#mingled with memories of those lost

[follyhodger]

Rediscovered a song I first heard a decade ago and was struck by how the second half of its title Rue Auble sounds a bit like All Blue when rendered in Japanese. Seems to be a nothing burger, but since its a French title (Rue means Street) and I tend to suspect that the crew's dreams are ciphers, I indulged the impulse anyway. Here are the lyrics, followed by my translation:

オーブルの街は　僕の涙い��ぱい 　　　　灰色の街は　風がいっぱい 銀色の森に　愛は落ちていく　 　　　　枯れた花が　空をうずめ 小さな鳥さえ　言葉を忘れる 　　　　僕の心は　帰って来ない ------------------------------------------ The Rue Auble is filled with my tears This gray town is filled with wind In a silver forest, love fell away Withered flowers fill the sky Even the little birds forget how to speak My heart will not come home

[tottentz]

SO GIVE ME HOPE ── honkai star rail, sfw ౨ৎ⠀⠀or the things they do when they miss you ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ gender neutral reader⠀/⠀ft. aventurine, dr. ratio, gepard, boothill, blade, sunday, dan heng, jing yuan, argenti. ♡ˎˊ˗

— AVENTURINE ꩜.ᐟ ˗ˏˋ who uses your shirts as a pillowcase. when aventurine quivers into the night as the chill of an eerie draft embraces his lone figure with a fleeting caress that forcibly erects goosebumps along his nape, he takes one of your shirts and slips it over his pillow, letting the fabric cradle his head as he drifts back into sleep. your scent clinging to the material weave a tender memory where you are rolling onto his side to brush your lips across his jaw, onto the hill of his cheek, and behind the lobe of his ear; and it is enough to carry him for the rest of the day. he repeats this routine every night, especially after a nightmare.  in the stillness, the shirt becomes more than just fabric; it becomes a gentle reminder that you will be there when he returns home to you. it is the few acts of comfort he allows himself. as he succumbs to sleep, the shirt's embrace lulls him into dreams where he can hold you once more.

— DR. RATIO ꩜ .ᐟ ˗ˏˋ who uses your own conditioner. dr. ratio, usually consumed by calculations and analyses, finds solace in the simple act of feeling your essence adornimg his hair. he doesn't admit it, but each time he lathers it into his hair, he imagines your hands gently massaging his scalp, your laughter echoing softly in his mind. for a fleeting moment, the mundane act of washing his hair becomes a ritual of longing, because moments like those are when he closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, letting the scent transport him to a place where you're nearby. each strand of hair becomes a canvas for his memories, painted with the softness of your touch and the warmth of your smile. this fragrance, delicate and only yours, lingers on his skin, a ghostly whisper of your presence that stays with him long after he steps out of the shower. it's a small comfort, a way to hold onto when you're not there.

— GEPARD ꩜ .ᐟ ˗ˏˋ who listens to the music you like.  or to whatever recommendation you send. either songs that remind you of him, songs you thought he'd like, or simply the ones you are obsessed with at the moment. he finds solace in the songs that once was a mere background, the familiar tunes evoke scenes of moments spent together, your laughter mingling with the melodies, your voice singing along with his broken harmony. in the quiet of the room, or amidst the bustle of his duties, he finds a private sanctuary within these songs, and when the silvermane guards question him, heat swells beneath the fold of his collar, and he can't help but tug at the silken cloth, ears just as ruby red as his warmed cheeks. if only for a fleeting moment, with each track, he feels a little closer to you; they are a refuge, after all, a place where his longing transforms into a tender reverie.

— BOOTHILL ꩜ .ᐟ ˗ˏˋ who sends you voicemails everyday. no matter if he has no signal, you have grown fond of getting up every morning to boothill's fifty belated voice notes, each message a blend of longing and unspoken emotions. it doesn't have to be about something important, sometimes, he tells you about his day: that lost little girl he helped find her parents? you let him know you are proud of him; a voice message while he is being chased to death? maybe you spent the whole day crying in a corner, but his tone never fail to soften as he speaks. there's a raw sincerity in his voice, an unguarded truth that slips through the cracks of his usual bravado. he knows you might not listen to them all at once, but that doesn't stop him from sending them, each one a small piece of his heart offered up in the hope it reaches you.  

— BLADE ꩜ .ᐟ ˗ˏˋ who sees photos of you. or most likely, the selfies you took with his phone. he will never admit that once in a while he finds himself scrolling through his phone in the stillness of the night, pausing at one where your smile is particularly bright, the curve of your lips and the laughter he can almost hear. your eyes hold a sparkle that seems to pierce through the screen, reaching out to touch the shadows in his heart. he's no good with softness, he knows this better than anyone. all he's ever been is burning up, like a desert caught in it's worst heatwave, and he hopes you won't hold it against him. he hopes you won't clam up again because each photo is a fragment of light in the darkness that often surrounds him, a reminder of moments that felt almost ordinary yet are now imbued with a quiet, aching beauty. he closes his eyes and lets the memories of you guide him through the night.

— SUNDAY꩜ .ᐟ ˗ˏˋ who keeps personal mementos. in the quiet corners of his room, lie these treasures—small tokens that may not look like much, but mean a lot to him. he still keeps a delicate bracelet you once wore, its gentle clink a soothing echo in the stillness. a photograph of you, slightly worn from frequent handling, laughing, and he still feels the flutter you caused in his stomach. it was the heat in his cheeks, the shock in his throat when you smiled so honestly at him: the consuming sensation was all of that goodness and more, magnified and exponentially deeper and marvelously burning. it was hot, fiery as it ripped through him, completely unignorable. it was you. he also keeps a pressed flower, its vibrant colors faded but its significance still as fresh as the day you gave it to him. every now and then, he runs his fingers over these items, each touch a silent conversation.

— DAN HENG꩜ .ᐟ ˗ˏˋwho reads your favorite books. nestled in a quiet corner, he opens the pages you once turned, feeling the faint echoes of your presence with each line, imagining your voice narrating the passages, your expressions as you described your favorite scenes. he doesn't have to understand why you like it, or if he doesn't make any sense of it, he doesn't have to understand the book to understand you, because dan heng tells all of it fondly like it was a memory worth treasuring, but he is downright adoring when you are suddenly in the conversation. and even if the way he says your name isn't obvious enough, the way he softly speaks with eyes half-lidded is enough indication for march to let him know about dan heng feelings. in this quiet communion with your beloved stories, dan heng finds a tender peace, a way to keep your presence alive in his heart until you meet again.

— JING YUAN꩜ .ᐟ ˗ˏˋwho visits your favorite places. the moment he realized that he was doing it, that all of that sensation was you feeling, something began to broil in the apex of his chest, rolling and all-consuming: the gardens of xianzhou, with their delicate blossoms, become his refuge, as he stands beneath the cherry trees, their petals drifting like soft whispers of your laughter; at the tea house, he orders your favorite brew, the aroma filling the air with a bittersweet nostalgia. the feeling was familiar, one that he had organically all the time when thinking of you, being with you at this places. it was the one that he shoved down over and over again around you, yet craved more than anything. for jing yuan, these visits are a way to keep you close, a fleeting comfort that eases the ache of your absence.

— ARGENTI꩜ .ᐟ ˗ˏˋwho writes letters for you. at some point in his life, probably around the fifth time you smiled at him as if argenti had hung the stars in the sky and unlocked every secret of the universe, argenti being desperately, desperately enamored of you had become an incontestable fact, just another undeniable statement. and so, he writes of the stars that remind him of your eyes, the moonlight that mirrors your gentle touch. every stroke of the pen captures a moment, a memory, a piece of his soul. and he hopes you believe it because that's the only truth that feels less like an admission and more like a fact- because you've never left his mind since the second he saw you. his words are a tapestry of emotions, woven with threads of longing and affection, many of the letters he writes are never sent but,  as he places the letters in a box, he feels a sense of peace, knowing that in his heart, you are never truly far away.

. ࣪✦ ៸៸ tottentz ▐ © 2024 ､ ? 𓄹 ܵ ۪

[mide404]

Hello everyone,

In a corner of the world where the sound of the wind mingles with children's tears, my family lives a story of pain and resilience. In Gaza, a place filled with memories of war and destruction, we lost our most beloved ones. We lost my father in one of the attacks, and the pain did not stop there; it extended to include my young niece and my young cousin. They were rays of hope, but the war extinguished their light too soon.

The war did not only take the lives of our loved ones but also destroyed our home, which was our safe haven. Today, we live in a flimsy tent that neither protects us from the scorching sun nor from the cold winter rains. Insects rob our children of their peace and comfort, and our hearts are filled with sorrow and grief. Yet, amid all this destruction, we cling to a slight hope that renews every morning.

We send this message to those with compassionate hearts, to those who understand the meaning of humanity and solidarity. We beg you to look upon us with mercy and help us rebuild what remains of my family. My family needs the basic necessities of a dignified life. Every support, no matter how small, will make a significant difference in our lives.

Help us protect our children from the cold, hunger, and fear. Let us restore the smiles that the war has stolen from them. We are here, waiting for your kind hands to save what is left of us and to be part of our story, a story that will carry new hope thanks to you.

[simjaexy]

𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 | 𝙔.𝙅.

Pairing ⇀ Patient! Yang Jungwon x Patient! (F) Reader

Synopsis ⇀ After a traumatic event leaves you struggling to cope, you get admitted to a mental hospital in hopes of finding peace and healing. Feeling lost and overwhelmed on your arrival, you meet Jungwon, a fellow patient with his own burdens and a mysterious past. Even though Jungwon is a bit hot headed and tend to come off as rude and smart to people, you find solace in Jungwon company. What happens when you and Jungwon go through struggles together? Will he open up to you to his mysterious past? Or will he shut himself out, just like he did with everyone else?

Genre ⇀ ANGST, Fluff (If you squint), Eventual Smut

Warning ⇀ Implied character deaths, Car accident, Family issues (Jungwon side), Crying, Smoking, Depression, Mis-Communication, Fighting (Reader gets hit once in one), Shots, Arguments, No comfort, Jungwon is mean to Reader a lot, Jungwon has anger issues, Dom! Jungwon x Sub! Reader, Making out, Eating out, Overstimulation, No protection, have a feeling I missed some so lmk!

W.c ⇀ 15.7k

A/n ⇀ Hey guys! Sorry for being inactive lately, studies have been coming at me left and right and I didn’t have time to make any fics. :( So why not make a depressing fic just because. 😼 Reminder everything in this fic is fake and not real! Sunghoon fic of Hidden Desires is almost done so please stay tune for that! I know a lot have been waiting for that so I apologize for the wait! Also, if you would like to be added to the perm taglist click here! Not proofread!

Masterlist here

You remember clearly how the snow flew ever so softly against the window. Your eyes full of innocence and curiosity. Your mom looked back and gave you a soft smile. You returned it as she looked away from you.

You continued watching the snow fall when all of a sudden you hear the sound of screeching tires and the crunch of metal against metal filled the air as the your car collided with another vehicle.

Time seemed to slow down, and in those agonizing moments, you could feel every jolt and impact. The world spun around you, and then, everything went black.

Months had passed since that fateful night, but the memory of the crash haunted you every waking moment. You sat in a dimly lit therapist's office, your hands trembling as you recounted the events leading up to the accident. Your therapist, Dr. Mitchell, listened intently, a look of concern etched on his face.

“I just can't get it out of my head," You said, your voice barely above a whisper, "Every time I close my eyes, I see it happening all over again."

Dr. Mitchell nodded sympathetically, "You've been through a traumatic experience, and it's completely understandable that you're struggling. But I think it's time we consider a different approach to your treatment."

You looked up, confusion and apprehension mingling in you eyes, "What do you mean?"

“I believe that a more intensive form of therapy might be beneficial for you," Dr. Mitchell explained gently, "There's a mental health facility that specializes in helping individuals who have experienced severe trauma. I think it could be a good fit for you."

Your heart raced at the thought of being admitted to a mental hospital. The idea was daunting, since you’ve never been to one before, but you knew that you couldn't go on living like this. The nightmares, the flashbacks, the constant anxiety—it was all too much to bear.

“Okay," You said finally, your voice steady despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "I'll do it."

The rain poured heavily as you stepped out of the car, your heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and uncertainty. The imposing building of the mental hospital loomed ahead, its grey facade blending with the stormy sky. You took a deep breath, clutching your bag tightly, and made your way to the entrance.

As you entered, the sterile smell of disinfectant filled the air. A kind-looking woman approached you, her smile warm yet professional.

"Welcome," She said softly. "I'm Dr. Kim, the head of this facility. I'll be escorting you to your room."

You nodded, feeling a slight sense of relief at her reassuring demeanor. She led you through the winding corridors, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the walls. The hospital seemed quiet, almost eerily so, with only the occasional murmur of voices or the distant sound of a door closing.

Just as you were beginning to feel a sense of calm, a commotion erupted from a nearby hallway. Raised voices and the sound of a struggle reached your ears. Dr. Kim's expression tightened, and she quickened her pace, urging you to follow closely.

As you turned the corner, you saw them – two boys in the midst of a heated fight.

One of them, with strikingly intense eyes and a determined expression, was on top of another boy. He was grappling the another boy, their movements a blur of fists and fury. The sight was shocking, a stark contrast to the otherwise serene environment.

“Jungwon, stop!" Dr. Kim's voice cut through the chaos, authoritative and firm. The boys hesitated, their breathing heavy, but the fight didn't completely cease.

You stood frozen, unsure of what to do. Jungwon's eyes flickered towards you for a brief moment, and something in his gaze made your heart ache. There was pain there, and anger, but also a flicker of something else – a plea for help, perhaps.

Dr. Kim stepped between them, her presence commanding, "This is not the place for this," She said sternly, "Both of you, to your rooms. Now."

Reluctantly, the boys separated, still glaring at each other. Jungwon's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he turned and walked away, his shoulders tense.

Dr. Kim sighed, turning back to you with an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry you had to witness that. Sometimes, emotions run high here. Let's continue to your room."

You nodded, still shaken by the encounter. As you followed Dr. Kim, you couldn't help but glance back towards the hallway where Jungwon had disappeared, a sense of unease settling in your chest. This place was supposed to be a sanctuary, a place of healing – but it seemed there were deeper wounds here than you had anticipated.

You followed Dr. Kim down the sterile, white-walled corridor of the mental hospital. The soft click of her heels echoed in the quiet hallway, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside your mind. She opened the door and stepped aside, allowing you to enter first.

“This will be your room for the duration of your stay,” She said softly, her voice filled with a calm reassurance, “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask the staff.”

You nodded, offering a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Dr. Kim.”

She gave you one last encouraging look before leaving, the door closing with a soft click behind her. You stood there for a moment, taking in the room. It was simple, yet comforting in its own way.

A single bed with crisp white sheets, a small wooden desk, and a chair. The window overlooked a garden, the trees swaying gently in the breeze.

You walked over to the bed and set down your suitcase. As you began to unpack, the memories of the crash started to flood back. You tried to push them away, focusing instead on the mundane task of organizing your belongings. But the images were relentless.

You could still hear the screeching of tires, the shattering of glass, and the deafening silence that followed. You remembered the fear, the panic, and the overwhelming sense of helplessness. Your hands trembled as you folded your clothes, the fabric slipping through your fingers.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You couldn’t let the memories consume you. Not now. Not when you were trying to heal. You placed your clothes in the small dresser, each movement deliberate and slow, as if grounding yourself in the present.

Once everything was unpacked, you sat on the edge of the bed, your body heavy with exhaustion. You lay down, the cool sheets a welcome relief against your skin. As you closed your eyes, the memories of the crash played out behind your eyelids like a haunting movie reel.

You remembered the faces of your parents, the ones who were no longer with you. The pain was sharp, cutting through the fog of your mind. You took another deep breath, focusing on the rise and fall of your chest. Slowly, the memories began to fade, replaced by the comforting rhythm of your breathing.

Sleep began to creep in, a gentle pull that you didn’t resist. As you drifted off, you silently promised yourself that you would get through this. One day at a time. You would find a way to heal, to move forward, even if it meant facing the painful memories head-on.

In the quiet of your room, you finally found a moment of peace. The world outside continued to turn, but for now, you allowed yourself to rest, finding solace in the promise of a new beginning.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains as you got ready for your first group therapy session. You were surprised when a nurse woke you up from your sleep already seeing it was the next day. You guessed the flashbacks really got to you.

The events of the previous day still lingered in your mind, especially the sight of Jungwon fighting in the hallway. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the unease. Today was a new day, and you were determined to make the most of it.

You left your room and made your way down the corridor, the soft hum of the hospital’s air conditioning filling the silence. As you walked past someone room, you heard raised voices. Curiosity got the better of you, and you slowed your pace, peeking inside.

Jungwon was there, his face flushed with anger as he argued with a nurse, "I told you, I don’t need any help!" he snapped, his voice sharp and filled with frustration. The nurse tried to calm him, but Jungwon’s agitation only seemed to grow.

Feeling a pang of sympathy and a bit of fear, you quickly walked away, not wanting to be seen. The intensity of his emotions was palpable, and it left you feeling unsettled.

You continued down the hallway and finally reached the room where the group therapy session was being held.

As you entered, you were greeted by a circle of chairs, each occupied by someone who, like you, was here to find a way through their struggles. The therapist, a gentle-looking woman named Dr. Lee, welcomed you with a warm smile, "Come in, take a seat," she said kindly.

You sat down, trying to focus on the session. The group began to share their stories, each person’s vulnerability and courage inspiring in its own way. But your mind kept drifting back to Jungwon, wondering what had pushed him to such anger.

During a break, you overheard two doctors talking near the doorway, "Did you hear about Jungwon?" one of them said. "He’s not going to be in the group sessions today."

“Again? Why?" the other doctor asked, sounding surprised.

“Apparently, his behavior has been too disruptive. They think it’s best that he stays in his room." the first doctor replied.

You felt a mix of emotions – relief that you wouldn’t have to witness another outburst, but also sadness for Jungwon. It was clear he was struggling deeply, and it pained you to think of him being isolated even further.

When the session resumed, you tried to focus on the stories being shared, drawing strength from the collective resilience of the group. But in the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but hope that Jungwon would find the help he needed, even if it wasn’t here in the group.

As the session ended, you left the room feeling a bit lighter, the support of the group giving you a sense of hope. But as you walked back to your room, you couldn’t shake the image of Jungwon’s angry face, and you silently wished him strength and healing in whatever path lay ahead for him.

After spending the morning in your room after two group sessions, it was time for lunch. You made your way down the corridor, the scent of food growing stronger with each step. The cafeteria was bustling with patients and staff, the noise a stark contrast to the quiet of your room.

You grabbed a tray and moved through the line, picking out a sandwich, some fruit, and a drink. As you turned to find a place to sit, a wave of uncertainty washed over you. The room was filled with people, but you felt alone, unsure where you belonged.

You scanned the room, looking for an empty seat. Just as you were about to settle at an isolated table in the corner, a guy approached you. He had a sly grin on his face, his eyes glinting with something that made you uneasy.

“Hey there,” he said, stepping closer, “Why don’t you sit with me?”

You hesitated, clutching your tray a little tighter. Before you could respond, he reached out, his hand brushing against your arm. Your heart raced, a sense of panic rising within you.

Suddenly, another voice cut through the tension, “Leave her alone.”

You looked up to see Jungwon standing there, his expression firm and serious. The guy stepped back, his grin fading as he realized he was outmatched.

“Mind your own business,” the guy muttered, but he didn’t push further. With a final glare, he walked away, leaving you and Jungwon standing there.

You turned towards Jungwon, you opened your mouth, ready to say a thank you, but Jungwon cut you off.

Jungwon turned to you, his eyes cold, “Seriously, can’t you handle anything on your own? If it weren’t for me saying something that guy probably would’ve assaulted you.” He snapped, “It’s like you were looking for trouble.”

His words stung, and before you could respond, he walked away, leaving you standing there with your tray. You felt a mix of gratitude and hurt, unsure how to process his sudden change in demeanor.

You found an empty table and sat down, the weight of the interaction pressing on your mind. As you ate, you couldn’t help but replay the scene in your head, wondering why Jungwon had been so harsh after helping you.

By the time you returned to your room, the encounter with Jungwon still lingered in your thoughts. The small spark of hope you had felt earlier was dimmed, replaced by confusion and a hint of sadness. Maybe, just maybe, this place wasn’t as comforting as you had hoped.

The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the hospital grounds. After a long day of therapy sessions and group activities, you decided to take a walk in the garden. The fresh air and the gentle rustling of leaves always brought you a sense of calm, a brief escape from the sterile walls of the hospital.

As you wandered through the garden, you noticed a figure sitting on a bench tucked away in a quiet corner. It was Jungwon. He seemed at peace, his eyes closed and a faint thin line playing on his lips. You paused, not wanting to disturb his moment of tranquility. There was something captivating about the way he looked, so different from his usual guarded demeanor.

You stood there for a while, watching him from a distance. The way the soft light highlighted his features made him seem almost ethereal. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice when his eyes fluttered open and landed on you.

“What are you staring at?” Jungwon’s voice cut through the silence, harsh and unexpected.

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden change in tone, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to what?” He interrupted, standing up and closing the distance between you, “Spy on me? Invade my space?”

“No, I just...” You struggled to find the right words, confusion and hurt mixing in your chest, “I was just walking and saw you. I didn’t mean any harm.”

Jungwon’s eyes narrowed, his expression hard, “You think just because we’re in the same place, you have the right to watch me like some kind of freak show?”

His words stung, each one like a sharp jab to your heart, “I didn’t mean it like that,” you said softly, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

For a moment, Jungwon’s face softened, but then he turned away, his shoulders tense, “Just... stay away from me,” He muttered before walking off, leaving you standing there in the fading light.

You watched him go, a heavy feeling settling in your chest. The peaceful moment you had witnessed was now overshadowed by his harsh words. You couldn’t understand why he had lashed out at you, why he seemed so angry when all you had done was admire the serenity he had found.

As you continued your walk, the garden no longer felt like a sanctuary. The beauty of the flowers and the gentle breeze couldn’t chase away the confusion and sadness that Jungwon’s words had left behind. You wondered if you would ever understand him, if there was more to his anger than what he had shown.

The next morning, you wake up with a sense of dread lingering from the previous evening's encounter with Jungwon. After getting ready, you head to the group therapy session, hoping to find some solace among others who understand your struggles.

As you enter the room, your eyes surprisingly immediately land on Jungwon. He's sitting in one of the seats, his expression unreadable. You hesitate for a moment, considering whether to sit next to him or not. The memory of his harsh words still stings, so you decide to sit far away, choosing a seat on the opposite side of the room.

The session begins, and Dr. Lee starts by asking everyone to share their experiences. As the circle progresses, you feel a knot forming in your stomach. When it’s your turn, you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves.

“I’m here because of a car crash,” You begin, your voice trembling slightly, “It happened a few months ago. My parents... they didn’t make it. I was the only one who survived.”

The room is silent, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. You notice Jungwon watching you intently, his eyes softening as you continue.

“I’ve been struggling with survivor’s guilt,” You admit, tears welling up in your eyes, “Every day feels like a battle, and sometimes I don’t know how to keep going.”

Dr. Lee nods empathetically, offering you a comforting smile, “Thank you for sharing that. It takes a lot of courage to open up about such a painful experience.”

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and vulnerability. As the therapist moves on to Jungwon, you can’t help but glance in his direction. He’s staring at the floor, his hands clenched into fists.

“Jungwon, would you like to share why you’re here?” Dr. Lee asks gently.

For a moment, there’s only silence. Jungwon’s jaw tightens, and he shakes his head, “I don’t want to talk about it,” He mutters, his voice barely audible.

Dr. Lee respects his choice and moves on to the next person, but you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to Jungwon’s story than he’s letting on. Throughout the session, you catch him glancing at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and something else you can’t quite place.

As the session comes to an end, you gather your things and head for the door. To your surprise, Jungwon approaches you, his expression softer than you’ve ever seen it.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says quietly, avoiding your gaze, “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just... I have my own issues, and sometimes it’s hard to control my anger.”

You nod, appreciating his apology, “It’s okay. We’re all dealing with something here.”

Jungwon finally meets your eyes, and for the first time, you see a glimmer of vulnerability. But then it goes away just as fast and he walks away, leaving you alone in the room.

After the therapy session, you head back to your room, feeling a mixture of relief and exhaustion. The weight of sharing your story and hearing others' experiences has left you emotionally drained. As you settle into your bed, there's a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," You say, your voice barely above a whisper.

The door opens, and the nurse from the day before steps in. You recognize her immediately as the one who had the confrontation with Jungwon. She smiles warmly at you, carrying a tray with some medication and a glass of water.

"How are you feeling today?" She asks, placing the tray on your bedside table.

"I'm okay," You reply, though your mind is buzzing with questions about Jungwon. You hesitate for a moment before deciding to ask, "Um, can I ask you something?"

"Of course," She says, her expression kind and patient.

"The day before yesterday, I saw you with Jungwon. He seemed really upset. Do you know what happened to him?" You ask, hoping for some insight into the boy who has been occupying your thoughts.

The nurse's smile falters slightly, and she shakes her head, "I'm sorry, but I can't discuss another patient's history or personal information."

You nod, understanding the need for confidentiality, but you can't help feeling a bit disappointed. The nurse notices your expression and seems to soften.

