roll. “Come on! Eric and Millie are waiting!”

It's scary to even think about running away with an ominous presence behind you, even though your mum is away for the next few days. With how much you’ve been cooped up between your four walls, you could recite the little scratches on the wall, the same ones that made your mum throw a tantrum to the painters who you believe did their job as best as they could. In the end, those hard-workers end up leaving with no pay, stinging you that you share the same genetics as one of the two figures in your life that you’re supposed to be able to trust and look up to.

“It's okay, Woo…” your mind already reciting the reactants to carboxylic acid, “but thanks for the offer.”

“Just two hours!” Holding up corresponding fingers to you. “Then I'll take you back home! Now jump, and I'll catch you! Promise!”

You know very well that Sunwoo wouldn't let you fall, however the height is crazy for you and his words aren't the most trustworthy. “With what muscles?!”

“Hey! You know I wouldn't dare to drop you!” He retaliated with his two arms up to the sky. 

His open arms tempt you to do as he says instead of taking the long way down, even though the difference in time between the two routes is barely different. You find yourself sitting on the ledge of your window and in Sunwoo’s arms seconds later. The warmth of the sun is nothing compared to the hold he has on you, body shaking as he sets you on your feet. Your hand clamps on his t-shirt, eyes welling up at the caring orbs he has for you. 

“See? Told you I would catch you.” The loose strands of your hair are tucked behind your ears. Sunwoo exhales at your tears, thumbs wiping them away, “You can cry if you want.”

“Mhm…” You nod whilst still keeping eye contact with him. 

“It's okay,” he shakes his head at the threatening waterfall, “cry it out.”

His hand pushes you to his chest, fingers lightly massaging the back of your head. “It's just…I can't…”

“Yes, you can,” he argues. “You're the smartest person I know, and you're going to do well. I promise.”

“You’ve been promising me a lot of things…”

“Because you’re worth all of them.”

You got caught that day as your mum finished her business earlier than expected. Unfortunately, that was also Sunwoo’s first meeting with her. A beautiful day turning into a mess. Needless to say, the restrictions placed upon you increased, and freedom immensely decreased. You could no longer hang out with anyone after school, not even in the library during the weekends. The want to see your friends outside of the school only increases when you knew you were leaving, but your parents stood their ground.

And now, all grown up, sometimes when you're given the ability to do what you want, you simply can't. 

Outside your house is a different story. Sunwoo paces around outside your gate, rewriting his text to you for the third time. “Or I could just turn back and go home!” 

During his mental breakdown, the text accidentally sends, and the ‘seen’ receipt appears almost straight away. “...WHAT?!”

im outside…?

You've never skipped down the stairs, stumbled over the air and almost embarrassingly face-planted to the ground. The click of the front door opens, revealing the crease between your eyebrows, eyes scanning your front yard for the unexpected visitor. The little wave outside your property catches your attention. Sunwoo is leaning on the hood of his car outside your fence.

With a touch of the button, the front gates creak open, and you usher Sunwoo in as you hurriedly slip on shoes, once again almost stumbling. Sunwoo's head shakes at your invitation, pointing at the ground as he offers you a reassuring smile.

You watch Sunwoo attending his phone, the device against his ear. Your phone rings shortly after, Sunwoo's name on your screen. Your thumb clicks on the green button with no hesitation.

“You look tired.”

It's such a wonder how he's able to catch your expression from far away. But truthfully, he couldn’t. Sunwoo just knows everything about you, including the implications of your slightly draping shoulders.

“My mum chewed me out for coming without notice and, I quote, ‘Running around Korea before heading home first' and also said that I'm ungrateful,” you shrug at last night's lecture. “But what's new? She's kind of always like that.”

Sunwoo hums, “I'm proud of you.” You’re taken aback from the words, not fully understanding them. With your silence, Sunwoo takes it as a cue to explain, “That you came back here because you wanted to. You always obeyed your parents, which to a certain extent is good, but I’m sure you know what’s good and bad for you now.” 

“Oh…” your neck hangs low, kicking the small rocks away from the sill of the door. A faint smile grows as you begin to acknowledge your bravery in coming despite being afraid of the “what ifs. “Thank you, Sunwoo.”

Sunwoo nods, a tender gaze overlooking your figure from afar. “You can take a nap in my car if you’re still tired…if you want…”

An eyebrow rises at the question, bringing your head back up see Sunwoo shrugging his shoulders. “Are you asking me out?"

"Maybe," he chuckles, and you see the way he shifts his sitting in slight excitement, eyes fondly setting on you. "The annual beach festival is today. You haven't gone in a while, and I was wondering if you want to go with us again. Eric and Millie are there already."

Your eyes widen, wondering at the perfect timing of it all. If your phone was fragile, it would have shattered underneath your grip. You stand stunned for a minute longer, and there's a beat of the crows cawing in the background. Sunwoo nervously fidgets with his keys as he waits. After a while, he misinterprets the silence, slowly getting up to leave.

“I-I guess you're busy. It's okay-"

"No!" You shout, and Sunwoo hears your echo without his phone. He hears you stuttering an apology and then, "Give me ten minutes…"

The image of the whole complete group in his head makes his heart warm. He nods. "Take as much time as you need. I'll be waiting."

SEVEN: STICKS AND GEMS

"I didn't know you got your license,” you finally address after a song ends. “And a car.”

"There were a lot of places I wanted to go to. It's more convenient to drive.” 

Some of those words are true; Sunwoo just left out the part about how he wishes that someday, you’ll be a part of the said drives. You would be in the front seat, helping him with navigation, and he would take pictures of everyone, mostly you. A trip was supposed to happen as a graduation present for the four of you. But with three left, it didn't seem worth it to go anymore.

With how crowded the festival is compared to years ago, it’s a miracle that Sunwoo was able to find parking. You do have to thank the children for being tired earlier, leaving a few bays free. Millie and Eric holler across the street, the girl jumping into your arms after crossing. While you're occupied with Millie’s arm around your neck dragging you into the festival, Sunwoo took a breather with your retreating figure.

“Wasn't so hard now, was it?” Sunwoo rolls his eyes at Eric's grin. “You gonna tell Millie to stop stealing your girlfriend?” 

“Wha-” Sunwoo sputters. “She's not my girlfriend.”

“Alright,” Eric shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

Eric’s grin stays on for the rest of the night as the two boys follow you and Millie behind. Sunwoo has his hand tucked into his hoodie pocket from the wind. His hood also shielded his face from the night breeze. Yet, it's not enough to hide his fond eyes and mellow smile if you turned back. Nothing could hold Sunwoo back from showing you that look, so if you did turn back, he would be completely exposed with no proper excuse for why his cheeks were dusted like the sunset’s pink.

Your gasp takes his out of his trance, feet ready to run and take your hand incase of danger. When he follows the object of surprise, he exhales with relief.

“Tornado potatoes!” You run out from Millie’s embrace, joining the long queue of the food truck. 

It's a signature food of the core memory between you both. Even without you for the past years, he has never forgotten to grab a stick for himself. Knowing you’re safe, Sunwoo retreats his foot from running.

A couple of nudges to his hip have him turning to the culprit. “Go accompany her in line.” Millie raised an eyebrow knowingly. “Don't be a coward, Sunwoo.”

Sunwoo’s mouth opens, ready to come up with a thousand excuses on why he shouldn't, but he takes all of them back. Because he wants to. He wants to accompany you in line. He wants to be with you, even if it's just for a few seconds. So he nods without complaint, not looking back to the couple.

"Damn," Eric crosses his arms, impressed. "Our boy is still as whipped as before."

"Arguably even more." Millie squints her eyes at the faraway couple, particularly Sunwoo, who has an adoring gaze stuck on you. "He's an idiot."

"They're both idiots," Eric corrects. "I say we leave my lovesick cousin and best friend and have fun ourselves."

Millie is delighted with the suggestion, linking Eric by his arm away from you and Sunwoo. Meanwhile, you’re occupied with the spices, oil and fried goodness in the air when Sunwoo makes his appearance known. You jolt with widened eyes, slowing softening into a pair of crescents. 

“Don't go running off like that,” he courageously takes your left hand with his right. “You worry me.”

The physical touch leaves you speechless, warmth rising to your cheeks. You spare him a curt nod before looking away to hide your flustered look. 

“Sorry, I haven't eaten this in ages, so I’m excited.”

“Rock, paper, scissors and the loser pays?”

The deal is sealed after three rounds, and Sunwoo’s wallet is closer to zero. As you're distracted with your win, he doesn't miss the opportunity to tighten his hold on you, continuing with light conversation as the line progressively gets shorter. Holding Sunwoo’s hand becomes normal, and you forget how it feels without. You eventually let go for a better grip on the almost empty stock, not leaving a single worth of cent behind. 

Now, you're exploring the place with Sunwoo beside you. Your shoulders occasionally bump into each other, knuckles likewise brushing. All this sends Sunwoo's heart reeling, craving your touch even more. Eric and Millie are unreachable, as expected. Sunwoo grumbles curses to your cousin after reading his peace sign emoji text, knowing this is all a set-up. You all agreed to meet up along the shore a few minutes before the fireworks show, but for now, he'll take this opportunity with you.

“Where should we go?”

Sunwoo shakes his head, pocketing his phone to give you his full attention. “Anywhere you want.”

His hand is back into yours, unaware of the effect it has on you. You found it difficult to focus on the stalls and decorations with your being so close to Sunwoo. Your gait is throwing you off-centre, feeling the boy's deep chuckle beside you by his hold.

“Want a piggyback ride?” 

“No!” You would have taken it as it would be an opportunity to hide yourself but your heart cannot take any more than right now.

“Someone's excited,” an elderly voice calls out. 

"Grandma Lee!" You run over to the stall with the familiar face. "You're still here!"

"Of course! You know that handmade accessories are my life!"

"And I'm so glad it has stayed that way!" 

Grandma Lee spares a greeting to Sunwoo, which was reciprocated, bowing to the woman with respect. You were both regulars at her annual stall. Grandma Lee sells handmade hair accessories with fine precision and detail. Her hard work always leads to her supply being out of stock in most festivals she's at, and it's no surprise to either of you. Sunwoo and you always spent the rest of your money here following food, and with the designs in front of you today, it seems like today will follow the trend from previous years. 

"I haven't seen you in so long, dear," referring to your absence. "Sunwoo told me you've been studying abroad and are very busy."

You're surprised to hear that. Not because of her caring nature, but because Sunwoo talked about you. "Yes, I’ve been abroad," stealing side glances to Sunwoo as he busied himself with the designs in front of him. 

"I'm sure you have been working very hard! Please take one as a gift!" 

"Oh no, it's okay-"

"Follow my words, dear. Hard work should always be rewarded. I'm sure you have been working very hard that you haven’t been able to come home.” 

You wish you could open your heart to rebut how untrue it was. You were close to doing so until the elderly woman stood from her chair, reaching over to pat your head. 

All words blur under her care. "Thank you…” With a satisfied nod from the kind elderly, you begin to search the racks and shelves of handmade accessories. 

The contemplation is written all over your face, so Grandma Lee tries to help. "I recommend these because they’re different designs from what Sunwoo has gotten you before.”

The boy next to you freezes, his eyes intentionally looking towards the end of the table closer to his claim. His fingers slip away from yours, lips growing dry as he tries to ignore your stare. You gulp and turn away, eyes running through the designs to distract yourself.

The truth is, whenever you visit this place with Sunwoo, he has never gotten you anything. He wanted to, but you always beat him to the payment first. So Grandma Lee’s words could only really mean one thing.

"You bought me things?" You finally ask with a tender voice, still not looking at him. 

Sunwoo’s nod just caught on your peripheral. “I'm sorry if that makes you feel uncomfortable. I wanted to send it over but then always wanted to give it to you face to face, and I know I should have just sent it over because that would have been more special to receive it straight away but-”

"Hey, hey,” your palm blankets the back of his hand, thumbs soothing across his knuckles. You keep your eyes to your hands. “I’m just thinking about how you thought of me…”

His heart breaks at that. Of course, you would think this way. After all, he's the person that would leave you on delivered, sometimes, seen for ages after promising to stay in close touch. The pain on your side isn't truly understood until now when, just by one look, Sunwoo could tell that you're holding your tears back. Your hands shake, breath doing the same. 

“I always think of you,” he confessed genuinely. “Always.”

You don't know why you think you had to search his eyes for any lies when you finally lock yours with his. “Me too,” you confess back. “I always think about you too.”

Those simple words mean everything to him and you. Lighthearted laughter fills the atmosphere while Grandma Lee sits away to give you both space. She reminisces her youth and love now far away through the two young adults who have their fingers intertwined fondly. Joint attention is now back on her work. With how much Sunwoo asks you to reconsider your choice, it gets you wondering what he has bought for you, and the knowledge makes your heart flutter.

In the end, Grandma Lee gave you more than just a hair clip, not letting you or Sunwoo spend anything on her priceless work. You’re both left with a pout on your lips when she wouldn’t even accept the offer of buying some warm food to munch on. The woman even joked about calling security if you didn't leave immediately. After giving your hands a light and reassuring squeeze, you promised to visit next year and left. An enveloping hug is the only thing she would accept from you both, but that’s all the woman wants from her most loyal customers. 

Sunwoo’s phone is bombarded with texts from Eric telling him that he’s by the shore, readying for the fireworks in around half an hour. “Do you want to grab any quick snacks before meeting up?”

“I should be fine,” occupied by the small bag of goods in your hands. 

You’re barely paying attention to your path, and Sunwoo has to distribute his attention to you and the crowd around him. This would surely be a good reason to hold your hand, right? It’s for your safety, and he’s worried about you. After another moment of contemplation, Sunwoo acted on his thoughts, slithering his right arm around your lower back and resting his palm on your waist. He pulls you closer to him, and you almost drop everything.

In this way, walking through the crowd becomes easier, even with shaky legs at the subtle touches on the dip of your waist, similar motions like the one you gave him earlier. Kim Sunwoo is learning from you. Your confidence rubbed onto him, and you relished the way your bodies were close to each other despite making walking a difficult task.

The plastic bag that was near your chest lowers to your thigh as you now pay attention to Sunwoo’s cologne, stealing glances without moving your head too much. He’s busy looking around for Eric and Millie, as you busy yourself with his well-sculpted features. Sunwoo’s touch didn’t do much in terms of making you more aware of your surroundings, but with you in his arms, it’s much safer than before.

“Oh. My.” Millie tugs on Eric’s sleeves, her jaw dropped by you and Sunwoo close together.

Eric blinks at the sight. “Well, that happened.” Millie slaps Eric’s bicep in excitement. “Yes, baby, we’re all excited.” The two quickly rush to make space on the blanket.

Millie pats the space on her left for you, a smirk on her face which makes you mouth her to leave you alone. To Millie, waiting for you to take your shoes off felt like a lifetime. She pulls you down by an arm, a knowing eyebrow rising as you swat your hand in the air. 

Sunwoo takes his place next to your left quietly, knees folding to his chest, “So nice to have all four of us here.”

“Well,” the girl beside you starts, “for now.”

“Millie, stop ruining the moment!” You reprimanded. 

Sitting down side by side resurfaces memories. It's warming when you think about how you are all connected by this event: Millie meeting Eric here when she was working at one of the stalls and you meeting Sunwoo a year after. It's like everything wanted you all to be together. In the vast view where the waves sing with the birds at sunset, they wanted you all to sit together to admire the changing time.

Sunwoo’s fingers traced along the zipper of his camera bag, contemplating taking it out. The waves sparkle under the golden rays, and it’s breathtaking. However, it’s not breathtaking enough to take his attention away from the person beside him. Your smile makes it harder for him to divert his eyes away. Eric eyes the bag to reassure the boy before redirecting his eyes to you. Sunwoo chuckles instead of cursing at him, finally setting his camera. 

Sunwoo first starts with capturing the calmer waves and landscapes. Eric followed, ready with multiple poses, and then he and Millie as per the former’s request. There's a playful scowl on his face when the couple displays their affection in public, but at the back of his head, he can't help but be healthily jealous of the love they share. Satisfied with his work, Sunwoo clicks through his masterpiece, mentally choosing which to print for his photo album.

You lean over to his screen, “You've still got it,” complimenting his skills. “I'm glad to see that you still love photography. It has always been your hidden passion in high school.”

“Couldn't let go of it,” Sunwoo nods. “Hence the store as well.”

He shifts his seating position from you, stopping near the edge of the blanket. The lens reflects your face, Sunwoo clicking multiple times to your random poses. You’ve always been a natural when it comes to taking pictures. For you, the photographer is an important factor in the quality of your picture. There’s no way you could fully relax if you didn’t know the person behind the camera well. Because of that, you haven’t gotten your picture taken by anyone for a long time, yet it feels like second nature when Sunwoo gives you pointers on what he should do as he adjusts his settings. Again, his work never lets you down.

“You should sign up for competitions again like what you did in high school.”

“I did. Four of them.” Sunwoo powers his camera off, spreading his legs out with his hands behind him for support. “I won them all.”

“Sunwoo!” You exclaim, clapping generously for him. “I knew it! You should hang up the certificate or trophies at work! And the pieces you won along with it!”

“N-No, it's embarrassing…”

“No, it's a good idea! You not only have the technical knowledge for cameras but also photography skills. I'm sure a lot of people will love it and be assured that the owner has a clear talent for photography as well!”

Your compliments make Sunwoo retreat his blushing face behind his propped-up arms on his knees. “M-Maybe,” he takes the credits. “Want to see the pieces? I have them here.”

In a heartbeat, you nod at his offer. Sunwoo walks you through the failed photos, telling you the reasons and how he made the next shots better. You’re used to seeing portraits as it was Sunwoo’s specialty. Knowing that his skills have comfortably extended to landscapes makes you immensely proud of the immersed boy in his hobby.

Amid conversations and the dropping temperature, your body searches for warmth, unconsciously resting your head on Sunwoo's shoulder. Beside you, Sunwoo lays the side of his head on top of yours, relaxing at how you paid attention to all his words. The saltiness of the sea is washed out by your perfume and shampoo, and it took everything for him to not turn his head to yours to press a quick kiss. 

It’s only when the sky explodes with warm, bright colours that you lean away, allowing his heart to come back to normal rhythm. However, like before, his eyes are stuck on your side profile. His fingers jitters, close to lifting themselves for his lens, but he helps the urge down. He decides to keep this scene for himself. 

Sunwoo wants to share your beauty with the world, eyelashes fluttering with regretful blinking at missing a millisecond of the fireworks. He wants to show you off, but he wants to keep this scene to himself.

Humans can be selfish sometimes. And Kim Sunwoo is human. 

You’re aware of the eyes falling upon you, so you attend to them to see Sunwoo’s affectionate eyes. Your breath hitches at the sweetness dripping from his orbs, and you pay attention to the colours of the sky painting their way to his honey-like skin.

“You’re really pretty.” Sunwoo’s deep voice resonates in the air. When he realises his words, his cheeks turn a deep red.

“Sunwoo…”

His hand lightly directs your head back to his shoulder, giving him the comfort that he needs. “Stay close to me, please,” his voice weakening with each second. He gulps the bile down his throat. “I’m sorry that I was cold yesterday when you visited the store. I’m sorry…” Sunwoo repeats the apology a few more times, and you lift your head away from him.

Sunwoo bites his bottom lip, unable to face you in shame. Unexpectedly, a palm cups his cheek, tilting his face to you, “I forgive you, Woo.” Your thumb pulls on the skin of his chin to release the bite. “Stay close to me, okay?”

A final nod is all he manages to give. With bodies gravitating towards each other and hearts lighter, you watch the sky bloom with sparks that reflect on your orbs. To you, Kim Sunwoo is in your peripheral view, but to him, you’re at the centre of his. 

EIGHT: SEALED DEAL

As per Eric and Millie’s hopes, Sunwoo is the one to drop you home. Millie makes you promise to video call when you settle back home, and you roll your eyes playfully, promising the girl anyway, with whatever she wants to talk about. Now, you’re back in Sunwoo’s passenger seat.

"When did you open the store?"

It's a question that you're curious about and you find that after tonight, starting a conversation with Sunwoo is much easier.

"I worked for a year and a half after graduation and spent all my savings on it.” 

He remembers the time of taking transport in the humid summer, missing the bus to bathe in his sweat. In winter, he would bathe in his sweat on the bed, fighting a fever. All of it turns into fond memories during silence in the store, reminiscing his little efforts that went a long way and paid off.

"Eric and Millie helped with the decorating.” Sunwoo was about to stop there. Until, “It would have been better if you were with us.”

It's a mutual feeling. How will you even begin to make up for that lost time? You give him a slow nod, lost in your thoughts. "It was really lonely abroad. I had friends and a lot of company, but something was missing."

The red light halts the car, and the sound of the engine rests for a little while. It's not until now that Sunwoo can finally steal a side glance at you. Your hair frames your face, and even though he's unable to get a proper look because of the night, he can hear your nails clashing anxiously against each other.

"Like?" He dared to continue, and he had to bite his tongue to reprimand himself. 

"Millie's mischief, Eric's energy," your fingers stop moving, "and everything about you."

The green light pumps the engine back to life, the buzzing filling the air once more with another layer. You didn't expect an answer from Sunwoo. You're just glad you got your feelings out.

“You’re here now. It’s better now, right?” 

Your head whips to his side, and for the first time, Sunwoo’s lips stretch from ear to ear genuinely. “Right,” you answer with a mirroring facial expression.

This is it. This is the Kim Sunwoo that you know.

The rest of the ride is mixed with light singing and swaying. Sunwoo kept the beat by tapping his finger on the wheel and you on your thigh. You tried your best to keep yourself interested in the scenery outside, but with the mellow, higher tone that Sunwoo sings with the love songs on the radio, he eventually becomes your scenery. It's only halfway through one of the songs when Sunwoo gradually turns the volume down, the uninviting tall black gates causing his engine to halt. You stay in your seat, reasoning to stay until the song is over. But two, three and four songs pass after your claim.

Sunwoo had an idea of why you're rooted on the seat of his car. If he could, he would drive you back to his house, somewhere you loved to spend time, for the rest of the night. Yet, the last time he did that was really the last time. He couldn't stop blaming himself for that day he took your freedom away with the introduction of stricter curfews and rules.

"You should go in. It's going to be curfew soon,” he finally managed to say.

"Oh, right..." Your voice trails off with disappointment. Your hands take the latch of his car door to exit, and you're ready to pull until he stops you.

Per his request, you stay seated as Sunwoo exits instead. Your head follows his figure, disappearing when he takes something from the back of the car. Sunwoo comes around your side of the door, opening it for you. Other than the smile that reaches his eyes, his gratefulness for today is conveyed with the bouquet he prepares in his hands. Your lips parted at the colourful petals. 

“I was supposed to give this to you before, but I was just so flustered and now they look ugly and destroyed and I'm so sorry and-"

"They're pretty. Thank you, Sunwoo,” you reassure his worried rambles. Sunwoo extends his hands to you, hands brushing at the exchange. "Can you take a picture of me with them?"

Surely his phone has space for one more photo. Don't fail on me now phone! And fail it didn't, as he was able to quickly delete an app for immediate storage. As expected, Sunwoo directs you with poses and angles, snapping the best shots of you and his gift. You're left scrolling at the new pictures sent to your phone, feet tapping on the cement excitedly.

You pocket your phone, taking a moment to appreciate the flowers in front of you. The sweet scent surrounds you, and you push the gift closer to your chest. Some petals fall, withering from time. As much as you want to think you have more time than them, you don't know what the future holds. 

So you at least try to control a bit. You want to make up for the lost time somehow.

"Can I come to help you at work tomorrow?” The suggestion is followed by rustling plastic by your hold. “I promise I won't bother and actually help."

It's an interesting request to Sunwoo. If he agrees, then he would be able to see you more. "It's your holiday. You should be relaxing."

"Being with you is relaxing,” you state surely. “I just want to be around you."

"How about I pick you up after work?”

"How about you just let me work with and help you tomorrow?”

Sunwoo chuckles, knowing he won't win against you. Besides, losing to you on this isn't a bad idea. He leans over to you slightly, bending his back to reach eye level and towering over you. "The moment you distract me, you're out."

The way your eyes lit up from his words is a sight that he wants to see all the time. "Deal!"

NINE: TRACED FEELINGS

Despite looking forward to the next day, maybe you were looking forward a bit too intensely, as you couldn’t fall asleep fast. As a result of your overexcitement, you overslept and are indeed running late. Regardless, you still willed your legs to dash to the bus stop and shop to avoid ‘clocking in’ later.

“Morning!”

“You’re late.” Sunwoo tries to be stern, but his facade breaks seconds after with a welcoming smile.

“Now you know how the teachers felt like in high school with you,” the boy concedes, hands up in the air. “What am I helping you with today?”

“It’s getting a bit busier, so I’ll get you on POS, unpack some deliveries and record appointments for photoshoots or any of the sort that anyone needs.”

“Sounds good to me!” You skip your way behind the front desk, setting the space for the day.

Sunwoo being Sunwoo, you're not surprised at the clutter. He manages to keep the rest of the store clean, but how does he even function with all this scattered paperwork? You can't even see the material of the table, and you're convinced the folders below the papers are for decoration. 

“Guess I'll start by cleaning and sorting this out then.” 

You don't get far with your cleaning, only grabbing a few sheets draped against his stationary cup until a picture frame comes into view. The pictures are sized smaller than usual to make maximal use of the frame. Upon closer inspection, you recognise most of these pictures as the ones on your phone: the late night getaways, the sleepovers, the birthdays and Christmas Eves, the prom and the graduation photos. They're all here. 

What really stood out? Most of them were only you and Sunwoo, and not group ones with Eric and Millie. 

“I wasn't the only one who kept them…” 

For the longest time, you thought so. You thought that you were the only one who cared to swipe through the photos. You're starting to get a clear picture now that Sunwoo didn't truly cut you out of his life despite limited texts. Yet, that only deepens your confusion even more. 

Why would he have this if it at least felt like he was trying to avoid you?

You push the thought aside at the approaching customer. You try to be enthusiastic despite the questions in your head, keeping a mental note to ask Sunwoo later. Maybe the universe heard your silent pleas to keep yourself intact from your worries as customers rushed in to keep you busy. Sunwoo himself becomes increasingly busy on the floor, while you support his business with your limited photography knowledge.

Sunwoo exceeded his daily goal; no surprise from the accumulated sweat on his forehead and neck. You slump your body onto the table, cheeks chasing the surface for coolness. Your mouth is desperate for hydration after talking non-stop with the higher pitch that comes with customer service. Just like he's reading your thoughts, he hands you a bottle, which you gladly gulp the contents of. 

A satisfactory sigh comes after emptying half the bottle, “That was refreshing.”

“Was busier than I thought. It was a good idea to have you here. You even cleaned up the space.”

“Yeah, well, I couldn't work with it,” he shakes his head fondly at your slightly lecturing tone.

“You should go eat. We didn't manage to have a proper break.”

It's only now that you notice the sunset illuminating the upper half of the store. The emptiness in your stomach makes itself known when it grumbles, and Sunwoo tries to hold his laughter. It's a calming moment as the sunlight sets on his tanned skin, making your heart skip a beat. His smile is radiant, brighter than the sun. His eyes: clear, unlike the past few cloudy days.

“You really didn't forget about me,” you voice out weakly, a smile lifting just the same. Your fingers trace the curves of the frame, gulping silently. “I just thought I was the only one who held on to these memories.”

You expect Sunwoo to change the subject, or at least let the subject die quicker with a fast reply. But instead he fishes for his phone in his pocket, “My laptop and phone wallpaper are us too."

Your eyes shift to his genuine voice. However, you could no longer make out the emotions behind his eyes. Sunwoo reveals his phone’s lock screen, and he minimises apps to show his desktop wallpaper. He observes you next to him, making sure he catches every little detail on your face as you set your eyes upon his personalisation. You’re mesmerised at the number of pictures that he has, some you've never seen before. Your upper body bends over closer to the desktop to observe each shot. 

"This is where we first met,” pointing at the familiar beach shore. "My favourite place in the whole world.”

Is it a coincidence that it's yours too?

“Well, second,” Sunwoo takes back. Your eyebrows furrow at the changed ranking. “Wanna know the first?” You nod, expecting more words from him, words mixed with pictures of his number one place.

Instead, you got it all through actions. Sunwoo steps behind your seating form, his arms enclosing you around your waist. The back of your head rests against his broad chest, heartbeat resonating to you while he buries his face into the crook of your neck. Your perfume indulges him into relaxation despite his daring act, but your skin heats up when you grow aware of his hand slightly hovering your clothed stomach.

“This is my first,” he rasps out. “Being in your presence.” 