"Jungwon has been through a lot," She says carefully, choosing her words with caution, "Sometimes, people have experiences that are difficult to talk about, and it affects how they interact with others."

Her words linger in the air, and you sense there's more to Jungwon's story than she's letting on. The nurse gives you a knowing look, almost as if she's trying to convey something without breaking any rules.

"Just remember," She continues, "everyone here has their own battles. Some are just more visible than others."

You nod again, feeling a bit more at ease. The nurse's words, though vague, give you a glimpse into the pain Jungwon might be hiding. She hands you the medication and waits while you take it, then collects the empty glass.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to call," She says before leaving the room.

As the door closes behind her, you lie back on your bed, your mind racing with thoughts about Jungwon. You can't shake the feeling that there's something significant in his past that has shaped him into who he is now.

The sun was slowly setting indicating it was almost time for bed. You let out a yawn and rolled on your side. Your hoping tomorrow will be a more peaceful day.

The morning light filters through the thin curtains of your hospital room, gently waking you from a restless sleep. You stretch and decide that today, you'll make an effort to eat breakfast. It's been days since you arrived, and the thought of food hasn't crossed your mind much, but you know you need to take care of yourself.

You slip into a pair of slippers and make your way to the cafeteria. The smell of pancakes and coffee fills the air, and your stomach growls in response. You grab a tray and select a modest breakfast: some scrambled eggs, toast, and a small bowl of fruit. Scanning the room, you notice most of the tables are occupied by small groups or pairs, deep in conversation.

Finding an empty table near the window, you start to head that way when a voice calls out to you, "Hey, are you new here? Wanna sit with me?"

You turn to see a girl around your age, with bright eyes and a friendly smile. Grateful for the company, you nod and make your way over to her table, "Sure, thanks," you say, setting your tray down and taking a seat.

"I'm Mia," she introduces herself, extending a hand.

"Nice to meet you, Mia. I'm Y/n." You reply, shaking her hand.

As you start eating, Mia glances at you with curiosity, "I heard you talking about a crash in the group session yesterday. That must have been really tough."

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat, "Yeah, it was. It's been hard to process everything."

Mia gives you a sympathetic look, "I can't imagine what you're going through. But talking about it is a good step. It helps to share, even if it's painful."

You appreciate her understanding and openness. As you continue your conversation, you notice Jungwon entering the cafeteria.

He looks tired, his hair slightly disheveled, and yet he still looks handsome. There's a quiet determination in his eyes as he grabs a tray and starts selecting his breakfast.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you turn to Mia, "Do you know anything about Jungwon?" You ask, keeping your voice low.

Mia's expression shifts slightly, and she nods, "Yeah, I do. Jungwon's story is pretty intense. He doesn't talk about it much, but word gets around in a place like this."

She pauses, gathering her thoughts before continuing, "Jungwon had a rough childhood. His parents weren't around much, and he had to fend for himself a lot. There was an incident a few years ago that really changed him. He lost someone very close to him in a tragic accident. It left him with a lot of guilt and anger, and he's been struggling to cope ever since."

You listen intently, feeling a pang of empathy for Jungwon, "That sounds really hard," you say softly.

Mia nods, "It is. But he's strong, even if he doesn't always show it. He's been trying to work through his pain, just like the rest of us. Maybe one day, he'll open up more."

As Jungwon walks back towards his room with a tray, you can't help but feel a deeper connection to him. You understand now that his silence and his struggles are rooted in a past filled with pain.

As much as you wanna know more, you think focusing on building connections with the people around you first, starting with Mia. The road to healing is gonna be long, but with a friend by your side, it feels a little less daunting.

The room was filled with a mix of nervous energy and cautious optimism as the group gathered for their weekly session. Today’s topic was coping mechanisms, a crucial skill for everyone present.

The facilitator began the session by guiding the group through various techniques, from breathing exercises to journaling, aiming to equip them with tools to manage their emotions.

As the session progressed, the atmosphere lightened, and soon it was time for a break. You decided to grab a cup of coffee from the corner of the room with Mia. While you were pouring yourself a drink, you overheard two guys whispering near the window. Their voices were low, but the disdain in their tone was unmistakable.

“Did you hear what Jungwon did a few days ago? Always trying to start stuff," one of them sneered.

“Yeah, always trying to act like he's better than everyone else. It's pathetic," the other one added, chuckling.

You glanced over and noticed Jungwon standing nearby, his face paling as he caught every word. His fists clenched at his sides, and you could see the anger building in his eyes. Before you could intervene, Jungwon stormed over to the two guys.

"Say that to my face!" Jungwon shouted, his voice trembling with rage.

The room fell silent as everyone turned to watch the confrontation. The two guys smirked, clearly enjoying the reaction they had provoked. One of them stepped forward, ready to escalate the situation.

"You heard us. You're nothing but a—"

Before he could finish, Jungwon threw a punch, and chaos erupted. The facilitator and nurses rushed over, trying to separate them.

Amos tried grabbing you as you quickly moved to help, “Y/n no!” You heard Mia yell.

You grabbed Jungwon's arm in an attempt to pull him back. In the confusion, Jungwon swung his arm wildly, accidentally hitting you in the face.

Pain shot through your cheek, and you stumbled back, clutching your face. The room was a blur of shouting and movement as the nurses finally managed to pull Jungwon away, restraining him.

"Are you okay?" one of the nurses asked, her eyes wide with concern as she helped you to a chair. Mia quickly went by your side holding you up.

You nodded, still dazed from the impact. "I'm fine," you muttered, though your cheek throbbed painfully.

As Jungwon's anger flared, he didn't even notice that he had accidentally hit you. His focus remained solely on yelling at the guys, his voice echoing through the room.

The nurses quickly realized that the situation was spiraling out of control. Despite his protests, they managed to escort him out, hoping that some fresh air would help him cool down.

Mia sobbed, her worry not fading watching you hold your cheek, "Let's get you back to your room so they can patch you up properly."

You both made your way to your room, where the nurse was waiting with a first aid kit. The nurse looked up as they entered and gave the reader a grateful smile, “Thank you for stepping in earlier. It was very brave of you, but also quite dangerous."

You winced slightly as the nurse began to clean the cut on her cheek, "I know. I just couldn't stand by and do nothing."

The nurse nodded, her expression thoughtful, "What surprised me was how Jungwon seemed to calm down for a quick second when you touched him. It was like he recognized you and it brought him back to reality, even if just for a moment."

You thought back to the incident, remembering the brief flicker of recognition in Jungwon's eyes, "Yeah, I noticed that too. Maybe there's still a part of him that knows we're here to help."

The nurse finished applying a bandage to your cheek and gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder, "Let's hope so. Just be careful next time, alright?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and determination, "I will. Thanks for helping me out."

Mia gave the reader a gentle hug, "We'll get through this together. Just take it easy for now, okay?"

You smiled, grateful for her friend's support, "Okay, Mia. Thanks for being here."

She gave you a bright smile before exiting the room with the nurse. You let out a pained sigh and lay on your bed. You decided to just skip lunch and your group sessions for the rest of day by sleeping.

You weren’t sure what time it was given how it was pitch dark out when you were jolted awake by a sudden, insistent knocking on your door. Groggy and disoriented, you stumbled out of bed and made your way to the door, wondering who could be visiting at such an odd hour.

As you opened it, you were surprised to see Jungwon standing there, his expression a mix of frustration and something else she couldn't quite place.

"Jungwon? What are you doing here?" You asked, your voice still heavy with sleep.

He didn't waste any time, "Why did you step in earlier?" He demanded, his tone sharp.

You blinked, trying to gather your thoughts, "I wanted to help. I didn't want you to get into trouble."

Jungwon sighed, running a hand through his hair, "You can't do that again. When I get angry, I can't stop until I see the person on the ground, not breathing. Do you understand?"

A chill ran down your spine at his words. You could see the seriousness in his eyes, and it scared you, "What do they do to you, Jungwon?" You asked quietly, needing to understand what was happening to him.

He looked away, his jaw tightening, "They gave me a shot to make me fall asleep. It's the only way they can control me when I get like that."

Your heart ached for him. Your reached out and gently touched his arm, trying to offer some comfort, "I'm sorry you have to go through that. But you have to know that I'm here for you, even if it's dangerous."

Jungwon looked back at you, his eyes softening for a moment. But when he noticed your arm on him, he quickly retreated back, “Don’t step in like that again."

You nodded, understanding the gravity of his request. "I promise. But please, if there's anything I can do to help, let me know."

He scoffed, “I stopped asking for help a long time ago.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he turned away and left, leaving you alone once again. You quietly shut your door and head back to your bed. You fell asleep hoping that Jungwon will open up soon, even if it meant going out of boundaries.

The morning sun was setting through the window of your room where Mia and you sat on your bed, cards spread out between them. Mia was patiently teaching you a new card game, her voice calm and encouraging.

"Okay, so you want to match the suits, like this," Mia explained, demonstrating with a couple of cards. You nodded, trying to follow along, when there was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," You called out, glancing up from the cards. A nurse poked her head in and smiled.

"You have a visitor," The nurse said.

You frowned in confusion, "A visitor? Who could it be?"

The nurse stepped aside, and in walked your aunt, her face lighting up with a mix of relief and concern as she saw her niece, “Auntie!" You exclaimed, standing up quickly and moving to embrace her.

"How did you know I was here?" You asked, pulling back slightly to look at your aunt.

Your aunt sighed, brushing a strand of hair from the reader's face, "Your therapist told me. I was so worried when I heard."

As you both stood there, your aunt's eyes fell on the patch on your cheek. Her expression shifted to one of worry, "What happened to your face, sweetheart?"

You touched the patch self-consciously and gave a small, reassuring smile, “It's nothing serious, Auntie. Just a little accident. I'm doing fine, really."

Mia, sensing the need for some privacy, began to gather up the cards, "I'll give you two some time to catch up," She said kindly, offering you a supportive smile before slipping out of the room.

Your aunt guided you back to the bed, sitting down beside her, “Tell me how you're really doing," She insisted gently.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "It's been tough, but I'm managing. The doctors and nurses here are great, and Mia's been a big help. I'm working through things with my therapist, and I feel like I'm making progress."

Your aunt nodded, her eyes filled with empathy, "I'm glad to hear that. It's important to take things one day at a time. Just know that I'm here for you, no matter what."

You felt a wave of gratitude and relief wash over her, “Thank you, Auntie. That means a lot."

You both spent the next hour talking, catching up on family news and sharing memories. Your aunt's presence was a comforting reminder of home and the support system waiting for you outside the hospital walls.

As you talked, you felt a renewed sense of hope and determination to keep pushing forward on your journey to recovery.

After spending a comforting hour with your aunt, you felt a sense of warmth and reassurance. You both shared a heartfelt hug, and you walked your aunt to the door of the hospital room.

"Thank you for coming, Auntie. It really means a lot to me," You said, your voice filled with gratitude.

"Anytime, sweetheart. Remember, I'm just a phone call away," Your aunt replied, giving one last squeeze before heading down the hallway.

You watched your aunt leave before turning back to her room. You hesitated for a moment, then decided to go find Mia. You wanted to invite Mia back to your room to continue their card game, hoping it would help distract you from the day's emotions.

As you approached Mia's room, the reader heard voices inside. You paused at the slightly ajar door and peeked in, your curiosity piqued. Mia was sitting on the edge of her bed, and Jungwon was standing in front of her, his expression tense.

"When are you going to tell her, Jungwon?" Mia asked, her voice filled with concern.

Jungwon's face hardened, and he responded harshly, "That's none of your business, Mia. Stay out of it."

Your heart sank as you watched the exchange. You noticed Jungwon turning to the door and quickly hid behind a chair. After he stormed out the room, walking the opposite direction you stood up, but only to be met face to face with Mia.

Mia looked up and saw you standing there, her eyes widening in surprise, “Oh, hey," She said, trying to mask her anxiety with a forced smile, "I didn't see you there."

You stepped in front of her, your mind racing with questions, "I was just coming to ask if you wanted to come back to my room," You said slowly, eyes flickering to the door where Jungwon had just exited.

Mia stood up, her expression softening, "Of course, I'd love to. I'm sorry about that... you know, what you just saw. It's... complicated."

You nodded, sensing Mia's reluctance to explain further, "It's okay," You said, though your mind was far from at ease, "Let's just go back and finish our game."

Mia followed you back to your room, the tension from the previous conversation still lingering in the air. You both sat down on your bed, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something important was being kept from you. You glanced at Mia, who was shuffling the cards with a focused expression, and decided not to press the issue for now.

As you both resumed the game, you tried to push the unsettling encounter out of your mind. But the questions remained, nagging at the back of your thoughts. What was Jungwon supposed to tell that person? And why was Mia so concerned? The answers would have to wait, but you knew you couldn't ignore them forever.

After a fun and intense game of cards, you and Mia share a laugh together as you kept messing up. The room is filled with warmth and the faint smell of antiseptic, but the laughter makes it feel almost like home.

You stand up, stretching slightly before announcing, "I'm going to use the restroom, I'll be right back."

As you walk down the dimly lit hospital corridor, the sound of your footsteps echoes softly. Turning a corner, you notice a faint haze and the unmistakable scent of cigarette smoke.

Curiosity piqued, you peek around the corner and see a group of guys huddled together, smoking. Their faces are shadowed, and their laughter is low and menacing.

Your heart races as they try to quietly walk away, hoping to avoid any confrontation. But before you can escape, one of the guys notices and calls out, "Hey, where do you think you're going?" You freeze, feeling a knot of fear tighten in your stomach.

"Come here," Another guy demands, his voice rough. You hesitate but steps closer, trying to stay calm, "If you don’t tell anyone, we’ll let you have a hit." One of them says, holding out a cigarette. You shake your head, backing away slightly.

"No, thanks, we’re not supposed to be smoking anyways." You reply, trying to keep your voice steady. But the group steps closer, surrounding you. Your mind flashes back to what Jungwon had said earlier about being weak. Determined to prove him wrong, you tried to push past them, but one of the guys grabs your arm.

"What's the matter? Scared?" He taunts. Your pulse quickens, and you yank your arm free, shoving the guy away. Anger flares in his eyes, and the group tightens their circle.

"Leave me alone," You say firmly, but your voice wavers. The guys laugh mockingly, and one of them steps forward, pushing you against the wall.

"You're not going anywhere," He sneers. You struggles, trying to fight them off, but your outnumbered. The group grows more aggressive, their grip tightening.

Just as things seem dire, a loud voice echoes down the hallway, "Hey! What’s going on here?" You look up, hope sparking in your eyes. A nurse rounds the corner, her expression stern and authoritative. The group hesitates, then reluctantly backs off, muttering under their breaths as they disperse.

The nurse rushes to your side, helping you stand, "Are you okay?" She asks, concern evident in her voice. You nod, still shaken but relieved.

"Yeah, I think so," You reply, your voice trembling slightly. The nurse escorts you back to your room, as you were reaching your room, you glanced back over your shoulder.

That's when you saw him—Jungwon. He stood at the edge of the hall, his expression serious and intense. He had been watching the entire scene unfold, his eyes never leaving you.

The nurse led you inside your room. You collapse into a chair, trying to steady your breathing, but your mind was also elsewhere. You couldn't shake the image of Jungwon standing there, watching you with such intensity. What had he been thinking? Why hadn't he stepped in to help when he saw you having trouble?

Mia goes up to you, worry etched on her face, "What happened?" She asks. You takes a deep breath, recounting the encounter briefly. Mia listens, her expression shifting from concern to anger.

"Those guys are the real weak ones," She says firmly, “You stood up to them, and that's what matters." You nod, feeling a sense of pride and relief wash over you.

When the nurse finally leaves, you found yourself drawn to the door, your gaze searching for Jungwon. He was still there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Your eyes met, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

Finally, Jungwon pushed off the wall and walked the opposite way, leaving you confused and upset. Mia voice slowly disappeared as you continued staring at the door.

The night was thick with silence, the kind that made every creak and whisper seem amplified. You tossed and turned in your bed, unable to find any semblance of sleep. Frustration gnawed at you, and you finally decided that a walk might help clear your mind. Slipping out of bed, you padded quietly down the sterile hallways and out into the hospital garden.

The garden was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, casting long shadows that danced with the gentle breeze. As you wandered aimlessly, you spotted a familiar figure seated at a bench—Jungwon. He was in the same spot you had seen him before, his posture rigid, his gaze distant. You felt a pang of something you couldn't quite name and decided to turn away.

But before you could take another step, his voice cut through the stillness, "Stop," He commanded, his tone cold and unyielding. You froze, your heart pounding, "Sit with me," He added, though it was less of a request and more of an order.

You hesitated, your pride and fear warring within you, "No, I don't think I should," You replied softly, trying to muster the courage to walk away.

Jungwon's expression darkened, and he stood up, closing the distance between them in a few quick strides, "I said, sit with me," He repeated, his voice harsh and leaving no room for argument.

Swallowing your apprehension, you nodded and followed him back to the bench. You both sat in silence for a few moments, the tension between you guys palpable.

Gradually, the stillness of the night began to soothe your nerves, and you found yourself gazing up at the stars. They seemed to twinkle with a kind of serene indifference, a stark contrast to the turmoil in your heart.

Jungwon finally broke the silence, "You were brave," He said, his voice softer now but still carrying that edge of seriousness, "What you did with those guys... it took guts."

You glanced at him, surprised by the unexpected compliment, "I just didn't want to be seen as weak," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He turned to look at you, his boba eyes reflecting the starlight, "Bravery isn't about never being scared. It's about facing your fears, even when you're terrified," He said quietly. "You did that. Although I think I’m the cause to why you acted like that."

His words hung in the air between them, and you felt a mix of emotions—gratitude, confusion, and something else you couldn't quite place. You both sat there for a while longer, simply admiring the stars. The silence between you guys was no longer tense but filled with an unspoken understanding. As the night wore on, you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

When you both finally stood to leave, Jungwon's serious demeanor softened just a bit, "Next time you can't sleep, come find me," He said. "We can admire the stars together."

Your eyes widened before a soft smile rose on your lips, feeling a warmth spread through your chest, "I will," You promised. And as you walked back to your room, you felt a sense of peace you hadn't known you needed.

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, gently waking you from a restless sleep. You rubbed your eyes and stretched, knowing today was the group therapy session.

You got ready, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness. The sessions lately have been going good with Mia by your side. You felt grateful with her, but today felt different.

As you walked into the room, you noticed Jungwon sitting alone, his usual cold and serious demeanor even more pronounced.

You took a deep breath and decided to sit next to him. He gave you a brief glance but didn’t object, which you took as a good sign.

The session began, and everyone shared their updates. You could feel the tension in the room when it was Jungwon’s turn. He had never opened up before, always keeping his emotions tightly locked away.

To everyone’s surprise, Jungwon started to speak. His voice was low and controlled as he began, "My parents… they never really cared for me. It was always about what I could do for them, not about who I was or how I felt."

The room fell silent, everyone hanging on his every word. He didn’t go into much detail, but the mere fact that he was sharing was a huge step. When he finished, he simply looked down, not saying anything more.

You felt a surge of pride for him. Jungwon had taken a significant step by opening up, even if it was brief. The group might have been shocked, but you understood the courage it took for him to speak up.

Dr. Lee immediately spoke, “T-Thats amazing that you shared Jungwon. I’m glad you did.” Jungwon didn’t say anything.

As the session ended, you gave him a small, encouraging smile, hoping it conveyed your support. He didn’t give a smile back and simply got up and left. Mia stood next to you, “I can’t believe he actually said something.”

You gave her a small chuckle, “Me too. It’s a big step.” You murmured. Mia nodded her head. You both headed to lunch with. few other people.

As you and Mia joked around, ready to head to the cafeteria, Dr. Kim's voice halted you in your tracks, "Can I speak with you for a moment?" She asked, her tone serious. You turned to see her standing in the doorway of her office, her expression unreadable.

"Sure, Dr. Kim," you replied, you looked at Mia who gave you an understanding nod, and you following her into the room. She closed the door behind you and gestured for you to sit. You took a seat, feeling a knot of anxiety form in your stomach.

"I saw you in the garden last night," Dr. Kim began, her eyes locking onto yours, "With Jungwon."

Your heart skipped a beat. You and Jungwon had thought you were alone, away from prying eyes, "I... we were just talking," You stammered, unsure of what to say.

Dr. Kim nodded, her expression softening slightly, "I understand that you're trying to help him. And I commend you for that. Jungwon is a difficult person to reach, and it seems you've managed to get through to him in a way that no one else has."

You felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe she was going to support your friendship with Jungwon. But then her expression turned serious again, "However, I need to warn you. Jungwon is a troubled person. He has a lot of issues that he's dealing with, and I'm concerned about the impact it could have on you."

You opened your mouth to protest, but she held up a hand to stop you, "I know you care about him. But you need to think about your own well-being too. It's not your responsibility to fix him. He needs professional help, and while your support is valuable, it can't replace that."

Her words stung, but you knew she was right. Jungwon had been through a lot, and his cold, hard exterior was a defense mechanism he had built to protect himself.

You had seen glimpses of the real Jungwon, the one who was vulnerable and hurting, but you also knew that he had a long road ahead of him.

"I just want you to be careful," Dr. Kim continued, "You have a big heart, and it's admirable that you want to help. But don't lose yourself in the process."

You nodded, feeling a mix of emotions. You cared about Jungwon deeply, but you also understood the risks involved, "I understand, Dr. Kim. I'll be careful."

She gave you a small smile, her eyes filled with empathy, "That's all I ask. Now, go and enjoy your lunch. And remember, I'm here if you need to talk."

You left her office, your mind racing with thoughts. You knew you couldn't abandon Jungwon, but you also had to take care of yourself. It was a delicate balance, one that you would have to navigate carefully.

As you walked to the cafeteria, you resolved to be there for Jungwon, but also to heed Dr. Kim's advice. You would find a way to support him without losing yourself in the process.

Once you came to the cafeteria, you sat down in front of Mia. Mia looked up from her book, immediately noticing the troubled expression on your face.

"What's wrong?" She asked, concern evident in her voice.

You sighed and sat down on your bed, running a hand through your hair, "Dr. Kim told me to stay away from Jungwon," You admitted, feeling a lump form in your throat, "She said he's too troubled and that I need to think about my own well-being."

Mia's eyes widened slightly, and she put her book aside, "She told me the same thing," Mia confessed, her voice soft, "And back then, I actually did stay away from him."

You looked at her, surprised, "How long have you known Jungwon?"

Mia sighed, leaning back against the headboard, "Jungwon was in the hospital longer than I was," She explained, "But I only knew him because my guy friend used to be friends with him before he got discharged. After my friend left, I stopped talking to Jungwon."

You felt a pang of sympathy for Jungwon, realizing how many people had distanced themselves from him, "Why did you stop talking to him?"

Mia shrugged, a sad smile on her face, "It was easier that way. Jungwon's issues were too much for me to handle, and I had to focus on my own recovery. But I always felt guilty about it. I did promise my guy friend that I’d stay by Jungwon side for him."

You nodded, understanding her perspective, "I don't want to abandon him," You said softly, "But I also don't want to lose myself in the process."

Mia reached out and squeezed your hand, "It's a tough situation," She said gently, "But you have to find a balance. You can support him, but you also need to take care of yourself. Don't let his problems consume you."

You took a deep breath, feeling a bit more grounded, "Thanks, Mia. I needed to hear that."

She smiled, her eyes filled with empathy, "Anytime. Just remember, you're not alone in this. We're all here for you."

You walked into the second group session, scanning the room for familiar faces. But one face was missing – Jungwon. You assumed he had already spoken and decided not to stick around. The session went on, but your mind kept drifting back to him, wondering what he was up to.

Once the session ended, you made your way back to your room. As you passed Dr. Kim's office, you were startled by the sound of yelling. You peered inside and saw Jungwon, his face contorted with rage, shouting at Dr. Kim.

"How could you do this to me?" He screamed, his voice filled with anger and hurt. He slammed his fist on her desk, sending papers flying. Dr. Kim tried to calm him down, but he was beyond reason.

Your heart pounded as you watched in shock. Jungwon's outburst escalated, and he started throwing things off the shelves, his fury uncontrollable. Nurses and doctors rushed in, trying to restrain him.

"No! Let me go!" Jungwon yelled, struggling against their grip.

You couldn't just stand there, "Don't give him a shot!" You shouted, running towards them, "Please, just let him calm down on his own."

The medical staff hesitated, clearly unsure of how to proceed. Dr. Kim looked at you, her expression a mix of concern and frustration, "We're trying to help him," She said firmly.

"I know," You replied, your voice trembling, "But sedating him won't solve anything. He needs to feel like he has some control."

Slowly, Jungwon's resistance weakened, and he slumped in the doctors' hold, exhausted from his outburst. They guided him back to his room, and you followed closely behind, making sure they didn't administer any medication.

As you reached his room, you stepped inside, and the staff left, giving you a moment alone with him. Jungwon sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, breathing heavily.

"Hey," You said softly, sitting down next to him, "Are you okay?"

He looked up at you, his eyes red and filled with a mix of anger and sadness, "I don't know," He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, "Everything just feels so messed up."

You placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, "It's okay to feel that way," You said gently, “But you don't have to go through it alone. We're all here to help you, even if it doesn't always feel that way."