You stutter in your breathing, eyes welling up in the same way that your chest is filled with contentment. The feeling surges throughout every part of your body, and it’s only when you fully give your weight over to him that Sunwoo intertwines his fingers from both hands, pulling you into his embrace closer. 

But it’s not enough. For him, it’s not close enough.

He’s forced to let go. The seat you’re on spins around, and you hold onto Sunwoo’s shoulders for support. Sunwoo lowers his body, sweeping you off your feet with an arm supporting the back of your thighs as he now sits on the cushion. Instinctively, your right arm encircles his neck, and in the next second, you’re comfortably taking a seat on Sunwoo’s lap. Sunwoo makes sure you don’t slide off with his right hand supporting your left thigh near his knee. His left arm stays around your back, making sure you won’t fall backward either. His plump lips brush against your jawline delicately, and you notice his breathing smoothing out as he rests against you. Mindlessly, your index finger traces his nape, drawing random shapes on his skin, occasionally massaging his scalp to relax his muscles. It seems like Sunwoo couldn't get enough of your touch, arms pulling your lower body flush against his until he no longer could. 

“Is this okay?” With his nod, he allows himself to find solace in your presence, and you eventually slide your hand to ruffle and mess with his hair.

Close contact like these is not unusual. In the past, in a crowd full of people or no one but air, you would dash towards Sunwoo the same way. Your voice would call out for him first, letting your presence known from afar before jumping into his figure. Every morning before school, bear hugs and back hugs are common occurrences. But ever since you told Sunwoo about moving, the skinship was reduced to holding hands and brief hugs. As it became routine, you forgot just how fast your heart could beat just by the two hands on your body. You don’t hate it though, not one bit.

“Sunwoo?” 

“Hmm?”

“Can I please see you?” You're worried all of this is a dream.

“Just a little more.” His nose nudges your neck. “I don't want this to end now…”

You feel the same way, playing with the ends of his hair soothingly. Sunwoo almost dozes off at the occasional traces on his skin, heart content with your little hums. 

“It’s been years since you’ve held me this close.” Your voice surprisingly didn't waver at your emotions. Tears are brimming along your eyelids, but a blink pushes them back to hide them. “I missed you holding me close like this.”

“I missed it more,” he whispers to your skin. 

“We don't have to end the day together now…” You felt his lips stretching against your skin with the suggestion.

“That's true,” his eyes lulling to close once more. You didn’t expect him to agree, pulling your neck away to face his blushing face with widened eyes. “Let’s not end the day together now, hm?”

You agree immediately, fearing that he would take back his words if not. The boy connects his forehead with yours. The proximity makes your fingers shake, eyes jolting to anywhere but his well-defined features. Sunwoo too, knowing that this is the first time in a while that he’s holding you so close, flutters his eyes shut to focus on the lines you’re trailing on his skin, lulling between consciousness and dreamland. 

If only he paid attention to the path of your fingers, he would have known the eight letters that you have always kept deeply within, the third and seventh letter replaced with a heart.

TEN: COOLED TEA AND MOMENTS

Sunwoo’s home is quaint, just like how you remembered it. During those times after school when the library overwhelmed you, his bedroom was where he would tuck you in for an afternoon nap. His back leaned against his bedframe on the floor, playing games with no sound. After a well-deserved slumber, Sunwoo will tickle you awake. Sometimes, amid the booming laughter, the boy would get pulled into the mattress, toppling next to you as you use this chance to close your eyes once more on his chest. Occasionally, Eric and Millie would catch his adoring eyes at your smushed cheek. The couple would get a threatening glare, but they knew Sunwoo couldn’t move unless he wanted to wake you up.

His house is nowhere as big as yours, yet the love inside is bigger than any other building you know. Some of the furniture has shifted, some replaced. For you, the feeling of being safe in the place that you’re supposed to call home is unfamiliar. 

Here, a step into his house is enough to know that it’s filled with love. 

The evidence hung on the walls, capturing fond memories of the family of a nervous boy trailing behind you who quietly observes your reactions. It’s arranged thoughtfully, a framed memory since he was a baby up to now where he poses for a picture behind the till of his shop. 

Sunwoo observes your smile growing each time your eyes move to a different part of the house. From the wall where he would blush when you pointed out how sulky he looks with the bucket hat, the dustless sofa, snow white cupboards, to the neatly arranged flower on the centre of the dining table, just enough for his family and one guest. It’s evident that, once again, the owner takes immense care of their home.

It’s so unlike your house, where there would be expensive art pieces placed in what you always thought to be the most inconvenient places—or maybe that’s just because you’re clumsy. Your mother’s glare from the upper levels whenever a person walked in the door would make them cower, having their hands tightly held together in front of their bodies, and a mental note taken not to ruin the house.

You continue inside the house with Sunwoo's guidance, careful of the furniture and making sure that you don’t touch anything that you’re not supposed to. Observing the behaviour of many guests in your house has caused you to exhibit the same behaviour, generalising each household to be the same. It makes Sunwoo giggle when you fold the silhouette of your outfit closer to the centre of your body. 

“W-What?” You look back with pursed lips. “I don’t want to accidentally drop anything.”

“You’re not going to,” he comments, making a turn to the kitchen after giving a fond smile. “I don’t have much to drink.”

“It’s okay. Just water is fi—”

“So,” he turns his back to you, opening one of the overhead cabinets to grab some sweet white grains, “you don’t want cooled tea?”

It leaves you warm to hear Sunwoo recite your favourite beverage like that. The little satisfaction smirk he gives when he knows you well, the way he rolls his long sleeves up to his elbows to reveal his defined veins as he fills the kettle for the teabags, all leave you breathless. He isn’t doing anything significant, yet the pounding against your chest is telling you otherwise. As you know, the heart never lies.

You halt in the living room. The black screen of the television dimly reflects your figure; Sunwoo just caught barely on the side. Unknowingly, you stare at his reflection, your eyebrows relaxing and the corners of your lips rising to the music passing his lips. You catch a glimpse of his puckered lips as he whistles; it makes you wonder what he’s thinking about to make such a cheerful timbre.

It makes you wonder if he ever thinks about you as much as you think of him.

“Hey,” the metal spoon stops clinking against the glass, Sunwoo diverting his eyes to you. “Do you mind if I move the coffee table?”

Sunwoo cranes his head to one side at the question, but to your wide grin, who was he to break your interesting desire to move furniture? Besides, he’s curious about your idea as well, especially with the way that frees your hands at his approval, discarding your items onto his couch and dirty carpet. 

The new arrangement leaves the space between the couch and the television empty, big enough for you to twirl around freely. Sunwoo arches his eyebrows, still trying to figure out your intentions. Two mugs clink against the moved table, his hands on his waist after. A doting and affectionate gaze falls upon you. The boy sees your arms swing side to side, eyes sparkling brightly at him when you turn around from the moment of freedom.

When was the last time you smiled like this?

“You look happy,” he comments, only to have you take fast, small strides toward him. When his hand is within reach, you take it into yours. “What are you doi—”

It's a bit awkward and very timid. Sunwoo’s shoulder freezes, and he almost faceplants on the wooden floor with the pull you exert unexpectedly. “Dance with me,” you suggested, guiding his open palms on the dips of your waist, “for old time's sake.” 

A quick, cloudy flash passes his eyes, contrasting your brighter, clearer ones. For a moment, your smile slips away when he averted his focus as quickly as his protective instincts that balanced him from falling. You didn’t let go of his hand that was loosely on the side of your body, and Sunwoo gulps at the tightening hold.

“Don’t be nervous,” you assure him after the evident gulp travelling down his dry throat. “We’ve danced like this before at our graduation party.”

Sensing the tension in the air, Sunwoo clears his throat. “I-I haven't showered for like two days,” a measly excuse for you to give his yearning heart a moment to breathe. “This is embarrass—”

“Sunwoo, are you happy?” 

It comes out a little croaked, a little suffocating on your end. Your heart clenches at the distance he has maintained since you left. It’s nothing like high school when he would search for your eyes amidst crowding hallways and classrooms, looking forward to having you in his arms. It’s nothing like high school because your bodies are still, and there seems to be no sort of longing in his eyes like yours does for hi—

“I am,” a quiet breath drew in from his nose, “very.” 

The tears that were about to fall onto your frowning face seem to retreat. Your eyes trail up from his chest, reluctantly meeting his eyes, scared of what emotion he may show you when you get there. However, when you do meet the glimmering orbs that you fell in love with more than three years ago, it does feel like youth washes over you again.

It feels like you never left and that you just finished your graduation a few minutes ago. 

Sunwoo nods firmly, his lips slowly but surely showing the same crescent smile that his eyes have. Your chest relaxes, lowering along with your shoulders. It hurts him to know that he may have hurt you. He rakes his head for ideas, wanting more than nothing for you to feel comfort in his presence, in his arms—safe and happy, just like how he wishes that you would always be.

Sunwoo relaxes in your presence, completely letting go of the weight in his mind and heart for the first time in three years. It makes your breath hitch, stopping your inhale mid-way. Though his larger hand is still shaking on your waist, his thumb still manages to give soothing rubs. His left foot takes a step to the side, his right following with the motions, inviting you to start moving too. Sunwoo unclasps your hands behind his neck, taking one of them into his hand. 

Your breath stutters once more when he cups the back of your hand, placing your palm to his cheek. It’s a place that you didn’t expect that you could lay your touch on, but Sunwoo guiding it there willingly sends your emotions into a frenzy that only amplifies more when he closes his eyes and lays his lips onto your open palm like it’s nothing. He plants his palm onto his cheek after, and it took everything in you not to collapse.

“Do that again, Sunwoo…” 

The boy took a good look at you for a while, searching for any reluctance in your eyes. There’s a flash of longing in his eyes when he pulls your lower body closer to his, your arms bending to bring his face closer to yours. Sunwoo places his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and focusing on the cooler air that he inhales. You follow suit, soon feeling his lips on your forehead. The feeling is too short, and it leaves you wanting more.

“Again…” 

Your voice is fragile, and so is your mind as you ask him for another touch. Sunwoo heeds your wants, this time kissing the tip of your nose. He even swipes his nose with yours after, resting his forehead to yours with no intention of pulling away.

“Again…” 

This time, nothing happened. Sunwoo’s bangs rub against your skin as he shakes his head, and he catches your downturned lips.

“I can’t do it again.”

“Why not?”

“Because you might regret the next place that I want to kiss you at.”

He leaves his reasoning open-ended, but you’re not up for that. You lean away from Sunwoo, craning your head slightly to match his height. You’re wrong about you being the only one who longs for him between you two. Sunwoo bites his lips, eyeing the way your lips are only centimetres away from him. The only thing he has to do is to dip his head down, and he would claim your soft lips for himself. Sunwoo doesn’t make his staring subtle, and you’re left pulling him closer by his nape to press a peck onto the tip of his nose this time.

It’s all so heart-stopping for you, and it reminds you that Kim Sunwoo has never left your heart. Just a few days back, and he still had the key to your heart.

“I won’t,” you affirm with a voice only louder than the shoes that glaze over the carpet beneath you both. 

The little world you built for yourself bursts with the doorbell. The sound clangs him awake, making his eyes widen, almost as if he wasn’t aware of the slow dancing that you two were sharing. He rips himself out of your warmth, and your limbs freeze mid-air where you once held him at the harsh pull.

He looks away, eyes tightly shut as he curses himself in his head. “M-Maybe my dad forgot the key!” Running away from you—as he has always done from the very start.

Peeking through the peephole, it’s obvious from the leather jacket that it’s not the person that he is expecting. The unknown visitor churns his stomach, his instincts telling him that this situation isn’t going to be a good one for him. When he opens the door, Sunwoo is greeted with the smell of money in the form of a bright outfit and gold touches. 

“May I help you?” 

He manages to greet the stranger after a single gulp, feeling small with the huge sunglasses that cover half of the visitor’s face. Sunwoo didn’t need to see his eyes to feel the intimidating, judging ones directed at him from the lavish man who finally flicks his sunglasses off, a pair of stone-cold eyes behind it.

“Where is she?”

Taken aback by the lack of mannerisms, Sunwoo stutters before his train of thought comes back. The uninvited guest clad himself in a branded suit, mocking Sunwoo’s casual attire. Even so, status is forgotten when his instincts tell him to shut the door alarmingly. A raised eyebrow and a striking peer from the intruder prompt the feeling even more. 

“Sorry, but I’m going to ask you to leave.”

An amused scoff, “Excuse me?” Tucking his luxurious eyewear into his blazer’s pocket, “Answer my questi—”

“Sungjin?”

Sunwoo turns his body towards your wavering voice. As soon as his eyes laid on your figure that was approaching the door’s threshold, a part of him just wanted to grab your wrist, praying that you wouldn’t step outside his home. But you did all that for him because you stayed frozen a few centimetres away from the front sill of the building, shock written all over your face and voice.

The finally named man finally shows his bright smile, his shoulders relaxing at the sight of your uninjured state—he, however, did frown at the sight of your casual clothes. “Hey,” greeting you and ignoring Sunwoo’s shaking orbs, “You were unreachable and I was worri—”

“How did you know I was here?”

“I tracked your phone.” Your heart drops at the invasion of privacy. The device around your fingers feels like it could mould to a different shape due to your anger. “You have to understand! You weren't responding to my messages!”

“Sungjin…” you shake your head, your eyes talking for you in this incredible situation, “We're not anything for you to be able to do that.”

“I know, but I promised your parents that I’ll protect you and make you mine.” He trips over his words, his polished shoe even coming into contact with the wooden floor of Sunwoo’s entrance walkway. “Besides that, I'm just worried about you. Let's get out of this dirty place. I'll get you some foo—”

“I'm staying.”

“What?”

Your palm extends out towards him, and the barrier keeps you away from the crestfallen face that he displays. “Please just...” you reach the door, beginning to close it on him, “leave me alone.”

Throughout the whole confrontation, Sunwoo held onto the door for support and his whole being focused on the words exchanged. So, when you’re the one who decides to swing the door with your strength, Sunwoo nearly stumbles and faceplants onto one of the panels of the decorated timber. A silence envelops you both, the boy taking glances at you before quickly averting once more. It’s not until the sound of the tyres drives away from his driveway that Sunwoo decides to replace the sound with something softer than the shouts of the angry engine. 

“You have a boyfr—”

“I'm not dating him, Sunwoo,” cutting his words off quickly. “I don't like him even a little bit.”

He does believe you; he really does. But having a taste of your mother’s wrath, he couldn’t help but nod at the ant that casually passed by the tension-filled atmosphere. “L-Let’s get you out of here…” Snatching his jacket on the arms of the hanger to the point that the furniture almost fell out of balance. “I'll take you to a nice restaur—”

“I want to cook,” you declare, stopping his fumbles. “It’s been a while since I’ve eaten food without preservatives.”

“I don't have any ingredients…”

“I'll bake then,” turning your back to the exit and your ‘duties’. Already a step ahead of Sunwoo, you plant your feet in the kitchen where the jar of sugar used earlier still hasn’t been returned. “I'll whip up some of those shortbread cookies that Eric, Millie, and you loved so much back then.”

“You really shouldn't be her—”

“Can I borrow some clothes?” Condensation starts to form on your hands and wraps around the glass jar in your hand. Your voice quietens. “It's too uncomfortable to bake in this.” 

You turn your back on Sunwoo completely, afraid of rejection first and foremost. To be more specific, you’re scared of being rejected by Sunwoo. You’re stubborn, he knows that---so you hope that he could also be on the same wavelength as you for once and be stubborn by letting you stay. If you turned back, you could see the happiness in his smile, but inevitably, the hint of worry was reserved just for your tense back. 

“Okay,” footsteps receding to his room, a list of his oversized shirts in his head that he could lend to you. “Hold up a second…”

You’re aware that Sunwoo hasn’t been able to see your trembling lips and your massive control to keep your breathing rate consistently normal. When you assume that you’re out of his sight, you let all the tension in your body release, your once-blurred vision clearing as a tear escapes. The room spins slightly, your palm landing firmly onto the stone top in front as droplets start to make themselves evident to his humble home. 

And as Sunwoo comes back, whatever thoughts you had are shoved away to live in the moment with him. He leaves you to change and soon his familiar laundry detergent changes from the perfume scent on your body. The classy perfume is no match for the cheap detergent yet your heart easing at being engulfed with Sunwoo’s baggy clothes.

The familiarity drives you insane, as much as it makes you sane.

ELEVEN: HEARTBREAK OR HEART BREAK?

The drive back to your house is quiet and to put it simply: boring and lonely. After a whole day with mischievous Sunwoo, how could you not feel this way? 

Sunwoo purposefully hits your elbow when you measure the dry ingredients, continuing to do so even when you throw a handful of flour at his face, some even getting trapped in his long black strands. He returns the favour, laying the same ingredient on his palm before bringing it in line with his lips, blowing it straight to your face without notice.

It was fun, to say the least.

The kitchen cleanup was hell, with dry ingredients all over the crevices between the table, the wall and the floor, but also on both of your powdered faces. Dare you say a quarter of your time spent under his roof was cleaning up the mess that left his dad’s jaw slack open with confusion and surprise after a long day at work. You remember scurrying out of Sunwoo’s arms when a gasp is heard from the entry hallway, but Sunwoo tightens his hold on your waist, gleefully greeting his father despite the hits and shoves on his chest.

Just thinking of it makes the heat rise to your skin once more, both your hands on the top of your steering wheel as you continue your drive into the silent night. The way his father remembers you just by the back of your head, inviting you with open arms for a hug, made you melt into his parental warmth. The man even joined in with the chaotic atmosphere, grabbing the pile of flour on the benchtop that was supposed to be in the bin. Sunwoo’s yelps and complaints play in your head, a deep chuckle from his dad following after as he sticks his tongue out.

It was…different, to say the least.

Because your parents would never treat outsiders like that; they wouldn’t even be like that with you. The scene repeats in your head like a broken recorder, but it's one that you would never throw out. Even when you park perfectly in your designated spot, you sit with arms by your side, head between the crescent headrest, with the radio and its song. You stare blankly at the closing black gate, sealing off the entrance for the rest of the day as you know you’re the last member of the family who arrived home. The warm light flashes as a safety measure in the night, telling everyone to be careful of the moving metal—if only the warmth of the light is as inviting as the building beside you.

You flip the sun visor down, making sure that you leave no traces of baking ingredients for anyone to question your appearance. Sighing after checking, your hands blindly ruffle the inside of your bag for the spray bottle of your usual everyday perfume. Before you can flick the crown of the bottle, the remnants of the laundry detergent that isn’t yours linger between the strands of your hair, reminding you of the joy you felt when Sunwoo bashfully passed you a long oversized shirt to borrow. You remember the tips of his ears flashing red and the enamoured smile that took over your face as your fingers traced the raccoon picture on the front of the shirt.

“Cute,” you snicker, continuing to make fun of him in your head.

The cap of the small decanter clicks close and is shoved back into the darkness of your purse. Your heels finally click on the uneven stone, mentally preparing the excuses in your head as you are five minutes past your curfew. If only you knew there was no need to cook up any excuses because you couldn’t even slip your feet out of the straps of your shoe, your mum blocking the staircase where all the bedrooms of the house would be.

No greetings are said, not from you and most definitely not from your mother.

“Come here,” she commanded, inciting a gulp from you as you tried to steady your disordered mind. You stand within reach in front of her, trying your best to look into her emotionless eyes. 

You knew then that she knew what you had been up to.

“Sungjin told me where you were earlier today.” The glare deepens. “Kim Sunwoo.” The name comes out venomously, her arms coming up to the cross, disappointed by the old friend that you spent time with. “Do you wish to be as foolish as that boy?”

The words stir something up in your obedient self. “Is my happiness foolish to you?”

“You're a child, and your definition of happiness has not matured,” she spits out. “Your manners are repulsive. You decide to come to Korea unnoticed, kick Sungjin out and bring shame to the family. You think breaking the rules gives you adrenaline, but in the long run, it's nothing.” You thought it was over until she delivered the final blow, “Especially not with a boy like him.”

“Explain that please, because Sunwoo is not nothing.” You clench on your bag’s strap, the material creaking at the pressure. “He's not just a boy to me.” Your voice grew dangerously louder. “He's held me in his arms, and he wouldn't let go unless I would initiate the first move. He's told me words that make the weight in my chest bearable. He's smiled at me to remind me that the world is not as grim, dark and ugly as I thought it might be. Yes, he’s not perfect, but he’s human, and he’s making an effort to make it better.”

“Foolish,” not a bit of mercy in her tone. “Those are all things that another person can give.”

Your eyelids fall in frustration, shutting them close to rid of the coming headache. Words never worked on your mother, and pairing that with how she hates Sunwoo, you knew nothing would come out of this. “It’ll never be the same,” you mumble under your breath. “Other people will never be him.”

“Thankful for that one,” she heaves an exaggerated relief. “No one should have entered that prestigious high school by kicking a filthy ball.”

"Sunwoo was a star player, mum. He even played for the youth state team. He's more capable than you think, so please stop assuming negative things about him!” You can’t believe that your tone raised, though not dangerously, but it ended sharp enough for a flare to start in her eyes.

The metal around his fingers grazes across the side of your face. “I don’t care what you want from me. You’re going back overseas."

"No,” you stood your ground despite the sting on the side of your face.

“This is your final warning. Go back and never associate yourself with that dog ever again."

"Don't call him that-"

“Hear this then,” you gulp at the sinister smile, her hand lowering away from your face to your hollow chest. “You don’t go back? Fine. But that puny bicycle shop? It's only a couple thousand dollars to buy.” A dark aura reminds you once more of how powerless you are at the bottom of the family hierarchy. The lady of the house made her figure in the house clear when she leans in to your stammering breaths, “Can you handle being the person that crushes his dream?”

TWELVE: FACING THE TRUTH & PROMISES

Your first attempt of telling your friends about moving failed as expected. You couldn’t get your lips to form the right shapes, awkwardly playing it off each time the topic came to mind. The thought of being far away from everyone made your stomach churn, but there was nothing you could do to follow your parents. The storm in your head causes Millie to jolt at the slam of metal against metal, hand over her chest to grasp her rapidly beating heart. 

"Whoa," she nervously raises an eyebrow with a stiff smile. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing," you mumble uninterestedly. Yet your words aren’t uncomfortable when your forehead hits the locker once more. The metal is disgustingly lukewarm; no coolness is provided to your head like you wanted.

"Are you just Sunwoo-deprived?"

You grumble at the teasing tone, "No, I'm not Sunwoo depriv-"

"Because he’s walking down the hallway right now, just so you know."

Your back immediately straightens, head turning everywhere for the messy untucked uniform and loose tie around the neck. To your expectations, some of his hair strands are out of place, and it completes Sunwoo's everyday look. The boy pats his pockets for his phone while you clutch your books against your chest firmly, waiting for him to notice your staring. Usually, you would run up to him, but you're needing assurance from him that it's okay to leap into his arms without any other words.

Millie also stood confused at your still self, turning her head between Sunwoo and you alternatively. She sighs at your fastened foot tapping, deciding to pop on his phone:

    someones waiting for you dumbass

    look up from your phone

Sunwoo's lips form a circle shape, eyes searching for you as he pockets his phone. At the sight of you, his lips curl up, just like his eyes. But then, his expression falls when he catches the pout on your lips and deflated shoulders a few steps away. It’s only when he extends his arms to his side that your foot stops tapping, and you shove your belongings to Millie.

You hop to Sunwoo's arms, leaping onto his arms. "Whoa there," he twirls you briefly with his arms wrapping around your middle. Sunwoo lands you on your feet safely, "Why'd you just stand there today? You usually just run to me."

Your shrug didn't convince Sunwoo, and the fact that you weren't letting go of the hug to bury your face into his chest only complicates him more. Sunwoo hums for now, threading his fingers between your locks.

"You know you can't lie to me, right?" The grip around his body tightens. "When you're ready, I'll listen. Whatever it is."

You nod to his chest, ears against his calming heartbeat. "Promise?"

It's now that Sunwoo realises whatever is troubling you isn't a simple matter. It won't go away with a good night's sleep and not with a hearty meal. You only ask him to promise you when things weigh you down heavily, and the last time you did this was when you pulled all-nighters for an upcoming test. You made him promise to let you take a nap on his shoulder after it was all over.

Sunwoo stops playing with your hair, tenderly placing his palm on the side of your neck. The touch sends shivers down your spine, and you pull away to meet his kind, gentle eyes. His thumb traces along your jawline as he places a kiss on your forehead. All the voices in your head died down, and your mind could finally rest.

That's Kim Sunwoo's effect on you. And it's powerful, just like his words: "Promise."

The sight when you broke the news wasn’t pretty. Eric found out from his dad, and Millie found out by accidentally eavesdropping on Eric confronting you about hiding it for so long. And Sunwoo? Sunwoo was standing not too far away, body still at the news. Of course, he congratulated you, however, he can’t fully say that he meant it. Following the realisation of his growing feelings, he wants you to stay.

The world weighed on you heavily as you drove to Sunwoo’s store. You feel like such a stalker, observing Sunwoo sharing knowledge about his passion to a customer down the street. Last night flashes back, and you can't help but flinch as if your mother’s hand, clad in golden rings, hits your now-healed cheek. You turn away, refusing to remember Sunwoo's bright smile as he waves at the little kid who jumps excitedly at her fixed camera. The mother thanked him before crouching to calm her child from disturbing other people in the store. 

Maybe it’s a sign from the universe because after the satisfied customers leave, Sunwoo feels the attention on him outside. If it was even possible, Sunwoo’s smile expands infinitely at the sight of you. He wouldn’t tell you, but he spent the entirety of last night placing your cookies on his prettiest plate, stacking the perfect circles on the porcelain and shifting icing sugar to make the dish look more photogenic. His camera app dominates his screen time as he takes the physical memory precious time, setting the food as his lock screen and wallpaper- he regrets not taking a photo of you with it.

The muscles under your eyes twitch, feeling a waterfall. Unfortunately, Sunwoo’s eyes aren’t that good at spotting your sadness from across the road, jogging to your car in the empty traffic. You were still drowning in your thoughts that you didn’t realise his approaching presence, eyes dulling then widening slowly with his approaching figure from the corner of your eye. His knuckle taps on the glass to grab your attention, and you roll your window down to face him with slightly quivering lips. 

“Are you stalking me?”

His hair strands are a mess, typical with a towel hanging from his neck and the creased button-up shirt. Sunwoo isn’t afraid to show this side of himself to you. Back in high school, he made it a habit to show up like this because you would be the one fixing his uniform and saving him from detention. 

You prepared the rehearsed smile, forcibly pushing last night’s events out of your head. “Just wanted to see you working…”

Sunwoo raises one of his eyebrows at the unique reason, the corresponding corner of his lip doing the same. He leans in, an arm resting on the gap where the motorised window would be. His bangs dance due to the air conditioning of the car, the strands flowing freely. 

“Kinda creepy, don't you think?” 

He’s truly going to make you faint. One wrong move and his lips would probably be touching yours, and usually, Sunwoo would be the one to back away, but he was so entranced by you that the proximity didn’t even cross his mind. And once you turn away, his smirk flattens, lips disappearing between the rows of his teeth. 

“Are you busy? Can I come in?” The sentence trails off but doesn't manage to go unnoticed by Sunwoo.

Though heartbroken at how you didn’t spare a glance at him, Sunwoo nods and fixes his once-bending posture. “Of course,” he invites you. “It was delivery day today, so it's very messy. Don’t tell me off! It’s not my fault!” 

You give him the benefit of the doubt for now, nodding unconvincingly at him. The boy is prepared to defend himself when the entrance bell rings. You retreat behind the computer, ready to put sales through, while also admiring Sunwoo. The noises surrounding you blur as you keep your eyes on him. Emotions welled up in your throat, your mum’s voice ringing once more. You snap back to the present moment when the customer accidentally drops her film refills.

Sunwoo came standing to your right after. “You alright?”

You nod, but then sigh when you know that you can’t fool Sunwoo into thinking otherwise. “No,” your voice is broken with honesty.

“Let’s talk about it.” He offers, spinning you around to face him. Sunwoo pulls the gas lift on the chair to lower you closer to his eye level when he kneels to you. Your shaky hands on your lap are stabilised with Sunwoo’s blanketing them. “I’m all ears for you, hm?”

“Maybe later, customers might come in and-”

“You’re right. I should flip the sign to ‘closed’-”

“Don’t do that, you lazy raccoon.” 

The animal nickname that you gave him slipped out unexpectedly, and Sunwoo is pleasantly surprised hearing the animal that has been associated with him coming from you. His stare on you softens endearingly landing soft on your widened eyes. You lower you head to your thighs, hiding your flustered look.

“Can’t catch a breath whenever I’m with you, bubs.”

Two can play the game when Sunwoo calls you with the nickname that he has specially for you. A deep red blushes across his cheekbones, yet Sunwoo tries to hide his nervousness by clearing his throat. He sucks in a wave of air through his mouth, momentarily chuckling and proud of himself for finally calling you with the familiar name.

His thumb constantly offers soothing swipes on the back of your hand. “I have something for you.” Sunwoo’s other free hand rummages through his things. 

A box is what he extends to you. Inside, Grandma Lee’s accessories, keyrings that remind him of you, small plushies from claw machines that he overspent on, and handwritten letters from his yearning heart are what he has packed inside over the years. Every single piece differs yet compliments the other if you were to use all of them at the same time. Wordlessly, Sunwoo takes a clip and slides the bottom part of it across your scalp, adjusting it accordingly on you. The smile he offers is a mix of affection and disbelief that his gifts have finally made it to you. It didn’t end there, as he pulled out three similar-sized photo books from under the table beside him.

“It’s flimsy because I made it, but these are photos that I took when you weren’t here.” Sunwoo lays each book one by one, stacking them up while your one free hand holds onto them dearly. 

That’s all it took for the tears to finally fall. You flip through the albums of pictures that he has compiled when you were away. Three thick books, each one for a year each. He documents the shenanigans that you have missed, hoping that you would know how much he thinks of you. He slips in a few scenes of views that you would enjoy, and arbitrary captures such as him accidentally pressing the shutter button. It’s all silly and fun. With Sunwoo’s calming voice and the tears leaving your eyes, there are so many things roaming in your mind.

“I’ve always wanted to give this to you. I didn’t want you to be left out.” Sunwoo takes the books away from you, leaving them on the counter, “But this little one is the most precious thing I have.”

Sunwoo’s voice fades out near the end. You gulp. “What is it?”

The boy almost didn’t want to let go of the final gift that he has for you. Unlike before, Sunwoo is reluctant to open the book, “Pictures of just us. And you. I look at it whenever I miss you. Open it later when you're alone.”

The one small book is filled to the brim, minus the last page. Most of them are candid pictures, some funny but overall mostly ones that made his heart race with just one look. It’s only when Sunwoo lifts you by the chin that you finally have the strength to look up to his eyes.

The pads of your fingers dig into the sides of the small book on your lap, muscles shaking with the force. Sunwoo feels all of this, heart shattering into pieces at your agony. Inside your mind, he knows something is in your mind, but he doesn’t know what it is. However, he does know that you deserve an explanation for all of his questionable past actions. Sunwoo lifts his bottom from the back of his lower limbs, lifting himself closer to you. He kisses your forehead, lingering on your skin before speaking up.

“Three years,” your body freezes at the familiar timeframe, “that’s how long I’ve been a coward for. Truthfully, anyone would argue longer. But for the three years that I’ve barely texted you back, had any contact with you, causing you confusion and pain, I really am sorry for it all, bubs. I want to make it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You shake your head, an incredulous scoff hitting your lips, “Why’d you do it?”

“Because you deserve so much better than me,” his voice low and daggers deep into your heart. “I knew from the very start that your mum hates me, and I get it. I snuck you out and stopped you from studying. But I was selfish and told myself that what your mum thinks isn’t what you think. But then, when we got caught that day and you couldn’t go out anymore…”

His voice fades as the air becomes heavier the more Sunwoo makes his heart lighter. Even so, you appreciate the enlightenment, and you would gladly take his worries, carrying them together. After all, when carrying something alone becomes crushing, another hand is just what is needed. 

“I felt guilty for it all, and I guess I didn't know how to handle it. You’ve always loved going out, but after what happened, you couldn’t step one foot outside the house unless it was for school. I took your freedom away. So when I heard you were going, I took it as an opportunity to let you go.” Sunwoo searches for any emotion on your face: anger, sadness- just anything.

But then you bravely lift the corner of your lips, and your touch blankets his jawline. “I loved that day, Sunwoo. You took nothing away from me. You have no idea how glad I felt to be out of that house.”

Sunwoo lived in ‘what ifs’ till now about that event. What if he didn't take you out? What if he just third-wheeled Eric and Millie? What if he turned away after the first failed attempts? With your words, he finally lets all of it go, knowing your side of the situation. His knees give out, and he repositions his body on the floor, now cross-legged with his elbows on his thighs. 

Your head shakes, eyesight blurring at Sunwoo’s audibly sniffles below you. When you lean your body to kneel in front of him, you embrace Sunwoo tightly. Your timbre soothes him, sweet nothings naturally sending his heartbeat crazy. Tears soak your collar where Sunwoo homes at, and the familiarity of seeking comfort with one another hits you like a wave. 

“I was very happy that day, Sunwoo.” Your hold on his body tightens. “Were you?”

His bangs rustle against your fabric. “Very.”

“I'm glad then.” That's all you needed to hear. “Because the best thing in my life is seeing you happy.”

Sunwoo pulls his body away and clasps your shoulders, “I was happy because I was with you.” A tense gulp before continuing further, “You're the best thing in my life.”

Your eyes sparkle from the brimming tears around your eyes. The flustered boy uses his thumb to wipe them away, apologising for making you cry along with him.

“I love seeing you happy, Sunwoo. So, promise me that you’ll always strive for happiness.”

There it is: A request for a promise. “Did you know that when something is weighing you down, you start to ask me to promise things?” You still at the accuracy of his words, lower lip chewed in denial. “So I’ll promise you that if you promise me something back.”

Sunwoo guides your breathing, eyes trained on your lips only a few centimetres away from him. He tries his best to meet your eyes again, diverting immediately to hide the love hearts in his. 

“Okay,” you agree between sniffles.

“Whatever choices you make from now on, you make them for yourself, not others.”

Choices. There are so many of them that we make in life. The easy, rudimentary ones to the life-changing, difficult ones. It's never been your forte as you're used to following what others have chosen for you. You're not used to taking your path, at least not without proper permission to do so.

“And if I fall?”

“I promise I'll be there to catch you.” Sunwoo offers his pinky finger out to you, hoping for you to take it. 

You spend the next few seconds staring at it, teardrops passing the tender cheek where your mum’s hand was yesterday. Sunwoo’s hand starts to falter, but just before he uncurls the rest of his fingers, you capture and curl his pinky with yours.

“I promise.”

THIRTEEN: WHEN KARMA STRIKES

A few days have passed since that day. After closing the store, Sunwoo was able to fulfil your wishes for a convenience store dinner with your phone propped up against the window to watch anime. It's a miracle the workers didn't kick you both out with the booming reactions to the show. 

If you did get kicked out, would the adrenaline that you and Sunwoo matched crash immediately? Would you notice your subconsciousness linking your arm with his? Would you notice the stolen glances by your side?

Because after that day, you avoid Kim Sunwoo like a plague. 

Eric and Millie too were left on delivered for hours on end. It drives Sunwoo crazy to be on the receiving silent end this time, and he feels that karma has rightfully gotten him. He can’t complain; if anything, he should put up with this to understand everything that he put you through thousands of kilometres away.

His day off started with multiple attempts to get a hold of you. The pillow mutes his groans while the mattress mutes his flailing limbs. Apart from the fact that he's bored, he's missing you a lot after expressing his feelings that day at the shop. He curses internally, and he knocks a box that has been sitting on his bedside table.

The thud on his floor is met with a concerned knock on his door. “Are you alright? I thought you were auditioning to be Tarzan.”

The son shrugs at his father, “More like a dinosaur, but I'll take it.”

The man at the door shakes his head at his child, rolling his eyes playfully. His shoulder leans on the doorframe, eyes scanning the messy room. He stills at the photo frame of his full family on his son’s desk.

The elder’s chin nudges towards the photograph, "You definitely got your love for photography from your mum,” approaching Sunwoo’s desk. “She said that pictures made everything last forever, and she always wanted to look at them whenever she misses that particular time.” 

The man rarely talks about his wife. Maybe it's his way of coping. Maybe that's his sign of moving on. Either way, Sunwoo knows that his dad holds his wife with strong regard and love as he stares at the photograph. The top part of the frame becomes dust free from his quick sweep across the wood.

“That’s why she loved taking pictures of us. So that when she left, we would never forget all the things we did with her.”

His lips dries at the thought of you. The bedsheet under his palm creates a whirlpool of wrinkles, creasing the fabric. Sunwoo has always loved taking pictures of you from the very start, it wasn’t only because you were leaving. But when he knew you were, he did start to take a lot more. 

“But it hurts sometimes.” Now sitting up on the bed, he has a better view of his unopened birthday present from you on the floor. “It hurts to look at pictures of someone that you love.”

Being an active parent even before his wife’s passing, Sunwoo’s dad has the fatherly instinct on the same level as the motherly instinct that is commonly known. Those instincts only became better after being the only parent left for him. And so, just a single look at Sunwoo’s distraught expression, the dad nods as he believes that he has an accurate idea of what’s troubling his son.

“Have you ever told her that you love her?” Sunwoo’s face shoots up to his dad, eyes wide open. The silence is all his dad needs to know. “So you haven’t,” he concludes for himself. “That day when you both were cooking together, I could tell from your eyes. It's how I looked at your mum.”

“There’s no point telling her anyway,” he defends himself fuitely. “I’m not good for her.”

“Now, who dares make my son think that way?” The father ruffled the boy’s hair as Sunwoo grumbled. “The only words that matter in this situation are hers.” No other words are said when he steps closer to the door, giving Sunwoo the room to evaluate his behaviour. "Don't ever look at your pictures with anyone and regret anything, son."

FOURTEEN: TIES BROKEN

You’ve been staring at the cover of the smaller photo album for the last few minutes, trying to will yourself to flip to the first page. Every time your finger brushes the the cover, it retracts as if they’re trying to save you from something: from heartbreak, from the pain, from running back to Sunwoo’s arms and ruining everything in his life because of your selfishness.

“No,” stepping away from your desk and pacing around the room. 

Your steps are just as fast as the thoughts ruminating and bouncing in your mind. It’s so disruptive that it overpowers the insistent knocking on your door. The person outside runs out of patience, revealing their furrowed eyebrows.

“Get out of your room,” your mum demands over your thoughts. “All the guests are coming soon. Sungjin is coming soon too and you haven’t done anything but shower. Don’t make others wait because of you.” With that, the door slams, and your body jolts at the resonating sound that you would assume you’re used to by now.

You turn your head away from the door, not yet processing your emotions over the past few days. You didn’t give yourself the space and time because you’ve been scared that you wouldn’t be able to handle it. Back then, if you ever felt the need to break down, you did it in the comfort of someone’s arms. Now, that thought will forever remain a wish. No one can no longer catch you as you break down, and the loneliness in the open room starts to hit you minimally. Before your knees gave out, you crash yourself onto the bed, folding your knees to your chest as you take the next few seconds to deny reality.

“I miss you already, Sunwoo.”

And he misses you dearly too, and he’s acting on it. With this dad’s words motivating him, he manages to throw small pebbles onto your window pane. The constant thuds of familiarity on wood pulls you to directly face the sun despite puffy, sensitive eyes. You squint to adjust to the lighting, looking down to see a certain puffed-out boy outside. His smile widens at the sight of you, beaming brighter than the golden hour setting before your skin. Your eyebrows knit, and it doesn’t take long before his smile slowly flattens at your shaking head. His fist clenches by his side, mustering the courage to stand his ground. 

“Front door?” He asked, full of hope. “Please?”

Sunwoo leaves you space to think: to reject or to accept. The former you found excruciating to voice out, but the other option shouldn’t be challenged. All you need to do is to say the word that you said earlier when you’re faced with his photobook, but instead, your head nods, already imagining the relief of Sunwoo holding your figure tightly. You decide that his suggested place to meet is one of the many ways to be in his arms because you learnt from your experiences. You stashed a rope made by tying blankets into your wardrobe for times like these. One end of the rope is tied to one of the bed legs, and the rest of the tail is out of the window. The fabric hits Sunwoo on the head, causing momentary blackness and confusion until he notices the knots leading up to your window. 

“Wait, wait, wait-” He flails his hands to you, “Hold on!”

Your feet dangle over the edge of your window, looking down at Sunwoo, who readies himself to catch you. Sunwoo tugs the rope, teaching you how to climb down without hurting yourself. You follow his words, except for the fact that you let go of the rope earlier than he expected, almost tumbling him to the floor. Whilst Sunwoo balances himself and you from the force, you immediately nestled your face into the crook of his neck. Your arms around his neck pull him to you closer, and Sunwoo has no problems with leaning down to make sure you’re more comfortable.

His fingers comb through your hair, goosebumps arising all over you. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“You said you would always catch me.” Your ragged breath hits his skin. No other words are heard from you as his collar dampens to your tears. “So I have nothing to be afraid of.”

Supple lips meet the crown of your head. “Have you been crying alone?” A little nod from you shatters him, “You should’ve called me so that you weren’t alone.” Calling him might be a stretch, considering that you haven’t even texted him, but it was worth the try of reassurance. “I couldn’t reach you, and I was missing you a lot.” 

It’s only now that Sunwoo realises that those words never left his mouth. He has showered you with lots of love and attention ever since you came back, but his words haven’t been the best at showing it. You grip the back of his loose shirt, only continuing to sob quietly in his presence.

His teeth trap his bottom lip, a humourless chuckle hitting the shell of your ears, “Selfish, right? After all that I did.” 

You want to agree with him. Maybe it’s possible for the negative connotations of human selfishness to modify when it comes to love because if this is human selfishness, then he should be selfish more often.

Your hug around his neck makes it almost impossible for Sunwoo to see any part of you except the top of your head. He doesn’t push for anything else, understanding that he’s the only shield that you have from the world. Sunwoo waits for your breathing to even out, using the exhalation hitting his skin as an indication. An arm finds homage by circling your lower back, and his free hand massages your scalp with the tips of his fingers. His contact grounds you further from the physical stability he provided.

“What’s going on, hm?” You shake your head, not knowing if it’s in for denial or refusal. You thought he would leave it there, but the hand on your head slides to cup your cheek, pulling you slightly away from him. “Look at me, please.”

You can’t. Not when you have no idea what you would tell him if you did meet the eyes that hold your whole world. From afar, the gates to your house creak open, and the roaring engine swallows your whimpers and Sunwoo’s heartbeat despite the proximity. Gushes of praises at your two-storey house and the flirty tone of the woman churn your stomach as you imagine how she exaggerates her puckering lips loose to greet your mum.

“Where’s my soon-to-be daughter-in-law?” 

Sunwoo swears if it wasn’t for you needing him at the moment, he would have popped in from the side of the house and introduced himself despite potentially making the situation worse. He wants to tell the unknown lady that you’re not her daughter-in-law; or at least that’s what he wants. But with no further communication from you two, and how you’re holding onto him like you’re running out of breath, his chest tightens at the sure feeling that something is not right. 

“She’ll be out soon!”. 

His eyes flare, turning his head to the side where the voices are, and there’s a prominent vein that runs along the side of his neck when you slightly tilt your head towards him. You’ve never seen Sunwoo with such emotion before, and your hold around his neck loosens to bring his attention back to you. Almost immediately, the fire dies, and his gaze softens towards you. His thumb caresses the side of your neck. A battle unfolds between your desires and protecting the boy that your heart belongs to. Your head only becomes increasingly hotter with how he presses his forehead on yours, something that you should be used to but never did. You hope with your chest kissing his, your rapid heartbeat goes unnoticed; because of him, and your emotions threatening to burst.

The slightest movement alarms him. His bangs tickle your forehead as he shakes his head. “Don’t go…” 

There’s a lump in your throat, and you keep your eyes on his sneakers. “You know I have to.”

“No, you don’t,” he confirms. “Not unless you want to.” 

To Sunwoo, it’s his subtle way of reminding you of the promise you gave him. For you, his words are enough to jumble your thoughts.

“I have to or else your shop-”

“My shop?” If Sunwoo thought he wasn’t understanding you before, he has completely lost you now. “What does my shop have anything to do with this?” You bit your tongue while prying yourself from his grip. Sunwoo did let go, but you couldn’t will yourself to widen the gap by more than two steps. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

You shake your head, fists clenched beside you. “You have to go, Sunw-”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.” A layer of moisture forms on his eyes. “Please talk to me.”

How could you? How could you tell him of your mum’s words from a few days ago? How she basically made you choose between being with him or taking away his happiness? How could you possibly make him choose? You know how much the store means to Sunwoo from his and returning customers.

You don’t want to be the one to take everything away from him. Not when nothing was his fault in the first place. Though hesitant, your head inevitably shakes at him, and Sunwoo could crumble and break into pieces.

"I’m so sorry, Sunwoo.”

"For what?"

You hope your shoulder shrug is enough to let this conversation go. Your throat constricts with the way Sunwoo grits his teeth, eyes training into you. You force yourself to make something up. For your voice to let an excuse out. Just anything; anything to let this topic pass.

"For coming back and making you uncomfortable. For hurting you like this and-"

“Stop,” his voice pierces into your words. “You're not making me uncomfortable, and you're not hurting me at all. If anything, that's me to you.” Tears start to well up, threatening to fall with each word that comes from his heavy heart. “I know I haven't been the best person, and I know I haven't made up for that, but I can't do that if I'm going to lose you.”

Lose.

The thought had crossed his mind a lot the past few days, but he never said it aloud for fear of hearing it. The word being spoken only makes the situation real, and you're aware of the clenching in your chest. Your heart beats against your eardrums, and the world slightly shifts, deafening the chirps of the birds soaring freely across the hues of red and orange.

Sunwoo’s palms rest comfortably on your shoulders. “I’m so scared of losing you. Of letting you slip away…” 

With his words, anyone could safely assume that he’s the one that needs the comfort more than you. The single drop strikes across his cheek but doesn’t break his courageous smile. Instead, it only pushes the tears behind your eyelids to fall. Your thumb swipes his endless tears. His eyelashes flutter, breath shuddering at how gentle you're treating him. All Sunwoo does is stare at you while you take hold of his face.

“Don't be scared,” your voice breaks halfway. “I came back because I missed you so much. I never blamed you for distancing yourself from me. I'm just so sorry that you felt so guilty because of me, and I don’t want you to feel like that anymore."

Panic paints Sunwoo’s face when your hand flops to your side. You slip past him, walking towards the front of the house. As you passed, Sunwoo caught a glimpse of your wavering lips, orbs shaking towards the mud and soil. His fear prompts his hand to reach your upper arm desperately.

You shake his grip off rather harshly, turning around with streaming tears. "You said you were happy, Sunwoo. Don't take it back now." 

"Because you were in my arms! I had everything that I wanted when you asked me that question!” Sunwoo’s voice rasps with each exclamation. Each breath surges with pain at each breath but he forces himself to blink his tears away. “Are you walking away because you want to? You promised that you would act on what you want…”

The reminder is grim, and your smile is all the more fake. The way you shrug your shoulders lifelessly is enough to tell you that you have broken your promise, and Sunwoo is left frozen with nature, blowing his body side to side with it. With his condition, a gust of wind is enough to topple him over.

“Some promises were meant to be broken…”

When you drag your feet across the soil, you’re partially aware that your mum will eventually find the trail of dirt across her marbled floor. You mentally prepare yourself for the questions, unlike your preparation to cut ties with Sunwoo with the words hung in the air. 

Each step takes a part of you. Each step makes your body numb to the chilling wind. Each step is a confirmation of leaving him. Each step is full of your love for Sunwoo. Sometimes, letting go could be the answer to everything.

Never once did you turn back to face him and you ignore the urge to glance your eye to the side when you make a turn to the front door. If you did turn, you would have gotten your final glance of your first and last love. But you would see nothing but the way he hides his face from the world behind his palms, tears trailing down his arms.

FIFTEEN: PROTECTOR AND DEFIER

The day before your flight was your graduation party. Everyone knew of your departure by then, and Sunwoo knew when you both danced to the mellow music that he’s deeply in love with you. His realisation and the timing of it all resulted in him being dazed in his thoughts ever since the news of your leaving.

Your body sways with Sunwoo, and with how united you are with him, your departure is momentarily forgotten. Your dance partner being slightly out of the present moment has been a look that you have gotten used to. He knows that it’s not your choice. He knows it's for your best interest, knowing well that studying abroad would give you a great advantage in the job industry. He’s powerless, completely defeated by your parents’ valid reasoning. Running out of time, he finds himself thinking of a future without you rather than savouring the present with you. 

Each song passes with no prolonged eye contact from Sunwoo, so your hands cup his nape. Your warmth sent goosebumps up his skin, and he diverted his eyes from the graduation poster behind you to your eyes. A weak smile stretches his lips when he realises the crease between your eyebrows.

“What are you thinking about?”

Would kissing your forehead be too much right now? Would it ease your mind like how his mind would? In the end, Sunwoo only offers a head shake. “How we first met.”

Sunwoo watches his words bring a big stretch from your lips from one ear to the other. You could taste the fried potato from that day, the wind growing stronger as you come closer to admire the waves of the sea, and the saltiness infiltrating your nose. The way that you and Sunwoo met was a little messy, and if it wasn’t for Sunwoo cutely panicking from his actions, you and him would probably be enemies.

That day, Eric and Millie were only starting to date, and you decided to give the new couple some extra space; you were also saving yourself from being a third wheel after being stuck with them for hours. It’s so excruciating to see their flirty remarks and not-so-innocent touches after mutual pining for so long. As the three of you reach the coastline, you slowly slip away from the couple, venturing the area yourself. It was just you and your snack against everyone’s delightful chattering. Everywhere you go, even the ones that are alone like you, content smiles lit the place brighter than the stalls and the colourful decorative lanterns. You wander almost aimlessly, not paying much attention to your surroundings. 

When repetitive shutter clicks near you, your shoes plant themselves into the sand. You held the remnants of your snack tightly, ready to use its stick for self-defence. Your body whips to the side, trying to find anyone near you holding a camera. The person holding the camera is still unaware of the panic he accidentally caused. He leisurely clicks through his snapshots, rapidly clicking through the frame-by-frame shots of the beach and its setting sun as the background. He hopes that he can capture even the slightest movement of the sun going to sleep for the day. He did, but he also captured the way your clothes leave after-images as you turn around. Your facial expression is blurry, but that’s not a problem when you approach him soon after, a raised eyebrow suspicious of his work. 

Prompt explanation and recognition of being in the same school is the beginning of your friendship. That’s also the first time that he showed his work to anyone else than his dad. It gave him great relief to hear your compliments. Ever since then, you and Sunwoo have seen each other at school more often, and he joins you as a third wheel to Eric and Millie.

“I’ll never forget your face that day,” you chuckle at how wide-eyed Sunwoo was, stuttering and panicked.

You both spent some time recollecting the early events of your friendship. When the memories grow closer to the present time, that’s when Sunwoo refuses to meet his eyes to yours as much as he can. His steps are no longer matching the music, and he holds the side of your body loosely.

Your heart breaks into pieces, knowing that the news of your leaving affected him much more than you thought. “Let’s take a little break.” You pull him away from the crowd.

Sunwoo rests on a chair while you leave for refreshments. The boy hangs his face low, sweating palms clamping onto his knees and fingers tapping hurriedly on his thighs. Shutting his eyes only rid him of the physical world, and he’s already imagining every day without being able to easily see you. The biggest transition after high school was only supposed to be how he wouldn’t see you every day from eight to three. 

That’s it. It should’ve been just that. 

Should he confess now? Would it burden you? Would it cause his friendship with you to rift apart permanently? 

You’re only a few steps away from a deeply distressed Sunwoo. Your grip on the cup could have shattered it, the same way your heart is at the current moment. When you were finally in front of him, you placed the cup on the table next to you, crouching on the floor to look up to Sunwoo. You tried calling his name, but he barely gave a reaction. Your hands soothe over his hand, thumbs running along his skin. No words were exchanged, not when drops of water landed on the back of your hands. 

“I’ll miss you…”

You nod, voice starting to betray you. “I’ll miss you more. I’ll text you every day.” Sunwoo dips his forehead to yours. “I promise.”

The hug that he indulges you with after dropping you off is the last one. Sunwoo was absent at the airport the next day, only sending you a quick text minutes before your flight took off. Even though the plane had access to the internet connection, your message to him would be left on delivered for a few more days and left on read for weeks after. 

In between the chaoticness of a new life and unfamiliarity, missing Sunwoo had to be one of the hardest challenges that you had to overcome. Sometimes, during calls, Eric or Millie would slip his name nonchalantly, unaware of the situation. The weight of everything crashed down on one call, and the mention of his name was your final straw.

Sunwoo regrets not seeing you off. He let his insecurities beat him. If he was brave enough to confess his feelings, would you have stayed? If he important enough for you to stay?

He has looked for ways to blame staying in his bed and missing sending you off to your external circumstances like your parents. But he knew deep down that your parents wouldn’t stop him despite their hate for him. He wishes you would hate him for only reaching out during special days and practically ignoring you otherwise. But deep down, wishes for the opposite.

Kim Sunwoo has done regrettable things for the past three years. 

It’s been a week since he cried for you. Maybe the world is telling him that he’s too late, and he doesn’t blame anyone. The world has given him many chances, and so have you. Maybe this is the time that he would learn to live with his actions. Maybe the world won. Maybe the world wanted him to feel hopeless and lost, the same way that he made you feel for three continuous years. 

Sunwoo lets himself off with an extended time of rotting in bed. The ceiling became the medium for his mind to replay his favourite moments with you; and what life might have been with you. The pillow collects his silent cries. It's only when his hand outstretches and knocks a box that he faces reality.

Puffy eyes and fatigue reach for the now slightly dented box. Sunwoo has been avoiding opening your birthday gift but still keeps it by his side when he musters his courage to open your hard work for him. The ribbon shimmers from the evening shine outside, yet it never reflected in his orbs. His finger pulls on one of the long tails, inhaling deeply for the contents inside. A handmade raccoon keychain stares at him with its starstruck eyes and wide smile. If Sunwoo had a mirror every time he laid his eyes on you, he would know that the raccoon is indeed himself. A gulp passes his throat as he shakily lifts his gift closer to him, tender eyes examining the effort that you’ve put in. The slipped note from you congratulated him for his special day, wishing him lifelong happiness and health, as well as an apology if you didn’t do well with his gift.

“Yeah right,” he shakes his head with a smile, holding the raccoon close to his chest. “Lifelong happiness without you,” his palm clenches at the thought, “how am I going to do that?”

Kim Sunwoo loves challenges. He loves doing them too because he knows that you’ll support him on his journey, and waiting for him at the finish line. But if your finish line is his start line, then he would never take on those challenges.

Getting a wink of sleep was a miracle, and his dad would cheer if Sunwoo even left his room. His health declines, and the time he spends flipping through his photos increases. The familiarity of those photos makes him sane, as much as it makes him insane. The past week hits him when his messages are left undelivered even through multiple resends. You left the group chat, and your profile in multiple social media accounts are hidden from Sunwoo’s. You disappeared from his physical and technological world. The only thing he truly has of you now are the time that he spent with you in framed pictures and his memories. 

“Fuck,” he humourlessly chuckles. “Is this what I get for being a coward?”

The beeping and ringtone of his phone blares through his room. Sunwoo isn’t fazed by the sound replacing the silence. He swipes his thumb to accept the call without sparing a glance at the caller’s ID.

“Hel-”

“Please tell me she’s with you!”

Beside him, Millie's distant voice is frantic at another person being able to bring good news on the statement Eric shouted to him earlier. Sunwoo’s back straightened, trying to piece together the limited amount of information from the two’s lack of air. 

“Eric, what’s going on?”

“She’s not at home, Sunwoo! And we’ve been looking for her for a while now, and Auntie is getting so furious! I have no idea where she is! No one does, and she left her phone here and-”

“Okay, Eric. Take a deep breath,” Sunwoo traps his phone between his ear and shoulder. He stashes his essentials in his hoodie’s pockets. “I’m coming over now. Just hold on.”

Eric couldn’t get a word out when the line cut dead. Sunwoo drives over to your house, probably speeding past the limit numerous times; he decides a fine and demerits points are much better in the current situation. With every turn and adjustment on his stick shift, sweat rolls down the side of his face and forehead. The red lights seem like an eternity, and the green is faster than a blink. Taking a different route probably took longer than if Sunwoo just stayed put and waited a little bit more for the road to clear, but he’s not risking staying seated and watching the sun set with each second that passes. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he impatiently taps on the steering wheel at the road accident adding delay to his journey.

A mix of different coloured cars flooded the front gates of your house, some parked inside. By the door, Eric and Millie stood timidly side by side to an angry woman. The older one jabbed her index finger at Eric’s forehead, and just from his back view, Sunwoo could feel his emotions threatening to burst. It’s only when she directs her attention to Millie that Eric pushes her back behind him. 

“Don’t touch her,” Eric warns. “We’re all trying to find her here. Let’s not start another conflict, Auntie.”

“If you had monitored her properly and made sure she hung out with the right people outside the house, we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place!” Her gaze burns straight to Millie. “People like you and Kim Sunwoo! You’re the reason why she’s gone!”