Jungwon nodded slowly, absorbing your words. It was silent for a few seconds before he slowly shrugged you off. Not again. "Thanks," He muttered, "I just... I don't know how to deal with all of this."

"We'll figure it out together," You promised. "One step at a time."

For the first time since you entered the room, you saw a flicker of hope in Jungwon's eyes. It was a small step, but it was a step in the right direction. And as you sat there with him, you knew you would do everything in your power to help him find his way.

You waited patiently for a few seconds before you decided to ask him a question, “Jungwon, what was Dr. Kim saying to you?” You questioned. It was silent for a while.

You felt like you stepped out of line and tried to cover it up, but Jungwon spoke before you did, “She was saying that… that my sister was gonna see me today, but she told her that I wasn’t in right mind to be visisted.” He whispered.

You were lost in thought. Jungwon's expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features, "I don't know," He muttered, looking away, "I just... don't."

"That doesn't make sense," you pressed gently, "Why would she say that to her? I haven’t really known you for a long time, but I know you’d never do something stupid to your sister."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "It's complicated," He said, his voice softer now, "I have... issues."

You took a step closer, your heart aching for him, "Jungwon, what kind of issues?"

Jungwon hesitated, his eyes darting around as if looking for an escape. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, "Anger issues. People don't want to be near me because of it."

You felt a pang of sadness, "Is that why you were upset? Because you think your sister wouldn't want to be near you?"

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor, "Yeah. I guess... I just assumed she’d be like everyone else."

“Jungwon," you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "I'm not like everyone else. I want to understand you, to help you if I can. And I know your sister would too.”

He looked up, his eyes filled with a mix of uncertainty, "Why would you want to do that?"

"Because I care about you," you replied honestly, "Everyone has their struggles, and it doesn't make them any less worthy of friendship or support."

For a moment, Jungwon seemed to struggle with his emotions. Then, slowly, he began to open up, "I've always had a hard time controlling my anger," He admitted, "It scares people away. They think I'm dangerous, that I'll hurt them."

"But that's not who you are," You said firmly, "You're more than your anger. And I'm willing to stand by you, if you'll let me."

Jungwon stared at you for a hot second before staring down on the ground. You can tell he was fighting some dry comment, "Thank you," He whispered, "I don't know if I deserve it, but... thank you."

You smiled, feeling a sense of relief and hope? "We'll figure it out together," you promised.

As you both sat there, but being able to move, you knew this was a big step for Jungwon to opening up to you. You hoped you helped in some way about being comfortable.

"Jungwon, can I ask you another question?" You asked gently.

He looked at you, you noticed his eyes shifted from soft to hard and guarded, "What is it?”

"I want to understand you better," You said, "I want to know why you always seem so angry." If you were going to help him, you’d have to know why he always felt angry and out of place.

Jungwon sighed, running a hand through his hair, "It's complicated," He muttered, looking away.

"Try me," You encouraged, "I'm here to listen."

He hesitated for a moment, then finally spoke, his voice low and filled with pain, "I’m not really sure why I have it, but my parents never paid much attention to me," He began, "They were always too busy with their own lives. The only person who ever really cared about me was my older sister. She promised she'd always be there for me, but when she went to college, she never contacted me again. No calls, no visits. Nothing."

You felt your heart ache for him, "That must have been really hard."

"It was," Jungwon admitted, "But it got worse. I had a best friend, Sunoo. He was the only one who understood me, who made me feel like I wasn't alone. But then he passed away. It felt like the universe was against me, like everyone I cared about would eventually leave me."

You saw his eyes turning glossy, but then he blinked and harshly wiped them away, "I'm so sorry, Jungwon," You whispered, "That must have been unbearable."

He nodded, “That's why I never got close to people. I pushed everyone away, even Mia and our other friend. Because at the end of the day, they left me too. I couldn't bear the thought of getting close to someone else, only to lose them."

You reached out and gently took his hand, "You're not alone anymore, Jungwon. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere.”

“How do I know if I can trust you?” He whispered. You immediately fought the urge to hug him. Like you said before, you aren’t really that close. But he was willing to open up to you. So you’ll leave at that for now.

“Because I’m not willing to leave anytime soon until you’re better.” You spoke, your face serious.

Jungwon didn’t say anything, instead he looked out his window. You knew you didn’t need another reason to stay any longer, so you stood up from his bed and headed towards the door.

“Please let me know if you need anything Jungwon.” You said. Jungwon didn’t look at you. You let out a quiet sigh before shutting his door with a click.

The day had been long, and as the sun dipped below the horizon, the hospital began to quiet down. You had just finished your last group session for the day and decided to take a moment for yourself. After a quick trip to the bathroom, you were headed back to your room when you overheard a conversation that stopped you in your tracks.

Two nurses were talking in hushed tones near the nurses' station, "I heard Dr. Kim is planning to transfer Jungwon to another hospital," One of them said, her voice tinged with concern, "He's been so angry and upset lately. They think a change of environment might help."

Your heart skipped a beat. Jungwon was going to be sent away? You couldn't believe it. After you finally got to know more about him, he’s being sent away?

Without thinking, you made your way to Jungwon's room. The hallway seemed longer than usual, your footsteps echoing in the silence. When you reached his door, you hesitated for a moment, gathering your thoughts. Then, summoning your courage, you knocked softly.

A few moments later, the door opened, and there stood Jungwon, his expression as unreadable, "What is it?" He asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, "I just overheard the nurses talking. They said Dr. Kim is planning to transfer you to another hospital."

Jungwon's face remained impassive, showing no sign of surprise or concern. "I knew she was gonna do something," He replied simply, his tone flat.

You felt a wave of frustration and sadness wash over you. How could he be so indifferent? "Aren't you worried? Don't you care?" You asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Jungwon's eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something—an emotion, perhaps—before it disappeared, "It's not my decision to make," He said quietly, "If she think it's best for me, then so be it."

You stood there, searching for the right words, "I just... I don't want you to go," You admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, "I feel like I’ve known you too late, I still want to help you.”

Jungwon's gaze softened ever so slightly, but he remained silent. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, "Thank you," He said, his voice almost gentle, "But I guess Kim was right, it's easier to keep people at a distance."

You suddenly felt anger. Why does he listen to her? “Jungwon, what Dr. Kim says to you isn’t true. I don’t know why she treats you so horrible, but it’s not right!”

The air in the room was thick with tension after you finished. The words hung in the air, heavy and significant, but Jungwon's face remained impassive, showing no trace of emotion. You could feel your frustration building, a knot tightening in your chest. How could he just stand there, so unresponsive, when everything was falling apart around you?

"Jungwon," you began, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation, “Did you even hear what Dr. Kim said? Do you even care?"

Jungwon remained silent, his eyes fixed on a spot somewhere beyond you. It was as if he was in another world, completely detached from the reality of the situation. The silence stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your nails digging into your palms.

“Say something, Jungwon!" You finally shouted, unable to hold back any longer, "Anything! Just let me know that you're feeling the same way I’m feeling!"

Before you could utter another word, Jungwon moved. In an instant, he was in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face. His eyes, which had seemed so distant moments ago, were now filled with an intensity that took your breath away. And then, without warning, he kissed you.

The kiss was soft yet urgent, a silent plea for understanding and forgiveness. It was as if he was pouring all the emotions he couldn't express into that single, tender moment. Your anger and frustration melted away, replaced by a flood of warmth and love. When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, you could see the unspoken apology in his eyes.

“I'm sorry," He whispered, his voice barely audible, "I just... I don’t know how to handle it. But I'm here. I'm with you."

You stared at his apologetic eyes. He kissed you. You suddenly felt that wave of sadness and before you could stop yourself, tears poured out of your eyes. Jungwon felt you tug at his shirt as you cried.

You didn’t want him to leave. To leave you. You don’t know how much longer you would stay here, and to have Jungwon be alone once again. Jungwon let your cry in his shirt, unable to push you away. And at the moment, the only thing left was you cries and sobs, and that one last string that was holding you and Jungwon together.

You woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, remnants of last night's tears still evident on your pillow. Every muscle in your body felt heavy, weighed down by the emotional turmoil you had gone through. The thought of eating breakfast or attending the group session seemed unbearable, so you decided to stay in bed, hoping to find some solace in the quiet of your room.

A soft knock on your door shattered the silence. You hesitated for a moment, then slowly got up to answer it. Standing there was Jungwon, his expression serious and his demeanor cold. The warmth and tenderness from last night seemed like a distant memory.

"Jungwon," You said, your voice barely above a whisper, “What are you doing here?"

"I'm leaving in a week," He stated bluntly, his eyes not meeting yours. The words hit you like a ton of bricks, and you felt a fresh wave of sadness wash over you.

"In a week?" you repeated, your voice trembling.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer and gently rubbed your cheek, his touch surprisingly comforting despite his cold exterior. The memory of the kiss from last night flashed in your mind, and you couldn't help but ask the question that had been haunting you.

“Why did you kiss me, Jungwon?" You asked, your eyes searching his for any hint of the emotions he seemed to hide so well.

He finally looked at you, his gaze intense and unreadable, "I don’t know," He admitted, his voice quiet but firm, "It was just something I've been wanting to do."

The simplicity of his answer left you speechless. You had expected a deeper explanation, something that would make sense of the confusion and pain you were feeling. But as you stood there, looking into his eyes, you realized that sometimes, emotions couldn't be neatly explained or understood. They just were.

Jungwon's touch lingered on your cheek for a moment longer before he pulled away, his expression softening just a fraction, "Just because I’m leaving, that doesn’t mean to take advantage of yourself Y/n. Take care of yourself," He said.

Now that you’ve looked at it, you noticed how his expressions were. His once anger that he always felt seemed to just have drifted away from him. He looked numb. Maybe he was only feeling that way towards you, or that he just gave up on trying.

“I won’t. Thank you.” You muttered.

It had been a long, dreading week since you learned that Jungwon was leaving on Friday. The news had hit you hard, but you resolved to spend as much time with him as possible before he left. Each day felt like it was slipping through your fingers, and the more you were with him, the more you noticed how numb he seemed. The seriousness that he held never wavered, and it was as if he was trying to distance himself emotionally before his departure.

You tried to make the most of the time you had, mostly in the garden and seeing the stars together. You liked watching his expression soften as he stared up at the stars.

The days flew by, and before you knew it, it was Friday—the day Jungwon was leaving. The morning felt heavy with unspoken words and emotions. You met him at the place where you'd first met, a small, quiet spot that held so many memories. He stood there, his face as unreadable as ever.

"Jungwon," you began, your voice trembling, "I can't believe today is the day."

He nodded, his eyes fixed on a point in the distance, "Yeah."

You took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill, "I've noticed how numb you've been this week. Why, Jungwon? Why do you keep everything inside?"

He finally looked at you, his eyes softening just a bit, "It's just how I deal with things," He said quietly, "It's easier to be numb than to feel everything at once."

You reached out and took his hand, hoping to break through the walls he had built around himself, "But you don't have to do it alone. You don't have to shut everyone out."

For a moment, he squeezed your hand, a small but significant gesture, “I know," He said, his voice barely above a whisper, "But it's hard for me to open up. Especially now."

You felt a tear escape and quickly wiped it away, "I'll miss you, Jungwon. More than you know."

He took a step closer, his expression softening even more, "I'll miss you too," he admitted, his voice filled with an emotion you hadn't heard before, “More than I can say."

You stood there in silence, holding onto each other, trying to memorize every detail of this moment. Finally, he pulled away.

“Take care of yourself," He said, his voice steady but tinged with sadness.

"You too," You replied, your heart aching.

As he walked away, you felt a mix of sorrow and hope. Sorrow for the time you were losing, but hope that maybe, this wasn't the end.

You spent your days in the hospital feeling a void that couldn't be filled. Jungwon's absence was a constant ache in your heart. Every corner of the hospital reminded you of him, from the cafeteria where you'd share quiet thoughts to the garden where you'd steal moments of peace together.

Mia, ever observant, noticed the change in you almost immediately. One day, she approached you with a concerned look, "Hey, are you doing okay? You seem different lately."

You forced a smile, trying to hide the turmoil inside, "I'm fine, Mia. I promised Jungwon I wouldn't change because he left."

Mia gave you a sympathetic look, "It's okay to feel a little sad, you know. It's only natural."

You sighed, feeling a weight lift slightly from your shoulders, "Yeah, you're right. I do miss him a lot."

Dr. Kim had also noticed the change in you. One afternoon, she called you into her office. You sat down, feeling a bit anxious as she looked at you with a serious expression.

"I've noticed a difference in you lately," She began, "I was hoping you didn't have romantic feelings for Jungwon, as that's not allowed."

Her words stung, and you felt a mix of anger and sadness, "Why would you say that? Jungwon is one of the kindest people I know."

Dr. Kim sighed, her expression softening slightly, "Jungwon is not in his right mind right now. It's important for you to focus on your own well-being. I also noticed Jungwon change when he was leaving. You must mean a lot to him, but like I said, that’s not allowed."

You felt a surge of frustration, “How can you say that? You don't know him like I do."

Dr. Kim looked at you, her eyes filled with concern, "You're right Y/n, I don’t. I'm just looking out for you. It's important to stay professional and keep your emotions in check. You’re not here to look for love.”

You left her office feeling even more conflicted. You missed Jungwon deeply, and now you had to navigate your emotions while trying to remain professional. But you knew one thing for sure—you wouldn't let anyone dictate how you felt about Jungwon.

The sleepless nights seemed endless. Each one was a reminder of how much you missed Jungwon. You'd lie awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying memories of him in your mind. The hospital felt colder and lonelier without his presence.

In an effort to cope, you started attending group therapy sessions. At first, it was difficult to open up, but over time, you found solace in the shared experiences of others. The group became a small beacon of hope, helping you feel a bit better day by day.

Despite the progress, the ache of missing Jungwon never fully went away. His absence was a constant shadow, but you learned to manage it better. The group sessions taught you valuable coping mechanisms, and slowly, you started to find small moments of peace.

Months passed, and you began to notice a change in yourself. The sleepless nights became less frequent, and you started to feel a sense of normalcy returning to your life. You still missed Jungwon deeply, but you were learning to live with that feeling.

Finally, the day came when you were getting discharged. It felt surreal to be leaving the hospital after so long. You packed your things, feeling a mix of emotions—relief, anxiety, and a lingering sadness. As you walked through the halls one last time, you couldn't help but think of Jungwon and all the moments you shared.

The day had finally arrived. After months of being in the mental hospital, you were getting discharged. You packed your belongings, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. As you walked through the familiar halls one last time, you made your way to Mia's room. Mia had become a close friend during your stay, and saying goodbye was bittersweet.

"Mia, I'm leaving today," You said softly, trying to hold back tears.

Mia smiled, though her eyes were watery, “I'm so happy for you. You've come so far. Promise me you'll take care of yourself out there."

You nodded, giving her a tight hug, "I promise. I'll miss you."

With a heavy heart, you left Mia's room and headed towards the exit. Just before you reached the door, you saw Dr. Kim approaching.

"Hello, Dr. Kim," you greeted her.

Dr. Kim smiled warmly, maintaining her professional demeanor, "I'm proud of you. You've made remarkable progress. Remember to take things one day at a time."

"Thank you, Dr. Kim. I couldn't have done it without your help," You replied sincerely.

Dr. Kim handed you a folded piece of paper, "This is for you. Open it when you have a moment."

Curious, you took the paper and nodded, "Thank you."

You walked out of the hospital and got into the cab waiting for you. As the cab started moving, you unfolded the paper. It was a letter. The handwriting was familiar, and your heart skipped a beat as you realized it was from Jungwon.

Dear Y/n, I'm so sorry I never had the courage to confess my feelings to you. I've loved you ever since we first spoke. I regret not telling you sooner. I hope you can forgive me. If you want to, visit me anytime at [hospital address]. I’m hoping you meant what you said you’ll never leave me.

Love, Jungwon.

Tears streamed down your face as you read the letter. The emotions were overwhelming. You had missed Jungwon deeply, and knowing he felt the same way brought both pain and relief. You clutched the letter to your chest, feeling a mix of sorrow and hope for the future.

As the cab drove on, you looked out the window, the world outside seemed a little brighter. A new sense suddenly came to you and that’s when you had an idea.

You told the cab driver to take you to the hospital where Jungwon was staying. The drive felt like an eternity, your mind racing with thoughts of what you would say and how he would react. You hadn't seen him in so long, and the anticipation was almost unbearable.

When the cab finally pulled up to the hospital, you paid the driver and stepped out, taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. You walked through the sliding doors and approached the front desk, where a nurse was busy with paperwork.

"Excuse me," You said, trying to keep your voice steady, “I'm looking for Yang Jungwon. Is he still here?"

The nurse looked up and smiled kindly, "Yes, he is. He's in room 312. Just take the elevator to the third floor and turn left."

You thanked her and made your way to the elevator, your heart pounding in your chest. As the elevator doors closed, you took another deep breath, trying to calm yourself. When the doors opened on the third floor, you followed the nurse's directions and walked down the hallway until you reached room 312.

You hesitated for a moment, your hand hovering over the door handle. Finally, you gathered your courage and pushed the door open. There he was, sitting up in bed, looking healthier than you had ever seen him. His skin had a healthy glow, and his eyes were brighter. He had changed so much in the months since you'd last seen him.

"Jungwon," You said softly.

He looked up, and for a moment, his cold exterior seemed to melt away, "You came," he said, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and relief.

Without thinking, you rushed forward and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly. He stiffened for a moment, then slowly relaxed, hugging you back just as tightly.

"I missed you so much," You whispered, tears streaming down your face.

"I missed you too," He replied, his voice cracking with emotion, "I'm so glad you're here."

You pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes, "How are you feeling?"

"Better," He said with a small smile, "A lot better, thanks to you."

You walked into Jungwon's room, immediately struck by how neat and orderly everything was. The room's cold, clinical atmosphere seemed to match his reputation. But you knew better; you knew that beneath that exterior was someone worth caring for.

You sat down on the edge of his bed, feeling the tension in the air, "How's everything been here?" you asked softly.

Jungwon looked at you, his eyes softening for a moment, "A lot better," he said, his voice tinged with relief.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you, "I'm so glad to hear that. I was really worried about you."

He nodded, then his expression became more serious, "I'm relieved that you got discharged. I was worried too."

You reached out and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, "I hope you get discharged soon too. You deserve to be out of here."

Jungwon sighed, looking around the room, "No one has visited me. My sister is always so busy; she doesn't get the chance."

You felt a pang of sadness for him, "I'd like to meet her," You said, surprising even yourself with the sudden declaration.

He looked at you, confusion flickering in his eyes, "Why?" He asked, but he didn't press further.

"Where do you think she lives?" You asked, determined.

Jungwon gave you a small, grateful smile, "I think she lives in the city, not too far from here. [apartment adress]?"

You nodded, already planning your visit, "I'll go see her and tell her about you. She needs to know how you're doing."

For the first time in a long while, Jungwon looked genuinely relieved, "Thank you," He said softly, "That means a lot to me."

You spent the rest of the visit talking about his stay here and how much everything was different. You noticed how better he looked when he spoke about different things.

You stood by Jungwon's hospital bed, feeling a mix of emotions. It was time to say goodbye, but you promised yourself it wouldn't be for long, "I'll visit you again soon," You said, your voice filled with determination.

Jungwon looked at you, his usual stoic expression softening slightly, "I'll be waiting," He replied.

Gathering your courage, you leaned in and gave him a shy peck on the cheek. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to you. Jungwon's lips curled into a small smile, a rare sight that warmed your heart.

You turned to leave, glancing back one last time before heading out of the room. As you walked down the hospital corridor, you couldn't help but feel a sense of urgency. You needed to see his sister and tell her everything.

The cab ride felt like an eternity, but finally, you reached the apartment building where Jungwon's sister lived. Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door. After a few moments, the door opened, revealing a woman who looked strikingly similar to Jungwon.

"Who are you?" She asked, her expression a mix of confusion and curiosity.

"I'm a friend of Jungwon's," You explained, "I met him at the hospital."

Her eyes widened slightly, and she stepped aside to let you in. You took a seat on the couch, feeling a bit nervous but determined to convey your message.

“Would you like anything to drink?” She asked, heading in the kitchen.”

“A glass of water is fine.” You replied. You heard turning on the sink as she hummed a tune before coming back in with a glass of water. She gave it to you and sat across from you.

"I wanted to talk to you about Jungwon," You began. "He's been really lonely at the hospital. He misses you a lot."

She looked down, her expression softening, "I know I've been busy, but I didn't realize how much it affected him."

You nodded, understanding the weight of her responsibilities, "He understands that you're busy, but he needs you. Even a short visit would mean so much to him."

She sighed, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, "Thank you for telling me. I'll make time to visit him. He deserves that."

You felt a sense of relief wash over you, “I'm glad. He really needs his family right now."

She stared at the ground, “I know. Everything been going downhill for me lately that I forgot to visit. I-I feel so bad that I left my baby brother like that. I’m the reason why he’s in the hospital.”

As she sobbed, you noticed how she’s been probably keeping all of this in. They were both going through so much, and yet, no one was there to comfort them. As she wiped her tears away she took a deep breath.

“Jungwon was a good boy. He was never a bad kid. When my parents wouldn’t be there for him, I was. He relied on me so much that when I left for college, he cried so much. I knew that leaving him would be my worst mistake.” She began, “When I got to college, I was so focused on my studies I couldn’t call or visit. And then all of a sudden I hear about him being admitted to a hospital and his friend passing away I knew he was going through so much. And yet, I still didn’t see him. I felt guilt for leaving him that I thought he didn’t wanna see me.”

you nodded your head in understanding, “I know how you feel. I would’ve thought that too. But Jungwon really does miss you. I feel like talking to him first would tell you everything.”

She nodded and wiped her eyes, “I will. Thank you…um,”

“Y/n. Kim Y/n.” You said.

She gave you a smile and nodded, “Thank you, Y/n.”

As you left her apartment, you felt a sense of accomplishment. You had taken a step towards helping Jungwon reconnect with his sister. And as you hailed a cab to head back home, you couldn't wait to see the look on Jungwon's face when his sister finally visited him.

You arrived at your aunt's house, feeling a mix of exhaustion and anticipation. She welcomed you warmly, her embrace providing a sense of comfort you desperately needed, "How was your visit?" she asked, her eyes filled with concern.

"It went well," You replied, managing a small smile, "I need to unpack my things."

She nodded, understanding your need for some time alone. As you unpacked your clothing, your thoughts drifted back to Jungwon. You were determined to visit him again the next day, hoping to see some improvement in his spirits.

You finished unpacking and lay on your bed, soon your eyes began drifting in to slumberland.

The next morning, you made your way back to the hospital. As you approached Jungwon's room, you paused in the doorway, a smile spreading across your face. Jungwon and his sister were sitting together, deep in conversation. It was a sight that filled you with immense relief and happiness.

His sister noticed you first, giving you a warm smile as she stood up to leave. "Thank you," She whispered as she passed by, her eyes conveying her gratitude.

You walked over to Jungwon, who looked up at you with a faint smile, "How are you doing?" You asked, taking a seat beside his bed.

“I'm doing fine," He replied, his voice stronger than before. "Actually, I have some good news. I'm getting discharged soon."

Your heart leaped with joy, "That's amazing, Jungwon! I'm so happy for you."

He nodded, his eyes reflecting a sense of hope you hadn't seen before, "Thanks to you, I got to reconnect with my sister. It means a lot to me."

You felt a wave of emotion wash over you, "I’m just keeping my promise. You deserve to have your family around you."

Jungwon reached out and took your hand, squeezing it gently, "You did more than help. You gave me hope."

As you sat there, holding his hand, you realized that this was just the beginning with Jungwon. You knew you were gonna be with him every step of the way. And knowing that he would soon be out of the hospital filled you with a sense of optimism for the future.

After a few days of visiting Jungwon, the day finally arrived for him to be discharged. You could hardly contain your excitement as you made your way to the hospital for the last time. Jungwon's sister had given you her number, and you had arranged to meet them at their home to celebrate.

When you arrived at Jungwon's sister's house, you felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation. You knocked on the door, and it was quickly opened by Jungwon's sister, who greeted you with a warm smile, “Come in, come in," She said, stepping aside to let you in.

As you walked into the living room, you saw Jungwon sitting on the couch, looking much healthier and happier than the last time you saw him in the hospital. The moment he saw you, his face lit up with a big smile. You rushed over to him and hugged him tightly, feeling a sense of relief wash over you.

"I'm so glad you're finally home," You said, pulling back to look at him.

“Me too," Jungwon replied, his eyes shining with gratitude, "Thank you for everything."

The afternoon was spent in the best way possible. Jungwon's sister had prepared a delicious meal, and the three of you sat around the table, sharing stories and laughter. It felt like a family gathering, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for being included in such a special moment.

As the sun began to set, you found yourself feeling more and more at home. Jungwon's sister noticed your comfort and suggested, "Why don't you stay the night? We have a guest room, and it would be nice to have you here."

You hesitated for a moment but then nodded, realizing that you didn't want to leave just yet. "I'd love to," you replied, smiling. You sent your aunt a text to let her know.

The evening was spent watching movies and talking about everything and anything. Jungwon seemed more relaxed than you'd ever seen him, and you felt a deep sense of contentment just being there with him and his sister.