“Auntie, I’m sor-”

“I’ll find her.” Sunwoo’s calm and determined voice cuts through the booming voice.

Kim Sunwoo takes the stairs with his chin up high, advancing closer to the three. The fourth person behind the door made his presence known, striking Sunwoo’s chest with his arm. No words were exchanged between the two, keeping their lips tight as each other’s existence surges and rages the bloodflow throughout their body.

“Get out, Kim Sunwoo.”

“This isn’t your house,” he spat out venomously, “whoever you are.”

Sungjin is ready to take Sunwoo into his own hands when the older man interrupts them. “How dare you come here?” 

His turns away from Sungjin to his friends, relaxing his stern look momentarily before facing the cross-armed woman. There she is in all her glory, with her face decorated with the best products and her body complete with the best brands. It turns out that those are not necessarily what makes a person arrogant, but instead, it’s the way she keeps her chin high to him at the top of the stairs. The way her eyes travel down to him and his baggy, non-branded clothes. It’s the way that her one leg extends to the side, ready to shoot him down. Sunwoo has never been face-to-face with your mum, only hearing stories. Maybe that should’ve made him cower, but for you and him, he’s sick of the world pulling you both apart.

“I never liked you, Kim Sunwoo. You distracted my daughter from her studies. You never even completed university. You don’t even have the money to own a proper vehicle. How dare you come here when you’re the reason why she has been misbehaving throughout the past few years of her life?”

Eric and Millie hopes for Sunwoo to keep his composure. Contrary to their expectations of Sunwoo giving into her words, Sunwoo shuts his eyes, dampening the force of the external world. Just like the past week that he spends thinking about the dear times he has spent with you, he consciously recollects ones that would help him stand his ground.

From the time you made it clear that you still think of him: “You didn't forget about me…I just thought I was the only one who held on to these memories.”

To the times when his actions brought you relief: “You have no idea how glad I felt to be out of that house.”

Or your selfless nature: “I love seeing you happy, Sunwoo. So, promise me that you’ll always strive for happiness.”

To the ones that your ‘selfish’ self wants: “I came back because I missed you so much. I never blamed you for distancing yourself from me.”

To the ones that trust and lean on him: “You said you would always catch me. So I have nothing to be afraid of.”

To the one who cares for him: “I love seeing you happy, Sunwoo. So, promise me that you’ll always strive for happiness.”

And ultimately, to the one question that he finally has the heart to say aloud: “Sunwoo, are you happy?”

“No,” he firmly confirms. “I’m not happy.”

His words didn’t match the question that the woman asked. The blatant way that Sunwoo ignores her question only pushes the woman to break Sunwoo further. “You don’t deserve to be happy after all that you’ve done, Kim Sunwoo.” The woman won when Sunwoo nodded, a smirk slowly forming on her face. A scoff follows her victory, “Then be on your way-”

“Maybe you’re right. I don’t deserve to be happy after all the trouble I caused her. It’s the reason why I always thought that your daughter deserves someone better.”

“Past tense?” An eyebrow raises at his confidence. “You still don’t deserve her, Kim Sunwoo.”

“Maybe,” he reiterates the word. “But I wasn’t the one who made her apologise to me for something that isn’t her fault. I wasn’t the one to make her look over her shoulder every time she followed her heart. I wasn’t the one who made her think that she couldn’t lean on her family.”

Eric had to hold his laughter back at his best friend’s words. His nods to Sunwoo’s words, making the latter spare him a glance. Sunwoo meets the eyes of his best friend carefully walking backwards to the bottom of the stairs. Millie nudges his shoulder, pointing to the keychain hooked around one of his pants’ belt loops and mouthing about how their little boy has grown. It took Kim Sunwoo a few years to say these words out loud. But a win is still a win. Sunwoo reaches the bottom of the stairs, still keeping his body facing Sungjin and your mother. When he has enough space from Sungjin, Sunwoo keeps his arms to his side as he bows to the older one.

“Your daughter made me promise that I’ll be happy for the rest of my life,” he lifts his head steadily leaving the group with newfound determination to keep his words, “so I’ll be on my way to do that.”

Finally, Sunwoo’s back greets her. “You pursue my daughter or even be near her ever again, and I will close your shop.”

That keeps his feet planted to the ground. His shop is way out of context, just like how it was a week before. This time, however, Sunwoo isn’t lost in following the situation. This information must have been something that you’ve carried by yourself, and he comes up with a ton of reasons as to why you would never dare tell him the truth. He knew something was up. He wanted to dig further but never had the chance to. His actions right now are what pulled the trigger, and he steps in the much-needed ‘trap’ that your mother would never want him to know. The elderly man smirks, expecting another bow with pleas and whimpers. 

Yet, as the sun is on its way to sleeping for the next few hours, Sunwoo encapsulates its scorching heat just for her as he turns his head. “You can try,” he shrugs. “I’m confident that I can protect everything that I care about from now on.”

SIXTEEN: WHEN THE SEA MEETS THE TEARS

As much as you hate to admit it, roaming out without your phone and jacket isn’t the best way to rebel against your mum. You're shivering in the sunset breeze, and your ankles, deeply buried in the scorching sand, are now numb. The thought of taking your shoes off was good, but you couldn’t find the energy to put them back on despite them being beside you. 

Before you, the sun is slowly setting. Your watch tells you that you've been roaming for almost two hours with no hints of boredom. The bird chirps its departure song, and the melody fades across the horizon. The wooden bench underneath your fingertips grounds you with the help of the cooling wind, but you welcome it with closed eyes. Your shirt dances, making you tuck your skirt tight beneath your thighs.

The time when Sunwoo sneaks you out for the festival comes to mind. The act was thrilling, especially after working every single drop of your brain juice and overworking yourself to the bone. You drown yourself in your thoughts, the sun making your forehead unnecessarily warmer. You're afraid to face the place that bought you both together; the waves crashing only push your tears out more.

"Should I go now?" You distantly wonder. "Probably," You answered your question.

You didn't leave just yet, though, staying just a little more before the inevitable lecture when you get back home. For some reason this time, you're not scared. You're not scared of your mum shouting at you, pressuring you to go back overseas and never to step foot in Korea unless she wants you to. You're not scared of getting to the airport and saying goodbye to Eric and Millie until your mum tells you to come back. You're not scared of the work that the new semester will put on you and the stress you'll be under.

You're scared of your mind repeating the scene from last week when a certain boy decides to speak his mind- no, his heart. His words replay in your mind millions of times. The worst thing to see is a distraught Sunwoo, and it kills you that you’re why he is. It took a lot of self-control to walk away without looking back. The weight of your words only sunk during dinner time, and you had to excuse yourself from the table as you ruined your makeup. The girl stares at you blankly in the mirror, with no life or spark; Sunwoo has always been the one who put them there. Sungjin trails behind you and makes it his goal to understand the meaning of your distress. He promises to treat you better, better than Sunwoo could ever do. Yet, getting treated better by Sungjin isn't what you wanted, and it'll never be that.

Kim Sunwoo. Truthfully, if you could say anything, you just want to be with him.

It’s only when your mind convinces your mum’s threat is worth it for the greater future that you finally passed out for the rest of the night. Even so, you wish you could take everything back. You wish you could spare him a glance, maybe mouth the three words you’ve kept away for so long. Kiss him on the forehead, cheek and maybe his jawline. Pull him close and let him rest on your chest. To snuggle against him both when the world is loud or silent; his heartbeat will deafen them anyway. Spoil him with his favourite food and things. Split the workload at his shop; a measly excuse to see him more during the twenty-four hours. Shower him with lots of love and affection until you’ve reached the end.

It seems that heaven has been listening to your yearnings. Silicone slaps the gravel footpath behind you the volume and pace alerting you to turn towards a heaving boy. His neck stops turning at the sight of you and his steps gradually slows. Sunwoo ruffles the bangs stuck to his forehead, wiping any excess sweat and taking in the salty air. The corners of his lips lifts dearly, pumping his fists into the air to celebrate his correct hunch on where you would be.

"Called it," he shrugs after steadying his breath. "Knew you'd be here."

You didn't respond, keeping a straight face towards him before returning to the vast ocean. If you knew heaven was listening, you wouldn't wish for his presence right now. You're tired, speechless and overwhelmed with your audacity of running away from home. Your shoulders comes into contact with cotton, his gentle cologne behind you mixing in with the saltiness of the sea. 

"It would suck to get sick.” He adjusted the fit on your figure, tying the sleeves loosely together to keep his jacket from slipping.

He walks towards the front of the bench, and you expect him to take a seat next to you. Sunwoo blocks the calming waves with his chest before kneeling to face you at eye level. As expected, you turn your head any other way than to him, but Sunwoo doesn’t miss the eyes void of emotions. Even with your favourite gummy smile of his, you still wouldn’t catch him a glance. A pout grows on his face when you ignore him, but the boy doesn't give up. His gaze lingers on the familiar photo book on your left. A calming smile overtakes his face, glad that at least you had it close to you like all the times that book was for him. 

Sunwoo takes the heel of your foot, dusting leftover grains and dust away before slipping the spare sandals he bought to your feet. 

“What are you doing?” You murmur weakly.

“Taking care of you just like how you always do to me.” Sunwoo takes your half-buried sneakers out of the sand, shaking them from any grains before setting them nicely against to watch the scenery. “Done,” satisfied with his work. 

Your eyes are dull at the last bit of sunlight that shines over his hair. It prompts you to lean towards him, pressing a chaste kiss on the crown of his head. Despite looking away, you catch Sunwoo admiring your face from the corner of your eye. The pink and orange reflecting on your skin only awes him more, stealing all of his attention to you. Your palms are clenched together on your lap. 

His eyes widen, perplexed at your act. “W-What was that for?” 

You shake your head, shrugging your shoulders. “Just repaying you for all the times you kissed me.”

Then he chuckles. You wish you could record it so that you could play it whenever you want to. Your fingers push and fidget against each other, catching Sunwoo’s attention. He slips his hands between yours, pushing them away from each other. His fingers link with yours determinely, the same way he lifts his chin to look at you.

“Look at me, bubs.” You did the opposite, neck touching your chest. It leaves him crestfallen.

The only part of Sunwoo that you could see is his lower body, knees deep in the sand. It’s only with the breeze that your gift from him slightly sways, chest and grip tightening at the smiling face. 

“Ddeonu���”

It’s a faint word, but Sunwoo caught it. “Is that the name of this little guy?” You spare him a nod. “You made him so cute. Just like me.” Sunwoo’s ability to lift your mood at any given time and place is truly remarkable. It was one of the first qualities that you fell in love with. Maybe it was the playful wink he throws in; maybe it's just him. “Did you flip through everything yet?”

You immediately knew what he was referring to, and you couldn’t bring any good news for him. It’s the truth, and you hope Sunwoo would be so disappointed that he would stand up and walk away. All you need is for him to tell you how much he hates you for not being able to do such a simple task, and you can go on with your life-

“Good.”

That’s the complete opposite reaction that you expected from him. Without a chance to go against him, Sunwoo traps your body between his arms by placing his hands next to your thighs. He pulls his upper body, drawing his face closer to you. It’s not the distance that makes you lean backwards, it’s your final attempt to hide your red and puffy eyes from the loneliness and weight that you’ve been carrying for years. But there he is: the love of your life so close to you that all you need is a few centimetres to claim his lips. Your hands find each other ones more, tightly shutting your eyelids. 

“No, please,” his voices out painfully and in desperation. Stray hair is tucked behind your ears and he hushes his wishes, “Look at me, please. Look at me with those eyes that I love the most.”

“You don’t have to take care of me anymore, Sunwoo. I know you said that you would make it up to me, but you really don’t. I understand why you did what you did, and I ge-”

“But you don’t understand how I feel about you. I know that because you haven’t read the last page. Please look at me, bubs.” Midway, your breath gets stuck in your throat when Sunwoo nudges the side of his nose against yours. “Please?” You give in to Sunwoo. Immediately, his eyes glimmer when he meets yours. “Why didn’t you tell me about your mum and my store?”

A crease forms between your eyebrows. “How’d you know about it? Did you…visit my house earlier?” Silence grows louder than noise as affirmation. “Then, you should know what’s best for you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He repeats. “You should’ve told me.”

“And then what?” You ask exasperately. “What would happen after, Sunwoo? Would you climb the fence and try to break in through my window? Catch me in your arms? Smile at me like the world hates us being together? It's not high school anymore! We're adults with responsibilities, and you wouldn't do th-”

“Yes, I would’ve,” he intently phrases. 

Sunwoo clenches his fist, knuckles pushing on wood. He could feel his heartbeat against his ears, thumping as erratically behind his chest. You scoff at his words, and it leaves his shoulders slumping. Yet, that’s all he needs to finally voice out the words that he associates with you.

“I would,” he tucks your strands once more, cradling your jawline and draws you in. He breathes just above nature, confessing his feelings, “because I love you. I've been in love with you for years.”

Sunwoo watches as your eyes widen, lips gaping apart all the same. Tears form, trickles and creeps. Your stuttering feeds on Sunwoo’s fear that he's lost you forever. But as each second passes, he wants you to know explicitly something he has been hiding for years on end. Now, with half-lidded eyes on your lips, Sunwoo patiently awaits for you.

“You're worth the world to me,” he interrupts. “The store won’t close if that’s what you’re worried about. Even if it does, then I can reopen somewhere else. I’m confident that I can protect everything that I love, including you.” The gift from his belt hoop is unhooked, and Sunwoo tilts the soft toy so that its smiling lips land on the corner of your lips. “Ddeonu is confident too.”

He slips his favourite gift into your hands, patting and directing his head kiss your hands. Sunwoo continues to keep you at the centre of his view, brushing your hair through his fingers and bopping your nose lovingly. As soon as you let out the softest laugh between your sniffles, Sunwoo responds with a similar sound that dissipates all your worries. When your head lifts to face him eye-to-eye, Sunwoo is the one who turns his head sideways. A deep shade of pink brushes across his cheekbones, and he traps his lips between the rows of his teeth. The redness only spreads throughout his face and neck when you press a peck on his cheek. 

Another one.

And another one.

Until he finally stands and lifts you off the bench with an arm under your knees and the other supporting your back. Along with your satisfying laughter, the pull you have by embracing your arms around his neck is what confirms to Sunwoo that this is reality. Still in his arms, Sunwoo takes a seat, sitting you on his lap. You bask under the remnants of the golden hour close to him. You rest your head on the crook of his neck.

"You're going to get hurt, Sunwoo,” clenching his shirt at the thought. “I don’t want that.”

"Life without you will hurt. I know that much.” You hum, drawing random shapes on his top. "What about you? What does a life without me mean for you?”

Your finger stops, gulping, “Nothing.”

Sunwoo caught a whiff of your shampoo when he craned his face to you. “Why?”

Plump lips kiss the tip of your nose, cheeks rising at the fleeting touch. “Because I love you. I love you so much that it drives me crazy, Sunwoo.” 

If you thought Sunwoo couldn’t get any redder than before, he did. His skin heats up, and your body feels the effect your words had on him. It leaves you chuckling instead, teasing him with kisses along his neck as he shivers under your touch. You’re caught up in your act that it caught you off guard when Sunwoo’s arm behind you suddenly pulls away. With the momentum and your surprise, the smirking boy takes this moment to respond to the love you’re showing him. 

Sunwoo claims your lips, eyelids closing to focus and savour the shape of your lips. He leads, pulling away slightly to dive back in. The boy pulls you back up, and you adjust to the pace he sets for you. He shudders and groans each time you pull away for air. Your breath is taken away by how the hand behind you wraps around your lower back, and the other guides your face to keep his lips locked with yours. It’s a little messy with occasional nose bumps, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Sunwoo either. Not with the way you intentionally place your hand over his heart, feeling his little heart jump at his affection with you.

When his lips aren’t busy on yours, he presses his lips to your face, whispering sweet nothings. “You’re so beautiful,” he admires before diving back in. “I can’t believe you’re finally mine.”

Kim Sunwoo had years of loving to make up for. He’s ready, but he needs to make sure you are.

"My beautiful girl, are you ready for the endless messages now?"

You fill his ears with an amused giggle, "As long as you send me a picture of yourself every day."

"You bet I will," sending another playful wink. "I'm sure you don't want to miss out on this handsome face." 

You roll your eyes playfully, Sunwoo feigning fake offense. The book beside him comes to his mind. 

He spares a glance at it before looking back at you. “Want to look through it?”

"Together?" He accepts your request with a kiss.

The sun sleeps for the rest of the night, the moonlight experiencing their love for the first time. It smiles beautifully to the laughter of the couple pointing at the funny pictures taken by the photographer himself. The ones that Eric and Millie took capture all the times that they might’ve been blind; or at least that is what the two believe whenever they see the now-couple together. Sunwoo screenshotted conversations between him and his two best friends reprimanding him about his behaviour towards you. Beside those screenshots, he wrote his reflection, spilling his heart in ink; some faded from his tears.

Before flipping to the long-awaited last page, Sunwoo had his hand over yours while you flipped it. In the end, you understand why Sunwoo is glad that you didn’t see it before he confesses. The three words being said are much powerful than the lettering. But something that words couldn’t convey is how there’s a space for a picture.

The outline is a rough sketch of the dimensions, and inside is written: If you accept my heart…? Hopefully…

The next thing to do is to clear. In selfie mode, you, Sunwoo and Ddeonu pose to the phone’s camera. Sunwoo can’t wait to tell his dad and everyone else whenever he looks back on this snapshot that this is his favourite photo out of all the snapshots of you and him. You too, would claim the say with the addition of the calming waves and the warmth of his body against yours.

Within his frame, both digitally and physically, together with him.

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 the boyz masterlist 🤍 part of 'especially to you...'

join the taglist here » @deoboyznet @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet @blossomnet @haneul-and-clouds @sanaxo-o @littleroaes @sunlightwoo @dearly-somber @cuppasunu @cupidjyu @jaehunnyy

[taehyunsloves]

You‘re my ride or die | TEASER

Rating nsfw 🔞

Wc n/a (probably around 4k)

Relationship Yeonjun x Taehyun x fem!reader

Contents Bsf to lovers, Rivals (kinda), FwB, threesome, smut, pet names (more to be added)

AU Streetracing / Underground

Summary You ran from your life — from the scene, from the underground. Two years later, you’re back: back to yourself, back to the friends from the good old days, back to the streets. But between the heat of Seoul’s underground races and roaring engines, there’s something even hotter burning between the three of you…

Estimated release n/a

🏷️: comment if you want to be tagged or follow me

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Teaser - Intro

The air tastes different here.

Airport glass stretches high above you, light bleeding through in soft streaks. It’s late, or maybe too early, but the city is already moving. Or still moving.

You step outside. And there he is.

Leaning against the hood of his Nissan Silvia S15, head tilted down, arms crossed. The car looks the same, of course it does. White paint, matte purple hood. That faded sticker you once slapped onto the passenger door is still clinging on.

He glances up when he sees you approach.

“I didn’t expect… you,” you say.

“I know,” he exhales. “You think I’d let Yeonjun pick you up? Not a chance.”

You roll your eyes. Of course. Nothing’s changed.

“Nice to see you too…” you murmur dry.

Taehyun walks over, grabs your suitcases, and loads them into the car. You open the passenger door and toss your bag into the backseat without asking - you know how this works. Or at least, you used to.

The car smells exactly the same: old leather, burnt rubber, and that cologne he always wore. You could be blindfolded and still know this is Taehyun’s car.

The door creaks open, and he slides into the driver’s seat. He pulls out slowly, heading for the highway. It’s quiet, only the low growl of the engine fills the space.

For the last thirty minutes, you’ve just stared out the window, watching the lights go by, watching your hometown creep closer after two long years.

Two years spent trying to find yourself. Of trying to outrun a version of yourself you weren’t ready to face.

Trying to leave behind the underground.

But here you are.

Over time you realized you were just trying to deny who you are.

Deny your passion. Deny the love of your life. That’s why you came back.

The air is heavy, full of things left unsaid. Then, finally, you break the silence.

“Yeonjun knows that I…?”

“He does,” Taehyun says, cutting you off.

You nod.

Silence again.

Most people would call it awkward, but not you and Taehyun. This is just how it’s always been. You know when he doesn’t feel like talking and he knows the same about you. You both got used to that rhythm.

You expected more, maybe questions, updates, something after two years of nearly no contact. But there’s nothing. Just silence.

You don’t know what it means.

But you’re back.

And that… changes a lot.

More to come…

———————————————————————————

🏷️: comment if you want to be tagged or follow me

[lsunstreakerl]

Winreem!!

The creature that Max fights like. (Which is a very cool detail. Picking things up from the environment like the smart boy he is.)

Also do you have an estimate on how many of these Max has killed? Probably a few but also not an absurd amount because of the energy needed to reward ratio.

Are the scales used for armour aswell? Or jewlery? Because you might be able to stitch them together to form an underlayer nicely. Even though it would probably be a pain to stitch because of how hard those scales are. You could technically try leather hole punches if they have those (yk. Hammer + metal stick that looks like a straw but halfway up is solid again) or maybe the handheld drills that look a little like bottle openers.

Also what is this guys diet? Does he survive on people who are stupid enough to fight him? Or whatever small animals can be found up so high on the mountains?

WINREEM !!!!!!!!

yes sorry to any of you who googled it 😭 the winreem is an original sunny creature, so this is the only reference for it! thank you deci!!!

your ability to take my words and then actually put them to paper is incredible :)

max has killed 4 in his lifetime, which is a lot higher than the average (0) and also the average among people who have killed a winreem (1). the spiders georg of the north, if you will.

his first winreem kill was his second coming of age ceremony with mick, and the other three were done off the mountain, when the winreem was hunting them.

winreems eat livestock, humans, and also other winreems! they're very opportunistic— so having them as a creature that's occasionally hunted for ceremony helps keep their population in check.

very rarely do people try and do a ceremonial winreem kill, and it's a lot rarer to succeed, just cause. I mean. look at it.

the scales are generally considered too tough to work with, and a single winreem kill's worth of scales could be a lifetime of work for an armorsmith, which leads to them actually being fairly impractical. the hide itself is easier to mold and sew while still being extremely tough, which is why it's a valuable resource for armor lining. (when max killed the other three hunting local villages, he divided the hide across the children of the village— the only hide he has on his armor (and also rico's) is from his very first kill.)

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY DORIAN PAVUS  *  assorted dialogue from dragon age inquisition, updated version

i don't care what they think about me. i care what they think about us.

i like you. more than i should. more than might be wise.

discretion isn't your thing, is it?

all this dancing, politics, and murder makes me a bit homesick.

i suppose it really depends. how bad do you want to be?

living a lie... it festers inside of you, like poison.

i'm a man of many talents. what can i say?

the moment i saw you, i thought "there's a man who knows quality."

if you don't come through this, i swear i'll kill you.

i'm curious where this goes, you and i. we've had fun. perfectly reasonable to leave it here.

here is my proposal: we dispense with the chitchat and move on to something more primal.

i tease you too much, i know.

i'll have to find something we can do that doesn't involve teasing.

time to drink myself into a stupor. it's been that sort of day.

i see you enjoy playing with fire.

i like playing hard to get.

i'm not suggesting we venture into mutual domesticity.

if it's a trap, we escape and kill everyone. you're good at that.

talk to me. let me hear how mystified you are by my anger.

oh, i'm not arguing. just pointing out the ridiculously obvious.

if you choose to leave your door unlocked like a savage, i may or may not come.

now... what was i talking about? ah, yes. me.

i am apparently an incredible ass at accepting gifts.

i prefer the company of men.

would you prefer me bound and leashed?

sometimes the ones you love are also the ones who disappoint you the most.

you are the man i love, [name]. nothing will truly keep us apart.

the things you ask are just... very personal.

sometimes... love isn't enough.

there will always be an "us." we'll just be... farther apart, for a time.

i had no idea something like you was possible.

i'm imagining what you would look like in a dress.

i've never seen you smile so much!

i have no idea what you're talking about.

you stand there, flexing your muscles, huffing like some beast of burden with no thought save conquest.

you're shaping the world for good or ill. how could i aspire to do any less?

my footsies are freezing, thank you.

don't you ever bathe?

you're not suggesting we're similar.

watch where you're pointing that thing!

i'm not wearing a skirt.

it's significantly more impressive than hitting them with a sharp piece of metal.

i only meant to say i'm very sorry for your loss.

we can continue this dance forever, if you wish.

i'm saying we should be careful what we assume when it comes to such matters.

demons don't appreciate a man with good hair.

what i wouldn't give for some proper wine.

your outfit's entertaining. i'll give you that.

he had to leave early on account of assassination.

it's nice to know you have friends.

i'm here to do what is right.

come on, just answer the question.

they were asking me about you. personal things.

you said we'd be ass-deep in trouble. this is more like knee-high.

so what's your estimation? think we can win?

you can't call me pampered. nobody's peeled a grape for me in weeks.

you startled me. you're always so... nondescript.

you're a special and unique snowflake. live the dream.

i wanted to see you make flowers bloom with your song. just once.

you've done a lot less dancing naked in the moonlight than expected.

i've never seen anyone in this part of the world do it.

i realize there's more to you than that.

have i offended you?

for hating the outdoors, you sure seem to like bad weather.

i can't figure you out, [name].

you don't play their stupid game, they send an assassin or three your way.

i can't believe you're scared of magic.

i'm going to take that as a compliment.

still don't like me, [name]? after all this time?

[name], i owe you an apology.

i suspect people will use any excuse to hate us.

why be ashamed? power should be respected, not swept under the carpet.

maybe you're not a complete moron.

i just need to know you're capable of higher thought. for my own comfort.

it would take work. and soap. lots and lots of soap.

[trulybetty]

this house still creaks | clint x f!reader

pairing: clint x f!reader word count: 2,449 warnings: angsty, sprinkle of spice, no spoilers, we’ve only watch the trailer here, barely edited, mistakes are my own estimated reading time: 12 minutes summary: Clint returns to the house you both once shared. Some ghosts still linger no matter how much you move on. ao3: linked

this house still creaks.

You never did like the smell of smoke.

Clint knew that. Still lit up anyway. It wasn’t a habit he had any interest in breaking—not now, and not back then. He sat on the stoop of the run-down place he once called home, knees spread, elbows rested on them, cigarette burning slow between his fingers. The wood under his boots creaked when he shifted, a reminder that time hadn’t been kind to anything.

The porch leaned a little too far to the right. The front door stuck when it rained. And the screen, even though it’d been replaced once or twice already, had a tear in the corner that everyone had given up on fixing.

The air smelled like asphalt and old rain, the street was starting to dry under the weak morning light that fought its way through the grey clouds. Oakland never changed—not really. Just got louder, harder, more cracked around the edges.

Like him.

He exhaled through his nose. Smoke curled and caught the light. Somewhere down the block, a dog barked, sharp and high-pitched and impatient. He flicked the ash off his cigarette and watched it fall, tiny embers dying in the damp. His mind wandered to the last time the two of you had sat there, both of you younger, both of you maybe a little more foolish and blinded to what was ahead.

It had been a Sunday.

That much he could swear by. You’d been barefoot on the porch, painting your toes the same shade of red you liked to wear on your lips. He’d leaned in the doorway, watching you like he didn’t know how this story ended already.

“You look like you’re looking for trouble,” he said.

You didn’t look up as you delicately brushed a polish on your last toe, “Only if you’re stupid enough to ask for it.”

He grinned. Always liked your mouth when it was sharp like that. It made the soft parts that came after feel like something he earned. Something holy.

You squinted up at him, “You gonna hover or come help me fix the fence like you promised?”

The fence. Jesus. He had forgotten about it, again.

“I will,” he’d said, not missing a beat. “Just lemme have my coffee first.”

Your laugh had been a low thing, warm and genuine, like you didn’t know how fast it could all rot. Like the world hadn’t taught either of you to expect the worst.

He’d given you the best pieces of himself. But only for a while.

Clint rubbed a tired hand over his jaw now, the scruff there mostly grey. He blinked hard at the old wood beneath his boots, remembering how your voice used to lilt when you called him by his name. Not baby, not anything sweet. Just—Clint.

That had been enough.

Until it wasn’t.

The job had always been a problem. It started off easy, simple runs, collections, intimidation with a smile. But violence got in your blood. It changed how you moved, how you spoke. How you loved. And Clint? He had a knack for it.

You hadn’t asked him to stop. Not really. You just started going quiet instead.

He should’ve known.

That night, the last one, had come in slow. Like a bruise.

He’d come in late, blood on his knuckles, sweat dried on his neck. You’d been at the kitchen table, fingers curled around a chipped mug, an open book in front of you—he was sure, if he looked, it’d been the same page you’d been on for the last three days. There’d been no music playing. No candles lit. Nothing that made it feel like home.