When it was finally time to go to bed, Jungwon walked you to the guest room, "Thank you for staying," He said softly, his eyes filled with warmth.

"Of course," You replied, giving him a hug, "I'm just glad you're okay."

Before he could go, you gently grab his wrist. You hesitated for a moment before speaking, "I was wondering if you could sleep with me tonight. I just... I don't want to be alone."

Jungwon's eyes softened, and he nodded, “Sure, I'll stay with you."

The two of you made your way to the guest bed, and as you settled into the bed, you felt a sense of comfort wash over you. Jungwon lay down beside you, and you turned to face him, feeling the warmth of his presence.

As you both lay there in the quiet, you decided to share something that had been on your mind, "I visited Mia today," You began, "She's getting discharged soon."

Jungwon smiled, "That's good to hear."

You looked into his eyes, searching for something, and then you asked, "Can I ask you something? I know you and Mia talked a few times, and I was just curious about what you talked about that one day. I-I’m sorry but I kind of eased drop.”

Jungwon sighed softly, his expression thoughtful, "Mia and I were talking because I told her that I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with a guy like me liking you."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a mix of emotions, "Why would you think that?"

He looked at you with sincerity in his eyes, "I just didn't want to burden you or make you feel uncomfortable. I care about you a lot, and I didn't want my feelings to complicate things."

You reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently, "Jungwon, you don't have to worry about that. I care about you too, more than you know. And I'm really glad you're here with me."

A soft smile spread across his face, and he leaned in closer, and kissed you. The kiss was soft and gentle. You softly sighed into the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck. He gripped your waist softly.

The kiss soon turned into a urgent one and before you knew it, he was above you kissing your neck. You softly moaned and gripped his hair making him let out a groan. He took his shirt off and bends down to kiss you again.

Slowly, you took off your shirt and shorts, leaving you in your undergarments, “Fuck,” Jungwon whispered. He kissed along you jaw and chest and was faced to face with your core. He kissed your cloth pussy softly making you gasp.

He slowly pulled your underwear down to reveal your soaking pussy. You whined when his hot tongue licked your folds, “You taste so sweet.” He teased. You couldn’t speak and continued letting out breathy moans feeling his tongue do magic.

You felt your orgasm coming and squirmed, “J-Jungwon- hic! I’m gonna cum!” You moaned. He sucked on your bud and that’s when your orgasm came over you. He didn’t stop licking and sucking on your pussy until you were clean.

He leaned up and took off his sweats and boxers revealing his dick. You bit your lip staring at the red tip with precum. He softly stroke it and aligned his dick in your entrance. Slowly, he finally pushed in making your breath get caught.

You held him tightly as he waited for you to get used to it before moving just a tad bit. You let out a choked cry feeling him push in deeper, “Your squeezing around me so tight.” He hissed.

You mewled in his neck and wrapped your legs around his waist. He took that as a sign to keep going and that’s when you felt a sting of pain and pleasure, “P-Please. Move.” You whispered.

He didn’t need to be told twice and began moving at a normal pace. The sound of loud skin slapping and moans were heard in the room. You couldn’t hold in your noises and covered your mouth remembering his sister isn’t that far.

He chuckled and dipped down to give you a kiss on your temple before gong at faster pace making you let out a choked moan. You felt him in your stomach, feeling his mushroom tip hitting all the right spots. You knew you were gonna cum soon. You watched Jungwon let out breathy groans and sighs feeling you milk his dick. He could be in you forever.

You felt your orgasm coming and rubbed your bud in circular motions, “G-Gonna cum- ah!” You cried out before you were coming all over his dick. Jungwon snapped his hips a few more times before cumming inside you. He slowly pulled out of your now filled pussy and lay beside you, panting.

He slipped his arm around your waist and nuzzled his nose in your neck making you giggle. Jungwon stared at you with a look in his eyes, “I wouldn’t mind having a baby with you.” He suddenly said.

You stared at him back, “I mean, you did cum inside me.” It was silent for a few moments before you both burst out giggling.

“I love you, Jungwon.” You whispered. He hummed, his eyes slowly closing.

“I love you too.” He finally said. You felt a wave of happiness feeling your heartbeat quicken.

Eventually, you both drifted off to sleep, wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence. It was a night that marked the beginning of something new, something beautiful, and you couldn't have been more grateful for it.

taglist: @laylasbunbunny @umsivsworld @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @yoongisbaguetteshoes @enhypenlovre @melancholy-z @minghaosimp @dudewhoism @honeychocos @hearts4hee @tlnyjoong @1013club @yagsoobin @mrsjohnnysuh @heekilrvs @enhasrii @prettygurlnikittie @jakeswifez @yunhoswrldddd @seokseokjinkim @whateverhoon @noturmommasstuff @love4hee @ddeonuu4me @selleprotection @jenn-ieverse @babyy-bambii @nikiswifiee @rjssierjrie

[libraryofgage]

I realized Steve is absolutely that kid whose parents put him through piano lessons solely so they could have another way to show off at parties and shit. And then that thought morphed into a little Steddie plot bunny and here we are lol:

Steve doesn't know it's the last time he'll sit at the grand piano, the last time he'll press down its keys and let music fill the empty room before bleeding out into the empty house.

He doesn't know that when his parents next come home, his mother will notice how horribly out of tune the instrument is. He doesn't know that it will be sent off somewhere for repair (his parents won't tell him where, no matter how he asks, and he'll never quite understand why) and lost to him. He doesn't know his parents won't bother buying another one; it was only ever there to impress party guests when Steve sat down and played some Bach. Without those parties, company or otherwise, there's no point in getting another one: both the piano and Steve will have outlived their usefulness.

He doesn't know that he'll be storing away his sheet music, carefully placed into folders and in a waterproof box for safekeeping. He doesn't know that he'll soon become too consumed by high school and dating and monsters to idly write down notes on a staff. He doesn't know that when he's swinging a nail-ridden bat in the future (to destroy monsters, sure, but destruction is destruction, right?) he'll ache with the pain of missing the act of creation as a means of stress relief.

He doesn't know any of that, so Steve sits down at the grand piano with a soft smile, gently trailing his fingers over the keys before lining them up in the Middle C-position. He runs through a few warm-ups, letting muscle memory take him away, so he doesn't have to think. Without another thought, he seamlessly transitions into idly playing, bits and pieces of everything he remembers and songs he's heard blending together.

Mozart's Air morphs into Beethoven's Fur Elise into Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody. It doesn't all sound good together, but that's not the point when Steve plays by himself. All that matters is letting his brain shut off for a bit, letting the notes and echoes mingle together to create something new and joyful.

After two hours on the piano, his wrists are aching; he always forgets to hold them in the proper position when he plays alone. But it's a good ache, one that reminds him of the music still dancing around in his brain.

Steve takes a deep breath and slowly releases it, feeling the last of his tension dissipate. He lets his hands linger on the piano for a little longer before standing and leaving the room, tragically unaware of his imminent and unavoidable loss.

--------

Steve is sprawled across an old couch in Gareth's garage, reading Eddie's well-loved copy of Lord of the Rings. He'd promised to at least give it a go, and he had to admit he was looking forward to finally understanding some of the references Hellfire Club and the kids make. His progress is slow, but he's almost halfway through after two weeks of work. Reading while Corroded Coffin practices helps; the background noise of their music is perfect, letting him ignore all other sounds and focus.

Of course, that's provided they actually play continuously instead of starting the same song over and over only for Eddie to stop them halfway through. When it happens for the sixth time, Eddie growls in frustration, tugging harshly at a lock of hair. "It still sounds wrong!" he cries, dropping into a crouch while cradling his guitar close.

"Stopping us halfway through isn't helping," Gareth points out, idly twirling a drumstick as he watches Eddie's lament.

"Do you know what's wrong yet?" Asher asks.

Steve can longer focus on Lord of the Rings. Instead, he places the book on his chest and looks at the band to watch how this plays out. Eddie scowls and looks up at Asher. "Unfortunately, Ashy Baby, no."

Jeff, meanwhile, has locked eyes with Steve. And because Jeff knows the perfect way to get Eddie off their asses is to get him on Steve's instead, he says, "Why don't you ask Harrington what he thinks?"

Eddie whips around to look at Steve, eyes wide and hopeful. He doesn't even bother standing from his crouch, instead waddling his way over to Steve and testing his ability to hold back laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the sight. "Stevie, baby, sweetheart, lover boy, please tell me that wonderful brain of yours has an idea so your favorite boyfriend can finish this rocking song."

"You're my only boyfriend."

"Which automatically makes me your favorite," Eddie points out, grinning as he leans closer. With Steve still laying down, Eddie's the perfect height in his crouch to kiss him. He lingers for a few seconds before pulling away, and Steve knows his own smile matches the dopiness of Eddie's.

"Have you considered adding a piano?" Steve asks.

"None of us know how to play," Asher says, and Steve would look at him if Eddie's face and hair and shoulders and everything weren't filling his entire line of sight.

Without thinking, Steve hums and says, "I do."

"Do what?" Eddie asks.

"Know how to play piano."

There's a silence that follows his sentence, one that makes Steve's stomach lurch as he wonders if he's maybe fucked up the shaky peace and friendship he's finally managed to build with the other members of Corroded Coffin. He doesn't know how his words might have done it, but he's scrambling to somehow take them back when Eddie slaps a hand over his mouth, the bands of his rings pressing against Steve's lips.

"Gareth, you still got that keyboard?" he asks, keeping his eyes locked on Steve. There's a light dancing in them like he's just discovered magic is real, like Steve has amazed him beyond imagination.

With a grunt, Gareth gets up from his drums and steps into his house. The rest of them stay in silence while waiting, Eddie refusing to remove his hand no matter how much Steve licks his palm. When he finally gives up and just glares at Eddie, his boyfriend grins brightly back.

"It's a little dusty, but it'll work fine," Gareth says when he comes back, and Eddie finally moves his hand and body, allowing Steve to see Gareth setting up a keyboard a few feet away from his drums.

"Okay, sweetheart," Eddie says, taking the book from Steve and carefully setting it aside before pulling him off the couch, "you've heard the song enough. Play what's missing."

Steve hesitates before walking over to the keyboard. Eddie sticks to him like a shadow, sliding his arms around Steve from behind once he's standing in front of the white and black keys. An odd nervousness churns in Steve, tugging at his spine and making his palms clammy, but he knows it would be much worse without Eddie there. If he had to play in front of the band without feeling like anyone was on his side, he'd probably just throw up instead.

"It, uh, it's been a while," he says quietly, easily falling into the muscle memory of tracing the keys and finding Middle C and dancing his fingers through warm-ups despite his words.

Eddie squeezes him tighter as Jeff asks, "Since you've played? Why?"

Memories of his grand piano rise in Steve unbidden, overwhelming him in a rush of longing for the instrument itself and the relaxation of playing. "My parents paid for lessons and had me play at company parties. They, uh, sent it off to be tuned, but it got damaged, and they didn't get another one."

"That sucks, Stevie," Eddie murmurs, soft and reassuring and Steve suddenly feels far more confident.

He looks up at Jeff. "Can you start playing again?" he asks, flashing a grateful smile when Jeff nods and starts strumming the song's opening notes.

Steve listens closely, breathing in the tune he's heard so many times and letting it take hold. He doesn't allow himself to actually think, letting Jeff's guitar and Eddie's arms and hair and scent drown out everything else. Before he knows it, he's playing a hesitant tune that grows with confidence as he follows the song laid out before him. He's always a measure behind, chasing the guitar's echoing notes as they fade.

He and Jeff make it through the whole song without Eddie telling them to stop. When the final notes of guitar and piano echo together, the latter still chasing the former even at the end, Steve is shaking with excitement and anxiety and grief and joy.

He lets out a slow breath, feeling tension he didn't even realize had lingered for so long finally draining from his shoulders and dissipating. Steve can also feel Eddie's face pressed against his neck, a smile searing into his skin as Eddie squeezes him even tighter.

"I love you so fucking much, Stevie, that's exactly what was missing," Eddie says, his words the only warning he gives before pulling Steve away from the keyboard and off his feet and spinning him around. His surprised yelp quickly morphs into laughter that still lingers even after Eddie has set him down again.

Gareth and Jeff and Asher have already started discussing how the other parts of the song might change with the addition of a keyboard, but Steve is too busy turning in Eddie's arms and kissing his smile away to pay them any mind. He can worry about inevitably being roped into the band's practices later, after he and Eddie are breathless and flushed and smiling bright.

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 .

# with roronoa zoro.

when one labored feelings for another, there were a few ways to proceed. to zoro, coaxing you into an aphrodisiac mist was not the worst of ideas.

⎰ & KINKTOBER, day twelve. smut (mdni!). aphrodisiacs. corruption kink. edging. virginity!loss. afab!reader. no y/n used.

WC: 2.4k.

he could not quite pinpoint the exact moment in which the trees began to mingle, a mortar of wood, frail vines and leaves that gave him no indication of where he was headed whatsoever. deserted, forest-like islands were not as common in the new world as they were on the grand line, so one for sure could expect the appearance of, at least, ancient beasts and odd plants. venture by oneself was far from the wisest decision, yet it hadn’t been one zoro thought much about beforehand. the perv-cook offered — rather insisted — to be your escort, professing love-coated compliments and promising to be your ever-so-diligent knight. zoro turned on his back and strived towards the first direction he faced right thereafter, lacking the self-restraint not to snap then and there.

that had been twelve hours prior.

according to the witch, the log-pose would take three days to settle their next route. without a closer deadline, zoro doubted they would waste time searching for him — not when that land offered fruits and herbs for re-stocking, as well as served as a hunting ground for their captain. he could handle himself well-enough for the time being, a half-burnt rabbit fed him just as much as those fancy meals the cook prepared and his swords could slice an opponent within the second. he grew quite used to a lonesome state of life, yet the crew undid that decade-crafted tendency, and those wandering hours without company had him quite melancholic.

zoro itched for you, and failed to contain the tendon of jealousy that wrapped itself around his heart. where were you; why haven’t you searched for him? perhaps the cook had you far more entertained than anticipated. the thought had him slicing the large trunk of a tree in four pieces, sheathing wado with a harshness uncommon to the usual treatment he spared to his swords. yet again, not his brightest idea, for he, too, seemed to have sliced an odd plant.

zoro’s nostrils were filled with spores, burning his throat and bringing tears to his eyes. he cursed, trembling fingers wrapped around the wild pulse of his wrist. his flesh grew scalding, sweat trailing down the muscles of his back. he half-expected to crumble, to have his throat constrict and cease the path of air to his lungs. poison. it must have been. he would soon be dead, punished for his own recklessness. his thoughts traveled to you, regretting the fact that he had not confessed. yet, his breathing remained — wild, ragged, there still. and the image of you ensued in greater heat, a pit of molten fire that threatened to ignite every organ; consume every particle of air. his cock was throbbing, aching, and zoro clutched own heart in agony, desperation feeding off his every thought.

the weather was tropical. it had forced you to leave the ship wearing nothing but a bikini-top and pants. zoro grunted at the reminder of those breasts, all but partially covered, frail fabric that he could snap with the simplest touch. he lost himself in his thoughts, tearing the waistband of his pants. spores embraced his aching member, and it was as though he had dipped himself into a sea of lava. zoro fisted himself, although the touch neither soothed nor brought comfort. instead, he fell to his knees, chasing a release that did not find him.

“zoro!” you shouted through the mist. “was that you, cutting through the tree?”

the sound of your voice had him shouting, pleasure coursing through his veins. haze of spores clouding his sights had him struggling to catch on the lines of your figure, lingering outside that clouded nightmare. he yearned for you — had been yearning for as long as memories could tell. yet, whenever he dared muse the prospect of confessing, courage failed him, and he was forced to retreat to his usual corner; to watch as the cook swirled around you.

that urge of pleasure brought by the plant, could it be shared? perhaps if zoro lured you into it, you, too, would burn — for it; for him. he was not the brightest tool in the shed, mind more often than not too slow to wrap itself around certain concepts. if zoro was to call you in, submit you to those spores, no one — perhaps the curly, but he did not care whatsoever — would dare blame him. he’d state he hadn’t noticed; hadn’t known; and in the aftermath of what he planned on doing to you inside that fog, if those feelings were not reciprocal, the pair of you would merely pretend. put the blame on the spores. it was a plan of no honor, but lust clouded his better judgment. the desire for your touch, which would present itself as the cure for the self-inflicted disease; the illness he planned on sharing with you.

“zoro?” you tried again, your voice strained.

he called out your name, straight into the lion’s den. his eyes grew more focused at your approach, ears perking up. you started to cough in sheer shock, yet zoro was conscient of the fact that it was but temporary. once your throat grew used to the burning, the spores would settle and you’d be conditioned to want him — perhaps as much as he wanted you.

“i’m here,” he coarsed, hiding his cock from your sight.

zoro beckoned you in, containing the grunt at your approaching figure. you were such a loyal, preoccupied crewmate, ignoring the warning signs for the sake of his protection. tear-pooled eyes met his wide ones as you caught on the state of him — kneeling, trembling. sweat glued the fabric of his shirt to his chest, and he marveled at the realization of your lust. hardened nipples, hands gripping the fabric of your pants. he could see you trembling, struggling to keep yourself together as you drowned in the sight of his sweat-covered figure. your mouth watered; your fingers fidgeted.

“come,” he told you, his voice coated with a sensuality unusual to him. “need your help.”

a faux plea. an encouragement to have you fall into his well-placed trap. when you grew closer, enough to witness the loose state of his pants, he allowed you to have a glimpse of his cock — tip red and leaking; shaft tortured around his bruising grip. he smirked, feeling it twitch as he shifted and offered you the entire view.

zoro called out your name, and you jumped as though a terrified deer caught in the woods. “yes?”

his self control slipped within the second, yet zoro would not dream to push himself past the boundaries of your consent.

“touch,” he rasped out, grunting as his thumb teased his tip.

you leaned forward, as though intoxicated; eyes dazed, chapped lips coated with your saliva. “it’s so big, zoro. i don’t—”

he threw himself at you, pinning you to the ground. his breathing pattern was ragged, and droplets of his saliva fell from his parted lips to your face. the second his hands wrapped around your wrists, zoro was moaning at the contact, the shared heat enough to cover his vision with black spots.

“shit,” he cursed, rutting his hips forward. you mewled, biting your lip, seeming embarrassed at the sound.

“zoro,” you moaned, squirming under his touch. “i won’t know what to do.”

he stopped, observing you as though you were a free-course meal. zoro licked his lips, daring to drag his nose into your chest, drunk in your scent. he wrapped his teeth around the strap of your bikini, glancing at you through his eyelashes, refusing to relieve the pressure around your wrists. “how so?”

your frustration surfaced; your hips rolling against his own. zoro’s pre-cum stained the fabric of your pants, and you bit down your lower lip, avoiding his gaze. “i’ve never had sex,” you admitted, pressing your cheek against the grass. “it won’t help you.”

his brain short-circuited. zoro trembled, threatening to come undone. the act of luring him to that haze of spores gave him the claim to your innocence, for he would be the one to maculate that inch of your body. he teased the waistband of your pants, drooling at the realization that you had no idea on how to behave whatsoever. the movement of your hips was erratic, inexperienced. your nails scratched against the back of his hands. your legs trembled; fought a losing battle against the weight of his own.

“you’re a virgin,” zoro breathed out in ecstasy, dragging his tongue down your stomach, never once daring to break eye-contact.

“i’m sorry,” you cried, voice broken due to both lust and despair. “i just want this to feel good to you. please, zoro, touch.”

he clicked his tongue, using both hands to lift your bikini top. the plant spores teased your nipples, and the broken sound that escaped past your tortured lips had him twitching. zoro’s tongue swirled around a pert bub, fingers pinching the other one as he used his other hand to force your pants down. he had no time for foreplay whatsoever, much too desperate due to the effects of the plant.

“it will be,” he promised, excited to ruin you.

his eyes glued at the pale-rose, lacy underwear of your panties. when he teased the strap, snapping it against your hip, you moaned. zoro’s own voice betrayed his desire when he tore the fabric and opened your folds with his fingers, exposing your cunt to the effects of the aphrodisiac. you were soaked wet; clit swollen; hole clenching around nothing. your essence dripped down on the grass; coated his nails. zoro refused to believe that had been all from the effect of the spores. you were so sensitive; so easy to arouse. he smirked, reveling in the sight of your disheveled state, forced into the aphrodisiac fog.

“can’t handle it,” he grunted, teasing your entrance with his tip. you teared up with a whimper, and zoro hissed as his cock stretched you out, walls swallowing him whole. “need to move.”

“please,” you begged, squirming. the burning sensation at the pit of his stomach all but exploded, and zoro started to pounce into you, thrusts fast-paced and rough. he slid with abnormal easiness, his tip numb due to the spores.

you struggled under his weight, and zoro snapped his hips as a response, gripping both your wrists with a single hand. his index reached your clit, rough digit drawing hectic, desperate circles. zoro constricted your movements and latched his lips around your breast, ignoring your sounds. he failed to see past the haze of pleasure, ignoring your sounds and squirming. you were but a ragdoll at his mercy, victimized by the restless pace of his thrusts.

“zoro!” you shouted, coughing thereafter for you had inhaled a considerable amount of spores in the process.

he bottomed out without warning, biting your nipple harshly. you followed-in-suit, yet he continued, the orgasm useless to satisfy his hunger. your cum mingled with his own, soaking his still-hardened cock as he persisted, ruthless and rough, his wrist growing numb due to the prolonged movement required to tease your clit. he felt you struggle, back arching and head moving to the sides. the instance thereafter, your hips moved in a failed attempt to match the pace of his thrusts — his chaste, inexperienced crewmate sheepishly baring fangs after the first orgasm.

zoro retreated his head off your breast with a pop, brushing his nose against your chin before biting on your lower lip. the aphrodisiac cloud began to lose its density, and he breathed it in; mouth slack as if to collect most of it before its disappearance.

“open it,” he demanded, collecting saliva during the process needed for your consent. the second the external world cleared, zoro spat on your mouth, forcing you to swallow the remaining spores that lingered on his tongue.

he pumped the previous round of his load inside before busting yet another one unannounced, glaring to where your bodies connected, enamored with the sight of his white-stained tip shoving itself in-and-out. zoro removed his finger from your clit, shoving it inside your mouth.

“cum,” he demanded, fucking his essence deeper, sensitive tip prodding at your walls.

without the aphrodisiacs numbing his flesh, zoro doubted he’d last longer — yet he refused to leave you hanging. your tongue stilled around his finger; a reminder that you had much to learn still. he teased your g-spot, his digit muffling the moan of your high, and zoro bit back a broken whimper when your essence drowned his tip.

zoro lowered his head to regain his breathing, attempting to swallow down the embarrassment at what he had done. the absence of spores, too, had him aware of your compromising position, and he released the grip on your wrists with a clear of his throat, fixing the top of your bikini.

“zoro?” you whispered, placing your hand above his own. “did it feel good?”

he dared face you, reading the lines of both bliss and hesitation in your expression. zoro smiled ever-so-slightly, unable to contain his adoration. “felt amazing.”

you cleared your throat, averting your glance as your fingers toyed with his. zoro was still sheathed inside, fearing the moment he’d need to retreat. he was lost in thought, struggling to find the proper words to convey his feelings. would you fancy an “i love you”? would it be too soon?

“can we do that more often?” you broke the silence, staring at him. “with a kiss next time?”

has he not kissed you yet? zoro softly guided your chin, pressing his lips against yours with a soft, victorious sigh. “can do it as many times as you want.”

you smiled, whimpering the second he removed his soft cock. perhaps a bit of recklessness could sometimes be rewarded.

— 🐈‍⬛ : a bit late today but time is a concept i’m sure it’s the twelfth day somewhere still!

[emphistic]

Halloween comes fast when Summer ends.

Sukuna had never had a reason to dress up for the spooky season and go trick-or-treating. Even as a kid, Sukuna was scary looking enough that all he needed to do was wear all black, and there, he was able to impress all the houses that handed out king-sized bars.

As an adult, Sukuna was pretty much the same. This year, however, he was convinced by some of his friends to go and dress up as Ghostface, a killer who wears a sinister mask.

There was a party held at some college house, and apparently, there was going to be an unlimited supply of goods. Sukuna didn't like mingling with chicks just for the sake of having a fun time; he had lost interest in that stuff a while ago. But, this time, maybe it wasn't so bad to switch things up every once in a while.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have met you—the beauty who absolutely stole the spotlight, wearing a classic bunny girl costume, matching ears, and fishnets which seemed to make your legs seem longer than ever.

Sukuna had sidled up to you at one point during the party; he had escaped a boring game of Seven Minutes in Heaven, was looking for drinks, and ran into you in the kitchen. Of course, without missing a beat, he offered his best pickup lines, and even flashed you his award-winning smile, but to no avail. You had simply flipped your hair over your shoulder, rolled your eyes at his puny attempts at flirting, and walked away.

From that moment on, Sukuna made it his life's mission to take you for himself.

Sukuna was never a man of words, until, that night, when he just would not stop talking to you. He spoke at a rate of ten words per second, and recited all the pickup lines in the book. He only shut up when you exasperatedly pressed your lips against his, in a rough kiss, to which, you later explained you were merely shutting him up. But boy, oh boy, had Sukuna never been happier.

It didn't take long for Sukuna to lead you upstairs—to one of the guest bedrooms in the college house—and stuff your cunt more ways than you can count. It's safe to say, that, you two spent the rest of your evenings making the most out of your costumes.

The one-night stand turned into two, and two turned into Sukuna meeting up with you after classes, asking you out on dates, and those dates turned into Sukuna officially asking you to be his girlfriend.

Years later, when Sukuna's finally acquired you as his wife, and you two make a beautiful, beautiful baby girl, Sukuna hangs up his Ghostface costume in the attic, where he stores the rest of his favorite memories and trinkets.

Halloween comes fast when Summer ends, and before he knew it, Sukuna's spontaneous Halloween costume had gotten him a family.

[marysfics]

Spinning on Vinyl

''You remind me of a song that I can't seem to skip''

Angst, Happy Ending, Fluff

The apartment feels eerily quiet without her. The kind of quiet that presses in on your chest and makes it hard to breathe. It’s not like this is the first time you’ve been alone here—Alexia has always been traveling for matches, for training camps, for endless commitments that took her far away from this small, shared space. But tonight, it feels different. Heavier.

You glance at the half-empty wine glass sitting beside you on the floor, untouched for a while now. The rich, red liquid doesn’t hold the same allure it did an hour ago when you first poured it, hoping it might numb the ache growing steadily in your chest. But wine can’t drown out everything, and it certainly can’t drown out memories.

In a slow, deliberate motion, you reach over to the vinyl record player resting on the shelf. The same one the two of you had found in some vintage shop on one of those rare days when Alexia wasn’t rushing to the next match or the next media appearance. You remember her smile when she saw it, how she picked it up with delicate hands, her eyes lighting up like a child’s. She had said it reminded her of her childhood, of Sundays spent with her family listening to old records, the music mingling with the smell of her mother’s cooking.

Now, the player feels like a relic of something lost—something you’re trying desperately to hold on to, even as it slips through your fingers. The needle touches the vinyl, and the first crackle fills the room. The static noise that used to sound comforting, like a prelude to something magical, now feels like the space between you and her. Thin, fragile, barely holding it all together.

The music begins, soft and slow, an old song that you both loved. It was the kind of melody that wrapped around you like a blanket, pulling you into each other’s arms without a word. You close your eyes, sinking into the sound, letting it carry you back to a time when everything felt simpler. Back when Alexia was yours—not just in fleeting moments, but truly yours.

The bassline vibrates through the room, echoing in the emptiness, and you can almost hear her voice in your head, low and soft, singing along under her breath as she always did. You smile faintly at the memory of it—the way she used to sing off-key just to make you laugh. She wasn’t a performer, not in that way. She saved her grace for the pitch, but in these quiet moments, she was unguarded, playful, completely at ease.

God, how long has it been since you’ve seen her like that?

Your eyes drift to the framed photos on the wall. There’s one of the two of you, her arm slung around your shoulder, both of you grinning at the camera after one of her games. Her jersey is still drenched in sweat, hair messy from the action, but her eyes—her eyes were on you. You remember the moment clearly. It was the first time she’d kissed you in public, right there in front of the cameras, after she scored the winning goal. She had pulled you close, pressing her lips to your forehead, murmuring something in your ear that made you laugh, but now you can’t remember what she said. Just the feeling it left behind, warm and safe.

But that warmth has faded, replaced by the cold void of her absence.

The vinyl continues to spin, the needle gliding effortlessly through the grooves. Each note feels like a heartbeat, each lyric a whisper of something lost. You don’t even try to stop the memories now—they flood your mind, unrelenting, filling every corner of your thoughts with her.

You can picture her so clearly. The way she used to curl up on the couch after a long day, her legs tucked beneath her, that soft smile on her face as you laid beside her. The smell of her shampoo, something fresh and clean, the way her hair would fall into her eyes when she was too tired to push it back. The sound of her laughter—low, almost raspy, but full of life. You can still hear it, like an echo bouncing off the walls, even though it’s been weeks since you last heard it in person.

God, it’s been weeks.

You glance at your phone again, your thumb hovering over her name. It feels like it’s always been there, waiting for the right moment to press call, or send a message, or do anything that might pull her back to you. But you can’t. You haven’t. The space between your last conversation and now feels too wide, too difficult to cross with just a text.

She’s always somewhere else. Even when she’s here, she’s always got one foot out the door, ready for the next game, the next match, the next chapter of her story that you’re barely a part of anymore. It wasn’t always like this, though. Once, there was balance. There was her, and there was you, and it felt like the two of you existed in this beautiful harmony, like two notes perfectly in sync. Now, it’s as if you’re playing different songs, neither of you willing to change the tune.

The music picks up, the tempo quickening, but it doesn’t bring comfort. If anything, it reminds you how things have been moving too fast. How her career is growing and expanding in every direction, while you feel like you’re standing still, watching from the sidelines.

And maybe that’s what hurts the most.

You never wanted to be a spectator in her life. You wanted to be a part of it, truly part of it, not just someone she comes home to when the world isn’t watching. But lately, that’s all you’ve been—someone who waits, who watches, who wonders if there’s still space for you in her world.

The song swells, and with it, so does the ache in your chest. You lean your head back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut, letting the music wash over you. You focus on the rhythm, trying to lose yourself in it, trying to forget the gnawing emptiness that seems to grow with every passing day.

But you can’t forget her. You never could.

The song changes, a softer melody now, and with it comes the familiar pull of nostalgia. You know what’s coming next. This was your song—the one you and Alexia always danced to, barefoot in the kitchen, her hands on your hips, your head resting on her shoulder. The first time she heard it, she’d laughed, pulling you into her arms without hesitation, spinning you around as if no one was watching. You’d laughed, too, feeling weightless, like the rest of the world didn’t exist beyond that moment.

The memory is so vivid, you can almost feel her now. The heat of her body pressed against yours, the way her breath would ghost across your neck as she whispered something silly, something that would make you giggle, even though the moment was already perfect. She’d twirl you around, her fingers never leaving your waist, like you were the only thing tethering her to the ground.

You open your eyes and sigh, the weight of it all pulling you back to reality.

But there’s no Alexia here. Just the music. Just the memories. Just you.

The room fades around you, swallowed up by the growing intensity of the music. The song on the record shifts, and with it comes a memory so vivid it pulls you in before you can stop it. It’s one of the earliest memories you have of her, back when things were new and easy. Back when every look, every touch felt electric, charged with possibility.

It was your first time at one of her games. You remember the nerves—the restless energy in your stomach, unsure of what to expect. Sure, you’d seen Alexia play on TV, heard her name shouted in crowded rooms, but watching her from a distance was nothing compared to being there in person, seeing her live in her element, where she shined brightest.

The stadium was a sea of faces, all of them there for her, but you felt like the only one who mattered. There, in the cold evening air, with your heart beating faster than it should, you found your seat and waited, the anticipation growing with every passing minute.

The moment she stepped onto the pitch, everything else fell away.

Alexia was magnetic. There was no other way to describe it. The way she moved—so effortlessly, so fluid—it was like watching art in motion. Each step was deliberate, each pass precise. It wasn’t just a game to her. It was something deeper, something that coursed through her veins like it was what she was made for. She owned the field, commanding it with a quiet intensity, and you couldn’t take your eyes off her. You didn’t want to.

For the first few minutes, you were just another face in the crowd, just another fan cheering her name. But then it happened. That moment when she looked up, searching the stands, and her eyes found yours.

It was like time stopped.

You froze, breath catching in your throat, heart hammering against your ribs. Alexia smiled—a soft, private smile that didn’t belong to the roaring crowd or the flashing cameras. It was yours, and yours alone. And in that moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. Not the game, not the people, not the pressure that came with being Alexia Putellas. Just her and you, sharing a moment that felt sacred in a sea of chaos.

You could still remember how your chest tightened at the sight of her. The way your pulse quickened as she ran down the field, weaving between defenders, her eyes sharp, focused, a silent determination etched on her face. Every movement was so deliberate, so graceful, like she was painting something only she could see. And every time she touched the ball, it felt like a promise—a promise that she would win, for you, for both of you.

As the game wore on, the energy in the stadium shifted, growing more intense with every passing minute. The crowd’s cheers were deafening, their voices rising with the action on the pitch. But you weren’t focused on the game. You were focused on her.

You could see the exhaustion starting to creep into her movements, the weight of the match bearing down on her. But she didn’t slow down. She pushed harder, her body moving with a fierce determination that was both beautiful and heartbreaking. Because you knew—somewhere deep down—you knew she wasn’t just fighting for the win. She was fighting for you. For this. For the life she was trying to balance between the demands of her career and the fragile, growing thing between you.

Then it happened.

A breakaway.

Alexia darted through the defense, her eyes locked on the goal. The crowd surged around you, their voices a tidal wave of anticipation, but all you could hear was your heartbeat, pounding in your ears as you watched her close in on the moment. It was as if the world had narrowed to just her and the ball, and then—

She struck.

The sound of the ball hitting the back of the net was almost drowned out by the roar of the crowd, but you heard it. You felt it. It was victory—sharp, sweet, and undeniable. The stadium erupted around you, people leaping to their feet, cheering her name. And amidst it all, she turned, her eyes finding yours once again, that same soft smile tugging at her lips.

It was for you. The goal, the smile, the unspoken promise between you—it was all for you.

You stood, your legs trembling slightly from the rush of adrenaline, unable to stop the grin that spread across your face. It was impossible not to be swept up in her energy, in the joy radiating from her like sunlight after a long storm. For a moment, it felt like nothing could touch you. Like you were invincible, riding the high of her victory as if it were your own.

After the game, you lingered by the stadium entrance, waiting for her. The night air was cool against your skin, a welcome relief from the heat that still pulsed in your veins. The minutes stretched on, each one a little heavier than the last, until finally, you saw her.

She emerged from the locker room, still in her kit, her hair damp from the shower, strands falling into her eyes in that careless way you loved so much. Her cheeks were flushed, not from exertion but from the glow of the win, her confidence radiating like a halo around her.

When she spotted you, her face softened, the sharp edges of the competitive athlete melting away. She was just Alexia again. Your Alexia.

“Hey,” she greeted, her voice low and a little rough from the match. There was a hint of vulnerability in her eyes, like she was unsure of what came next, even after all that had passed between you during the game. “Did you—?”

“You were amazing,” you cut her off, shaking your head in disbelief. “Like…breathtaking.”

The corner of her mouth lifted, that crooked smile that always made your heart skip a beat. She stepped closer, her hand brushing against yours in that familiar, gentle way that was more intimate than anything else. Her fingers curled around yours, and you squeezed her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin, the slight tremor in her grip from the adrenaline that still hadn’t faded.

“I wanted you to see this,” she said softly, her eyes searching yours. “I wanted you to understand…this part of me.”

You nodded, unable to find the right words to respond. Because how could you explain to her that you didn’t just understand this part of her—you loved it? You loved all of her, even the parts that scared you, the parts that took her away from you for weeks at a time. You loved the way she poured her soul into her sport, the way she gave everything, even when there was nothing left for herself.

“I’m proud of you,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. “So proud.”

Alexia’s hand tightened around yours, her eyes softening with something that looked like relief. “Thank you,” she breathed, her forehead resting gently against yours. “I’m proud of you too.”

You smiled at that, feeling a strange sense of peace settle over you. In that moment, it didn’t matter that the rest of the world was watching her, or that her life was so much bigger than you could ever be. All that mattered was this—her, you, and the quiet understanding that whatever came next, you’d face it together.

But now, sitting here, listening to the vinyl spin, the memory feels bittersweet. Because somewhere along the way, the promise you’d felt that night slipped through your fingers. The connection that had felt so solid, so unbreakable, had started to fray at the edges, pulled thin by the relentless demands of her career, by the endless distance that seemed to grow between you.

And even though you told yourself it would be enough—her love, her smiles, the quiet moments you stole between the chaos—you can’t shake the feeling that something is missing now. That maybe, just maybe, the space between you has become too wide to cross.

The soft hum of the vinyl fades into the background as your thoughts drift, wandering through the memories you’ve been holding onto so tightly. It's strange how the things that once brought you so much comfort—like the music, the photos, the laughter you once shared—now weigh heavy on your chest, like they’re relics of something you can’t quite touch anymore.

It’s been weeks since you last saw Alexia. Weeks of lonely nights spent with your phone in your hand, wondering if you should call, if you should say something—anything—to bridge the ever-widening distance between you. But every time you pull up her name, your thumb hovering over the screen, something stops you.

Maybe it’s fear. Fear that the space between you has grown too vast to close with a simple text. Or maybe it’s the nagging doubt that’s been creeping in lately—the doubt that maybe you’re not enough for her anymore. Not enough to compete with the whirlwind that is her life, her career, her success.

You hate thinking that way. You hate feeling like you’re waiting in the wings of her life, a spectator in a relationship that once made you feel so alive. But you can’t shake the sensation that you’re slowly being left behind, even though you’re desperately trying to hold on.

The apartment feels colder now, as if the memories of her have seeped out of the walls, leaving only emptiness in their wake. You wrap your arms around yourself, pulling the blanket tighter as if that might somehow fill the void she’s left behind. But it doesn’t. It never does.

She’s always on your mind. Even when you’re not actively thinking about her, she lingers in the back of your thoughts like a half-finished melody. You can hear her laugh, see the way her eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles, feel the warmth of her hand slipping into yours. But those memories feel so far away now, like they belong to someone else—someone who existed in a time when things were simpler, when you weren’t questioning every unreturned text, every missed call.

You try to tell yourself that it’s just temporary, that this is just a rough patch. After all, Alexia has always had a demanding schedule. It’s part of who she is, part of what makes her so extraordinary. You knew that from the beginning—knew that she would always be pulled in a thousand different directions. But back then, it didn’t feel like a threat. Back then, it felt like you could weather anything, as long as you had each other.

But now… now, it feels different.

The record clicks as the needle reaches the end, the soft static filling the room, pulling you out of your thoughts. You sit up, the sudden silence amplifying the emptiness you’ve been trying to ignore all night. The apartment feels too big without her, too quiet, and the loneliness presses in around you, suffocating.

You reach for your phone again, your hand trembling slightly as you scroll through the messages. Her name is at the top, of course. There are texts from her—short, sweet messages telling you she misses you, that she can’t wait to come home. You read them over and over, hoping that somehow they’ll soothe the ache in your chest. But they’re not enough.

Because you want more than just texts. You want her. You want her here, beside you, her arms wrapped around you, her voice soft in your ear as she tells you about her day. You want the little moments—the mornings spent tangled in the sheets, the evenings spent cooking dinner together, the quiet laughter that filled the spaces between words. You want all of her, not just the parts that she can give when she’s not busy being someone else’s hero.

You sigh, leaning back against the couch, the weight of it all pressing down on you. This isn’t the first time you’ve felt this way, but it’s never been this intense before. The doubt, the longing, the frustration—it’s all building up inside you, threatening to spill over. You don’t know how much longer you can keep it all inside.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, typing out a message you’ve written a hundred times before.

"I miss you."

Three simple words. Words you’ve said to her countless times, but now, they feel heavier than ever. You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the send button. Part of you hopes that this will be the message that changes things, that maybe she’ll respond with something that will make all of this feel worth it. But another part of you—the part that’s been growing louder and more insistent—wonders if sending this message will only serve to highlight the growing gap between you.

Because as much as you miss her, you can’t shake the feeling that maybe she’s getting used to life without you.

That thought hits you harder than you expect, a cold rush of fear flooding your chest. You’ve been trying so hard to stay positive, to tell yourself that things will get better, that this is just a temporary phase. But the truth is, you don’t know that for sure. You don’t know what’s going through her mind when she’s out there, traveling from one city to the next, surrounded by people who worship her, who don’t see the side of her that you do. The side that’s vulnerable, that’s unsure, that needs someone to ground her.

And that’s the part that scares you the most. Because what if she doesn’t need you anymore?

You close your eyes, willing the tears to stay where they are. You’re not ready to face that possibility. Not yet.

But as the silence stretches on, broken only by the faint crackle of the record player, you start to wonder if maybe this is the beginning of the end. Maybe all those little moments you’ve been holding onto, all those memories you’ve been replaying in your mind, are just that—memories. Moments that belong to the past, not the future.

You stand up slowly, the blanket slipping from your shoulders as you make your way to the window. The city outside is alive, bustling with people, with life, but you feel so far removed from it all. You lean your forehead against the cool glass, staring out at the lights below. It’s strange how the world keeps moving, even when it feels like yours is standing still.

You wonder what Alexia is doing right now. Whether she’s thinking about you, too, or if she’s wrapped up in her world, too busy to notice the growing distance. You want to believe that she misses you as much as you miss her, but the longer this silence stretches between you, the harder it is to hold onto that belief.

Another message from her lights up your phone, and your heart skips a beat. You glance down at the screen, hoping for something more than the usual pleasantries. But it’s just a quick, “Training was tough today. I’ll call you tomorrow, love you.”

Your fingers tighten around the phone as you read the words. Tomorrow. It’s always tomorrow. Tomorrow she’ll call, tomorrow you’ll talk, tomorrow things will be better. But tomorrow never comes, and you’re left here, waiting in the space between promises and reality.

You type out a quick reply—something supportive, something sweet, because that’s what you do. You’ve always been her anchor, her steady ground when everything else is chaos. But right now, you feel like you’re drifting, and you’re not sure how to find your way back.

The music starts again, the same song as before, its familiar melody wrapping around you like a bittersweet embrace. You let the sound wash over you, filling the empty spaces where her voice should be, and for a moment, you allow yourself to sink into the feeling of it all—the longing, the love, the uncertainty.

Because that’s all you have right now.

The city lights blur through the window as you stand there, forehead still pressed against the cold glass, trying to calm the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind. You’ve spent so long in this space—this liminal place between hope and despair—that it’s starting to feel like home. A home you never wanted.

Your phone buzzes in your hand again, but this time, it’s not a message. It’s her.

Alexia.

The name lights up the screen, and for a moment, you just stare at it, heart pounding in your chest. You weren’t expecting her to call tonight—not after the brief message about tomorrow—but here she is, reaching out when you were least prepared.

Your thumb hesitates over the green button. Every muscle in your body feels tense, as if you’re holding your breath, unsure if you’re ready for this conversation. Because deep down, you know it’s not just going to be small talk this time. It can’t be. There’s too much unsaid between you now, too much that’s been left hanging in the silence.

With a shaky breath, you press accept.

“Hey,” you say, your voice coming out softer than you intended, almost fragile.

“Hey,” Alexia replies, and you can hear the weariness in her voice, the strain of a long day clinging to her like an invisible weight. There’s a pause, the quiet stretch of unspoken words filling the space between you, and for a second, you wonder if she can feel the tension too.

“How was training?” you ask, trying to keep your voice light, though it feels like a thin veil over the emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

“Exhausting,” she admits with a sigh, “but that’s not really why I’m calling.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words, the air in the room suddenly feeling too thick. You can hear the seriousness in her tone, the shift that tells you this conversation isn’t going to be easy.

“I’ve been thinking about us,” she continues, her voice quieter now, like she’s testing the waters. “About…everything.”

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of those words settle over you. This is it. This is the conversation you’ve been avoiding, the one you’ve been dreading but also needing. Because no matter how much you’ve tried to pretend that things are fine, that this is just a rough patch, deep down you know that something has to change. You just don’t know if you’re ready to face what that change might look like.

“Me too,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You bite your lip, trying to gather your thoughts, trying to find the right words that won’t sound like accusations, like blame. “It’s just… it feels like we’re losing each other, Alexia.”

The words hang in the air, raw and vulnerable. It’s the truth you’ve been holding back for so long, the fear that’s been gnawing at you in the quiet moments when she’s not around.

There’s a soft exhale on the other end of the line, and for a moment, you think maybe she didn’t hear you. But then she speaks, and her voice is full of something you didn’t expect: guilt.

“I know,” she says softly, her voice breaking slightly. “I know I haven’t been around as much, and I hate that. I hate that I’ve been making you feel like this, like I’m slipping away.”

You close your eyes, letting her words sink in. There’s something comforting in hearing her acknowledge it, in knowing that you’re not imagining the distance between you. But it doesn’t erase the ache in your chest, the loneliness that’s been gnawing at you for weeks.

“I don’t blame you,” you say, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay composed. “I know how important your career is. I’ve always known. But sometimes it feels like... like I’m just waiting for you to have time for me. And it’s hard, Alexia. It’s really hard.”

“I don’t want you to feel that way,” she whispers, and there’s a heaviness in her voice that makes your heart clench. “I never wanted to make you feel like you’re not important. You are. You’re everything to me. It’s just—” She pauses, searching for the right words, the frustration clear in her tone. “It’s hard to balance everything. The games, the training, the travel… Sometimes I feel like I’m failing you, like I’m failing us.”

Her vulnerability catches you off guard. You can hear the strain in her voice, the cracks in the facade she’s been holding up for so long. She’s always been so strong, so composed, but now, hearing her admit that she’s struggling too, it hits you in a way you didn’t expect.

“I didn’t realize,” you murmur, your heart softening just a little. “I didn’t know it was so hard for you too.”

There’s another pause, and when she speaks again, her voice is quieter, more tentative. “It’s just… I’m scared, you know? Scared that one day you’ll wake up and realize that this—my life, my schedule, everything—is too much for you. That you’ll get tired of waiting for me, tired of not having me around when you need me.”

Her words hit you hard, because they echo the fears that have been swirling in your own mind. But hearing her say it, hearing the raw honesty in her voice, makes you realize that this isn’t just about you. It’s about both of you, trying to navigate a love that’s complicated by the realities of her career and the demands that come with it.

“I’m scared too,” you confess, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m scared that one day, you’ll realize that maybe you don’t need me as much as you used to. That maybe your life is easier without trying to fit me into it.”

The silence that follows is heavy, the weight of all the unsaid things pressing down on both of you. But instead of making you feel more distant, it somehow makes you feel closer, like you’re both standing on the same edge, looking down at the same uncertain future.

“I do need you,” she says finally, her voice soft but firm. “I don’t want to do this without you. I don’t want a life where you’re not part of it. But I also know that I haven’t been showing you that. I know that I’ve been letting you down.”

You sit down on the edge of the couch, your heart pounding as her words settle over you. There’s a deep ache in your chest, but it’s mixed with something else now—something warmer, something that feels like hope.

“I miss you,” you say again, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “I miss us. I miss what we used to have before everything got so... complicated.”

“I miss you too,” she replies, and there’s a rawness in her voice that makes your throat tighten. “I hate that I’ve been so far away, not just physically, but emotionally. And I don’t know how to fix it overnight, but I want to try. I need to try.”

The honesty in her words cracks something open inside you, and for the first time in weeks, you feel like you’re finally on the same page. Like you’re both acknowledging the distance between you, but also agreeing to fight for what you have.

“I don’t need everything to be perfect,” you say softly. “I just need to know that we’re in this together. That I’m not the only one holding on.”

“You’re not,” she promises, and there’s a steadiness in her voice now, a determination that wasn’t there before. “You’re not alone in this. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You close your eyes, letting the weight of her words sink in. It’s not a perfect solution, and you know there’s still a long way to go. But it’s a start. A step toward finding each other again, toward rebuilding the connection that’s been fraying at the edges.

“I love you,” you whisper, your voice breaking with the weight of everything you’ve been holding back.

“I love you too,” Alexia replies, and this time, the words feel like a promise.

The next few days feel different.

There’s still the same space between you and Alexia—miles of distance, long hours, and time zones that never seem to align—but now, there’s something else. A thread, thin but unbreakable, pulling you closer together with every word exchanged. The tension that once filled the silence between you has eased, replaced by something softer, something that feels like hope.

She calls more often now. The messages come in with regularity—small updates on her day, pictures of sunsets and unfamiliar cities, jokes that make you smile in the quiet of your empty apartment. It’s not perfect. You still miss her, still feel the ache of wanting her beside you. But there’s a comfort in knowing that she’s trying, in knowing that she’s holding on just as tightly as you are.

It’s late one evening, almost midnight, when your phone buzzes again. You’re wrapped up in a blanket on the couch, the low hum of a record spinning in the background, when you see her name flash on the screen. It’s a video call this time.

Your heart flutters as you swipe to accept, the familiar chime of the call connecting filling the room. And then she’s there, her face filling the screen—messy hair, no makeup, her eyes soft with exhaustion but also warmth.

“Hi,” she says, her voice a little crackly through the phone, but it’s enough to make your heart skip.

“Hi,” you whisper back, your lips tugging into a smile. Just seeing her like this—raw, unguarded—makes you feel like the distance between you is shrinking, even if only for a moment.

“I miss your face,” Alexia murmurs, her own smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “It’s not the same seeing you on a screen.”

You chuckle softly, curling deeper into the blanket. “Tell me about it. I’m starting to think I’ve forgotten what you look like in person.”

She lets out a small laugh, but there’s a seriousness in her eyes that lingers. “Not for long, though.”

Your brow furrows, and before you can ask what she means, she shifts slightly, glancing at something off-camera. When she looks back, there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“I’ve been thinking a lot, you know?” she starts, her tone soft but full of intent. “About what you said. About how we’ve been drifting. I don’t want that anymore. I don’t want to keep waiting for ‘tomorrow’ to fix things. I want to make it better now.”