He’d stopped in the doorway, chest rising and falling with more than just breath. You didn’t look at him.

“Long night?” you asked.

He didn’t answer. He knew he had to let this play out, that there was no avoiding it.

So, the silence stretched.

“I saw you,” you said finally. “At Rudy’s. With Torres.”

Clint swallowed. “So?”

He may need to let it happen, but that didn’t mean he was going to make it easy, fueled by his stubborn pride. Or possibly a last attempt to delay the inevitable.

“You were beating the shit outta that kid. Over what—a couple hundred bucks?”

His jaw tightened; it was more, but you didn’t need to know that, how high the stakes were that he collected for. “He owed.”

You got up slow, like everything in you was tired. Not just your body. Not just your bones. You set the mug down. More quiet.

“That’s what this is now?” you asked. “This is who you are?”

He didn’t know how to answer that. Maybe he already had.

You closed your book, your eyes meeting for the first time that night. There was no anger there, no fire. Just a quiet resignation that scared him more than anything else.

He’d watched you slip past him without so much as a brush of skin. The door had clicked shut behind you, a dull echo in the space where your laughter used to be.

Funny how he thought leaving would hurt less than staying did.

Instead, you beat him to the punchline. You left that night with a bag and your keys and a line he still couldn’t forget:

“I don’t think I really knew you at all.”

Clint snuffed out the cigarette against the porch step, flicked the butt into the overgrown yard. The house was empty now. Had been for years. He came back sometimes when the ghosts got too loud.

He braced to push himself up to his feet. Wincing at the pain in his back that was getting harder to ignore. The wood of the porch creaking under the strain of his weight. He wondered if any of it was salvageable. If he was.

The back door opened with a groan again, as if it were under protest of letting him back in. He shouldered the door into its frame, taking two attempts before it would actually close. Flicking the lock, he ignored the kitchen table and headed through to the stairs, grabbing the bag he’d brought with him as he went.

The bedroom smelled like stale air and old wood. He stepped inside, boots heavy against the loose floorboards. The bed was barely made, dusty and wrinkled, forgotten like the rest of this place. He tossed his bag in the corner and peeled off his shirt, scarred skin catching in the low light.

The mirror over the dresser was cracked. He didn’t look at himself long. Just long enough to remember how your fingers used to trace his ribs, pause on the scar just below his collarbone and make him tell you again how he’d gotten it as a kid.

He undid his belt with a rough tug and stepped into the bathroom, bare feet cold against the tiles. The shower still worked—mostly. The water wasn’t shut off, but it came out weak, but it was hot. Clint stepped in, let it scald.

With the steam whispering at the edges of the drawn shower curtain and filling the space, he tipped his head back and let the heat run over his face. And that’s when the memories came in, uninvited, loud and hard enough to steal his breath.

Your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him under the steam with you. The way you used to laugh when he grumbled about getting your soap in his eyes. How he’d brace one hand on the tile behind your head and press against you, mouth wet and hot, his breath uneven with want.

He could still feel your thigh hitched around his hip as his fingers bit into flesh to hold you tight.

Could still hear the way you used to moan his name—not loud, not theatrical. Just raw. Real. Like you needed him like air.

Clint cursed under his breath and scrubbed a hand over his face, willing it all away. It didn’t work.

The water cooled before he was ready to leave, but he shut it off anyway. Toweled off in silence. Got into the bed and just lay there staring at the ceiling.

The sheets didn’t smell like you. He knew they wouldn’t, maybe he’d hope there’d be some trace of you left. But they didn’t smell like anything.

However, his memory was cruel and unrelenting.

Your back against his chest. Your foot tangled with his. His fingers at the apex of your thigh,s making you gasp and whisper how it was too much, but never really wanting him to stop. The nights you used to turn and kiss him without opening your eyes when he’d slip in late. How sometimes you’d reach for him, fingers twitching until they found his.

It had been the kind of life he never thought he could have. The kind that felt borrowed. Temporary.

And it was.

Clint rolled to his side and stared at the wall. His hand curled into the empty space beside him. His throat felt tight. The silence pressing down hard on him.

He closed his eyes.

And there you were.

He didn’t sleep.

He just lay there.

Remembering the weight of you beside him.

The job he’d done the night before, the one that had him coming here over his apartment. It’d come through no different than any of the others. Local. Easy. No mess, no blood, just a message that needed delivering. Clint liked those the best. The kind where nobody had to scream.

It wasn’t until he’d parked that he realised he was two blocks from where you used to work. The slow prickle of memories working their way through, rooted so far down from where he’d pushed them, reaching for the light. He was slouched low in the driver’s seat, engine idling. Further discomfort in his skin when he realised the diner, the same peeling paint framed the windows. The bell above the door still rang too loud.

He used to pick you up there on the nights you’d work late and grab dinner to go. You’d slide into the passenger seat with a brown bag of food, always grinning, always tired. He remembered how you’d peek into the bag, to steal one of his fries, muttering, “Just one,” and always taking three.

The video rental store was all bright lights and bustle across the street. Clint glanced through the window and saw the guy who ran it still behind the counter, organizing returns. He’d always been odd, always eyed Clint suspiciously—but you? You had a way of charming him out of any late fee, turning on that smile like a light switch.

He used to pretend it annoyed him. It didn’t.

He cracked his knuckles now. The job was done. Message delivered. No bruises this time, just words said low and clear in a parking lot of a strip mall, the kind that promised something worse if they weren’t heeded.

He stayed in the car too long.

He should have gone home.

Instead he watched the corner where you used to wait for him, arms crossed, purse slung over your shoulder, one hip cocked out like you owned the sidewalk.

You probably did.

The fights had started around here, too. Silly ones at first—forgotten pickups, missed dinners, small things that grew teeth. Then it got heavier. He was late too often. Didn’t talk enough. Came home wired or worn down or soaked in something he wouldn’t explain.

You asked him once if he even liked who he was anymore.

He hadn’t answered.

Now he was realising he had flown too close to something bright. Too warm. Too alive.

Maybe you had been the sun.

And Clint? He’d been the fool who thought he could get close without burning.

He’d rested his head back against the seat, eyes closed for a moment. Letting the street noise fade into a low hum.

Maybe some people didn’t get happy endings.

Some people just got ghosts.

The keys jingled in his palm, heavy with rust and years. Clint now stood at the bottom of the steps, looking up at the house one last time. The afternoon light was now bleeding out, replaced with the grey of early evening. He hadn’t planned on staying this long. Hadn’t planned on seeing the sun rise and set at this place again.

He knew it was time.

There was a girl waiting across town. Grace. Her laugh wasn’t like yours—lighter, maybe. Quicker to come. She didn’t ask too many questions, didn’t push too hard, didn’t look at him like she was trying to see through all the bullshit like you did. Maybe he’d learnt to hold back a little more than he did with you, maybe he was smarter now. He wasn’t sure.

She was good. She was kind.

And she was pregnant.

He hadn’t meant to fall in love with her. But he had. Quietly. In the way he carried her grocery bags into the building when he’d see her struggle, even when she’d said she could do it herself, in the way his hand instinctively curved around her belly now without thinking.

He loved her.

And still, as he looked at this old place—the porch, the screen, the cracked paint—he thought of you. Grace didn’t know about this house. It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. Just another thing on the long list of things Clint didn’t share. Things better left in the past. Things that wouldn’t help him be the man he was trying to be now.

He told himself that often.

He had to.

He had a place to find, somewhere with room for a crib and a woman who smiled in her sleep and maybe, maybe, a dog one day.

Still.

He wondered what you were doing now. Where you’d ended up. If you still painted your toes red, if you stole fries from someone else, if they let you get away with it, and if they listened to you hum while you folded laundry.

It had been a while since someone had said your name out loud.

He pressed a hand to the porch rail one last time.

He loved Grace. That wasn’t a lie. And he was, albeit quietly, excited for the baby.

But he would be hand on heart lying if he didn’t still think of you from time to time. About what if.

And maybe that was the thing about ghosts. They didn’t scream. Didn’t scratch. They just attached themselves to the living.

Or the barely living.

They just stayed.

Right there in the corner of your thoughts.

[coffindependency]

kit9 progress report #9

happy september!!! progress report time!!

to start, we’re given these images:

ashley doesn’t look her best here :( she’s pissed off. there are bags under her eyes. she has a bruise on her face (or blood?). this is not a girl who is having a good time

then we have… this? we’re back to the woods!! i wonder who Square Head and Cone Head are?? i wonder what ashley SAID!!! and what’s with the colorful flowers at the bottom??

(not to mention, they could totally sacrifice these people, and pretty easily too!)

next, we finally have some development progress reporting from kit9!! apparently episode 3A is super long & they’re trying to find a place to end the episode and start another one (4), but they haven’t been able to. they’re adding another several months to their estimated release date, which was previously “sometime in 2024” and is now “sometime in 2025… maybe”

they say, once again, that episode 3 (A and B) will be bigger and longer than episodes 1 and 2 combined, so episode releases won’t be as quick as they had been previously

finally, we have an episode three preview clip!!! it’s titled “voicemails” and the thumbnail is julia on the phone

a summary of the video for those who don’t want to watch, or can’t:

julia and andrew are in julia’s room. she tells him to listen to the voicemails she’s been getting on a daily basis. he declines, saying he’s “had [his] fill,” but julia insists

julia thinks that they’re from ashley, but she doesn’t know for sure because the voice is distorted. the voicemails contain graphic descriptions of julia’s “oncoming, painful and slow death” and then talk about how andrew would rather have sex with ashley than with julia. julia is disappointed in andrew’s lack of reaction to the upsetting content of the voicemails, and implies that he was previously upset about julia receiving these messages, but now he doesn’t care

she brings up the fact that she thinks ashley is sending these messages to her, pointing out that only ashley would use the word “floozy,” and andrew (probably lying) denies thinking that ashley has sent these.

julia disagrees, asking if he really thinks that some girl from college is pretending to be his sister and claiming that they’re a little too close, just to get julia to break up with him? he counters with “it’s working, isn’t it?” julia again disagrees, saying that she really does think that ashley is sending these messages. andrew then mentions that people teased him and ashley in high school for “keeping it in the family.” julia says that his relationship with ashley can seem incestuous, to which andrew reacts by slamming the phone back on the receiver, and getting really pissed at julia

julia gets scared of him, which makes him backtrack very quickly and clairify that he’s upset that julia would “think so lowly” of him. he says that he thinks she’s a wonderful person, while she thinks that he’s a “piece of shit” who “probably fucks his sister.”

julia then starts crying, denies thinking that he and ashley are having sex, and apologizes for starting a fight. andrew hugs her and says it’s fine, it wasn’t a fight, but he’ll “forgive her” either way

finally, andrew decides that they should “stay in after all” and it ends with julia saying she forgets what she even wanted to talk to andrew about

it’s fun to see andrew’s more… “genuine” side, even if he’s kind of an asshole. i guess “authentic” is a better term there. i think there’s an interesting contrast between how he acts with julia versus how he acts with ashley, and i’m so glad that we get to see more of him and julia!!! his lack of reaction to the threats against julia is so, so telling. it makes me think back to the part of episode 2 where andrew can bring ashley into the cult party and the cultist calls ashley a bitch and he immediately gets in the cultist’s face to defend her. there are some similarities between how he acts when he has upset each girl, but he doesn’t excessively compliment ashley when they fight. he doesn’t have to worry about ashley crying when he’s rough with her. he doesn’t have to worry about ashley breaking up with him because they’re not dating and she’s his sister

(chosen family is just as valid as blood family, but with andrew and ashley, their codependency shines)

i love how manipulative andrew is. don’t get me wrong, i’d absolutely hate him irl, but i love him as a character. he’s an asshole. he’s charming. he knows what to say to get people (like julia) to feel guilty of accusing him of something he’s thought about on more than one occasion. he knows that if he acts mad towards julia, that she’ll start fawning and apologizing, and he uses that to his advantage. he is not normal (affectionate)

and i’m glad we get solid “proof” that andrew is just as bad as ashley. before, people have argued that there’s plausible deniability, but now?? omgggg. especially when he’s hugging her, saying to julia the things he wishes he could say to ashley instead… they make me crazy. absolutely insane. i am so fucking excited for episodes 3 and 4

[gingerale2017]

a kaider fic where Cinder happens to get pretty drunk one evening, which is somewhat unlikely of her to do, but Kai, being sober, is just taking care of her and watching her go from sarcastic, sassy and aloof Cinder to a complete softy. The whole time he’s helping guide her comfortably to bed she’s just confessing her undying love for him, but as if it’s a big secret of hers. Like (slurring her words) “Kai, I’m so in love with you. Promise you won’t tell anyone?” And he thinks it’s very cute and funny. + Other stuff she loves about him, like his hair, that she might not so casually and deeply admit she admires

YEAH YEAH YEAH LET'S SPEED WRITE THIS

Kai stared at the empty glasses of champagne crowding Cinder's seat with amazement and bit of envy because stars knows how useful those glasses would have been an hour earlier. But it was his wife's empty chair that concerned him most when he told her to sit still while he said goodbye to the ever so bland and boring diplomats around ten minutes ago.

There were three glasses of champagne when he found her and now there were nine. How much could a girl drink in ten minutes?

He sighed, rubbing his forehead as he went to go look for her. Luckily, most of the important people had left already so they wouldn't have any gossip to bring home, had they found her. Who knows how unpredictable she was acting under the influence? He couldn't really tell because her attitude changes depending on her alcohol intake.

He walked around the ballroom where servant droids were putting away decorations and storing away all the tables. An event of appreciation for all the Commonwealth diplomats and their spouses had taken place here in the palace with Kai as its host. He wanted to congratulate his bureaucracy for all the hard work he's seen them do, which was evident with how much the Commonwealth had changed for the better. So he gave a party and speech where he encouraged to relax and drink. Unfortunately, the partners of the politicians took the command "drink" a little too seriously, including his own. He had seen many men and women drag their flushed and smiling spouse away before they could cause embarrassment.

Now he had to go haul his own, maybe not flushed but definitely smiling girlfriend to their bed, if he could find her. He tried to act normal as he walked on the marble floors. Human servants would bow, he would smile, and asked androids if they'd seen the empress. They all answered no with apologies until one droid lit up.

"Yes, I have seen Her Majesty at the bar thirty seconds ago."

His stomach dropped. He knew Cinder had a rather high tolerance to alcohol than most because her processing system, something about it made alcohol pass through her system faster, but she could still get drunk. And he suspected by now, if she wasn't already, she was very drunk.

We walked as fast as he could around the droid to bar where were his wife was asking the bar droid for spiked lemonade. He approached her carefully, as to not spook her because in this state she could harm herself.

"Please, one more drink!" His girlfriend begged the android bartender. "I swear I'm not drunk." "Based on the alcohol percentage of the cocktails you drank and your height and body weight, my estimate is that you are severely under the influence. I advise you to not consume any more alcohol tonight." The male robotic voice responded. Cinder pouted and threw her body over the counter.

Kai huffed in surprise. In the nearly two years he'd known her, he'd never seen her under the influence. At least, not this badly. What triggered her to drink so much? Did someone say something? Or was she feeling particularly rebellious tonight?

Cinder giggled to herself as she traced the empty glass with her fingers. Kai got nervous at her proximity with the fragile cup as she wasn't even looking at it. He made his move them and very gently laid a hand on her shoulder blade.

She jumped at his touch, wildly flinging the glass, but Kai smoothly whisked it out of her grasp. She spun around and looked at him with her once nicely-done hair covering her eyes.

Her face burst out in a big smile as she recognized him. "It's you." She mumbled.

He couldn't help but smile back. Even in this delirious state, she was adorable. "It's me. You tired?"

Cinder tried to swipe the hair out of her eyes with not avail. Kai helped her out, tucking the soft chocolate strands behind the fizz of her ears. "Nah. I mean- A little." She paused, quirking her mouth to the side. "Thanks. Is it time for bed?"

Kai checked his watch for her sake; he already knew it was late. "Yes, it's way past our bedtime." False. As policy makers, their bedtime was way later than now on an average day. But tonight was an event, so it meant they could sleep in. How rare.

Cinder frowned. "Crap." She zoned out for a second. Kai gulped, wondering if he should snap her out of it, when she started giggling. "Don't tell that bartender guy, but I think I'm drunk." She proceeded to snort and laugh even louder. Panicking, Kai covered them both with his back by pressing them to the counter. He didn't want the lingering party-goers to ridicule the new Lunar Diplomat for having a too little self-control or some manure like that. Hopefully, no one recognized them.

"Why are you drunk?" He asked, half-guessing she wouldn't give a clear answer.

Her giggle fit became a soft chuckle as she pressed her face to his stomach and played with the buttons of his dress shirt. Kai's hand naturally found the base of her head and stroked her hair slowly. "Thorne said I never lived if I didn't get absolutely wasted at at least one formal event, so I-I wanted to prove him wrong but then I-I got g-got mad and it was too late to stop so I kept going." She chuckled. "And I kept going. And it felt too fun to stop."

She lifted her chin upwards so her gaze could peer into his, so large she was practically doe-eyed. "You're not mad at me, right?"

It was his turn to laugh. "Of course not, my love. I'm just confused. This isn't something I've seen you do-"

"Oh good. I was worried." She sighed and wrapped her arms around his torse. He froze for a second, then leaned into her embrace.

"How about we go to my room tonight? I know you like it better than yours." He tempted.

He could feel her smile grow. "Yes please!"

Despite her enthusiasm, it was hassle to get to his room. He had rolled up his sleeves in concentration and had one arm stiff against her waist; the other arm opened doors and stole things from her oppurtunist hands. Her body squirmed against his grip relentlessy, excited by every idea that crossed her mind.

For example, she would ask to do outlandish things she would laugh at while sober. 'We should go swimming!' She offered. Kai bit his tongue from noting that she couldn't swim. 'The pool is closed' he said in return. 'How about a stroll in the market?' She begged. Kai stopped himself from groaning. 'The market is closed.' He explained. 'Can we visit the gardens?' she asked. Kai wouldn't have minded that if she wasn't drunk. 'Can we please go to bed?' He countered.

Kai couldn't help but wonder why she was commenting this. Perhaps they were things she truly wanted to experience but was too embarrassed to say while sober. He wished to tell her someday that it is okay to want these things, even if they sound stupid or silly. Everyone yearns for crazy things, even borderline outlandish. It's not so embarrassing.

At that Cinder stopped, causing Kai to almost trip over himself. "What's wrong?" He walked in front of her and cupped her face. Worried, he asked her again.

"I'm sorry. I'm annoying you." She apoligized, lip trembling.

Kai's heart broke a little at her genuine sadness. "No you're not, no reason to say sorry, my dearest."

She sniffed. Her hands slowly and clumsily made their way up his arms to her cheeks and rubbed his wrists. She seemed to do it absent-mindedly as her gaze landed away from his stare. Stars, even while out of it she possessed crazy tons of power over him. The smallest motion of her fingertips made his knees go weak.

"I was thinking about you. Earlier." She started to confess.

"Oh? I hope you only thought good things if me."

"Oh yes. I like the silly little names you give me. Like 'love'" She giggled. "No you're my love! Kai-" She gasped, her whole body jumping with the motion. Suddenly, her eyes widened with an inexplicable craze and gripped his wrists with such tightness that his skin started to go red. "I have secret."

"You do?" He leaned in with curiosity. Her earlier words made his cheeks go pink. He was so glad to know she liked being called those nicknames. It was something he picked up from his father growing up, and it came so natural to him that he couldn't keep himself from calling her pretty names. "You can trust me, sweetheart."

"O-okay. It's so secret, though. It's secret secret. But you can't tell anybody. Anybody. Promise?" Her voice began to slur over.

Kai nodded enthuisiastically. "I promise."

"Kai, I'm so in love you. Like super in love with you." Cinder shut her eyes and shook her head sporatically. "Don't tell anyone, you promised!"

Kai's body shook with silent laughter at her 'secret secret'. He ducked his head so she wouldn't misinterpret the pure joy of his grin for a mocking one. Stars, he was thinking of proposing soon: he sure hoped she was madly in love with him. "I know, darling." He tilted his head to the side and met her wild eyes again. "Hey, wanna know my secret secret."

She nodded, bobbing her head (that was still cradled by both of their hands by the way) like an apple in water. "I won't tell anyone. I'm good at keeping secrets."

"I know." He rubbed her cheek with his thumb. "I'm like super in love with you too." He flashed one of his winning smiles, the one with the slight exposure of his teeth, and the one Cinder confessed to liking the most.

Her jaw hung open for a bit. He gently pushed it closed as she laughed. "We have the same secret!"

"I know. Crazy right?" They giggled in unison. Cinder might have snorted. "Let's go to bed, my love."

"Okay." She pulled away from him and paused, expecting him to lead the way. He hesitated, missing her embrace for a moment, then let her latch onto his arm and carried on.

She got less distracted by her impulsive thoughts and more analytical. She was quiet now as she turned her ever studious eye towards him. What was she thinking? He tensed slightly at her silence. Maybe she suddenly felt the urge to turn away from him. Yet, she still held onto him tightly.

Before he could overthink himself to ruin, she spoke softly. "You have a very nice neck."

Kai felt heat rise up into the same spot she complimented. "Thank you?" He responded, a surprised chuckle ripping through his lips. They paused, mere steps away from his room.

She smiled widely. "You're welcome." Her eyes glanced at his blush that was unrelentlessly climbing up his skin. "I love when it does that too." She giggled.

Kai rubbed his neck with his free hand. "What, blush?"

"Oh yes. It's so adorable. It's like giving you away when you try to hide something." Though with an already slurred speech, she adapted a lisp. She was the adorable one.

"You're absolutely right, Cinder." He started to pace to his door, shaking his head with soft laughter.

She clumsily followed him as he walked in. "You got a nice frame too. At first glance, you look skinny, but your shoulders and back prove that you got some muscle on you." She giggled and traced his back.

Kai spun around, his laughter growing in volume. She continued on.

"And your hair. Kai, how I love your hair!" She threw herself in his arms, taking the chance to run her fingers through the top of his head. "It's always so soft, and smells so good, and so pretty."

She liked his hair! For some reason, he felt like he was in grade school again and received confirmation that his crush liked him back.

Her eyes were glittering at this point. They might be man-made but they held so much emotion. They were beautiful.

Her gorgeous smile lit up every corner of her face. Taking a page out of his book she cupped his face and leaned him towards her. "You're so pretty." Her eyes flickered around his face, taking him all in. Kai has been studied his whole life, and, though at first he resented it, he grew passive to the action. Now, he reveled in her gaze. It may sound selfish, but he wanted to hear what parts she liked about him, what parts she found attractive, and even what parts she was repelled by. The glitter in her eyes twinkled even stronger as she put parts together. "So, so pretty."

"I think you're pretty." He murmured.

"I like how you talk to me." She confessed, matching his tone. "So sweet. So gentle. So genuine."

Kai bit his lip from chuckling at her lisp that returned again. Unfortunately, he was not strong enough. His body rocked with laughter and he dropped his head into his should, hugging her tight.

"I like your hugs too." She said, hugging him back. He continued to laugh.

Once his fit died out, he noticed how silent she became. He pulled away worried only to find dropping eyelids and an unsteady posture.

"You tired?" He asked. She nodded, her gaze unfocused. "Let's sleep."

He picked her up bridal style, handling the full weight of her metal extremities for quick short steps to his bed. He lay her down gently and she curled up into fetus position, already half-asleep. After tucking her in, he watched her for a second, how her chest moved slowly, and her face relaxed into a peaceful expression. He adjusted her hair again and moved to change into clothes for sleeping.

Cinder startled and grabbed his arm, pulling him down weakly. "Don't leave me." She croaked, falling asleep again.

He chuckled, giving up on his attempt to sleep in something comfier. Kai at least was able to snag off his tie and belt. "Me? Never." He yawned, hugging her waist.

"Goodnight Your Majesty." She mumbled, barely audible.

Sleep was already invading his mind. "Goodnight my Cinder."

A/N: SO SORRY ANON FOR TAKING SO LONG. I FORGOT THIS WAS IN MY DRAFTS. I'm posting this for the other anon that asked if I had any fics... which I do! Anyways, I'm sure this is riddled with grammar mistakes and ooc, but idc, I DID IT. Hope you enjoy somewhat (I DID LOVE WRITING THIS CONCEPT)

tagging: @just2bubbly @cinderswrench @cindersassasin @the-wee-woo-royal @deprivedmusicaljunkie @crescentchat @wheresmymom-imlost @salt-warrior @rapunzelfromthemoon @briggycat @impossiblesuitcase @kaider-is-my-otp @definitelynotisabel @wassupnye @therealkaidertrash21 @cinderswirecutters @hayleblackburn (these are for my kaider ONLY fics so please ask if you want to be tagged or removed <3)

[whatitsdecending]

Even in Arcadia (IX)

Fem Reader & Sleep Token

The search for the lake continues when news reaches you that shakes you to the core and changes everything for you and the knights.

Content warning: mentions of death, self-injury, mental anguish

Word Count: 3.3k

“…and it feels like falling into the deep, from somewhere way up over the peaks…”

—————————

The breeze rustled through the leaves below you and into the loose strands of your braid as you sat on a branch high above the forest floor. You stared at the horizon, specifically at the billows of smoke that rose from the hills just beyond the forest. At the army that had made up their camp in that area, one that spread out over a mile and had tents tightly packed in there.

Your brows furrowed together. You remember hearing about the war between Arcadia and Carbine, how there were some battles here and there, but nothing extravagant happened. It had always been some discourse about land and the border they shared. Never did you think that either of them would have such a large camp for their armies during their dispute. And yet, here you were staring at Carbine’s.

You weren’t fond of the fact that they were close to the border with Eden and likely had been there for awhile, long before they attacked the kingdom. Probably taking time to formulate a plan for the attack.

It made you wonder whether your father had known of Carbine’s position all along and just chose to ignore it, or he truly was just as clueless as you were. You sighed, slowly making your way back down the way you came and carefully landing on the forest floor. The others had been waiting for you, letting you have some time to yourself before you continued north to Eden.

“Is everything okay?” Four asked, noticing the grim look on your face.

You shook your head. “Has Carbine’s army always been close to Eden’s border?” You asked, mostly towards Vessel since he had always been well aware of their whereabouts.

He stepped toward you. “Do you mean… are we near their army?” His words were cautious as he tensed, glancing at the others as they all became aware of the situation.

“At least ten miles away, maybe more. I’m not too good at estimating distance.” You admit.

Vessel turned to his partner. “I’m on it.” Three said before he could give him any direction, reaching for the branches of the tree you just came down from and climbed quickly to the top. You waited for a moment as he observed what you had seen and then to let him get back to the forest floor. “Likely fifteen miles. They’ve moved from their original position on their southwestern border shared with Arcadia.” Three said to you.

“Do you know how long they had been there?” You asked.

“A few years. They must’ve just moved here recently.” Vessel answered.

A sinking feeling pulled at your stomach. “Likely to pull off the attack on Eden.” Vessel looked at you with sympathetic eyes and nodded. You took in a sharp breath and let the confirmation settle in your bones, your pendant buzzing gently against your chest as if it was trying to comfort you. You put your hand over it and the buzzing stopped. You looked at the others and swallowed the lump in your throat. “Let’s keep moving.”

The guilt had been eating at you ever since you discovered that you were all fugitives for Carbine, a situation that should’ve only ever involved you and not these four men who had only been there to protect you. You weren’t sure what you’d do with yourself if you all fell into Carbine’s hands and they faced any kind of punishment for helping you, you’d rather be stabbed a million times than let the four of them face any wrongful fate because of you.

You wondered if whatever god you were able to contact in the Lake of Divinity would know why Carbine wants you. If they still kept their eyes on the humans, could they possibly have an answer? With that being said, if you’re even able to use the lake when you find it.

Ever since you left that inn, you had been so stuck in your head about everything that you had grown distant from the others. It was hard not to, especially with that guilt you felt. You didn’t want to let them get closer than they already have, and unfortunately one of them has become something else entirely. You glanced around at them as you rode forward, watching as Two discussed something with Vessel and as Three kept a close eye on the trees around you. In the short time you’ve all known each other, you became a small family in the sense of how much you all cared for one another and how protective you felt over them.

And then there was Four. God, you didn’t know where to start with your feelings for him because they were so complex and nothing you’ve ever experienced before. You’d never felt the need to crawl over to someone at night and curl up in their arms, you never felt so safe in someone’s arms either. It was detrimental to your wellbeing how terrified you were to lose him.

It scared you that you were doing this all for nothing. You could get back to Eden just to find Carbine’s armies there to capture you and bring you to where you’ll likely be locked up forever. At that point, you would rather they killed you where you stood instead of clasping chains around your wrists and taking you as prisoner.