Your heart speeds up, her words sinking in. “Alexia, I—”

“I’m coming home,” she interrupts, her voice steady and sure. “Tomorrow. No more delays, no more excuses. I’ve talked to the team, and I’m taking a break for a few days. I just want to be with you.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Wait—tomorrow?”

She nods, a small, almost sheepish smile playing on her lips. “Yeah. I’ll be there by the afternoon. I know it won’t fix everything, but… I miss you. I need to be with you. We can figure the rest out together.”

The rush of emotion that washes over you is overwhelming. For so long, you’ve been holding onto the idea of her coming back, but it always felt like something just out of reach. And now, hearing her say it—hearing her make this promise—it feels real in a way that fills your chest with warmth.

“You’re really coming home?” you whisper, almost afraid to believe it.

“I am,” she says softly. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

A laugh bubbles up in your throat, tears prickling at your eyes. “I think I can make room for you.”

Alexia’s smile widens, and there’s a lightness in her expression that you haven’t seen in weeks. “Good. Because I’ve missed your cooking. And I’m pretty sure I left one of my hoodies at your place, and I want it back.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a joy bubbling in your chest that you can’t contain. “I’ll think about it.”

The conversation continues, lighter now, filled with soft laughter and quiet jokes. For the first time in a long time, it feels easy again. The weight of the distance, the uncertainty, all of it starts to melt away as you talk about nothing and everything. The connection between you feels stronger, more tangible, and you hold onto it, refusing to let go.

When the call ends, the apartment feels a little less lonely. You curl up in bed, her promise echoing in your mind, and for the first time in weeks, you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

The apartment feels warm the next day, glowing with a soft light from the fading afternoon sun that streams through the windows. It’s quiet, save for the gentle crackle of the vinyl spinning on the record player in the corner. You’d put it on earlier, a song that holds so many memories between the two of you. The room smells faintly of vanilla and clean linen, and for the first time in what feels like forever, there’s a stillness in the air that brings peace instead of loneliness.

Alexia stands in front of you, her hand in yours, as you both sway softly to the rhythm of the song. You catch her eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she pulls you closer, her other hand settling against the small of your back.

Neither of you says anything. You don’t need to.

There’s a tenderness in the silence between you now, a shared understanding that doesn’t need words. The conversation you’d had—the raw, vulnerable honesty—has left you both feeling lighter, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. And now, with her here, the familiar melody wrapping around you, everything feels right in a way it hasn’t for so long.

The song playing is slow and melodic, each note weaving through the room like it was made for this moment, for you and her. The kind of song you’d listened to on lazy Sunday mornings, back when time wasn’t something you worried about. Before the distance.

Alexia tightens her hold on you, her body pressing close as her forehead rests against yours. The gentle brush of her skin sends a shiver through you, but not from cold—from the quiet intensity of the moment, the electricity humming between you. It’s the first time in weeks you’ve felt this close to her, not just physically but emotionally.

You close your eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of her—something warm and soft, like home. The vinyl’s soft crackle and the quiet strumming of the guitar fill the air, creating a cocoon around you both.

“I missed this,” Alexia whispers, her breath brushing against your lips, her eyes still closed. “Just being here with you. Like this.”

Your heart swells at her words, and you lean into her, pressing your face into the curve of her neck. “I missed this too,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, the emotions threatening to spill over.

For a while, you just sway like that, foreheads pressed together, hands resting on each other’s bodies. It’s a slow dance, the kind you fall into when time doesn’t matter, when the only thing that exists is the warmth of her touch and the steady rhythm of her breathing. The world outside feels distant, like it can’t reach you here, in this small bubble of peace you’ve found together.

The song shifts slightly, a new verse playing, and Alexia’s hand slowly slides up your back, her fingers tracing a path up to your shoulder before she gently lifts your chin to meet her gaze. Her eyes are soft, deep brown pools filled with something you haven’t seen in a while—a kind of certainty, a promise that she’s here, and she’s not leaving.

“I’m sorry for everything,” she says, her voice barely a whisper between the notes. “For making you feel like I was slipping away. I never meant to.” Her words are quiet but heavy, carrying the weight of all the moments that had felt so distant, so full of silence.

You shake your head softly, your forehead brushing against hers as you do. “We both made mistakes,” you reply, your voice gentle but firm. “But we’re here now, right? We’re fixing it.”

She nods, a small, grateful smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, we are.”

The music continues to fill the room, the crackling of the vinyl blending with the soft melody of the song. Alexia’s arms wrap around you fully, pulling you against her chest, and you let your hands rest on her waist, fingers lightly tracing the fabric of her shirt.

Her breath slows, and for a moment, you can feel the beat of her heart through her chest, steady and sure, like it’s syncing with the rhythm of the song. There’s something so intimate about this—no grand gestures, no need for words—just the quiet presence of being with each other, of knowing that after everything, after all the distance and the doubts, you’ve both chosen to stay.

As the song winds down, the notes fading into the background, you look up at her, catching her gaze again. There’s a softness there, a vulnerability that mirrors your own, and before you can think twice, you lean in and press your lips to hers. It’s a slow, lingering kiss, full of all the unsaid things that have been building between you for so long. A kiss that speaks of forgiveness, of love, of the quiet promise that you’re not letting go.

When you pull back, Alexia’s smile is small but real, her fingers gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I love you,” she whispers, the words full of warmth and certainty.

“I love you too,” you reply, the weight of the words settling comfortably between you, like they’ve found their rightful place again.

The vinyl spins to a stop, the quiet crackle filling the room as the music fades. But neither of you moves. You stay wrapped in each other’s arms, swaying gently to the rhythm of a song only the two of you can hear. The city outside hums with life, but in this moment, it’s just you and her, dancing in the quiet, letting the world melt away.

Alexia leans her forehead against yours again, her eyes closing as she holds you close. “I’m not going anywhere,” she whispers softly, the words like a promise.

And as you stand there together, wrapped in each other’s warmth, you know that this is what love is—messy, complicated, sometimes painful, but always worth fighting for. You tighten your hold on her, your fingers brushing her back as you sway gently to the silence.

Right now, in this moment, everything feels like it’s falling into place. And it’s enough.

-

Note: I've been experimenting with a new writing style that uses a lot more words than I typically do. l'd love to know if this is the kind of writing you'd like to see more of in the future.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ It's Always Been You | CS55

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Reader

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Summary: After a painful breakup, Y/N receives an unexpected drunk phone call from Carlos following the Mexican Grand Prix, igniting a whirlwind of emotions as he grapples with his feelings for her.

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check out my other works: Masterlist

Y/N sat curled up on her couch, the lights of the Mexican Grand Prix flickering across the screen. The roar of engines echoed in her living room, mingling with her racing thoughts. It was torturous yet exhilarating—watching Carlos race was like watching her heart dance on a tightrope. She had tried to turn away from the screen, to distance herself from the man who once filled her life with laughter and love, but she couldn’t.

“Come on, Carlos!” she shouted at the TV, hands gripping the edges of the couch as she leaned forward. Every time he swerved past another competitor, adrenaline surged through her veins, both pride and heartache battling within her. She couldn’t help but cheer for him, her heart swelling at the sight of him in that red Ferrari. But just as quickly as that pride built, it crumbled at the sight of Rachel, his new girlfriend, who flashed her bright smile at the camera, waving like she belonged there beside him.

Y/N’s stomach twisted painfully. It felt like a punch to the gut. How could he have moved on so easily? It was as if the relationship they’d shared had never existed at all. The memories of laughter, stolen kisses, and lazy Sunday mornings flooded her mind, leaving her gasping for air.

“Why am I doing this to myself?” she muttered, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. It was like she was torturing herself, choosing to witness his success while knowing she was no longer a part of it. She had promised herself she wouldn’t watch, but the draw of his presence on the track was impossible to resist.

As the race progressed, her heart leaped when Carlos took the lead. “Yes! That’s my boy!” she exclaimed, but then the camera panned to Rachel again, who hugged him tightly after he crossed the finish line. Y/N’s heart shattered at that moment, watching him with her was like a physical blow. She let out a choked sob, pressing her hand to her mouth. “I shouldn’t be watching this, why do I keep doing this to myself?” she whispered, the weight of her emotions crashing down on her.

The voices of the commentators faded into background noise, just as the memories of her life before had. It felt like ages since she’d found comfort in those moments, the excitement of races shared with Carlos, his laughter mingling with the roar of engines.

But that was a lifetime ago—before the breakup that had shattered everything.

Carlos had told her he needed to focus on his career, that the demands of racing were too much to handle alongside a relationship. They had fought that night, voices raised, tears shed, but in the end, he had made his choice. She remembered the way his eyes had looked, resolute yet filled with regret as he walked out the door, leaving her standing there, heartbroken and lost.

In the weeks that followed, Y/N had found herself spiraling. She tried to move on, to fill the void he left behind, but nothing seemed to work. The world around her felt muted, the colors faded. She buried herself in work, diving into projects that usually excited her, but her heart wasn’t in it. Every time her phone buzzed with updates from social media, she found herself torturing herself further by clicking on Carlos’s posts.

His face smiled back at her in photographs, celebrating podiums with his new girlfriend, Rachel, who looked radiant and perfect beside him. They were at glamorous events, her arm draped over his shoulder. Each picture was a reminder of what she had lost, of the love that had once seemed unbreakable.

Y/N spent hours scrolling, heart racing with jealousy and pain, every interaction between Carlos and Rachel a fresh wound. How could he move on so quickly? She felt betrayed and heartbroken, trapped in a cycle of longing and sorrow. She couldn’t understand how he could go from loving her to appearing so happy with someone else, and every time she saw him smiling, it felt like a slap in the face.

Sometimes, they’d cross paths at mutual friends' gatherings, and each awkward interaction was like walking on glass. Carlos would greet her with that same charming smile, and for a fleeting moment, it would feel like nothing had changed, only for the reality to crash back down when she saw Rachel’s hand on his arm, the easy affection they shared.

Y/N’s friends tried to cheer her up, encouraging her to go out and meet new people, but all she could think about was Carlos. She could still hear the echoes of his laughter, the way he would wrap his arms around her, pulling her close when the world felt overwhelming. She missed him deeply, but the hurt ran too deep to just reach out.

She went to bed after finishing an entire bottle of wine all by herself. She was curled up in her blanket trying not to cry again when her phone buzzed to life. The contact name lit up the screen: Carlos. Her heart raced—fear, excitement, and a flicker of hope all rolled into one. She hesitated for a moment, remembering the last time they had spoken, the hurt that had echoed in his voice, and the way he had chosen his career over them. But she couldn’t resist; she answered, her breath hitching as she pressed the phone to her ear.

“Y/N! Oh my god, I can’t believe it’s you!” His voice was loud and slurred, a mixture of laughter and something heavier beneath the surface. She could hear loud music blasting in the background.

“Carlos?” she asked, concern washing over her. “Are you drunk?”

“Maybe a little too much,” he chuckled, but it was clear he didn’t care. “I just won, you know! Like, first place! In Mexico! This is insane!”

She couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm, but the happiness quickly faded as she remembered Rachel. “That’s great, Carlos. I’m happy for you.”

“Did you watch me? You should be here! I wanted to celebrate with you, mi amor!” He slurred the term of endearment making her heart ache.

“I… I saw it on TV,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “But you have Rachel to celebrate with.”

“Ugh, don’t even get me started on her!” he groaned, the sound punctuated by a loud cheer from the crowd around him. “She’s just a PR stunt. I don’t care about her, Y/N! You know that!”

The admission made her heart race, but doubt crept in. “Then why are you with her?”

“Because I thought I could move on,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower, laced with regret. “But every time I see her, all I think about is you. You’re the one I want to celebrate with, the only one I ever wanted.”

Y/N’s heart twisted painfully, caught between hope and heartache. “You broke up with me, Carlos. You said it was for your career, that you needed to focus on racing.”

“I thought I could do it, but I was wrong!” he insisted, the desperation rising in his tone. “You’re everything to me, Y/N! I miss you so much it hurts! I can’t get you out of my mind!”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she fought against the emotions threatening to spill over. “You can’t just call me and say all this after everything. You don’t get to tell me you miss me when you’re with someone else!”

“Please, just listen!” he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m a mess without you. I thought this would help, but it’s only made it worse. I wish you were here, celebrating with me. You’re the only one who gets me!”

“Carlos…” she began, her heart racing at the implications of his words, but she struggled to find her voice. “You’re drunk, and I can’t trust what you’re saying right now. You need to be honest with yourself first.”

“I’m telling you the truth!” he exclaimed, a mix of anger and desperation spilling into his tone. “You think I want to share this moment with her? No! I want to share it with you! Every trophy, every victory, it all means nothing without you by my side!”

His words stirred something deep within her, a longing that felt like a wound reopening. “But you chose your career over me, Carlos! You said it was for your future, and now you’re telling me you want me back?”

“Because I thought I could handle it, but I can’t!” he confessed, voice breaking. “I want to fight for us! I never wanted to lose you. You were my everything, Y/N! I can’t live without you!”

A sob escaped her lips, her heart heavy with the weight of his confession. “You broke my heart, Carlos. I don’t know if I can survive you breaking it again. I love you, it's ruining my life!”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” he cried, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I thought I could handle it, but I’m lost without you! You’re the only one I’ve ever loved, the only one I will ever love!”

The sincerity in his voice shattered her defenses, leaving her vulnerable and aching for the connection they once shared. “You have Rachel, though. You need to make a choice. I can’t be your second option.”

“She’s nothing compared to you!” he exclaimed, desperation lacing his words. “I promise, once this triple header is over, I’ll end things with her. I’ll make it right! I’ll come back for you, I swear!”

His words felt like a lifeline thrown into the storm of her heart, but uncertainty still loomed like a shadow. “What if this is just the alcohol talking? What if you wake up tomorrow and forget all this?”

“I won’t forget!” he insisted fiercely. “I want you to be the person I see first thing in the morning and last thing at night, I want to go back to cuddling on the couch with you and making you pancakes in the morning. I want to fight for you, for us! I can’t imagine my life without you, Y/N. You’re my heart, mi vida.”

The tenderness in his voice made her heart swell and ache at the same time. “You don’t know how much it hurts to hear you say that after everything,” she whispered, the tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I know it’s complicated, but please don’t give up on me,” he said softly. “I need you to hold on, just a little longer. I’ll come back for you, and I’ll make things right. You’re my home, Y/N, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it.”

As the call ended, Y/N sat in the silence of her apartment, heart racing with conflicting emotions. The conversation had been a whirlwind of pain, and uncertainty, leaving her breathless. She didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in a long time, she felt a flicker of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to each other. She wrapped her arms around herself, imagining Carlos holding her close, the warmth of his embrace filling the empty spaces in her heart. As the night wore on, she clung to the possibility of being held in his arms again, even as the shadows of doubt lingered. In the depths of her heart, she knew one thing: she loved him fiercely, and despite the pain, she would wait for him to come back, hoping they could mend the pieces of their shattered love.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[lizzieolseniskinda]

TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 6

SDE MASTERLIST - FEM!reader (POC!reader)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: 4846

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: talks about blood & nightmares (nothing too graphic!)soulmate & time travel au, English is not my first language

NOT proofread

to be added to taglist

As you slipped into your sleep, you found yourself wandering through memories—familiar, cherished memories—it all came flooding back, slipping into your mind like whispers and playing before your eyes like a movie. It was a bright, golden afternoon by the Black Lake at Hogwarts. You could see Ron, Harry and Hermione.

They were sitting on the grass on a picnic blanket you’d brought, laughing over something Ron had said, his face red with barely-contained laughter. Hermione was reading out loud from a book, clearly exasperated but smiling, and Harry was watching them both with that look. A look that he always had when he was at ease, a rare smile.

Harry’s glasses are slipping down his nose as he squints against the sun, his hair as messy as ever. Ron stretched out lazily, one arm propped behind his head as he reaches for a pumpkin pasty with the other.

“It’s so good to see you,” you say softly, the words spilling out before you can stop them. You felt a pang of longing, realizing how much you miss this easy, familiar closeness.

“Oh, you’re stuck with us, don’t worry,” Harry says with a grin, his green eyes bright and reassuring. “We’d never leave you.”

“Absolutely,” Hermione adds, nodding earnestly and closing the book on her lap. “Besides, who else would help us figure out all these mysteries? You’re as much a part of this as we are.”

Ron chuckles, taking a big bite of his pasty. “Not to mention, someone has to be there to keep you two from overthinking everything. Imagine the chaos if it was just the three of us.”

You laugh, feeling a warmth in your chest.

“You know,” you say, glancing at the lake where the water shimmers in the sunlight, “I wish we could stay like this forever. Just… having a picnic, no worries about anything else.”

Hermione reaches over and gives your hand a squeeze. “We’re here, whenever you need us. Even when things get difficult, remember that.”

Harry nods, his expression softening. “Don’t let anything make you doubt that. We’re always with you.”

You felt a rush of warmth and nostalgia hit you, drawn into the comfort of those days you had spent with your friends. You could hear their voices as clear as day. Their laughter mingling with the soft rustle of leaves and the gentle breeze. It felt safe, like nothing could touch or hurt any of you, like the years hadn’t drawn you apart.

But as the warmth of the dream lingers, something shifts. Colours started to fade, darkening the sky. The warmth of the sky dissipating into a cold shadow. The laughter thinned into silence, Hermione’s face contorting in worry as she looked toward the darkening horizon. You reached for your wand, only to find nothing. You looked up towards your friends.

One by one, they started to fade—Ron’s freckles dimming into the darkness, Hermione’s eyes lost the fear as her face became indistinct, until only Harry remains. He’s staring at you, dead in your eyes, his expression haunted, as though he knows something you don’t.

The familiar faces of your friends became twisted, their eyes wide and hollow, black, staring past you, as if you weren’t even there.

“You've never been alone in this.”

You turned your head towards the sound of Harry’s voice from behind you. Suddenly, you’re no longer sitting on the grass. The world around you seemed to shift and distort, like the walls of reality were bending in on themselves.

Instead, found yourself in the Great Hall, but it’s ruined, twisted. Broken. There’s rubble everywhere, and you’re alone with a figure moving slowly through the debris. You look down to find your wand in hand, trembling, but no matter how hard you try to call put, no sound leaves your lips.

The figure points behind you and unwillingly your head turns with the hand, behind you could see them, all of them, your friends—Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna and the twins. They were standing at a distance, eyes empty and staring straight through you. They look lost, hollow, shadows of who they once were.

A faint dripping sound pulls your attention away from their faces. You glance down and notice a small puddle of blood pooling at Hermione’s feet. Your gaze shifts up to her arm, slick with blood, where something is scrawled in crimson against her arm.

Tears formed in your eyes and you looked away, towards Harry, the hollow in his eyes having a faint green look in his eyes. As soon as you noticed it, it left.

You tried to move toward them, but your feet felt glued to the spot. A wave of helplessness surged through you. The only thing you could do watch as figured emerged from the darkness, out of the walls—hooded, faceless shadows  that closed in around your friends. 

Distant screams echoing as they were dragged away, lost in the darkness.

Your heart pounds painfully, the sense of helplessness crushing you. A chill crawls down your spine, the cold seeping deep into your bones. Your breaths grow shallow, the weight of guilt pressing down like a heavy stone.

And then, in the depth of the moment, the figure approached you—a pair of cold, dark brown, calculating eyes fixed on you, a face shrouded in darkness but recognisable everywhere. Tom.

He’s looking at you, a small, chilling smile playing at his lips. His voice echoes, low and taunting. “They’re all gone because of you,” he said, voice soft yet sharp. “Because you couldn’t change a thing.”

Your breath hitches, and you stagger, trying to escape, to wake up, but his face looms even closer. His presence filled the void with even more darkness, casting shadows that seemed to cling to your skin, creeping up your spine like ice.

“Why are you even here?” his voice echoed, smooth and unfeeling, carrying a weight that felt like judgment. “Do you really think you can change anything?”

You woke up with a start, heart racing and gasping for air, the cold sweat clinging to your skin as the remnants of the nightmare cling to your mind. You sit up, images of twisted faces and dark shadows still burning behind your eyelids.

You sat up, wiping at your face with shaky hands, only to realise they were wet—tears had already started to flow, now completely blurring your vision. You wiped them away with a shaky hand, but they just kept coming, as though all the fear, all the frustration, all the loneliness you’d been bottling up had burst free. 

Looking around the empty dorm room, you realized it was Sunday morning. Your roommates had already left for breakfast, leaving you in a silent room that suddenly felt too big, too cold.

With your chest tightening, you stumbled out of bed, grabbing a sweater and tugging it on over your head, fingers fumbling with the sleeves. You barely took the time to slip on shoes, leaving them unlaced as you hurried out of the dormitory. Your hands wouldn’t stop trembling, and the cold, early-morning stone floors of the castle did little to calm you as you rushed through the corridors, your footsteps echoing in the silence.

Your breath came in shallow gasps as you navigated the winding halls, your mind locked on one single thought: Dumbledore. He had to send you back. you couldn’t take it anymore. 

It wasn’t long before you reached the familiar stretch of hall leading to professor Dumbledore’s office. 

The portraits along the walls watched you as you rushed past, whispering among themselves. You climbed staircase after staircase, fueled by a mixture of fear and anger, until finally you stood in front of the stone gargoyle guarding dumbledore’s office.

“Let me in,” you whispered hoarsely, still crying, your voice cracking. When the gargoyle didn’t move, you let out a strangled yell, slamming your fists against the cold stone. “Let me in! Please!”

As if in response to your desperation, the stone gargoyle slowly shifted aside, revealing the spiral staircase. You scrambled up, each step feeling like it took forever, until finally you burst into his office. He stood up behind his desk, calmly looking over a stack of papers, but he looked up immediately when you stormed in, concern flickering in his eyes.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he said gently, closing the door behind you. “What brings you here so early?”

“Professor,” you choked out, standing in the middle of the room, your body trembling as the flood of emotions poured out, “Send me back. Please, send me back. I don’t want to be here anymore, I… I can’t do this.”

You swallowed, the words coming out in a shaky rush. “I can’t… I can’t stay here. I want to go back. please, I need to go back to my time. I miss my friends, my parents… everyone. i can’t do—” 

The weight of everything came crashing down as you spoke, your voice trembling. “Please, professor, I don’t belong here… I want to go home.” your voice broke, and a sob escaped you. You covered your mouth with one hand, the tears coming faster now, blurring your vision completely.

Dumbledore’s eyes were full of understanding as he stepped closer, guiding you gently to a chair. “Take a seat, my dear,” he murmured, his voice calm and reassuring. “I know this must feel unbearably difficult.”

“No, you don’t understand!” you interrupted, your voice coming out in a broken yell. “I don’t want to sit down! I want to go back!”

“I don’t belong here! every day, every second I’m here, it feels like… like i’m suffocating. I miss my friends, I miss my family, and I can’t…just pretend everything is okay. It’s not fair! You brought me here, and now I’m stuck. I never even had a choice!”

Tears were streaming freely down your face, your fists clenched so tightly your nails dug into your palms. Dumbledore took a step toward you, but you took a step back, shaking your head.

You sank into the chair, wrapping your arms around yourself as you tried to catch your breath, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “It’s too much,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t want to be here anymore. I feel so alone… everything here is different, and I don’t know how long I can pretend I’m alright with it.”

He took a seat beside you, his expression pained but kind. “Your feelings are entirely valid, and your courage to speak up about them is admirable.” he paused, studying your tear-streaked face with that same intense, searching look he often wore. “Being out of one’s own time is a very heavy burden to bear. You have been given a task that no one should be asked to bear alone.”

“Don’t tell me to be brave, don’t tell me this is for some greater purpose!” you shouted, voice breaking. “I don’t care about the greater purpose! I want to go home! I don’t want to be here, living in constant fear, watching every move I make. you don’t understand what it’s like!” 

Your sobs overtook you, racking your whole body as you sank deeper into the chair, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to keep yourself from falling apart. “I miss them so much. Please… please, just send me back.”

Dumbledore was silent for a long moment, watching you with a sadness that only deepened the ache in your chest.

“If I could, child, I would,” he said softly, his voice filled with an unfamiliar heaviness. “But, you know why you’re here. There are things that must be done, paths that must be taken.”

“I do not say this lightly, and I do not expect you to forgive me for the burden I have placed on you. but the future depends on it.”

“I don’t care about the future right now!” you yelled, the anger burning bright through the fear and pain. “I care about now! I care about my life and my friends and my family.”

“Why should I have to give all that up? I didn’t ask for any of this! I lost my life—freedom for you!”

Dumbledore nodded slowly, as if weighing each of your words. “Sometimes, life asks of us sacrifices we would never choose,” he said quietly. “I am deeply sorry for that. But know this—you are not alone, and you do have the strength to face what lies ahead.”

He stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “And strength, my dear, does not mean the absence of pain or fear. Strength is simply the willingness to keep moving forward, even when it feels impossible.”

You stared at the floor, the weight of his words pressing down on you. A part of you wanted to believe him, but another part just felt… tired. bone-deep tired.

“I don’t even know if I-I’m doing it right,” you managed to whisper, your fingers gripping the edge of your sweater tightly. “What if… what if nothing changes? What if Harry still… still dies?” 

“I understand your fears,” he said softly, “But I am here to help guide you. And while I cannot give you a clear answer about the future, I can tell you that your presence here has already changed things, even if it may not be obvious.”

You wanted to believe him, but the doubts gnawed at you. “I feel like I’m losing myself, professor. every day, it feels harder to remember who I am, or who I used to be.”

“Your identity is not lost, even if you feel disconnected from it,” he replied, his voice warm and steady. “It is within you, no matter what time you find yourself in.”

You looked down, sniffling, trying to draw strength from his words. “It’s just… Everyone feels so far away.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes soft with compassion. “You are allowed to feel this way. It is human, after all, to yearn for those we love.”

After a few moments of silence, he added, “If you truly wish to return, I can explore the possibility of sending you back to your time. However, I would ask you to take a little time to think it over first. Sometimes, in the midst of hardship, we cannot see the strength that lies within us until the storm has passed.”

You took a shaky breath, nodding, though the ache in your heart still lingered.

He offered you a reassuring smile. “Whenever you need to speak, my door is always open.”

The gentle waves of the black lake lapped at the shore, the water shimmering under the soft morning light. You sat by the edge, hugging your knees to your chest, staring out across the lake as memories of Harry, hermione, and Ron surfaced, vivid and sharp. The ache in your chest felt endless, like a hollow, sinking weight that refused to leave. 

The spot felt haunted now, a cruel reminder of everything you’d left behind—the laughter, the closeness, the feeling of home that was slipping further from your reach with each passing day. You felt yourself fraying at the edges, unraveling beneath the surface of your forced smiles and brave face.

You barely registered the sound of footsteps approaching until someone sat down beside you. Turning your head, you found Lucas, his usual easygoing grin replaced by a look of gentle concern.

“Hey,” he said softly, nudging you with his elbow. “you look like you've got the weight of the entire library on your shoulders. what's going on?”

You tried to respond, to tell him it was nothing, but the words caught in your throat. The mere kindness in his voice, the familiarity of it, broke something in you. All at once, the tears started to flow, again, hot and unstoppable, and you buried your face in your hands.

Lucas’s arm immediately wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close. He didn’t say anything, didn’t press you for answers. He just held you there, letting you sob against him, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. “Cry all you need to. I’ll even throw in a free shoulder to soak.”

You let out a choked laugh through the tears, but the laughter quickly turned back into sobs. You clutched onto him tightly, as if he could anchor you back from the overwhelming tide of pain and loneliness that threatened to swallow you whole.

“I… I’m sorry, I’m a mess today.,” you managed to say between sobs, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I miss my friends so much, Lucas.”

He nodded, squeezing you gently. “I know, I know. That’s got to be the hardest part of all this—being here, away from everyone. But you’re not alone, okay? i’m right here, and i’ll stay here as long as you need me to.”

“Besides, we can always send them letters, they’re only in France.”

You stayed there, clutching onto his warmth, letting his words settle over you like a balm. ‘Only in France’

You swallowed fresh tears. 

After a few moments, he leaned his head closer, his voice soft but with a familiar mischievous edge. “Besides, who else would put up with me if you weren’t here?”

You sniffled, managing a small, wobbly smile. “Probably, like, everyone. you’re everyone’s favorite flirt, Lucas.”

He grinned, and there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Well, that’s true. But nobody gets my best material like you do. I save all the good jokes just for you, y’know?”

You let out a watery laugh, shaking your head. “You’re an idiot.”

“Hey, insults aside, at least I got you to laugh. My work here is almost done.”

You smiled a little, feeling a bit of the heaviness lift, if only for a moment. Lucas’ arm stayed around your shoulders, solid and steady, like a lifeline you hadn’t realized you needed so badly.

“You’ve got a lot on your shoulders,” he said, his voice turning gentle again. “And I know it feels impossible, but you’re stronger than you think, Y/n. and I’ll be here every step of the way, even if you’re too stubborn to ask for help.”

You let out a long, shaky breath, feeling the warmth of his reassurance settle over you. It wasn’t home, it wasn’t Harry, Hermione, or Ron, but Lucas was here, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. And for now, it was enough.

“Thank you, Lucas,” you whispered, your voice thick with gratitude. 

He gave you a reassuring squeeze. “Anytime. I mean it. Anytime you need a shoulder to cry on, or someone to charm the socks off the Slytherins just for fun, I’m your guy.”

You laughed again, and this time, it felt genuine. Lucas gave you a smile that was soft and warm, and as you sat by the lake together, you felt, for the first time in a long time, that you might be able to make it through this—one small step at a time.

Lucas nudged you with his shoulder as he reached for a bowl of mashed potatoes. “Alright, Y/n, here’s a question: if you could switch places with anyone in the entire wizarding world right now, who would it be?”

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. “Easy—someone on holiday. preferably somewhere sunny.”

Alicia laughed, tossing a piece of bread at you. “That’s cheating! I thought you’d say someone exciting, like an auror or the minister of magic.”

“Can’t blame her,” Lilith chimed in, grinning. 

“A tropical holiday sounds pretty thrilling after being stuck in potions all morning.” Maeve nodded her head, agreeing.

“You’ve got a point,” Lucas said thoughtfully, grinning at you. “Although, if I could switch with anyone, I’d probably pick Slughorn. Imagine all the secrets he must know, all those weird stories about famous people.”

“And you’d get to throw endless parties for yourself,” Lilith pointed out, a rare smile tugging at her lips. 

Maeve smiled, “it would be the ultimate ego trip.”

Everyone laughed, and Lucas shrugged, clearly not bothered. “Hey, the guy knows how to live. He’s probably got more gossip than all of us combined. Speaking of parties,” he added, raising an eyebrow at you, “Ready for the slug club soirée, miss Riddle’s date?”

You groaned, feeling your cheeks warm as the others turned to look at you with intrigued expressions.

“I still can’t believe he just… declared you his date and walked off,” Alicia said, shaking her head in disbelief. “You didn’t get a single word in?”

“Not one,” you admitted, laughing. “He just looked at me with that infuriatingly smug expression and then left.”

Lucas leaned in, smirking. “And you, Y/n, are seriously going along with it?”

“Well,” you said, rolling your eyes, “I mean, he’s kinda… hot.”

“So… yes, I guess I am.”

Alicia nearly choked on her pumpkin juice, eyes widening. “Hot? He’s terrifying, Y/n! Have you seen the way he just stares at people? It’s like he’s plotting their downfall.”

“Yeah,” Maeve added, shooting you a half-amused, half-bewildered look, “But I get it… he’s got that whole brooding dark lord-in-the-making vibe. Still, I wouldn’t want to be within hexing range.”

You couldn’t help but laugh uneasy, brushing off their reactions. 

Lilith shoved some cauliflower onto her plate, “Oh, come on, sure, he’s intense, but there’s something about him that’s… intriguing.”

Lucas, however, looked horrified. He leaned back, crossing his arms dramatically. “intriguing? No, no, Lili, intriguing is a new flavor of bertie bott’s beans or a strange ingredient in potions. Not Tom Riddle.”

Maeve nodded absentmindedly, “He does look like a good snack.”

Lucas gaped, “Sorry, what is wrong with you?”

Maeve shrugged her shoulders, “Don’t act as if you wouldn’t like a little nibble from him, even though you’re like—into girls and stuff.”

You straightened up, feeling Lucas tense beside you. So, you were the first person to know. Alicia also having noticed this, she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, lighten up, Lucas,” Alicia teased, nudging him. “I think we’re all just a little scared that she’s going to show up to the party in some hypnotic trance, spellbound by his ‘intensity.’”

Lucas rolled his eyes, pretending to be unimpressed, but you could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Fine, if that’s what you want. But personally, I think he’s the human embodiment of a dark cloud, and I’d rather not be around for the thunderstorm.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” you replied with a grin. “It’s just one night. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Lucas gave you a long, exasperated look but then sighed, shaking his head with a reluctant smile. “I feel like you’ve just jinxed us."

“But, if it makes you happy, I suppose… but just remember, if he starts getting that ‘plotting world domination’ look, I’ll be there with a rescue plan.” 

You grinned, giving him a playful nudge. “I’ll keep an eye out for his ‘dark cloud’ side.”

Maeve leaned forward, her eyes twinkling. “And what are you wearing?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Lucas said proudly before you could respond. “We’re matching.”

The entire group burst into a chorus of excited gasps and laughter, peppering you with questions. Lilith just nodded approvingly.

“Trust Lucas to make sure you two are the best-dressed at the party,” she said, a hint of admiration in her tone.

“Hey, if she’s going to suffer through a night with Riddle, the least I can do is make sure she looks fantastic,” Lucas said, grinning. “We’re talking silk, elegance, mystery—the works.”

“I don’t know about suffering,” you said, shrugging, though a part of you felt slightly on edge about the party. Tom Riddle’s attention still felt unsettling, but you didn’t want to think about that now.

“Oh, come on, I bet he’s actually a terrible dancer,” Maeve said with a wink. “you might have to lead.”

“That would be hilarious,” Alicia added, snickering. “Just don’t let him step on your toes.”

Lucas laughed. “If he does, you have my permission to hex him right there in front of everyone.”

You couldn’t help but smile, comforted by the light-hearted teasing. As you looked around the table, a warmth settled over you, the tension from this morning melting away.

“If anything, I know you’ll be having a great time, Lucas,” you said, nudging him.

You stood up from the table, giving Lucas and the others a quick wave as you grabbed your bag. “I’m going to the library to study with Ben,” you said, smiling weakly. “I’ll see you later.”

Lucas shot you a mock-salute, his expression playfully suspicious as if to say,  ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’ You grinned and waved him off, heading down the hall with the familiar comfort of your new friends’ laughter fading behind you.

The corridors were quiet, the muffled hum of the Great Hall lingering in the background as you made your way toward the library. You had only made it a few steps when, from the corner of your eye, you noticed someone falling into stride beside you. It was Tom.

He moved silently, his steps measured and smooth, his hands tucked into his robe pockets. You hadn’t even heard him approach, yet here he was, looking as composed and unreadable as ever. You tried not to tense, but the memory of his last intense gaze lingered. 

You didn’t look at him but raised an eyebrow anyway.

“You’re walking alone,” his voice came from just next to you, and you could almost feel his gaze on the side of your face. “I thought I might walk with you.”

“Y/n,” he said, voice calm but direct, as if he’d been waiting for this moment.

You hummed in reply, wondering where this conversation was going to lead you this time.

 “I saw you by the Black Lake earlier.”

You kept your gaze forward, unsure where this was going. “…And?”

His tone was quieter than usual, though still carefully controlled. “You were …crying.”

The words struck you, not because they were untrue, but because you hadn’t realized anyone had seen. You felt your cheeks warm slightly, defensive instinct kicking in.

“Why do you care?” you replied, keeping your voice steady. “It’s hardly any of your business, Riddle.”

He looked at you, brow raised slightly. “It’s not,” he admitted. “But I’m asking.”

You glanced at him, his face composed but his eyes watchful, curious in a way that felt genuine, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that everything about him was calculated. Even so, he had a strange intensity about him that made it hard to dismiss him completely.

You stiffened, your fingers tightening around your bag strap. “I’m fine,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, your gaze fixed ahead. “It was nothing.”

“Nothing,” he repeated, almost sounding amused. “You’re lying.”

“If you must know, it’s because… I had a difficult time, with….something,” you kept your words vague, unwilling to open up fully but feeling oddly compelled to say something.

“Difficult?” Tom echoed, his voice betraying the faintest hint of curiosity. “You seem perfectly capable of handling yourself. What could possibly make you—” he paused, almost as if the word felt foreign to him, “—upset?”

You shrugged, keeping your tone guarded. “Being capable doesn’t make someone immune to, well… feeling lost, different? I don’t know. It’s not like everyone here is exactly friendly.”

He nodded, considering your words in silence as you turned the final corner toward the library. “You sound like a Hufflepuff.”

After a beat, he spoke again, his voice almost softer. “Perhaps.”

“It is just very odd to imagine someone like you feeling out of place.” He paused, his expression unreadable. “I wonder why that is.”

Something in his voice made you feel exposed, as though he was peeling back layers you hadn’t even known were there. You were confused how he spoke so, elegantly for someone so rough.

You looked away, shrugging. “Maybe because I’m just a girl, at the end of the day.”

You caught a faint, almost imperceptible flicker of interest in his eyes. “Perhaps,” he said slowly. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “I understand that feeling, you know. Not fitting in. It’s a powerful motivator.”

The words lingered between you, unspoken layers hidden in their simplicity, and before you could form a response, he glanced down the hallway.

“We’re nearly there,” he said, his tone shifting back to its usual detached calm. “Don’t forget, by the way—Slug Club party. You’re still my date.”

He gave you one last look, his eyes gleaming with an enigmatic intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Then, with the same silent precision, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone outside the library, a strange sense of unsettledness trailing in his wake.

As you watched him walk away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something—some subtle, quiet thing—had shifted between the two of you because of that little conversation. And you weren’t sure whether it was unsettling or… strangely comforting. But you could feel it in your stomach.

A/N: sorry for late postinggg, hope you enjoyed it though!! also, I'm having problems with tagging, so i apologize if your tag didn't work :(

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[021894s]

— 16 petty [1.3k W]

MASTERLIST | PREV | NEXT

PAIRING: brothers bsf! sunghoon x f!reader

WARNINGS: talks of revenge

AUTHORS NOTE: a little short chap but it ends on a little cliffhanger to get you all excited for 17🤗

Under the dappled shade of ancient trees, the gentle murmur of conversation blended with the rustling leaves and distant bird calls. You sat among friends, the air filled with the scent of pine and the earthy promise of an impending rain. It was a scene stolen from a painting, where time seemed to slow and the world outside this circle of companionship faded to a mere whisper.

Ningning's voice, warm and inviting, cut through the calm. "So how did everyone here meet?" Her smile was like the sun breaking through clouds, and all eyes turned to you.

You hesitated for a brief moment, the memories flooding back. "U-um, Heeseung pretty much introduced me to everyone here except those three over there," you said, pointing to Niki, Sunoo, and Jungwon. The names felt like a roll call of your shared pasts.

"Aww, so you and Heeseung are close?" Ningning prodded, her curiosity painting her words with genuine interest.

"Yeah, I mean, I never got the sister I wanted, so I had to settle for him," you joked, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. "And it's kinda hard not to get close with everyone with him throwing parties every other weekend." You shared a laugh with Ningning, the sound mingling with the symphony of nature around you.

The laughter faded into a comfortable silence, a brief interlude before Ningning's voice once again filled the space. "Can I ask you guys a question?"

"Yeah," came the chorus of replies, a harmony of openness and anticipation.

"Is Sunghoon seeing anyone else? He's so distant, and it feels like he only wants me around when something's on his mind," Ningning confessed, her words laced with a vulnerability that tugged at your heart.

You felt a jolt, a shock that rippled across your face, but it was Saerom who noticed, interpreting your expression as a cue to speak. "I wouldn't worry, he's a frat boy and doesn't know anything about being in a relationship, if that's what this is, of course," Saerom said, her tone dismissive yet not unkind.

"At first, I thought it was just sex, but when he invited me here, it felt like there was something more?" Ningning pondered aloud, her confusion mirroring your own.

The weight of the conversation pressed down on you, and without a small “excuse me”, you stood up, making your way inside.

the heaviness of Ningning's words clinged to you like a second skin. The kitchen was a sanctuary, a place of solace away from the tangled web of emotions outside. As you entered, the coolness of the room enveloped you, a stark contrast to the warmth of the gathering.

The clink of dishes and the soft hum of the refrigerator were your only companions as you began to busy yourself with a glass of water. The tap ran cold and clear, the sound soothing in its monotony. The water danced over your hands, downing it in one go, washing away the residue of the conversation.

Lost in thought, you didn't hear Sunghoon enter, his presence a silent shadow until he was beside you. "you ok?," he said, his voice a soft intrusion.

You jumped slightly, the surprise etching itself onto your face. "i’m fine, " you said, your heart still racing from the unexpected company.

You turn away from the comfort of the kitchen, the sanctuary it provided now feeling too small, too intimate. With a deep breath, you move past Sunghoon, the space between you charged with an energy you dare not acknowledge. Your shoulders nearly brush, a whisper of contact that sends a shiver down your spine. You keep your gaze firmly ahead, the stairs to your room calling you to the safety of solitude.

Sunghoon sighs, the sound heavy with things left unsaid, his eyes lingering on the space you just vacated. He stands motionless, lost in whatever thoughts are swirling through his mind, the moment stretching out like a thread pulled too tight.

It's Jake's voice that snaps him back to reality, a touch of annoyance lacing his words, "Dude, can you move out the way?" Sunghoon quickly moves to set everything on the counter, mind still fogged with the interaction you just had.

everyone one is outside mingling, awaiting the feast they’re about to have when you hear a gentle knock on the door, followed by the soft creak of hinges as your met with saerom, her presence a soothing balm to the tumultuous emotions swirling within you. She sits beside you on the bed, her voice a tender whisper, "I'm sorry you had to hear about ningning and Sunghoon's whole ordeal."

You draw in a shaky breath, the confusion within you cresting like a wave. "I don't understand why I'm feeling this way," you confess, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Every time I see Sunghoon, it's like I'm instantly brought back to that night we shared—the way he made me feel." You pause, the memory vivid, searing. "It was unlike anything I've ever felt before."

Saerom listens, her eyes filled with empathy as she takes your hand in hers. "Seeing him so cozy and openly with another girl is hard," you continue, the admission a whisper of vulnerability, "and I can't quite grasp why." The room is filled with your shared silence, a testament to the complexity of the human heart.

Got it, let's go with that plot twist. Saerom, with a knowing glint in her eye, leans back against the headboard, her voice laced with a hint of mischief. "Sunghoon can be such an idiot sometimes. He's just an inconsiderate jerk, you know?"

You can't help but let out a small laugh, the tension in your chest easing slightly. "Yeah, you're right," you agree, feeling a sense of solidarity in Saerom's blunt assessment.

With a playful smirk, Saerom suddenly sits up straighter, an idea sparking in her eyes. "What if you invited a guy friend over? Just to be petty and show Sunghoon that he's also easy to forget," she suggests, the corners of her lips tugging upward in a mischievous smile.

Even though you know it's not really the case, the idea of turning the tables on Sunghoon, if only to make a point, has its appeal. The plot thickens as you consider Saerom's suggestion, the wheels of your intricate story turning.

With a deep breath, you muster up a smile, not allowing the previous tension to cast a shadow over the rest of the evening. As you follow Saerom down the stairs and outside, the savory aroma of the food the guys prepared wafts through the air, a gentle reminder of the warmth and camaraderie that fills the air.

The laughter and chatter of your friends greet you as you reenter the backyard, the heart of the home, where memories are often made. You glance around at the faces you adore the most, a sense of gratitude washing over you. Sunghoon is there too, and for a moment, you lock eyes, a silent acknowledgment passing between you before you both focus on the feast before you.

The table is a colorful display of everyone's efforts, a mix of dishes that somehow come together to form a perfect ensemble. You take your seat, the laughter and stories flowing as freely as the drinks, each bite of the lovingly prepared food grounding you back to the present, to the joy of shared experiences and the unspoken bonds that tie you all together.

Tonight, you decide, is about the memories, the laughter, and the love that surrounds you. The complications of the heart can wait for another day. For now, there's joy to be found in the simple act of enjoying a meal with the people who mean the most.

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[slytherinsmuse]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ Yours, Always | Theodore Nott ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Fem! Reader

Warnings: characters are 18+, not canon,SMUT (minors please look away), smoking, drinking

Summary: Smut, fluff, light angst|Amidst the quiet chaos of a summer at the Malfoy Manor, Theo and his ex navigate the tension of unresolved feelings .

Word count: 12109

author's note: This is a bit longer than what I have posted. Honestly I hope you enjoy because I feel like I am bad at writing smut (despite loving to read it).

The fire crackled and hissed as the group gathered around it, the orange glow casting flickering shadows across the sprawling Malfoy gardens. The scent of freshly trimmed hedges mingled with the faint aroma of smoke, the warmth of the flames competing against the cool evening breeze that whispered through the manicured lawns. Laughter echoed through the warm night air, conversations overlapping in a symphony of easy companionship. Astoria leaned into Draco’s side, her hand resting lightly on his knee as they exchanged whispers. Daphne and Blaise shared a bottle of wine, their heads close together, their laughter a soft, musical undercurrent. Pansy was perched on Mattheo’s lap, giggling at something he’d said, her wine glass dangling from her fingers as though she’d forgotten it was there.

And then there was you.

You sat silently in one of the ornate garden chairs, its wrought-iron design digging faintly into your back as you nursed a glass of wine. The firelight danced on the surface of the dark liquid, flickering shadows reflecting your own stormy thoughts. You did your best to appear absorbed in the flames, as though the mesmerising flicker of orange and gold could distract you from the oppressive knot tightening in your chest.But the warmth of the flames did little to thaw the cold discomfort that had taken up residence there.

It had been a mistake to come. You knew that now.

You’d spent the better part of the past week convincing yourself you could handle it—convincing yourself that enough time had passed since your breakup with Theodore Nott, that you could sit across from him and feel nothing. That you could be surrounded by the memory of what once was, of what you’d lost, and still hold yourself together.

You’d been wrong.

Theo sat across from you, lounging with his usual effortless ease. The firelight played in his sharp features, highlighting the angles of his jaw and the unruly strands of dark hair that had always refused to obey him. His long legs stretched out lazily, one arm slung over the back of his chair. Every so often, his gaze would flicker your way, lingering just long enough to send a shiver crawling up your spine, only for you to quickly look away, pretending not to notice. You could feel the intensity of those glances, though, burning as vividly as the flames that cracked and danced in front of you.

The tension between you was suffocating, a silent storm raging beneath the veneer of calm you both pretended to wear. And yet no one else seemed to notice. The couples were too wrapped up in their own happiness, too absorbed in their easy laughter and whispered conversations, to see the battle playing out in the spaces between you and Theo.

Not that the tension was entirely his fault. If anything, it was your own for agreeing to come in the first place. You’d known the risks. But you’d come anyway, clinging to the false hope that you could prove something to yourself—prove you’d moved on. Instead, you were sitting in silence, your heart twisting painfully every time Theo laughed at one of Blaise’s sarcastic quips or leaned back with that maddening smirk.The worst part wasn’t just Theo. It was everything. The whole scene was a cruel reminder of what you didn’t have anymore—what you’d lost not once, but twice.

The couples were like something out of a picture-perfect fairy tale, their laughter and soft touches a sharp contrast to the gnawing ache in your chest. Astoria’s fingers lightly traced patterns on Draco’s arm, her delicate laugh blending seamlessly with his quieter chuckles. Daphne and Blaise were a study in effortless intimacy, sharing quiet jokes you couldn’t hear, their heads so close they might as well have been sharing the same breath. Even Pansy and Mattheo, chaotic as ever, were locked in their own little world, her laugh ringing out as he whispered something in her ear that made her swat his chest.

The breakup with Theo had been bad enough. It had left you raw, hollowed out in ways you hadn’t thought possible. But at least you’d had something to blame then. At least you could point to the fight, the accusations, the heartbreak, and tell yourself it had been inevitable.

But then came the Ravenclaw. The safe, soft-spoken boy who had seemed like the perfect antidote to Theo’s sharp edges and cutting words. The boy who had treated you with kindness, who had said all the right things and made all the right moves, but who had left you with the same emptiness.

“I think you still care about someone else.” he’d said when he ended it, his tone tinged with sadness. “And I think you need to figure that out before you can give your heart to someone new.”

You hadn’t been able to argue with him. You’d known he was right.

And now here you were, back where it all began, surrounded by couples who had figured out how to make it work, while you sat across from the boy who had broken you, pretending you weren’t still in love with him.The fire crackled again, louder this time, a log splitting in two as it fell deeper into the flames. You glanced up instinctively, your gaze colliding with Theo’s.

For a moment, neither of you looked away.

His eyes held yours, icy blue and unreadable as usual, the firelight reflecting in their depths. Your breath caught, and for the briefest second, it felt like the world had gone quiet, like the laughter and chatter of your friends had faded into nothingness. You looked away, breaking the moment before it could shatter you completely. You took a long sip of your wine, forcing yourself to focus on the heat spreading through your chest instead of the ache threatening to overwhelm you.

It was going to be a long two days.

The glass of wine felt heavier in your hand as your mind wandered again, thoughts spiralling down paths you’d tried to block off. You’d kept your breakup with the Ravenclaw—Dennis—a secret from your friends, not wanting to ruin the excitement of finishing school. They had all been so wrapped up in their plans, their triumphs, their relationships. The last thing you’d wanted was to bring them down with your own failures. Besides, it wasn’t like you had the energy to explain it. The breakup had been amicable, sure, but it had left you feeling alone. It wasn’t just the end of the relationship that hurt—it was the reminder of how little you’d truly felt for him, how you’d used him to try and forget Theo, and how much you’d failed.

You barely registered the voices around you until Astoria’s clear, sweet tone broke through the haze of your thoughts.

“Do you have any plans with Dennis this summer, Y/N?”

Your stomach sank at the mention of his name. The fire popped loudly, punctuating the sudden tension that tightened around your chest.

You glanced up, finding all eyes now on you. Astoria’s question was innocent, her gaze curious but kind. It wasn’t her fault, of course. None of them knew. You opened your mouth to answer, but the words stuck, your throat suddenly dry. You could feel Theo’s eyes on you again, sharp and piercing, but you refused to look at him.