Moondust suddenly came to a halt, making you bring yourself back to reality as you jerked in her saddle. Four had his hand on the hilt of his sword and his shoulders were tense. You looked at the others as they did the same, glancing over the broad shoulders in front of you and noticing a lone knight on a horse not too far from your position.

“Who are you?” Vessel demanded from his place in front. You watched as the knight’s body relaxed and he put his hands up as a way to surrender.

“Captain!” He exclaimed, the horse trotting forward as the insignia on his shield became more clear. He was an Arcadian knight. Relief flooded over the group as you all rode forward to meet him in the middle. “Sir, where did you all go? We worried you had been killed, along with the Princess.”

Vessel smiled. “We were able to get her out and we escaped south for a while. King Damocles?”

The knight’s face went dark as he looked around the group. “No. He was killed, along with the Prince.” You looked down, a feeling of sorrow overwhelming you as you quietly mourned them. You could not understand the reason why Carbine was so determined to destroy other kingdoms, killing off royal families and for what? What did they gain from that?

“Y/N.” Four’s voice cut through your thoughts and you looked up, realizing everyone had their eyes on you.

“Yes?” You asked.

The knight got off his horse and walked up to you. He reached under his armor and pulled a folded piece of paper out. “Princess, this was left for you by the King. He had faith that you would escape unharmed and wanted me to give this to you whenever I could.” You took the paper from his hands, thanking him as you unfolded it, finding that it was a letter he had left you.

To Princess Y/N,

It was an honor being able to host you in my castle and to witness the love blossoming between you and my son. Since you are reading this, it means I am dead and so is Harry. We couldn’t control Carbine any longer and I am deeply sorry for the torment and pain they have caused you. There is no better way to express this, but I am passing along my crown to you. With Eden’s destruction and my death, the kingdom of Arcadia shall witness the rise of a Queen who will be remembered for years to follow. Do not let Carbine keep their control over the kingdom, whether this war ends in death on all sides or victory on yours, keep them away from your crown.

Good luck, Queen Y/N.

King Damocles

You stared at the letter in shock. Your breath was hard to catch as you reread those words again and again, trying to fully grasp what the King had just thrown upon you.

You were to be Queen of a kingdom you had been in for only a week.

“What’s wrong?” Four asked, resting his hand on your knee as he looked back at you. The knight on the ground was still, waiting for you to tell everyone what was in that letter.

Instead, you slowly got off of Moondust and prodded your way through the overgrown floor of the forest. The letter remained glued to your fingers as you fell to your knees, a strangled cry escaping your mouth as it settled in your heart.

Four’s hand came into focus as he gently took the letter out of your grasp, his voice was far away as he read it out loud to the others while you stared down at the grass with clouded eyes.

Queen. That’s what you were to be once you returned to Arcadia. King Damocles had put so much faith in you the second he wrote that letter, the man had only known you for such a short period of time. And it was strange, the fact he knew his and his son’s deaths were imminent if Carbine attacked them.

He had known something you didn’t, didn’t he?

You took a deep breath and wiped your cheeks clean of tears, standing from where you’d fallen and staring off into the forest before you. “Y/N?” Four asked from behind. You turned slowly to where your companions stood, their eyes wide after learning the news. The knight suddenly kneeled and bowed his head to you. You watched with a lump in your throat as the others followed, Four being the last to kneel before you with a warm smile on his face before he bowed his head.

You stared at the five men kneeling before you. It was accustomed to only kneel for whomever ruled over you and only them, the family of the ruler only received a bow. So as their figures slowly rose from their knees, you were able to breathe again.

“Your highness-”

“I’m not Queen yet.” You managed to say just as the knight was speaking.

He nodded. “No. You do have to undergo your coronation prior to having full rule over Arcadia.” The knight paused as he glanced over at Vessel. “But in the meantime, you have an army that grows restless to fight. They are angry about the death of their King and Prince.”

“Where is the army?” You asked.

“They’re in Arcadia, far from where Carbine’s army is located.” You looked at your knights, they all shared the same expression as you.

You returned your gaze to the knight. “We have something important to do before I can go to the army. I need you to tell them to stay patient and that we will find you.” He glanced at Vessel, who nodded to him and clasped his shoulder.

“Make it count, brother.” He said before the knight nodded and bowed once more. He got onto his horse and rode off, your eyes not leaving his back until he was out of sight.

You all stood in silence for a long while after the sounds of the horse’s gallops disappeared. “What the hell just happened?” Three said suddenly, staring at you.

You took a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Two asked, a hint of worry lacing his words as he observed the terrified look in your eyes.

“I think I will eventually.” You responded truthfully, an understanding nod coming from the smaller man. “We can’t let this distract us. We’re getting close to Eden.” You said as you walked back to where Moondust stood, getting yourself up into her saddle and waiting for Four to join you.

There was a bit of hesitation in them now, they shared glances between one another as you watched. “Aren’t you coming?” You asked.

They shared looks once more before Vessel stepped forward. “Y/N, with how close Carbine is to Eden, we’re worried that it might not be safe for us to bring you there. Especially now.”

Your brows furrowed slightly. “I’m not about to lose my hope of being able to speak to someone who might have an answer for me. I’m still going to go, whether you all come or not.”

“I knew you’d say that.” Three said, crossing his arms over his chest as he walked over to his horse and got on him. Four did the same, squeezing your leg as he climbed up in front of you.

“I’ll be just fine with them.” You said down to Vessel and Two, who looked torn between what he wanted to do.

Vessel stood there with his hands on his hips, glaring up at Three who happily counted through his arrows as he waited and at Four, who was taking your hand into his and running his rough skin over yours.

“No you won’t.” He finally said and got onto his horse, Two doing the same. “We get in there and get out as quickly as we can, got it?” Everyone agreed to his demand, watching as he took off in the direction you had been going before.

————

The morning light flooded across the remains of Eden, where the fires had finally been put out and the smoke had cleared. You moved with caution towards the mountain behind the kingdom, leading the way to the eastern face where the door to the lake should be.

Your knights surrounded you, armed and ready in case any danger persisted in Eden. But it was quiet here, the only noise was the birds in the forest as they basked in the light of the new day. The horses were kept hidden in a small cave just inside the line of trees, in case anyone had been following you.

Your eyes remained focused on the mountain ahead of you, avoiding any of the rubble to your left as you walked past it. You held the book close to your chest, making sure to keep the page on the lake marked in case you needed assistance with the search.

The sun was warm on your face as you walked along the edge of the mountain. Flowers blossomed along the patches of grass that were sporadically growing between the rocky terrain. The amount of times you’ve walked in this area had been too many to count, most of the time you were picking flowers for your mother and yourself.

It was a long walk until you were facing the sun directly in the east as it rose higher into the sky, the mountain to your back.

“There’s a lot of overgrowth here.” Three said, catching your attention. You turned to him, noticing the greenery that overwhelmed part of the rocky surface. “Would they try to hide it with that?”

You shrugged. “Possibly. It would be a smart idea.” He nodded and started pulling the moss off, Four grabbing his sword to start cutting at the leaves of an overgrown bush. You watched as they slowly revealed the same rocky face of the mountain as any other part that wasn’t covered in greenery. Your brows furrowed at the spot where the entrance could’ve been.

“Hm.” You put your pendant into the hole on the book and flipped to the marked page once it came to life. You skimmed the page to see if there was an exact location that you had missed when you read through the first time.

“Uh, Y/N?” Three called out to you. You looked up to where he stood. “Could that be the entrance?” He pointed to an opening in the shape of a rectangle about five-hundred feet from where he was standing.

You moved without a second thought, walking quickly to the opening and looking inside. It certainly went far into the mountain, whether it led to the Lake of Divinity was something you’d have to find out yourself.

“It opened when you put your pendant into the book.” Four said from behind you, looking past you and down into the hallway surrounded by rock. “So, I’m assuming this is what you’re meant to find.”

You nodded and stepped into the entrance, a torch exploding with light the moment your feet hit the smooth rock below you. The torches on the wall lit up with every step you took further into the hall, the air cooling inside.

Four’s presence remained right behind you the entire time and you could hear the light footsteps of the others behind him. You palmed the dagger Two had given you and kept it in your hand as you continued forward, just in case anyone else was paying a visit to the lake and was waiting for you at the same time.

A chill seeped into your bones as you entered a large cavern where lanterns dangled from the ceiling and above the lake in the middle of it. You took a deep breath at the sight of the blue water that was as unmoving as the rocky walls around you.

“Oh wow.” Vessel said as he stepped into the cavern. You were too busy staring at the water, feeling as if it was doing the same to you. It seemed to almost whisper in your ears, beckoning you to step into the water.

“What’s next?” Two asked after a moment, bringing you out of the slight trance you were in.

You cleared your throat. “I need to slice my hand and enter the water.”

“That’s a bit much, isn’t it?” Four asked warily.

You put the blade of the dagger on the skin of your palm. “Well, it requires any blood blessed by the gods in order for it to work. And what’s better than the blood from the daughter of the Goddess of Creation?” He winced as you sliced your hand, blood welling immediately as you set the dagger down on the ground.

“What if it doesn’t work?” Three asked as you walked down the ramp that led to the water.

You glanced over your shoulder. “Then I will find another way to get answers.” The water was cold as it came up past your boots and you slowly submerged yourself further and further until it was up to your waist.

You let your blood drip into the water as you looked around the cavern for any sign that it could be working. You put your hand under the surface, wincing as the water stung the wound. Nothing.

You turned to where the knights stood holding their breaths as they watched you in the water. “Anything?” Four called out.

“No.” You responded, a feeling of dread budding in your stomach at the fact that this wasn’t going to work. The gods must’ve taken the stone out of the water before they disappeared then, leaving no definitive way of being able to contact them. You let out a frustrated sigh, not sure whether the book was going to have any other way of contacting them. “I’m getting out.” You called to them and they nodded, moving to the ramp to help you if you needed it.

Before you could move, you felt something brush against your calf below the water. You froze completely. With how still the water was, would it be possible for fish to thrive in it?

“Y/N?” Four asked. “Y/N what’s wrong?” Concern overwhelmed his voice as he stared at you.

The words were on the tip of your tongue as hands wrapped around your ankles tightly, yanking down with so much force you couldn’t get a breath in before your head went below the surface.

[lullaebies]

Hi! It's been awhile since we last spoke but I hope you're doing well ❤ I noticed your post about writing prompts and I was wondering if you'd be interested in a little helaegon family fluff project? ^_^ I've been making art about the Green siblings flying with their dragons and currently working on Aeggy&Sunny but I'd also love to make a close up for both Helaena and Aegon. So I thought I'd ask if you'd like to write a little fluffy story about then taking the kids on a day trip. Maybe it's Maelor's 1st flight. Bonus cute points if Jae&Jae also have their baby dragons with them. I just need to imagine them being happy, even if it's just for one day. Maybe we could inspire each other? :) ❤

a/n: my bestie <3 yes it has been too long since we last spoke! but absolutely, you know i love family fluff. I decided to go for a Maelor first flight/first interactions with his family's dragons - this would probably count as an au because he would be a little bit older than canon (i'd imagine 5!). It ended up from his pov too, but all riders get a bit of interaction with their dragons, so I hope it works well <3

The wheelhouse rides up Visenya’s hill, bouncing to the gravel of the road. 

Maelor sits in between his siblings, holding their hands. Jaehaera squeezes at his hand every time a harsh jut takes place, while Jaehaerys gives out a yip at each bounce, giggling softly shortly after. The horses outside neigh loudly, and Maelor kicks his feet to their gait.

“When there?” the boy asks their parents, who were sitting in front of him. Maelor’s mother, Helaena, sighs softly, a breezy chuckle to her voice, while his father’s face contorts to a wide, exaggerated smile, with his eyebrows nearly reaching the sky.

“I’d answer, but you hadn’t sufficed with my answer the ten times before, twerp,” Aegon says. “I don’t think you will this time either.” 

Maelor blinks at his father. And at his mother, when she slaps father’s shoulder, asking him to not be all that snarky. Maelor doesn’t care all that much; all he could think of is the dragons he is going to meet. They could fly as as high as papa’s eyebrows!

His mother had made many embroideries with dragons for him to hold. He has one on his blanket, and one on the banner of his wall. He brushed his fingers against the needlework often. He had gotten a glimpse of only one dragon in his life, his uncle’s one. Big, burly Vhagar, who was big enough to see from his window; father calls her a flying mountain.

But then again, Jaehaerys says Shrykos is the size of a dog, and mother says Dreamfyre is the color of lavender flowers. Father says he named Sunfyre for the sun, and Jaehaera says “Morghul is Morghul,” without much explanation given. 

And Maelor? He has his little egg, in that container that warms the underneath of his bed. What would it look like? He wonders. They say it could hatch soon. Mama had told him it is Shrykos’s egg, it would likely look like her. And papa says Shrykos is Sunfyre’s and Dreamfyre’s, and in that case, “he should get to know them all.”

He is jittery in his seat. He turns his gaze from his father and mother to his siblings looking between them for an answer. “When there?”

His parents snicker both, staring at them three.

“Eh…” Jaehaerys tries to estimate with some undecipherable count with his fingers, while Jaehaera’s gaze flicks to the window.

“Now,” his sister says, coming up from her seat even before the wheelhouse stopped fully. She squeezes his hand, tugging at it at the same time for him to rise. Jaehaerys jumps to stand before him, and Maelor rushes to do the same. His feet rattle the wheelhouse with little jumps in his place, waiting for the door to open.

“Maelor, you will trip, sweet,” His mother warns, lighthearted in tone.

“Ser Rickard,” his father raises his voice in a merry timbre and looks out of the window. “Release my dragons before they chew the damn door!”

Ser Rickard does. Maelor’s siblings hum chipperly and jump to the ground without waiting for assistance, holding his hands all the while. His mother squeaks to stand as his legs hit the ground. 

“Haera, Rys, be careful!” Helaena says. “Maelor, all is well?” She worries for a moment, while Maelor looks at the big, big building he sees in front of him. A dome of sorts, with big, walls and doors of dark stone. The rumble underneath it, underneath his feet, feels almost alive. 

It springs Maelor’s feet into life, skipping ahead. “Let’s go mama!!”

His siblings follow, as do his parents, as do his guards, all flying in.

—

Maelor makes rounds around the head dragonkeeper as they wait for the dragons to be let out. He doesn’t quite understand whatever the man is saying, except a few words here and there that he heard his family saying lots. He knows Jaehaera is counting his spins in High Valyrian, he knows numbers, from one to two and ten, to be exact, but the older dragonkeeper’s words are fancy, with rolling sounds that sound draconic.

He tries to copy the rolling ‘r’ to little avail, but that doesn’t stop him from trying right up to the point he hears a familiar name coming from the man’s mouth. Morghul. His sister perks up, coming forward. From the depths of the pit, a first dragon comes forward, charcoal black scales that seem to resent light upon them. Maelor steps back when he notices his dark horns, keeping by his mother’s skirt. 

Up close, a dragon looks unreal to him. Uncle’s flying mountain is big dot in the sky, and mother’s embroideries remind him of her harmless bugs. He hasn’t expected Morghul to be so… scary?

Morghul is Morghul, and his gaze is as piercing as his sister’s when she’s angry. The rest of his family are very calm as his sister's fingers brush against the dragon’s sharp teeth. “The hellspawn grew bigger quickly, huh,” his father notes. Hell? 

His mother hums. “He may be able to be saddled soon,” she says, running her fingers through Maelor’s light curls.

“Dont remind me,” Aegon says, fiddling with his fingers. “She’ll forget I exist then,” he looks down to Maelor, who was watching them both. He reaches to ruffle his hair. “Like you are starting to even without one, little twerp.”

Maelor scrunches his nose and shakes his head, moving to embrace his father’s leg. “Not true!”

His father hums, letting him hang off of his leg. He slowly relaxes as when he smooshes his cheek against his father’s side. 

Until a woosh of green sweeps through the room, and Maelor holds onto his father tight. A loud shriek is heard as the form breaks out with it from the dark of the pit, lunging at his brother. A dragon slightly smaller than Morghul topples Jaehaerys, a long green wingspan twinkling under the light.

A dragonkeeper rushes after and wipes his forehead as he sighs - the head dragonkeeper grunts and then dismisses himself to help the novices to bring the bigger dragons. Maelor looks towards his brother, his heart bouncing more than his feet now. The dragon looks like it is made of his grandmother’s jewels, but those can scratch you, too. 

“Dohaeeeras!” Jaehaerys yells chipperly, rolling around with the dragon that tried to nuzzle his face. His giggles echo around the room. Maelor breathes in, as he understands the dragon is Shrykos. She does not remind of a dog, but of a rampant pony.

“Sunfyre’s hatchling through and through,” his mother comments to his father.

His father snickers. “The derangement is from your dragon.”

“Is it?” his mother asks with a smile, as a big, big dragon the color of lavender flowers is brought in. His mother steps forward and away from him, saying some words he can’t understand. Mama’s dragon? Dreamie, with her silver-glistening scales and pale blue eyes. 

The dragon looks at his mother once, listening with a cocked head, and looks towards his brother and his dragon. Dreamfyre’s steps are loud on the ground, and she cranes her big head and opens her mouth to grab Shrykos by tail, pulling the younger dragon back gently.

Shrykos answers her with shrieks, resistance and threats of the short breaths of fire. Dreamfyre lets Shrykos go when she starts beating its wings, returning the threat of flame with a whistle of her own flame, just barely touching the green dragon. Shrykos seems to shriek towards Morghul for help, the black dragon coming to help the green. Mother chuckles, seeing Dreamfyre swatting the two with her head, and his siblings come beside her, copying their dragons and playing against their mother. 

Maelor hides behind his father. His bones feel wobbly now. 

And then one more dragon enters the room. The last one, father’s, golden like the one on father’s shirts. Aegon ruffles Maelor’s hair again and then moves to greet and pet the dragon. “Hello,” his father tells Sunfyre with a big smile. 

And in the chaos of dragons and riders in the room, Maelor feels very small, very jittery, and even very lonely. Thick tears cloud his lash line. He wipes at his eyes. He needs to be brave. His parents and siblings thought he would be ready to meet their dragons, that he would be prepared to get his dragon.

“There is someone you should kn…” his father starts. He turns back towards Maelor when the boy wipes at his eyes, trying to make them disappear before he notices. “Son?”

The golden dragon looks at Maelor with his equally golden eyes. Maelor stays frozen when the dragon steps forward to him. He lowers his neck, and his big nostrils take a whiff of him. Maelor’s own nose is full of snot, he doesn’t even know what the dragon smells; some tears fall. 

And then, Sunfyre brings his snout, and pokes at it lightly against his forehead, ruffling at Maelor’s curly, silver fringe. The dragon voice is rolling some guttural ‘grrr,’ more familiar to Maelor as similar to the calming purr of the Keep’s cats.

Maelor sniffs away his tears when his father crouches beside him. Patting his back lightly. “Don’t fret, he is used to crying twerps. I daresay he even likes them,” Aegon chuckles, glancing at his dragon. “Will you pat him? I think that will please him plenty.” 

Maelor licks his small lips, and offers a shaky hand. It reaches the dragon’s chin, touching the gold of his scales. It doesn’t feel too different from touching his own egg; coarse and warm. He soon gains the courage to reach over with his other hand too, and Sunfyre nearly chirps.

Maelor giggles, a big smile drawn on his face. That laughter echoes in the room now, and his mother and siblings notice it too. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera played with their mother on the ground no better than their dragons in the air, but with one word from mother his siblings ran towards him.

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera rushed from under Sunfyre to reach him. Jaehaerys pats his head and showed him how he pats Sunfyre under his chin, and Jaehaera wipes his glassy eyes and kisses his eyebrows, saying “good” when his face is clean. Mother comes closer, and bends to kiss the top of his head, saying “well done.”

And his father — he looks around the room, seeing his siblings’ dragon batting their wings around Dreamfyre, as if in request — and turns to his mother. “We could take them for a ride, couldn’t we? There is time.”

His siblings perk up looking at their mother with bright pleas.

“I think so. We came all this way already, why not?” Helaena says with a grin, and looks at their children. “Would you like that?” 

Jaehaera and Jaehaerys nod and squeal happily, babbling. Aegon looks at Maelor, almost stealing his snotty nose with his thumb and index. 

“And you? Would you like to ride Sunfyre with me, twerp?” 

And Maelor regains the giddiness in his legs, the glimmer of a gold dragon giving him back the glint in his eyes. He nods; with his family, with their dragons, he is ready to fly out.

[madhatterbri]

Deal | D.P. Part 3

Summary: Hello! Not sure how many parts you’re willing to write but I just started reading Deal & I need fem!reader’s backstory. Who was she before? Her relationship with Liv? How was Uncle Howdy able to recruit her? Did she always have a crush on Damian? Does she secretly want to break away from the Wyatt Sick6?

Author's Note: Thank you for reading my story. I hope you like it. ❤️

Damian Priest Masterlist

Deal Part 1 and Part 2

Taglist: @theworldofotps @plentyoffandoms @mrsarcherofinfamy @brideofinfamy @fallout-girl219

Y/N sat in the Wyatt Sick6 locker room alone. The only light in the room flickered quietly. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her thoughts lost in the various catacombs of her mind. She used to be so.... different. What happened to her?

"Hey, Y/N!" Liv squealed and wrapped her arms around her neck in a hug. Y/N smiled. It wasn't every job that a girl could work with her best friend. Two women who were just trying to make their own path in the WWE. Currently, their eyes were set on the women's tag titles. They had a match that very night to achieve their dream.

The crowd cheered the moment they won the titles. All of their hard work finally paid off. They stood in the middle of the ring with their belts hoisted high. Y/N walked in front of the camera. She vowed to the women locker room that they would become the longest reigning women's tag team champions in WWE history.

Three months. That's how long it took for them to lose their titles. Y/N was holding them back. She knew it. The internet knew it. Unfortunately, Liv knew it. When they lost their rematch, Liv lost it.

With a chair in hand, Liv aired her grievances for the world to see. The chair came down on her back before the last one connected to her knee. Y/N was curled up. The bleach blonde grabbed her hair. "You cost us our titles by talking too much,"

Y/N held her knee as she lay in the middle of the ring. Her words swirled around in her head. She was quite the trash talker. Always looking for a fight, she never turned down anyone. Referees and medical ran to her aid once Liv left the ring.

The doctors estimated she would be out six to eight months. It felt like an eternity. Y/N followed all of the doctor's advice perfectly. She knew she had to be back to get her revenge. As the day for medical clearance grew closer, her self-doubt grew as well.

Y/N was back to compete, but now felt lost. The gimmick she once loved now felt like a burden. It was as if the ghost of her former self had a choke on her. No one wanted to be around her. All her friends stayed clear from her, except Damian Priest.

Before her drastic change, they were friendly to each other. A simple greeting here and there for politeness. When they were on the same brand, they started to talk more. As they did, she found herself falling for him. He was funny, kind, and smart.

Their dynamics changed when she returned. He was still friendly to her, but it was different. Damian seemed to want to keep a distance from her, but a friendship nonetheless. At least she wasn't completely alone. Until he stopped having as much time for her to focus all of his attention on Judgment Day.

One night during RAW, Y/N walked the hallways alone. She felt hopeless. Maybe she shouldn't have come back to the WWE. A door slowly creaked open to her right. The words Wyatt Sick6 written in red on the door was the only indication of who was inside.

"Come join us," a distorted voice spoke to her one night. "You will never feel alone again,"

The night Uncle Howdy told her everything she needed to hear. All she wanted was a place to belong and she found it. They may have been a little strange, but so was she. All he expected from his little family was loyalty. She happily pledged it.

It didn't take long to see the group would cause chaos on the RAW brand. Uncle Howdy kept his promise. She wouldn't be alone, but now she felt like a pawn. His pawn. Everything Y/N wanted to do had to go through him. She hated it.

He vetoed her going after Liv Morgan because it didn't benefit his needs. He would have to get a kickback for his family's services. Yet when Damian walked into the scene, everything changed. Uncle Howdy saw the opportunity at gold. Y/N would get her revenge. A win-win for the group.

Her thoughts were cut short when the locker room door opened and closed. She stared at the floor. Uncle Howdy moved to stand behind her. He placed a hand on her shoulder. They remained in silence.

"You got your revenge. Now it is my turn at happiness. Tell me everything I need to know to crush him,"

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 1 | S.R

Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - When you find a handsome cowboy in need of assistance at the side of the road you make the decision to help him, despite the personal risk.

A/N - just pretend for me that the episode Rusty took place before Believer and 300.

Paring - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - some direct quotes taken from 15.07 Rusty, vague mentions of the events in 13.22 Believer and 14.01 300, depiction of injuries, Spencer’s intrusive thoughts, swearing.

WC - 6.5k

Chapter 1 - Wanted Dead or Alive

He’d watched the sun ebb across the sky, from where it began at its midday position directly overhead, scoring laboriously down, not impeded by a cloud in the expanse of blue. 

He witnessed it leisurely recede across the stratosphere, edging lower and lower on its slow descent towards the horizon. With each passing hour the heat dwindled, the sweat that had gathered on his temples and forehead was drying and crusting against his skin. 

The earth beneath him started to cool, unhurriedly, or perhaps he just got used to the temperature which seeped through the layers, beneath the denim of his shirt, further permeating his t-shirt until it scorched the skin of his back. 

The black stetson, which was originally used to cover his eyes from the assault of the sun, was now resting on his chest. 

It started growing darker around a half hour ago at his estimate and it wouldn’t be long before the darkness encompassed him, literally but maybe even figuratively too. 

Maybe out here on this isolated stretch of desert miles outside of town, would be where former FBI

Supervisory Special Agent Doctor Spencer Reid would meet his end. 

His heavy and tired eyes fluttered. He’d tried to fight it for hours now, desperate to stay awake in case a car passed by on the baron road. In all the hours he laid there, not a single one had. And now it was getting dark, the likelihood of a car even seeing him from the road was slim. 

He gave over to it, closing his eyes as his fingers drummed against the dusty ground beneath him. He was taken back to a conversation of years passed, he could practically hear the thrum of the jet's engine as she spoke. 

“All this talk of alternate realities, where do you think you’d be in a parallel universe? You know, one of your imagined futures?” Jennifer tucked the blanket tighter around her body, the BAU jet’s AC up high. 

Spencer closed his book while his eyebrows furrowed in curious contemplation at his friend's question. 

“I don’t know.” He shook his head lightly. 

“Come on,” she gave him an almost knowing look. “If you weren’t an FBI Agent, what would you do?”

Spencer inhaled through his nose, the cool air tickling his sinuses before puffing the breath back out. 

He glanced over his shoulder, then over JJ’s to check no one else was within ear shot. 

“Promise not to laugh…?” He asked and she nodded slowly with a twitch at her lip. “A cowboy.” 

He could still see the look of amusement coupled with confusion at his admittance. The way she couldn’t quite contain her smile, but also the way her forehead crinkled. 

“A cowboy?” She repeated, as though doing so might help her make sense of his words. 

“Yeah. I’d, uh, you know, have some horses, a few cattle; be surrounded by nature.” A slightly dreamy look washed over him. 

Even now laying in the dirt as the sun set that same smile appeared on his grossly chapped lips. Even as his mind succumbed to the idea that he was to die out here, he couldn’t hold back. 

Since he was a little boy he’d been oddly fascinated by cowboys and the old west. He was just five years old the first time his mother had read him The Log of a Cowboy, a nineteen-oh-three novel by Andy Adams. 

The story followed the journey of young Tommy Moore, who is helping drive three thousand circle-dot longhorns along the Great Western Cattle Trail from Brownsville, Texas to Montana. It was written, he discovered at a later age, as Adams' response to unrealistic cowboy novels that were being penned at the time. 

Spencer had clung to the normalcy of it. He’d never had a regular life, and knew most likely that he never would given his unusually high IQ. 

Something about that tale had stuck with him his whole life. He kept the idea at the back of his mind, wondering if one day, once he retired, he might seek to find a piece of that which was spoken of in Adams' story.

“And what would you do with cattle?” JJ’s lip was still twitching, curling up a little at the corner as she imagined her straight-laced, suit-wearing best friend as a cowboy.

“You know, look at ‘em, pet ‘em…I hadn’t really thought about that. But I’ll figure it out.” He shrugged. 

“Wow, I was…I was not expecting that.” She sat back in her chair, nodding somewhat appeasingly. A part of her could picture it, no matter how far-fetched the concept seemed. 

After everything Spencer had dealt with in his life, maybe being a cowboy was the change of pace he so sorely needed. 

He’d gone on to tell her how he envisioned the team there, even in his parallel universe they were still special to him, just as close as they were now. He spoke of how JJ ran a flower shop on Hickory Street with the boys helping out after school. Will was also there, an old-timey sheriff who protected the townspeople from trouble. 

Rossi ran the saloon, where most of said trouble occurred. Penelope had a sanctuary for wounded animals, Alvez was a rancher. Simmons was a blacksmith while Tara and Emily owned the only hotel in town. 

They were all happy in this timeline. Apart from the odd bar fight at Rossi’s, his make believe town was safe from all the evils of the world. He and his friends could live out simple lives, not to be perturbed by serial killers and rapists and the like. 

But it was all conjecture, an innocent fantasy created in Spencer’s head of what he imagined his life could have been like. But in reality he was an agent of the law, he’d taken an oath to protect and serve. His alternate universe was nothing more than that. 

Until it wasn’t. 

The final straw, the last nail in the coffin of his illustrious career, was Benjamin Merva. After nearly dying at the hands of the cult leader, he knew it was the end for him. 

With Merva’s blade at his throat, he remembered thinking, I can’t do this anymore. Two weeks later he stood in Emily Prentiss’ office handing her his resignation. 

It briefly crossed his mind to teach full time. He’d been working more and more at Marlborough over the last few years and they’d always told him if he ever decided to leave the BAU there was a permanent position for him there.

But the thought had been short lived, barely a blip on his radar. And somehow he circled back to that conversation with JJ a few months prior to his abduction by the cult. 

None of his former teammates could wrap their heads around the idea of Doctor Spencer Reid moving to live on the outskirts of Bandera, a small town fifty three miles outside of San Antonio, Texas. 

He spent nearly his entire life savings on a ranch with almost sixty acres of land. It consisted of a single story wooden lodge in which he would live, fitted with a wrap-around porch for which he pictured himself relaxing in a rocker whilst watching the sunset over the rolling hills in the distance. It included a large barn, outhouse and stables, as well as a second, smaller lodge which was also habitable. 

He equipped his own lodge minimally, a couch, a bed, a desk, a wardrobe and some bookshelves. He had the bare minimum kitchen appliances due to his inability to cook and his unwillingness to learn. 

He brought a whole new closet full of clothes more appropriate for the setting. Crisp, pressed shirts were replaced by denims, flannels and plain tees, his converse and dress shoes were tossed in lieu of sturdy work and riding boots. 

On behalf of a car, he brought a horse, a beautiful three year old, blue roan American Quarter Horse named Willow and to begin with purchased two cattle.

Now two years later he had four more cattle and two more horses. These two were stallions, both American Quarters, one black named Franklin and one brown called Wilbur. 

Somewhere not too far away was the sound of hooves padding around in the dirt and the occasional huff of impatience from the large beast. Spencer’s eyes opened again and he cautiously rolled his head to the side in the dust. His eyes met the cloven hooves and thick blue-grey legs of his trusty steed. 

“Willow,” he spoke, causing another huff of air to leave her mouth. “A dog, I should have gotten a dog. Lassie would be of much better use right now.” 

Willow cantered around him, as though frustrated herself that they were still here after all these hours. She’d nudged him a few times in his ribs with her muzzle, silently asking her owner what was going on. 

This was supposed to be a safer alternative to working at the BAU. After almost having his hyoid bone claimed by Merva he’d decided he’d put himself in harm's way for long enough. 

But upon travelling back to town after taking Willow for a morning saunter into nearby Pipe Creek, he’d come across a wild horse at the side of the road. 

The mare didn’t appear, on first glance, to be injured in any way but she was certainly a little skittish as he approached. He simply wanted to make sure she was okay before going on his way. 

She was a flaxen and elegant beauty. Her chestnut-red coat billowed like a flame under the blazing sun and her golden-blonde mane like a wild halo as she galloped around in haste. 

As he neared her on Willow’s back, his own steed seemed to agitate the other and she started to buck and neigh in fright. Not to be easily perturbed he tried to calm her with a series of “whoa girls,” and gentle pats of her back. 

But then the wild horse let out a piercing sound, her back legs lifting effortlessly off of the ground and kicking Willow in the neck. 

Willow herself had bucked at the impact, her front legs rising. Unprepared, he hadn’t been holding her reins and one foot hung at her side out of its stirrup, causing Spencer to slide back on her saddle. 

He quickly tried to grab hold of something but coordination had never been his strong suit. It had taken him months worth of lessons to even be able to ride a horse and although he was an efficient rider now, it hadn’t improved his motor skills. 

And so he slid, and he continued to slide as Willow raised herself on her haunches until she was almost vertical. His one foot was still in the stirrup, and as he fell his knee twisted with force, the same knee he’d been shot in so many years ago. 

He swore he felt the tendons ripping beneath his skin and he screamed out in pain whilst trying to dislodge his foot. Once freed he flew to the ground, back slamming into the dirt with a thud and a groan. 

He glanced up, pain searing through his body as Willow lowered herself back to the earth. The second horse was galloping wildly, still screeching out in fear. Willow approached it and Spencer groaned out, not wanting his own steed to be hurt by this out of control creature.

As expected, the wild horse bucked at Willow again but Willow trotted out of her way this time. Spencer slithered a hand out into the dirt, clicking his fingers at his mare to come to his aid. But instead of his own horse, it garnered the attention of the wild beast who suddenly ran at him with a fearsome gait. 

He heard the bone in his arm crunching under the weight of the creature's heavy hoof as it galloped over his outstretched limb. He screamed loudly, the sound getting no further than the lonesome desert and petering out into nothing. 

If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? 

If Spencer Reid screams out in pain in the desert and no one is around to hear him, is he going to die alone?

He still had his old cell phone, he only kept it at Penelope’s insistence at being able to get in touch with him, check he was doing okay living the life of a hermit. He only used it to speak with his old team and as such, didn’t often take it out with him. 

Right now it was sitting on his kitchen counter, next to his empty coffee mug and the book he’d been reading over breakfast. And now due to the oversight, he would no doubt die out here.

Willow trotted a little closer, bowed her head near to the ground and nudged Spencer in the ribs again, as if this might make him miraculously stand up and take her home. 

“I’m trying,” he grumbled. “Shoulda got a dog. Man’s best friend, that’s what Alvez always said.” 

Willow simply nudged him again and he rolled his tired and sore eyes. 

Gritting his teeth, he decided to try and sit again. He braced his forearms against the ground, trying to turn a blind eye to the pain that rippled through his left extremity at the small movement. There was almost certainly a bone broken, maybe more than one. 

Attempting to ignore the way the pain spread up and down his arm, causing a fire to burn through his entire upper body, he pushed himself against the dirt in an attempt to sit up right. The throbbing in his arm combined with the swell of discomfort down his spine made another booming groan erupt from his lungs and he moved no more than a few inches off the ground before, panting with the exertion, he fell back against the dirt.

Even if he was to get into a sitting position, he had no doubts that he wouldn’t make it any further. Without looking he knew his knee was swollen, ballooned up so much it was now pressing uncomfortably against the inside of his jeans. He wouldn’t be able to walk even if he could stand. 

“Well, Willow, I guess this is the end of the road.” He closed his eyes, folding his good arm across his chest and leaving the other in the dirt at his side. “It’s ironic really, all those years at the BAU, all those times I thought I might die. This is not how I expected to meet my death.”

He felt oddly resided to this fate, almost feeling some kind of twisted relief. There really was no point in panicking, there was nothing he could do. 

May as well lean into it, let it happen. 

Keeping his eyes closed he breathed out through his nose, accepting that this was the way his life came to an end. They’d probably never even find his body and if they did it would be too scavenged by vultures to make a positive ID. Probably for the best, he couldn't imagine Garcia or JJ or any of the others having to identify his decomposed and ravaged remains.

He felt himself drifting swiftly, the heat and lack of hydration making him implausibly sleepy. He didn’t fight it, he let the tiredness wash over him. But before he could succumb entirely, his ears pricked at a sound off in the distance. 

His eyes shot open once more and he tried to turn his head towards the road beyond the desert. If he wasn’t mistaken, he swore he heard the sound of tires on the gritty asphalt.

***

It was getting dark and you felt your eyes growing increasingly heavier. You’d been driving for hours, days in fact, stopping only for gas and to stock up on snacks and energy drinks. 

Thinking of which, you loosened one hand from the steering wheel and reached blindly for the can sitting in the cup holder. Your hand wrapped around the lukewarm metal cylinder and brought it to your lips without taking your eyes off of the road. 

The liquid was warmer than the can itself and you grimaced as it trickled down your throat. Grumbling under your breath you replaced the can in the cup holder and wiped your mouth with your sleeve. 

You were heading for the border via desert roads and inconspicuous towns. You needed to lay low until you reached Mexico where you could keep your head down, keep your nose close to the ground. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, things weren’t meant to end this way. Your plan had gone wrong somewhere along the line and now you had to keep driving, until you reached your destination. 

You were tired to your bones, the dull ache from driving countless miles seeping deep into every muscle. But you couldn’t stop. You had the push through and keep going no matter how exhausted you were. 

You found yourself on a long stretch of desert road after passing through a small town, its signage declaring it Pipe Creek, Texas. The AC rattled through the car, almost blocking out the hum from the radio. 

You couldn’t afford to use a GPS system, if you knew where you were others could know where you were too. You’d brought an old paper map early into your journey and if your bearings were correct you should be passing through the town of Bandera within a few miles. 

You stifled a yawn and despite your better judgement, took another sip of the warm energy drink. It wasn’t warding off the tiredness, only making your heart thump heavily and a little erratically in your chest.

You stifled yet another yawn, eyes closing for a fraction of a second longer than was safe but the road thus far had been desolate. 

However, upon opening your eyes there was suddenly a large and imposing creature standing several feet in front of your speeding car. 

Your eyes grew wide and you slammed on the brake, the speed in which you’d been travelling forcing the vehicle to spin a little on its axis, gravel crunching under tires. 

You tugged on the wheel as the car turned to the right, trying to straighten up as you came to a sudden and screeching halt. You breathed heavily, gripping the steering wheel and staring at the huge beast through your windscreen in the glow of your headlights. 

The horse blinked several times at you, as though trying to convey a message but it remained on the road. 

You exhaled loudly, keeping the engine running so as to keep the lights on, you threw open the door and stepped onto the asphalt. 

“Where the fuck did you come from?” You glared at the horse, not daring to come too close in case it was vicious. 

The horse blinked a few more times before bowing its head towards the side of the road. You frowned at it, watching it slowly canter in the direction it nodded. 

“Okay, good.” You nodded with a frown as it walked off. “You’re lucky I didn’t hit you, you crazy horse.” 

As you turned back to your open door, over the sound of gravel crunching beneath the horses hooves, your ears picked up on another sound. 

Turning back to where the horse had meandered, you squinted into the darkness, focusing your hearing. 

“H-help? Please?” A crackly voice met your ears. 

A shiver passed up your spine, suddenly on high alert. 

“Is someone there?” You called back, not daring to move away from your vehicle. 

“P-please? I’m really hurt.” The voice came again. 

The horse had stopped walking now, you could just make out its figure in the dark. To its left was another figure laying in the dirt. 

“Uh, you okay?” You called again, still not daring to come closer. 

You didn’t trust this situation, you were a naturally suspicious person and this didn’t sit right with you. The horse had been used to get you to stop and you had no doubts if you were to go over to this person who claimed they needed help you’d find yourself in grave danger. 

“No I’m not okay!” The voice grew exasperated. “I fell off my horse. I’m fairly certain I’ve broken my arm and twisted my knee. I can’t move.” 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, huddling against the side of the car.

“No offence mister, but I wasn’t born yesterday.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’m lying to you?” 

“Aren’t you?” 

“No! I swear! I’m a…” he trailed off and sucked in a breath. I’m a what? What did he plan on saying? I’m an FBI Agent? It had been years since he’d left the BAU but the habit to announce himself as such still lived inside of him. “I’m in a great deal of pain.” 

You clutched yourself tighter, rolling your lip between your teeth in silent contemplation. He did sound in pain, but he could have just been a good actor. 

“Look, I’m really not itching to get murdered tonight and I’m kinda in a hurry.” You scuffed the toe of your sneaker in the dirt. 

“You can’t leave me here!” The voice begged. “You’re the first car to pass in hours! I need to go to the hospital.” 

“I…I really have to go.” You shuffled towards the open car door. 

“So you’re just going to leave me here to die?” The voice turned sour. “Because that’s what will happen. If I don’t die of dehydration or starvation, I will undoubtedly be eaten alive by all manner of animals that live out here. Hell, my horse will probably turn against me if she’s not fed soon. Do you really want that on your conscience?” 

You grumbled under your breath, looking between the car and the shadowy figure on the ground. With a huff you spun towards the vehicle and climbed onto your knees on the driver's seat. Reaching across the central console you popped open the glove compartment and withdrew the item sheathed inside. 

He heard you land back in the gravel before the sound of tentative footsteps getting closer. The dirt crunched under your feet, your eyes flitting between the silhouette and the horse who was ambling around. The item you’d gotten from the car was being held in both hands, pointing at the figure on the floor.

As you drew closer you started to make out some features. He appeared to be tall, even laying down, slim build with a mop of dirty curls brushing against the ground. He wore jeans, a denim shirt over a white tee and a black stetson laid on his chest. 

He blinked a couple of times as you came into view, trying to lift his head to get a better look at you. But what he saw made the colour drain from his face and his eyes bulged from his head.

“What the hell?” He tried to shuffle backwards but he couldn’t move due to the pain coursing through him. “What are you doing?” 

The barrel of a revolver was staring at him between your hands, pointing directly at his head. His heart beat frantically against his chest as he scrambled to move but his limbs were uncooperative. 

He stared down the barrel of countless guns in his time with the BAU, not to mention the fact that out in these parts many people carried shotguns. He wasn’t usually so perturbed by seeing weapons, even when they were pointing at him, but this was an exception.

“You really hurt?” You stepped a little closer until you were standing right by his booted feet. 

“Yes!” He tried to insist. “P-please put the gun away.” 

You didn’t at first, keeping it levelled at him while you gave him a once over. One of his knees was clearly swollen under the fabric of his jeans and his left arm was bent and disarticulated. He genuinely didn’t seem as though he could move. 

With a sigh you lowered the gun, tucking it in the waistband of your own jeans. Cautiously you came closer to him until you were next to his chest where you knelt in the dirt next to him. 

His eyes were piercing, a deep intense brown with flecks of gold that glistened in the moonlight. He had high cheekbones and a chiselled jawline which was peppered with a few days worth of stubble. His parted lips were plump and chapped. 

Did he have to be so attractive?

“Can you help me up?” He asked, pouting slightly. 

“I can try.” You shrugged.

Shuffling closer you placed a hand on his shoulder, using your other hand to take hold of his. He flinched a little at your touch but you assumed it was due to the pain. 

You used your grip on his shoulder to manoeuvre him, peel him away from the ground and pulled the rest of his weight using his hand. He groaned deeply as he started to be lifted, the agony evident on his tongue. 

He tried to assist you even though the movement felt like it was sending daggers down his spinal column. He used you to anchor himself, steadily pulling him into a seated position. Once he was up, you let go of him and sat back on your haunches. 

“Now what?” You asked with a curious look. 

His face was contorted from the pain, his brow furrowed deeply and his eyes downturned. 

“I…I have no idea.” He groaned. “There is no way I can stand.” 

“Should I call paramedics?” You picked up his stetson which had fallen into his lap and ran your fingers along the brim.

“I think that might be wise.” He agreed, pinching his eyes closed as the pain flooded through his limbs. 

Keeping hold of his hat in one hand you drew your cell phone from your pocket and dialled 9-1-1. It was only when the phone was already to your ear that it occurred to you what a terrible idea this was. 

You’d been so careful up until now, was this handsome cowboy going to be your downfall? 

You noticed the way your voice pitched and cracked as you informed the operator of what had happened and tried to explain where exactly you were with a little help from the stranger. 

Somewhere between Pipe Creek and Bandera. You’ll see a car. And a damn horse.  

Within a few minutes you were off the phone. 

He was leaning back against his good arm, hand braced against the dirt behind him. His eyes were still closed and you saw his face twitching with each surge of pain. 

“So, uh, you new at this?” You waved the stetson in the direction of the horse who was still ambling around. 

He opened his eyes and looked between you and his trusty steed. 

“No, I just…there was this wild horse and I was trying to check to see if she was okay. She got spooked by Willow and the next thing I know I’m on the floor.” He closed his eyes again.

“Willow? Cute.” You smiled slightly at the great beast. “A little intimidating.” 

“She may look that way but she’s incredibly docile. Maybe a little unpredictable in new scenarios but on the whole she’s pretty placid.” His eyes squeezed tighter as another wave of pain thrummed along his spine. 

“Uh,” you continued looking between him and the horse as a thought occurred to you. “Where does she go when you get taken away to the hospital?”

His eyes opened again, landing on you in a look that told you it also hadn’t occurred to him either. 

“You, uh, know how to ride?” He tried his luck.

“No I don’t not.” You scoffed. “I’m a city girl. I know nothing about horses.” 

“She’s incredibly intelligent. She knows the way home, she just needs the impetus to get there.” Once again his eyes fluttered closed. 

“Meaning?” 

“She’ll walk beside your car, show you the way. But you’d need to feed her in order to keep her going. I can get her to do it without the treats but you’re a stranger to her.” His fingers dug into the dirt, the ache that spread up and down the length of his back was brutal. 

And then there was the pain shooting through his left arm and the throb in his old knee injury. This was not the day he had planned.

“So you’re proposing I take your horse home?” You scoffed at the ludicrousy of it. 

“She won’t make it back on her own.” He tried to shrug his shoulders but stopped short when it caused a new eruption of pain. 

“Dude, I don’t even know you.” You shook your head, still fingering the stetson.

“I’ll admit it's a little unorthodox, but I can’t leave her out here.” He forced his eyes open, pleading with you. 

“I told you, I’m really in a hurry to get somewhere.” You shook your head. “I called the paramedics, I did the good Samaritan thing. But as soon as they get here, I’ve really gotta go.” 

“Where are you heading in such a hurry?” He cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Seems like that’s none of your business.” 

“I’m not trying to be nosy.” He shook his head lightly but even that caused him to wince. “It’s late is all, I was just wondering where you had to be in such a rush.” 

“Never you mind.” You grumbled. “But the sooner I get there I can finally rest. I’ve been driving for days.” 

“Do this for me and you can spend the night at my ranch.” He whined slightly as he spoke. 

“Excuse me?” You shuffled in the dirt. 

“Oh gosh,” he huffed. “Not like that. I’m not…I’m not hitting on you. I am undoubtedly going to have to spend the night in hospital, I have a spare lodge on my ranch which doesn’t get used. If you get Willow home for me, you can spend the night, you must be tired.” 

You shuffled again, still for some reason playing with his stetson in your hands in an absent mind. He was looking at you with a pleading expression, begging you to do this for him. But it all seemed too weird.

“You’re willing to let a stranger stay in your home without you even being there?” You clicked your tongue. 

“If it means Willow gets home safe, yes.” He sighed.

“What if I rob you? You don’t know me, I could be a criminal.” You reached forward and placed the stetson atop his head gently.

“I really don’t have a lot worth stealing. I mean I have more horses and cattle…nothing really worth anything unless you're a rancher which clearly you aren’t. I’m willing to risk it.” He once again tried to shrug but groaned at the effort. 

“This is insane.” You shook your head, unbelieving you were even considering this. 

“I’ll admit it’s not ideal circumstances but I need to go to the hospital, and I also need to get Willow home. And if you continue to drive all night you’re going to end up in an accident. In a weird way it’s kinda a win-win situation.” 

“Until I rob you.” 

“You’re not gonna rob me.” For the first time a smile spread to his lips, the pain momentarily slipping away from his features. 

It was a damn nice smile, one which you were sure it was impossible to say no to. But nonetheless you tried.

“You couldn’t possibly know that.” You swallowed. 

“I'm good at reading people.” His smile grew a little. “You have a trustworthy face.” 

“Oh do I?” You tilted your head to the side in curiosity.

“Mm hmm.” He nodded, seemingly forgetting all the pain he’d previously been in. “A very trustworthy, very pretty face.” 

You swallowed again, shuffling backwards in the dirt slightly in discomfort. Spencer averted his eyes at his omission. The pain must have been going to his head, maybe it was due to the dehydration. It was unlike him to be so bold. 

“Oh jeez,” you muttered under your breath. “Fine, fine I’ll take your stupid horse-”

“Willow, her name is Willow.” 

“I’ll take Willow home for you and I may or may not stay at your ranch and then I may or may not rob you.” 

“And then you may or may not pick me up from the hospital in the morning? Assuming I’m allowed to leave so soon.” His smile was growing, but the pinch of pain was back in his eyes. 

“Are you for real?” You hissed. “No, no I am not doing that.” 

“I don’t have a car, and the nearest hospital is just outside of San Antonio, like forty five miles southeast of here. How do you expect me to get home?” His smile faded.

“Doesn’t seem like it’s my problem.” You suddenly pushed yourself to your feet. “I don’t have time to hang around this little Podunk place. I have to be somewhere.” 

He was silent for a moment or two, looking up at you under the wide brim of his stetson. His eyes shone in the moonlight and caused your stomach to coil into knots. 

“Fine.” He spat. “Just go, sorry I bothered you. So much for that southern charm.”

“Never said I was from the south.” You rolled your eyes. 

You fell silent and in the distance you both noted the distinctive sound of sirens. Seconds later you saw the red and blues lighting up the dark stretch of road, heading in your direction. 

He didn’t miss the way you jumped a little at the initial sound and how your body seemed to go rigid at the sight of the flashing lights.

“You're off the hook, you did your good deed now you’re free to go.” The man scoffed, a sarcastic twang evident in his voice. 

“Goddamnit,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “Fine, I will take your damn horse home.”

“Willow.” He corrected you and when you looked back down at him he had a mildly smug smile on his lips. 

“Don’t make me change my mind.” You huffed. 

Soon the ambulance was screeching to a stop next to your car and two paramedics jumped out the front of the vehicle. 

You stood aside while the cowboy, who told them his name was Spencer Reid, explained what had happened with the wild horse and how he’d ended up on the floor unable to move for hours. 

One of the paramedics got a stretcher out the back of the vehicle while the other delicately helped Spencer to lay back down in the dirt. The stretcher was brought over and lowered down as far as it would go. 

“This might hurt a little, sir.” The woman, who was near his head, spoke. 

“Mm hmm.” Spencer grit his teeth, readying himself for the pain.

The female EMT tucked her gloved hands gently under Spencer’s shoulders while the man wrapped his around Spencer’s ankles. 

You hovered near the horse - Willow - arms tucked around your waist. You curled in on yourself at the howl of pain that erupted from Spencer when he was lifted onto the stretcher. The EMT’s were quick to strap him in and lead him across the bumpy ground towards the ambulance. 

“Sorry, can you give me a minute?” His voice pierced over the sound of the wheels on gravel before they stilled.

He looked towards you and beckoned you closer with an almost imperceptible motion of his head. 

“My keys are in my right front pocket.” He cast his eyes downwards. 

You drew your lips into a tight line and huffed a little. It felt like crossing over a line diving into the pocket of a stranger but you’d moved so far past this being weird it almost seemed normal. You fished in his pocket and pulled out a loop of keys. 

“The biggest one, that’s the key to my lodge. Inside the lodge on the hook is another key for my other cabin where you can stay the night. The linen is fresh and there’s clean towels on the back of the door in the bathroom. Help yourself to anything in my fridge.” He told you. 

“And how do I find it?” You cocked an eyebrow at him, keys dangling from your index finger. 

“Willow will show you the way, she’s well trained. Oh, her treats!” He used his good hand to pat the pocket on his shirt.

You huffed once more, manoeuvring around the EMT’s to his other side and freeing a ziploc bag full of apple and carrot slices. 

“The stable is a little way left of my lodge, you can’t miss it. There are two other horses there, her paddock is the one on the far right. Can you take her number down?” He glanced at the paramedic nearest him. “Have someone call her when I’m discharged?” 

The paramedics clearly sensed there was a strange story here but neither wanted to ask. Instead the man reached for a clipboard tucked inside the van and handed it to you. 

It was a patient intake form and he pointed with one finger towards the emergency contact section whilst handing you a pen. 

With a sigh you took it, scrawled down your number and - without hesitation - a fake name before handing it back to him. 

“Thank you for this. I owe you one.” He offered you a meek smile. 

“Oh you owe me more than one.” You grumbled as they set about lifting the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. 

You watched them load him, the man staying in the back of the cab while the woman closed the doors and went to the front. Soon the engine was starting back up and the ambulance turned back towards the way it had come and drove off, sending particles of dust flying in its wake. 

Holding a stranger's keys in one hand and a bag of fruit and veg on the other, you turned back to the horse - Willow you kept reminding yourself - who was seemingly watching the ambulance retreat with her owner. 

Cautiously you stepped closer to the giant mare, hesitant steps, holding up the bag of goodies. 

“Say, Willow?” You rustled the bag and she turned to look at you. “What do you say you show me where you live?” 

Willow seemed to perk up and trotted closer to you, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say the beast was smiling at you.  

You opened the ziploc bag and pulled out a slightly slimy slice of apple and dangled it in front of her eye line. 

You started walking backwards towards your car whilst keeping your eyes on Willow who was following appeasingly, eyes trained on the piece of fruit. 

When you reached your car you held the slice in the palm of your hand and proffered it towards her. She gratefully took it, large gums spreading across your open hand while she shuffled the slice into her mouth. 

You grimaced at the feeling, her saliva coating your hand in a muddy, sticky mess. You wiped your hand on the thigh of your jeans. 

“Gross. So gross.” You sighed, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Why the hell am I doing this again?” 

@andiebeaword @muffin-cup @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @people-whatabunchofbastards @justreadingficsdontmindme @spencer-reid-wonderland @thebloomingeagle @kalulakunundrum

[shirohige-pirates]

Solicitude

Victorian AU - inspired heavily by @/hannahbarberra162's Hysteria series.

Marco/Reader

Summary: You meet Marco Edward during your debutante ball when you're 17, and marry him shortly after your 18th birthday. Agreements are reached in writing, but you realize quickly how much space exists within the lines. Will you be able to bend within the lines you drew yourself? Or will you break against edges you never imagined?

CW: Dark dark content. Misogyny, age gap, power struggle, dub con, non con, coercion, yandere, kidnapping, abuse, group sex, abuse of power, bondage, rough sex, oral, kink, bdsm dungeon, impact play, degradation, praise, gags, humiliation, you kind of unknowingly sign yourself over for free use and don't realize it until it's too late, mdni, DEAD DOVE YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Chapter 9: Training

“She’s making impressive strides.” Tate says, sitting down on the small couch in Marco’s office. “Two weeks ago she could barely get half of the smallest one in. She’s struggling with the largest one, but I give her another week, two maybe, she’ll be able to put up with quite a bit.”

“It’s good news,” Marco hums, looking up from his paperwork. “I wonder what has her so motivated?”

Tate laughs. “You’re kidding, right?” She takes a drink and Marco folds his hands, resting his chin on them. “You told an educated high society lady that you didn’t expect much from her, you devilish bastard. Spit in her mouth next time, it might be less insulting.”

“It wasn’t an insult.” He corrects with a smile. “It was meant as motivation.”

“It worked.” She snorts. “She’s doing those drills at least three times a day.”

“At least?”

“I’m not with her all the time, if she’s doing more after bed, I couldn’t tell you.” She clarifies. “Her actual work is going well, but I imagine you know more about that than I do. I just know the butler and head maid have been praising her and giving her more work.”

“Not too much, I hope.” Marco leans back, relaxing in his chair.

“I don’t think so. She’s very efficient. I imagine she was helping at her own home, so the only thing she’s really adjusting to is the differences between here and there.” She finishes the rest of her tea and gets up, stepping toward his desk, tapping the wood with a single fingernail.

“Don’t under estimate her.”

“I have not.” He answers, brows furrowing. “If I wanted a doll I would’ve gone to an auction and been done with it.”

“It’s a fine line you’re walking, but,” she hums before Marco can interject. “If anyone can manage it.”

“More so with your help, so thank you for that.” He grumbles.

“I’m not helping you do shit.” Tate asserts. “I’m doing my job, don’t doubt that, and giving you these little reports, sure, but I haven’t said word one about you.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to.” He sighs. “But I can’t keep my eyes on her and do my job at the same time. The construction’s almost done, I’ll be able to be properly attentive in a couple more weeks. You’re welcome to stay on after that, since someone of her stature should have a personal attendant-.”

“If you’re going to keep paying me this well, I’m not going to turn it down.” Tate interrupts.

“Fell for her already, hmmm?”

Tate scoffs. “If she ever decides to run away from you, I’m helping her, just so we’re clear.” Her tone is flippant as she walks out of his office, but Marco knows better than to take her words lightly.

Tate had been spending thirteen or more hours a day with you, while Marco was getting a couple meals at best, and a few moments before bed. You told him about your day, but only about your actual work, unless he pressed otherwise. Once the construction was completed you were going to come to the Sanatorium with him, to help with the overhaul of the records, and until then you were adjusting to life in his estate.

You hadn’t denied him in the late hours of the evening, and he hadn’t taken much in the first place. On the one hand he didn’t like half-assing things, and a little less than an hour was hardly time enough to tend to you properly. On the other hand he didn’t want to press you until you’d had time to benefit from your training. Being firm with you was one thing, but making you miserable on a nightly basis was only going to cause him issues in the future.

He could be patient a little longer.

The two of you were married, and with the weight of expectations on your shoulders, that gave him enough of a foundation. His sweet dove was already in a cage, he just needed to be sure to set the bars carefully enough that you didn’t notice them.

Or if you did it wouldn’t matter.

A couple weeks later you were in Marco’s office. You’d been working a little more in the same space over the last few days, as Marco had been spending more time at home. The construction was coming to an end, the majority of it at least, and in another couple weeks you could begin going to the Sanatorium with him in order to work there. You weren’t entirely sure if you were sharing space with Marco while you worked because he wanted to validate your competency, or because he wanted to simply keep an eye on you.

“It’s because he’s jealous,” Tate had offered up the night before. “You’re spending more time with everyone else in the manor but him.”

“But he’s been at work.”

“Mm, and now he’s at home. Hence that cockamamie command that you work in his office.”

You weren’t going to tell Marco what Tate has said, not because you were worried you would get her into trouble, but more because you didn’t believe it. You were sure he was attracted to you, his hands wandered your body in bed for a few moments before he drifted off to sleep every night, but the idea that he’d be jealous was laughable.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” you prompt, turning toward him and giving him a moment to finish what he was writing. He looks over at you and you continue. “I was worried that there was a financial leak, but after some effort, Colscon informs me there’s a basement, and the missing funds are spent on the upkeep.”

He hums an affirmative sound, nodding slightly.

You look at him for a moment, and when he doesn’t say anymore you continue. The sly smile on his face has your own lip turned up in amusement. “Am I to risk my honor and assume it’s good without validation?”

You can hear the soft chuckle. “Let it be my honor on the line, and don’t fret over it for now. I’ll hand over control of it in due time. Take the values Colscon provides, and if anything feels off, bring it to me.”

“Very well,” you agree, coming over to his desk and setting down the paperwork you had finished for the day.

Glancing up at you, he looks down at the stack of papers, flipping through them idly. “What size plug is inside you right now?”

Heat rushes to your face again and you look around the room. No one else is in here but the two of you, but even so you’re caught off guard.

“The… the largest one.”

“How many days now?”

“… J-just this morning.”

“Did it hurt?”

His tone is so casual, so easy you almost don’t know what to do with it. It’s as though he’s asking about the latest book you’ve read, or for an overview of your work.

“A… a little. I don’t understand why we’re talking about-.”

“Let me see.” He interrupts and you step back.

“See? You want to - we can go to the bedroom, I c-can-.”

“No need. Come here, bend over the desk,” he instructs, patting a clear patch of desk in front of him. “I’ll inspect your condition here. There’s time before dinner, and the work is done for the day.”

“But such things are… are only done in the bedroom.” You insist, shaking your head as you step back again. “Our agreement, you c-can’t-.”

“Our agreement only prohibits me from interrupting your work, your rest, and your meals. You included nothing to limit the location, sweet dove.” He says, his tone stern.

“But… People don’t… I mean-.”

“I will not be denied, young lady.” Now his tone is bordering stern, but you can’t bring yourself to step toward him.

“I-I’m not, I’m not, I w-won’t deny you, I just… just please. Please can’t we just-.”

“Do not make me come and collect you.” He warns, standing up.

His presence is far too large when he stands. His face is so neutral, so completely calm. It’s only in his voice that you know how angry he’s getting, but you can’t will your feet to move. It’s everything you have to not just dash out of the room and toward the bedroom, but you’re certain that will just make everything worse.

You can’t help the tears that rush up into your eyes and down your cheeks when he steps toward you. Struggling to recover your composure, you breathe in shakily, gaze cast down to the floor. You can hear him moving toward you and all you can do is shake your head, tiny, useless words falling quietly from your lips.

“I can’t.”

“You poor thing.” He says in a voice that’s warm and kind. He tilts your face up, pulling your teary gaze up to his. “You’re utterly terrified at the idea of this. Even with everything you’ve been doing.”

You nod as much as you can with your chin in his hand. “Yes,” you struggle not to cry more. “Please, M-Marco… I can’t.”

“Shhh, shhh, it’s alright.” He says soothingly, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “It’s alright, don’t fret. You don’t have to do anything.” He reassures you, leaning down and kissing your lips tenderly.

“Th-thank you,” you mumble against the kiss, feeling yourself starting to relax.

“I’ll handle everything for you.” He says, his hand gripping you by the back of your neck and moving you toward the desk.

“Wait, no-.”

“Facing a fear is the only way to move past it. If you’re afraid of obeying me outside of the bedroom, then we need only get you used to it.” He asserts, clearing space on the desk with one hand while you struggle in his grip.

“It’s not obeying you, it’s the s-stripping, outside of the bedroom, I-.”

“I’m not so crude as to have you strip in front of the staff.”

“N-no, I didn’t-.”

“I may disrobe you in the gardens eventually.”

“N-not outside! Please,” you struggles renew, and Marco bends you over the desk, holding you in place and keeping your legs wide with his feet. “Please, please Marco, not outside. N-not in fruh-front of people, please.”

“No stranger will see you,” he husks into your ear, his body keeping you held in place. “And I promise to be purely professional while you’re working at the Sanatorium, you won’t even need to keep that plug in your ass. Isn’t that quite generous of me? You’ve gotten rather used to it though, haven’t you? Maybe you’d rather have something in there to help you focus while you work.”

“No, no, I can concentrate without it, I can, I - please, please don’t-.”

“Stay.” He commands and you feel your body tense as his relaxes. He straightens up. “Put your hands on the desk, palms flat.” He instructs. You can feel yourself still trembling, but you do as he instructs.

You can’t see him, but you can feel him tying something to your ankle. He pushes them further apart and ties the other ankle. The distance has your feet off the floor, and you think it has to be his cane that he’s tied your ankles to. No matter how you shift your legs, or try to turn your knees, you can’t close your legs.

“Stay still.” He repeats, pinching the inside of your thigh. You yelp from surprise more than pain, and once he’s standing he has a hand on the small of your back.

“You’re going to count after each one,” he begins to explain. “If you remove your hands from the desk we’re going to start the count over from the beginning. I’m going to lift your skirts and remove your undergarments, do you understand?”

“Yes,” you sob. “Please don’t. Please, I’m sorry, I couldn’t, I-.”

“If you had done as I asked, your bare ass wouldn’t be facing the door.” He interrupts, lifting your skirts and flipping them onto your back even as your fingers flex against the desk. “It will always be in your best interest to obey.”

“I couldn’t!” You cry in frustration as he rips your underclothes off you.

His hands rub the backs of your thighs. “What will you do next time, then, to avoid this?” He inquires.

“I don’t… I don’t know. I couldn’t make myself move,” your voice is heavy with frustration and shame.

“And who has moved you regardless of that?”

“… You did.”

“And there is the lesson. When you cannot do it yourself, rely on me.” He says. “Then you won’t end up bent over my desk with your bare ass on display.” He drives the point home by rubbing your cheeks, spreading them, and tapping the plug in your ass.

“How was I to know?” You question softly, almost more to yourself than to him.

“Who’s to say, but now you do, and this will ensure you don’t forget it.”

Something cuts through the air and the harsh bite of a switch licks against the bare skin of your rear. You cry out, tensing against the desk for a second as the harsh snap turns to a lingering tingle.

“Count,” Marco admonishes, snapping the whippy switch against your skin again.

“Hnngh! T-two!”

“Hardly,” he corrects. “Start at one, little dove, and stay focused, yoi. I would hate for a punishment to last so long it delays dinner.”

The switch slices through the air again and you manage to growl out a count against the sting. Marco’s strikes linger on the curve of your ass, more than anywhere else, but he does snap the switch against the backs of your thighs a few times. With each strike he gives you a little longer to say your count, letting you have a moment to endure the pain, despite his warning earlier, he doesn’t seem keen on actually forcing you to start from the beginning.

After you reached thirty, he seemed satisfied. The backs of your legs and your rear end stung and throbbed. You almost didn’t want him to put your skirts back down, the coarse material was going to irritate the welts.

“Not bad,” he admits, running his hands over the welts. You hiss against the sting of the touch, shivering against the desk. “You held out well for your first real punishment… Oh?”

His finger slips between your folds and you gasp at the touch. A mewling sound rolls against your tongue and you’re surprised at how sensitive and wet you are.

“What a reaction from someone who didn’t want to be seen.” He says darkly. “I wonder if it was the pain, or the fear of being seen like this? Maybe both.” He muses, not giving you a chance to reply as he pushes two fingers inside you easily.

“Aahhh-nnngh!” You gasp and tense, your hands moving to try and stop the intrusion.

There’s a heavy crack against your ass as his hand collides with it sharply. The impact makes you yelp, and when you flinch it sends a conflicting jolt through your insides as you inadvertently clench on his fingers.

“Hands on the desk.” He reprimands you, and immediately you put your palms flat against the desk. “Good girl.”

He stills for a moment, before moving your arms until they’re folded against the small of your back. Wrapping a hand around both your wrists, he holds them against your back, and begins fingering you.

“Haaa-wait, please, it’s… it’s not right.” You gasp, your knees knocking against the desk as you try to close your legs.

“Stay still, little dove.” He warns, pushing his fingers in deeper and making your pussy squelch loudly. “If you make too much fuss someone is likely to come in to check on us.”

“D-don’t, please,” you whine, legs trembling. He’s teasing the plug with his thumb, fingering you, and rubbing his pinkie against your clit. The control seems inhuman, but the combination is pushing you toward orgasm even though your backside still aches from the switch. “I-I’ve learned my… my lesson, so please.”

“Hm? Are you saying you don’t want to cum?” He muses, and you nod. “Oh? Why don’t you want to cum? Wouldn’t it be better to end things with some relief?”

“I don’t- I don’t want to.” You answer.

“Ah, but I want you to.”

“I’m - I’m being punished, I sh-shouldn’t b-be rewarded.”

“You were terrified,” he coos the words so condescendingly it sends a cold chill down your back. His foot braces against the cane tied to your ankles and you are effectively completely immobilized. “Giving you some relief after you endured all of that is only proper. You’ve learned your lesson, after all.”

You want to argue, you want to be able to come up with something to bring it to a stop, but so far he could always talk circles around you. Every excuse, every plea you could think was turned around with such ease. You might have better luck when you weren’t so distracted, but Marco didn’t turn your words around when it came to anything else.

“The faster you cum, yoi,” his voice drops low, and he works his fingers against the spot inside you that almost makes it feel like you’re going to pee. “The quicker your skirts will be lowered.”

“Please, please no,” you mewl the words, legs trembling. It’s not a matter of letting it happen, you couldn’t stop the pleasure from building if you tried. You could feel the mess slipping down your thighs.

“That’s it,” his voice has a rough edge to it. “If we had time I’d force so many sweet orgasms out of you that you’d squirt down my arm.”

“N-no, please, please I’m gonna… gonna-!” You tense, shivering beneath him and just as you seem ready to crest he stops.

“Say it.” He commands, teasing you enough to keep you on edge. “Say you’re cumming, yoi.”

“I-I… I’m kuh-I’m going to -.”

“Say you’re cumming when you’re cumming, sweet dove,” he says teasingly as he starts to finger you vigorously again. “Say it clearly or I may have to reprimand you.”

“I - yes - please, I don’t want to like this,” you beg, feeling the pleasure build again.

“You’re going to like so much more than you knew you could, when I’m done, yoi.” He promises as your legs begin to shiver.

“No, no, no I’m going to… cum!” You nearly shout the vulgar word, desperate to get it past your lips in time. Your body throbs when a soft swear slips between his lips. “Cumming,” you cry as your body goes taut. “I’m—!”

The harsh orgasm steals air from your throat and cuts off your words as blood and pleasure rush through you. Your toes curl inside your shoes and your writhe as much as your limbs can manage under Marco’s firm brace of your legs and arms.

“Gods,” you husk when your body relaxes enough you can breathe in again. Marco teases you with his fingers, pulling squeaky whines from you when your body jerks at the random jolts of stimulation.

He leaves your skirts flipped up while he unties your ankles. His fingers press into them, probing, checking to make sure you aren’t hurt from the hasty restraints. When he spreads your labia you gasp, your legs curling in surprise for a second before you will them to stay down and open.

“You are a fast learner.” He muses. “You’re going to leave this mess here.” Marco instructs patting your stinging rump before he stands up and lowers your skirts. The material against your skin doesn’t sting as bad as you expected it to, but it does feel weird when it lays against the wet mess on your legs.

He helps you to your feet, adjusting your hair before pulling a handkerchief from his jacket pocket.

“I think you look beautiful no matter what, but I imagine you would prefer to clean up before dinner. Use this before you go freshen up.” He instructs, handing you the square of cloth.

You accept it, wiping the tears and snot from your face carefully. The shift between how he was earlier to now was smooth, but the differences are still jarring. He seems to only care about his desires, but then he looks after you in ways that are only important to you.

You don’t know if it’s genuine, or if he’s manipulating you.

As he sits down at his desk, there’s a knock at the door. You turn to face Marco, knowing that it’s likely one of the staff with the evening news. They won’t pay you, or your messy face, any mind, especially if you’re not facing them.

“Enter.” He calls out, and one of the butlers comes in, sets the paper down on his desk, excuses himself and leaves. Marco picks it up, skimming the front page, barely glancing up at you before turning back to the paper.

“Go get cleaned up, dove. You can bathe properly after dinner, and before bed tonight I want you to show me how your training is coming along.”

“Yes, thank you.” You’re nervous about how you’re meant to show him, but you don’t think it’ll help to ask for clarification right now.

Instead you focus on getting your face cleaned up, and fix your hair more with the help of the mirror in your shared bedroom. You unstick your skirts from your legs before you head to the dining hall and are relieved that everything was dry enough it wasn’t sticking again.

Feeling your skirts against your hips was distracting. Somehow you feel like everyone must know that your underpants were gone. That your skirts sat a different way, or that you gave it away some other way. It was a silly concern, the clothing item wasn’t thick enough to be noticeable, and as long as you didn’t focus on it, it wouldn’t change your stride.

You were the first to arrive, but Marco wasn’t far behind. Despite what had happened just a few moments earlier, dinner was relaxing. He always managed to keep the conversation moving, and still light enough to be had during the meal.  For someone whose family was new to high society, he was certainly adept at navigating it.

By the time the meal was done you’d almost forgotten how bare you were underneath your skirts until you got up and began moving. Marco got you setup with a nice hot bath, and then left you be. You went through the process of winding down for the night, removing the plug and cleaning it before using the shower to wash yourself.

Once you were clean you relaxed in the bath, and that meant the piping hot water that had been supplied was a much more comforting kind of steamy. The water felt nice against your skin, even if the welts on your rear end stung a little as you settled in.

You didn’t know what to think of Marco. Roughly a month into your marriage and you weren’t sure if he was cruel and unreasonable, or simply firm and lecherous. Trying to keep pace with him wasn’t easy. He shifted gears between work and pleasure so easily, and while he was a practiced gentleman, there were things he did that no gentle man would ever do.

At least not so far as you knew.

But your education on bedroom affairs was limited to practical academic knowledge. You learned enough to know what to expect for your first night, and you were given instruction on how to keep yourself clean and healthy so that you would be available for your husband.

A healthy appetite was maybe twice monthly, or once weekly, and most couples slept in their own rooms. At least so far as you had always been led to believe, but you had no other room, or if you did Marco hadn’t allowed it as an option as yet. While he was restraining himself most nights, you felt like he would take his fill of you multiple times a day, if he could.

And he could.

You had no right to reject him, especially not with your terribly naive contract to consider. So if he was holding himself back, then it was for your benefit. If he was doing that, and the training was supposedly for your benefit as well, then that certainly lent some credibility to his statements of affection.

You just weren’t certain if he was showing these moments of kindness because they were genuine, or if he was using them to manipulate you in some way. You weren’t even certain it was worth trying to worry about. You’d only been in the manor for a month, but it was obvious the staff respected Marco. They were paid well, and treated as though they themselves were equals.

Even with you. There was a distinction between his physical desires, and his respect toward your professional and academic capacities. He didn’t belittle your work, or your intelligence, but he didn’t coddle your lack of experience in the bedroom. Maybe because it didn’t matter. Maybe because he wanted you beneath him in that regard.

Getting out of the tub you dry off and pull on the cotton nightgown you always start your night wearing, even if it never lasts by the time you’re falling asleep.

“Every night,” Marco’s laying in bed naked, palm moving languidly against his stiff shaft. “You wear that nightgown, and every night I ask that you take it off.” You meet his eyes, heat rising in your cheeks before movement shifts your gaze back to his twitching girth.

“I’m beginning to think you enjoy stripping for me.”

“Eighteen years of habit is hard to break in a month.” You answer as evenly as you can.

He smirks, motioning with his free hand for you to come closer. “Leave it on then,” he offers. “But come here, show me what your personal maid has been helping you learn.”

“Tate says I have a ways to go still,” you explain, even as you get up onto the bed. “I still… struggle.”

“I’m not going to do like before,” he explains, taking your hands and helping you settle between his legs while he lays back onto the pile of pillows behind him. “I’m going to leave you to do as you please.”

Confusion creases your brow, your gaze shifting down to his member. You know the replicas you practice on, the largest one at least, is supposed to be the same size, but somehow he still looks decidedly bigger.

“Put your hands on my thighs, and bring me to orgasm with your mouth,” Marco clarifies, guiding your hands. “Do your best, and I’ll reward you.”

“Can… can you turn down the lamp?” You question, even as you’re putting your hands on his thighs.

“No, I want to be able to see what you’re doing.” He answers easily. “Remember, if you can’t do it, you can rely on me.”

Swallowing thickly you lean down and lick his shaft. Tate taught you to get things wet with saliva before trying to put it in your mouth, and it made it much easier. A second lick, a third, and Marco reaches out and gathers your hair, holding it loosely out of the way.

You roll your tongue around his tip and hear him hum softly. Something about the sound makes you feel good. You do it again before putting the tip in your mouth. If you use your tongue too much you’ll gag, and Tate says you need to build up endurance to do much more than just take it, so you decide to do what you know you’re good at.

What you’ve been practicing steadily for a month.

The first time you lower yourself you get about halfway down. There’s another approving sound from Marco and you suck against his shaft when you pull back, taking a second to close your jaw and relax your face before you go back down on him. This time you take a little more, repeating the process and take even more. You can feel Marco’s thighs flex against your hands, and when you take all of him he inhales in a hiss, his fingers tightening in your hair.

“By the seas,” he husks when you pull back and then go all the way back down. “Stay there, yoi. Stay like that with your nose right against me for as long as you can.”

You still, focusing on staying relaxed so you don’t start to gag. You hadn’t taken a deep breath, so you didn’t have much air, and while breathing through your nose was possible, he was just long enough that it didn’t matter, once he was down that far there was no breathing around him. Learning about that fact was something you had to admit you appreciated the dildos for.

When you went to pull back, Marco held you in place for a couple seconds longer. You did your best not to fight it, but you needed to breathe. After the couple seconds he tugged your hair gently and you pulled the rest of the way back, taking in a deep breath after his tip popped free of your lips.

“Good girl,” he praises, his eyes on you as you dip back down.

He leaves you to do as you please, letting you take him all the way, holding yourself against his pubic hair. You twitch and half-gag sometimes and it feels amazing. It’s everything he has to let you set the pace and do your best.

He’s so happy that you just did it. You didn’t argue with him, you barely even flustered, and just started sucking him off like it wasn’t the most depraved thing you’ve done so far. Treating the training like a challenge, and having Tate help you, was one of his more inspired ideas. Despite what Tate thought, it really was working out even better than he anticipated.

“Faster, yoi,” he commands, his voice shakier than he expected it to be. “I’m going to hold you in place when I cum, so don’t worry about that, just focus on breathing.”

You hum in understanding and feel Marco’s entire body tense. It’s very much a lightbulb moment and you don’t bother to over thinking it. You start to hum. You aren’t sure what to hum, but he seems to enjoy the sounds you make when he’s making you feel good, so that’s what you go with.

“You… cheeky…” He huffs roughly, a coarse chuckle falling from his lips. “You really do learn quick.”

“Mm-hmm.” You hum in response.

His hips start to move up to meet you as you come down on him. You can hear his breath falling from his lips in heated pants. You swirl your tongue around his tip, suckling on it, and he pulls you off him completely. The action surprises you, making you gasp, and then he pushes you back down onto his length, holding you against his body as he orgasms down your throat.

“You… did an amazing job,” he husks, still holding you against him as you struggle to swallow everything. He doesn’t let you up until after you start gagging, until after your lungs start to burn from lack of air. You smack his thighs with your hands, heaving against his length as your eyes burn with forced tears.

When he pulls you back up your face is a mess, tears and drool dripping down your jaw. You sputter and gasp to catch your breath and Marco brings your face up to his easily with his grip on your hair. His eyes are taking in every wretched detail and once you manage to calm your breathing he kisses you.

Heated and heavy, he seems unbothered by the sloppy mess against your lips, his tongue pressing into your mouth. It’s warm, tender, and demanding. He breaks the kiss a few times, giving you a chance to breathe since your nose was stuffed due to your earlier ordeal.

“Beautiful.” He says it so reverently you almost forget how awful you must look. “Let me reward you, my dove.”

You nod, pretty certain you wouldn’t be able to deny him anyway, and try to move with him as he pulls your nightgown off. His hands cup your rear, making you hiss against the sting, and he moves you easily, bringing you up until you’re holding onto the headboard.

You can feel the weight of his breath against your pussy just before his tongue flicks against your clit. Gasping you lean against the headboard, and he adjusts to the new angle, his tongue licking you again and again.

You tremble in pleasure, braced against the headboard, Marco beneath you, between your legs. You may be above him, but you weren’t in control. You had no more power above him than beneath him, but you felt far more exposed like this.

His fingers flexed against the meat of your cheeks, spreading them as his tongue teases the entrance of your vagina.

“I hope you enjoy the taste of my cock as much as I enjoy the taste of your cunt,” he hums into your skin and you feel embarrassment heat your entire body. The vulgar words, the vulgar action, and he was speaking of it with such reverence.

The rush of embarrassment had pleasure following close behind it, and you cry out as he pulls the first orgasm from you easier than he has so far.

“My sweet dove enjoys dirty talk, hm?” He teases, licking up your stomach as he pulls you down. He kisses between your breasts before trailing kisses back down your stomach. You try to deny his words, but his actions have you almost mesmerized, the look he gave you from between your bosom was light, happy and content.

He was at ease.

He almost looked boyish. Mischievous instead of stern.

His lips dove back into your folds and you couldn’t think of much else as he began devouring you again. His fingers tease your ass, kneading the meat of your cheeks and tapping against your entrance. His tongue flicks against your throbbing clit and his lips suckle the sensitive bud. You can’t get away from any of it, his grip is immovable.

All you can do is hold onto the headboard like a life preserver and focus on breathing.

Sweat dapples your skin when you orgasm the second time, but Marco doesn’t kiss up your stomach or murmur dirty words between your thighs. He stays buried between your labia, lavishing your tender clit with more attention. His grip on your ass shifts as his pinkie and ring fingers push into your vagina, his middle fingers tapping the tight ring of your asshole, and he starts to over stimulate you like he had been earlier that day.

Your legs start to tremble and your arms shiver and it doesn’t take long for him to pull a third orgasm out of you.

“Please,” you whine hoarsely, your voice lost to the cries of pleasure and the heated panting breaths he was demanding of you. “N-No more, I can’t…”

“You’re dripping onto my chest.” He informs you, and heat rushes through you so strongly you feel light-headed for a second. “One more, sweet dove,” he purrs, licking a heavy stripe against your clit.

You can barely form a shivering, “No,” from between your lips, but it wouldn’t have mattered if you had shouted it. You could hear the lewd squish of his fingers inside you, the thick, wet sound of your pleasure leaking down his fingers and dripping onto his chest.

You knew he was looking at you, watching your pleasure drip in the space between you and his tattoo. That knowledge made you throb. You didn’t want him to stare, but you couldn’t deny the way it felt when he did.

You can feel sweat trickling down your back as you cling to the headboard. He returns to eating you out, and you return to broken pleas for mercy, to shivering whines of pleasure as the inevitable builds. If there was anyway to stop yourself from orgasming, you hadn’t figured it out yet.

You’re so tired, and trembling so much from the overstimulation, that it isn’t until you start to smack Marco in the side with your foot that he realizes when you’ve cum again. Just like always, he cares for you afterward. No matter if he’s rough or gentle when he takes you, he always cleans you up. Always makes sure you have something to drink. He praises you, sometimes educates you, sometimes he explains why he did something, and what he’ll do next, or differently.

The care was grounding, even when it stern.

[zarvasace]

Maybe this has already been answered, and I forgot, but in White Walls, aren't some of them young enough they should be in school? Have the older ones tried tutoring them so they don't fall behind?

This is an old ask from when I asked for prompts but hey here it is!! :)

~720 words, no warnings? This is post-White Walls! I don't think they really had the material or motivation to do any tutoring inside—though maybe boredom is motivation enough. But once they're out? Yeah they gotta do something about that.

Hyrule can barely see any blond hair over the stack of books in Four's arms as he returns to the gym. He watches as Four carefully slides the stack onto the stage, then uses one of the folding chairs as a stool to pull himself up, too. With relief, Hyrule pounces on the minor distraction. "What are all of those for?" Four settles with his back against the side of the stage and raises his eyebrows at Hyrule's own tiny stack. "What are all of those for?" he returns.

"There's this thing called a high school diploma…" Hyrule reminds him with a grim laugh. He doesn't disagree that it's probably a good idea for him to get something like that done, but he's a much, much slower reader and learner than Legend, who'd studied for a few weeks and got very good marks on his first try. Now Legend, along with everyone except Four, is on the basketball court below the stage, yelling and running and throwing each other out of the way. Hyrule estimates about three minutes until someone gets hurt, and maybe about ten until he himself finally gives up on this book and goes to join them. "I like reading," Four answers. He picks up the book at the top of the stack, one with a dry title about tractors or something, and flips past the first few pages. "Do you really think you'll get through all of those before we have to leave?" Four's stack is at least ten books high. Hyrule's own has three, and he knows he'll have to take them all back to the house, himself. Four doesn't need to study, is not enrolled in any classes at this high school because he graduated some years ago, and as far as Hyrule knows, Four can't actually take any books from the school library. "Probably not," Four says, already distracted, "but I like having choices." Hyrule hums at that. He rolls from his side to his stomach, wings flaring out behind him. The long coat he prefers to wear in public hides his wings, which helps him stay less conspicuous, but his poor wings are not easily compressed, and his muscles are sore from hiding them so much recently. Stretching out feels nice. He looks back down at his own book, intending to get through at least one more sentence. It's been easier to get through things now that he can choose what to read, albeit from a small selection, but it's still hard. He doesn't really see why he has to read some arbitrary number of books before he can move on. "There he goes," Four mutters. Hyrule looks up just in time to see Wild dive for the orange ball, but Warriors does the same from a different angle. Sky shouts a warning, but it's too late. Wild crashes into Warriors, and they both go down, the sound of at least one head smacking into the floor echoing through the large gym room in a way that never happened in their old carpeted living room.

Hyrule winces. The game comes to a pause, everyone going still as they wait for the fallout. Twilight zips to Sky's side as he wobbles, both of them panting from exertion. Warriors recovers quickly. He rolls over and pushes himself up to check over Wild, who'd landed next to him. "Wild?" Warriors said, moving a hand across Wild's face. Hyrule felt his wings rise in fear when Warriors's fingers press beneath Wild's jaw. Time walks forward, his very footsteps tense. "Sky, call—" Wild sits up suddenly, barely avoiding smacking his head into Warriors again, and he tosses the basketball that's still in his hands—hard. "Ledge!" Legend blinks back to attention and catches the ball, just to turn and toss it through the net at his end of the court. "Nice one." Warriors rolls back onto his elbows, color returning to his face, and Wind starts laughing, bent over to prop himself up on his knees. Four rolls his eyes and goes back to his book. Hyrule can't be expected to focus anymore, so he slips in his bookmark and jumps off the stage. His wings flutter just enough to keep him in the air for a moment too long. "Okay, which team is down a player?"