Reluctantly, you forced a smile, doing your best to sound casual. “No.” you said, your voice a little too light. “No plans.”

There was a pause. Then Blaise chimed in, his brows furrowed in confusion. “What, is he too busy nerding out over his books or something?”

You chuckled nervously, trying to play it off. “Something like that.”

But Daphne wasn’t so easily distracted. She leaned forward slightly, her expression soft but probing. “Wait—why not? Didn’t he say he wanted to travel with you this summer?”

The group was silent now, all of them waiting for your response. Even Pansy, who had been laughing moments ago, seemed to have stilled.

You swallowed, the laughter bubbling in your chest too bitter to contain. “Because we’re not together anymore.” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

The reaction was immediate. Astoria’s mouth fell open slightly, her eyes widening in surprise. “Oh.” she said softly, her hand instinctively tightening around Draco’s arm.

“What?” Blaise asked, his tone incredulous. “Since when?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Daphne added, her voice gentle but concerned.

You shrugged, forcing a chuckle that sounded too hollow to your own ears. “It wasn’t a big deal.” you lied. “It just… wasn’t working out.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that stretched uncomfortably long. You took another sip of wine, trying to ignore the lump forming in your throat.

“Well, good riddance.” Pansy said, breaking the tension with her usual bluntness. “He was too dull for you anyway.”

You couldn’t help but smile faintly, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks for that, Pans.” you said dryly.

But you could still feel the others’ concern. Daphne’s worried glances, Astoria’s quiet sympathy, even Blaise’s rare seriousness as he studied you. You hated it. What you hated most, though, was Theo. Or rather, the fact that you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and unrelenting, as if he could see straight through the flimsy façade you were putting up. You refused to look at him, but you could almost hear the thoughts running through his mind. You could imagine the way his jaw would be tight, the way his fingers would curl into his palm as he tried to stop himself from saying something biting or too honest.

“Honestly, good for you.” Blaise said after a moment, his tone lightening. “Dennis never could keep up with you anyway.”

You chuckled faintly, murmuring a quiet “thanks” before finishing the rest of your wine in one long gulp.

“Well…” Astoria said, clearly trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground, “that just means you’re free to enjoy the summer without any distractions.”

You nodded, forcing another tight smile. But as the conversation shifted, their voices growing louder and more cheerful again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone else wasn’t letting the subject go. You risked a glance at Theo then, just for a second. His eyes met yours, and the intensity there made your breath catch. He didn’t look smug or amused, the way he often did when you were forced into the same space. He looked serious. Concerned, even. The knot in your chest tightened as you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on Astoria’s voice. You hated how easily Theo could read you, how he could strip away the carefully constructed walls you’d built without even trying. But more than that, you hated how much you still wanted him to.

You sat up quietly, the ornate chair creaking softly beneath you as you placed your empty wine glass to the side. The laughter and chatter of your friends faded into the background as your fingers slipped into your pocket, fishing out the small carton you kept hidden.

Cigarettes.

It was a habit you had once despised—one of Theo’s worst, in your opinion. You’d argued with him countless times about it during your relationship, hating the smell, the way it clung to him like an unwanted shadow. But now? Now it was a habit you had picked up yourself. The irony wasn’t lost on you as you flicked the lighter, the soft flame dancing briefly before the tip of the cigarette glowed. You inhaled deeply, the familiar burn spreading through your chest, and exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl lazily into the night air. It was another secret you’d kept from your friends, like so much else. They didn’t know. They didn’t know about the cigarettes, the way you craved the sharp edge they gave your frayed nerves, the way they dulled the ache that nothing else seemed to touch.

The wine in your veins and the hollowness in your chest made you not give a fuck.

You ignored the glances from the others. Astoria’s subtle frown, Pansy’s raised brow, even Blaise’s brief look of surprise. None of them said anything, though. Perhaps they could sense that this wasn’t the time to pry, or maybe they were just too shocked to find the same girl who used to chastise Theo for his smoking now doing the very thing she’d hated. The only one who didn’t seem remotely surprised was Theo.His gaze locked onto you immediately, his expression unreadable. You felt the weight of it, sharp and piercing, as you took another drag. You didn’t dare meet his eyes, though. You focused instead on the fire, on the way the embers popped and sparked against the night, on the rhythmic rise and fall of your own breath.

But you could feel him watching you. Not with judgement, not with pity, but with something else entirely—something that made your skin prickle and your heart ache all at once.

“Didn’t know you smoked, Y/N.” Blaise finally said, breaking the silence. His tone was light, teasing, but there was a flicker of curiosity behind his words.

You exhaled slowly, letting the smoke drift away before answering. “There’s a lot you don’t know.” you said simply, your voice calm but distant.

“Clearly.” Pansy chimed in, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied you. “What’s next? You’re going to tell us you’ve taken up gambling?”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “Not yet.” you replied, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at your lips.

The group laughed, the tension easing slightly, but the moment didn’t feel any lighter to you. The cigarette burned between your fingers, a bitter comfort, as you leaned back in your chair and stared up at the dark sky.

Theo’s voice cut through the chatter, low and measured. “Thought you hated smoking.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, one laced with an undercurrent of emotion that only you could grasp.

You froze for a heartbeat, the cigarette hovering near your lips, before taking another drag and exhaling slowly. “Things change.” you said quietly, refusing to look at him.

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. Theo didn’t push further, but you could feel his gaze lingering, pressing against you like a touch you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Anyway…” Astoria said brightly, clearly desperate to shift the mood, “Who’s up for another round of wine?”

The others murmured their agreement, the conversation picking back up as the bottle was passed around again. You stayed quiet, the cigarette slowly burning to its end as you stared into the flames.

Across the fire, Theo kept watching you.

As the night deepened, the alcohol began to take its toll. Laughter grew louder, gestures more exaggerated, and the conversations turned increasingly ridiculous. Astoria was the first to start giggling uncontrollably, leaning heavily into Draco as she slurred something about how he was “too perfect for words.” Draco smirked, the kind of self-satisfied grin that only he could pull off, before helping her to her feet.

“Well.” he said, clearly amused, “I think someone needs to call it a night.”

Astoria protested weakly, but her flushed cheeks and half-closed eyes betrayed her exhaustion—or at least her inebriation. The two of them disappeared into the house, Draco’s hand resting lightly on the small of her back.

That was all it took for the others to follow suit.

Blaise stretched dramatically, letting out an exaggerated yawn as Daphne rolled her eyes but still stood with him. “Time to get some rest.” he announced, though his smirk told a very different story.

“Rest?” Pansy snorted, clearly not buying it.

“Shut it, Pans.” Blaise shot back, his smirk widening as Daphne tugged on his arm, steering him toward the manor.

Mattheo and Pansy weren’t far behind, though their departure was accompanied by far less subtlety. “Come on, love.” Mattheo murmured, his voice low and suggestive as he lifted Pansy effortlessly off her feet, making her squeal with laughter.

“Absolutely not.” she objected, though her arms were already looping around his neck. “Put me down!”

“Not a chance.” he replied with a grin, carrying her off toward the house without so much as a glance back.

And just like that, the once lively circle around the fire dwindled to two.

You and Theo.

The fire crackled softly, the only sound breaking the stillness that now enveloped the garden. You leaned back in your chair, gripping your empty wine glass as though it might anchor you somehow, your gaze fixed firmly on the dying embers.

You didn’t have to look to know Theo was still there. You could feel his presence, sharp and unavoidable, just a few feet away.

“Guess it’s just us now.” he said, his voice low and even.

You glanced at him,  unable to help yourself. He was lounging in his chair, as calm and composed as ever, but there was something in his expression—a flicker of tension that made your chest heave.

“Seems that way.” you replied quietly, your voice carrying a faint edge.

The silence that followed was thick, charged with everything that had been left unsaid between you. The fire burned lower, the orange glow dimming as the night stretched on, and still neither of you moved. You hated this—hated the way he could make you feel so unsteady, so raw, with just his presence. Hated the way your chest ached every time you looked at him, a painful reminder of all the things you’d tried and failed to forget.

But most of all, you hated the way some part of you was glad it was just the two of you now.You sneaked another glance at Theo, only to see him pull a cigarette from his pocket. The motion was unhurried, almost lethargic, as he tapped it against the carton before placing it between his lips.

The faint flicker of his lighter caught your eye, the soft glow illuminating his face for a moment as he lit the cigarette with practised ease. He took a slow drag, the ember flaring bright against the darkness, and exhaled a stream of smoke that curled lazily into the air.

You couldn’t help but watch him. The way his long fingers held the cigarette, the slight tilt of his head as he blew out the smoke—it was captivating in a way you hadn’t expected, your breath catching before you forced yourself to look away.

“Are you going to tell me off for it again?”

His voice broke the silence, low and laced with a faint hint of amusement. You glanced back at him, only to find his eyes on you now, sharp and curious, as if he’d been waiting for your reaction.

You shook your head, a bitter smile tugging at your lips as you leaned back in your chair. “No.” you said simply.

He raised a brow at that, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk. “Really? No lecture about how it’s a disgusting habit? Or how I’m going to ruin my lungs?”

You met his gaze, your expression unreadable. “I’m not exactly in a position to judge anymore.”

Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out your own cigarette and lighter, ignoring the way his smirk faltered slightly. You lit it with a soft click, inhaling deeply before exhaling a thin stream of smoke.

Theo’s eyes widened slightly, the surprise flickering across his face before it quickly vanished, replaced by something more guarded. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied you, the cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers.

“When did that start?” Theo asked, his voice softer now, though still tinged with curiosity.

You shrugged, taking another slow drag of your cigarette. The smoke curled upwards from your lips as you exhaled, your eyes fixed on the glowing embers of the fire. “A short while after we broke up.” you admitted, your tone calm but distant, as if the words didn’t bother you as much as they did.

His brow furrowed slightly at your response, and for the first time that night, the carefully guarded mask he always wore seemed to slip just a fraction. He didn’t respond immediately, instead taking another drag from his own cigarette, his gaze flickering to the fire before returning to you.

“Didn’t think I’d be such a bad influence.” he said finally, his tone dry but lacking the usual sharp edge.

You gave a faint, humourless chuckle. “You weren’t.” you replied simply, tapping the ash from your cigarette. “It wasn’t about you. Not entirely.”

Theo tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. “Not entirely?” he echoed, his voice low, almost cautious.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair as you stared up at the night sky. The stars were faint, their light muted by the glow of the fire and the lingering smoke that hung in the air. “It was… everything.” you said after a moment, your voice quieter now. “The breakup. The mess it left me in. The way it felt like nothing else worked to fill the silence.”

For a moment, there was only the sound of the dying fire crackling between you. You didn’t look at Theo, didn’t want to see the expression on his face. It was hard enough to admit it, to give voice to the hollow ache you’d carried for far too long.

“That’s why you do it?” He asked finally, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “Because it reminds you of me.”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, sharp and unrelenting. You turned to look at him then, your breath catching at the way his gaze locked onto yours, unflinching and raw in a way that left you feeling exposed.

“It’s not that simple.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Isn’t it?” he asked, his tone softer but still insistent.

You shook your head, turning away again. “No. It’s not.”

Theo leaned back in his chair, exhaling a slow stream of smoke as he studied you in silence. “So why keep doing it?” he asked finally.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you took another drag of your cigarette, letting the smoke fill your lungs before exhaling it slowly. When you finally spoke, your voice was steady but felt foreign, as though you were speaking about someone else entirely.

“Because sometimes, it’s the only thing that feels real.” you said quietly. “The burn. The taste. The way it makes everything else fade for a little while.”

Theo didn’t respond right away, but you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and searching. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

“I never wanted to hurt you, Y/N.”

The words hung in the air between you, raw and unguarded, cutting through the smoke and silence like a blade. You turned to look at him then, your heart clenching painfully at the way his usual composure seemed to crumble, just slightly, around the edges. For the first time in what felt like forever, Theo looked vulnerable.

“I know.” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. “We were both at fault.”

The admission felt heavy on your tongue, but it was true. You’d spent so much time blaming him for the pain, for the fallout, that you’d almost forgotten the ways you had contributed to the mess. The silence, the assumptions, the stubbornness that kept you from reaching out when it mattered most. The stillness that followed was worse than any argument you two had ever had before. Theo looked away first, his gaze falling to the fire as he took another drag from his cigarette. The ember glowed brightly in the dim light, casting a fleeting warmth across his sharp features. And still, neither of you moved to leave.

A burst of laughter carried across the night air, high and distant. You turned instinctively toward the mansion, catching the faint echo of Astoria’s giggles. The soft hum of voices followed, muffled by the grand walls of Malfoy Manor but still audible enough to remind you of what was happening inside. You could picture it vividly and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy twist in your chest. Not at them, not specifically. It wasn’t Astoria or Daphne or Pansy you envied. It was the ease. The simplicity of their happiness. The way they could exist without the weight of the past dragging them down, without the constant reminder of what could have been. And here you were, sulking around the fire with your ex, smoke curling between you like a barrier you didn’t know how to cross. Your attention shifted back to Theo, drawn by the subtle movement of him standing. He stubbed out his cigarette against the armrest of his chair before stepping forward, using his foot to scatter the embers of the fire. The dying glow of the flames cast shadows across his face, emphasising the lines of his jaw and the faint crease between his brows.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice breaking the quiet.

He didn’t look at you, his focus on the fire as he pressed the embers into the dirt. “Putting it out.” he said simply, his tone neutral.

“Because it’s late.” he replied, finally glancing your way. His gaze lingered for a moment, unreadable, before he added, “Why? Would you rather sit out here sulking all night?”

You hesitated, your gaze flicking toward the softly lit windows of the mansion in the distance. The distant giggles and murmurs carried faintly on the breeze, a reminder of exactly what was happening inside.

“Do you really want to go back right now?” you asked, your tone sharper than you intended.

Theo raised a brow, clearly catching the hint in your voice. “Yeah, why not?” he said, though there was a trace of amusement in his tone. His smirk widened slightly as he tilted his head, studying you. “Unless…” He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air before his eyes narrowed playfully. “Are you jealous, Y/N?”

Your head whipped around, your mouth opening to protest immediately. “Jealous? Of course not.” you snapped, though the heat rushing to your cheeks betrayed you. “Why would I be jealous of… of that?”

Theo chuckled softly, his deep laugh low and knowing as he straightened. “Sure you’re not.”

“I’m not.” you insisted, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at him, though it only seemed to amuse him further.

He took a step closer, the smirk still tugging at his lips. “You’ve got a terrible poker face, you know.”

You sighed heavily, the fight draining out of you as you glanced back toward the mansion. “Fine.” you muttered, reluctantly. “Maybe I am. Just… a little.”

He didn’t tease you this time. Instead, his expression softened, the humour in his eyes giving way to something more understanding.

“Come on.” he said, nudging you lightly with his hand. “We’re going for a walk then.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden suggestion. “What?”

Theo gestured toward the shadowed path that led deeper into the Malfoy gardens. “You’re not going back in there, not like this. And I’m not about to sit around while you mope about whatever nonsense is running through your head.”

“I’m not moping.” you argued half-heartedly, but he was already walking away, his long strides carrying him toward the path.

“You coming or not?” he called over his shoulder, not bothering to look back.

You hesitated for only a moment before sighing and following after him.You walked beside Theo, your hands slipping into the deep pockets of your oversized hoodie as the cool night air wrapped around you. The quiet crunch of gravel beneath your feet filled the silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Not yet. Theo glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips, breaking the stillness.

You frowned, your head turning to him with suspicion. “What are you laughing at now?” you grumbled, your voice carrying more irritation than you felt.

He didn’t respond immediately, his smirk growing as he nodded toward you. “That hoodie.” he said, amusement lacing his tone.

You blinked, looking down at yourself, confused. “What about it?”

“That’s mine.” he said simply, the smugness in his voice unmistakable.

You froze mid-step, the realisation hitting you like a gust of wind. Your heart sank as you recognized the worn fabric, the familiar scent of him that still lingered faintly in the material. You cursed yourself internally for not even thinking about it when you’d grabbed it earlier.

“Shit.” you muttered under your breath, your cheeks heating.

Theo’s chuckle deepened as he stopped and turned to face you fully, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his trousers. “Didn’t think you were so sentimental, Y/N.” he teased, though there was a softness in his tone that you couldn’t quite place.

You glared at him, tugging the hoodie closer around you defensively. “I didn’t even realise, okay? I just… grabbed it.”

He raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure you did.”

You sighed heavily, your gaze dropping to the ground. The memory of when he’d given you the hoodie tugged at the edges of your mind, unbidden but vivid. It had been almost two years ago, during a late night in the common room after everyone else had gone to bed. You’d been complaining about how cold it was, wrapping yourself in a blanket that didn’t do much to help.

Without a word, Theo had pulled off his hoodie and tossed it to you, muttering something about how you were “hopeless.” You’d teased him at the time, but you hadn’t given it back. And he hadn’t asked for it, either.

Now, standing here in the dark with him staring at you, that memory felt closer than it should.

“You want it back?” you asked finally, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

Theo shook his head, the smirk fading into something softer as he glanced down at the hoodie. “Keep it.” he said, his voice low. “Looks better on you anyway.”

Your heart stuttered at his words, but you quickly pushed the feeling away, rolling your eyes for good measure. “Whatever.” you muttered, shoving your hands deeper into the pockets as you started walking again.

Theo followed after you, a quiet laugh escaping him. “Can’t believe you’ve been wearing it this whole time.” he said, his tone lighter now, teasing but not unkind. “Didn’t think you were the type to hold on to old things.”

“I’m not.” you shot back, refusing to meet his gaze. “I just didn’t feel like wasting money on a new one.”

“Right.” he drawled, clearly not buying your excuse.

The crunch of gravel underfoot filled the silence between you as the two of you walked deeper into the gardens. You could feel Theo’s presence beside you, steady and familiar, but your thoughts were far away, tangled in memories you didn’t want to revisit.

“You gonna tell me about Dennis, or do I have to guess?”

His voice wasow and appeared casual but carried enough weight to make your shoulders tense.

You stopped mid-step, glancing at him with narrowed eyes. “What about Dennis?” you asked, your tone defensive.

Theo shrugged, his hands still stuffed into his pockets. “I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you two aren’t together anymore?” His brow arched slightly, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Not exactly subtle back there when you told everyone.”

You rolled your eyes and kept walking, your hands tightening in the pockets of his hoodie. “There’s nothing to tell.” you said flatly.

“Come on, Y/N.” he pressed, his tone softer now, less teasing. “You were with the guy for months. What happened?”

You hesitated, your steps slowing as you debated how much to say. The breakup was still fresh, the wound not quite healed, but there was something about the way Theo asked—genuine, even if his curiosity was layered with his usual smugness—that made you feel like he wouldn’t let it go.

“He ended it.” you admitted finally, your voice quiet but even.

Theo’s brows furrowed slightly as he glanced at you. “Why?”

You let out a soft, humourless laugh, shaking your head as you stared ahead at the shadowed path. “Because he figured out what I was too afraid to admit. That I wasn’t over…” You trailed off, your stomach twisting as the words caught in your throat.

There was a long pause, the kind that stretched uncomfortably but wasn’t entirely unwelcome. Theo didn’t say anything right away, and when you finally glanced at him, his expression was unreadable.

“Me.” he said quietly, almost like a statement rather than a question.

You bit the inside of your cheek, your gaze dropping to the ground as your stomach churned with a mix of frustration and something you couldn’t name. “Don’t flatter yourself, Theodore.” you muttered, though there was no real bite to your words.

He let out a soft chuckle, but it lacked his usual confidence. “I wasn’t trying to.” he said, his voice low.

Silence fell between you two once again. Theo stopped walking, and when you realised he wasn’t beside you anymore, you turned to face him. His eyes were dark, focused on you in a way that made your chest tighten.

“Did you love him?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You hesitated, the question catching you off guard. The answer rose in your chest before you could stop it, but it wasn’t one you wanted to give. Finally, you shook your head, exhaling softly. “No.” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t.”

Theo’s expression softened slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he nodded. “That’s what I thought.” he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

You rolled your eyes, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” he said lightly, though his tone carried a sternness you couldn’t ignore. “Just… I always knew you couldn’t fake it.”

His words lingered in the air between you as his gaze held yours. You hated how easily he could read you, how his words had a way of hitting exactly where they weren’t supposed to.

“Dennis is a good guy.” you said finally, your voice quieter now. “He didn’t deserve to be with someone who was only half there.”

Theo tilted his head slightly, his smirk fading into something more serious. “Maybe he didn’t. But that’s not on you, Y/N.”

You didn’t respond, your gaze dropping to the ground as your hands tightened into fists in the pockets of his hoodie. For once, Theo didn’t push. Instead, he stepped closer, his shoulder brushing yours lightly as he started walking again.

“Come on.” he said, his voice softer now. “Let’s keep moving.”

You followed him without a word, the quiet night wrapping around you both as you walked side by side.

You hesitated for a moment before breaking the silence, your voice careful but laced with curiosity. “What about you?”

Theo glanced at you, one brow arching slightly. “What about me?”

“Have you been in a relationship?” you asked, your tone as casual as you could manage. You kept your eyes ahead, pretending you weren’t entirely invested in his answer.

For a moment, Theo didn’t respond, his silence louder than any words.

You pressed on, a faint smirk tugging at your lips despite yourself. “I mean, I’ve seen you around plenty of girls. But none of them ever seemed to stick. Why is that?”

He let out a soft laugh, though it was more defensive than amused. “You’ve been paying attention, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “We are in the same friend group, I see it without needing to look.”

Theo’s steps slowed slightly, his gaze falling to the ground as he ran a hand through his hair. For once, he seemed caught off guard, his usual smirk nowhere to be found.

“Maybe I just haven’t found the right person.” he said finally, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant.

You glanced at him, frowning slightly at the shift in his tone. “Really? That’s the best you’ve got?” you teased lightly, though the look on his face made your chest tighten.

Theo sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he kept walking. “It’s not that simple.” he muttered.

You tilted your head, watching him closely. “Why not?”

He stopped then, turning to face you fully, and for a moment, you swore he looked almost… vulnerable. His usual mask of confidence and indifference had cracked, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of something raw beneath the surface.

“Because.” he started, his voice low and hesitant, “nobody else…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening as he looked away, his gaze fixed on a distant point in the darkness.

“Nobody else what?” you asked softly, your heart pounding as you took a step closer.

Theo exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. “Nobody else could replace you.” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

The words hit you like a tidal wave, stealing the breath from your lungs. You stared at him, your heart hammering in your chest as you tried to process what he’d just said.

Theo’s gaze flicked back to you then, his expression guarded but his eyes betraying the depth of his emotions. “Happy now?” he asked lightly, though his voice lacked its usual edge. “That’s what you wanted to hear, isn’t it?”

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. “Theo…”

He held up a hand, cutting you off. “Don’t…” he said, his tone firmer now. “I didn’t say it so you’d feel sorry for me.”

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come.

Theo let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he started walking again. “Forget I said anything.”

But you couldn’t forget. Theo’s movements were different now. No longer slow and lazy, no longer calculated and confident. His hands shook slightly as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, the lighter flaring unsteadily in the dark. The sharp glow lit up his face for a moment, and for the first time that night, he looked completely exposed. Vulnerable. He didn’t say anything as he took a deep drag, but the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers twitched around the cigarette—it was obvious he was trying to hold himself together. But he wasn’t. Not really.Without a word, Theo pushed ahead of you, his strides long and purposeful, the tension radiating off him like heat from a flame. He didn’t look back, his shoulders stiff as though bracing himself against something unseen.

You bit your lip, your heart racing as you stared after him. His words still echoed in your mind, raw and unfiltered, unravelling something deep within you.

Nobody else could replace you. You didn’t know how to feel. Guilty? Relieved? Angry? Everything tangled together in a mess of emotions you couldn’t name, couldn’t tame. All you knew was that you couldn’t let him walk away like this.

With a shaky breath, you hurried after him, your footsteps crunching against the gravel. “Theo, wait.” you called, but he didn’t stop.

His shoulders tensed further at the sound of your voice, his hand lifting the cigarette to his mouth for another sharp inhale. The smoke curled around him, a barrier he was trying to erect between you, but you weren’t about to let it stand.

“Damn it, Theodore!” you snapped, reaching for him.

Your fingers caught his arm, and he stopped abruptly, turning to face you with a look that made your breath catch in your throat. His cigarette hung loosely between his lips, the ember glowing faintly in the dark. His eyes were wide, burning with a mix of anger and pain, and something else—something that made your heart flutter. For all his sharp edges, Theo had always been able to hide behind his smirk, his sarcasm, his infuriating charm. But now, all of that was gone, stripped away to reveal the raw truth beneath. He looked… lost.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he said finally, his voice low and rough. “I’ve been trying to forget. I’ve been trying to move on. But every fucking time, it’s you. It’s always you.”

The words struck you like a blow, knocking the air from your lungs. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond. All you knew was the weight of his gaze, the raw vulnerability in his voice, and the ache in your chest that had been growing since the day you lost him. Your gaze dropped to the cigarette in his mouth, the bitter smell of smoke filling the small space between you. Without thinking, you reached up, plucking it from his lips and tossing it to the ground. His eyes widened in surprise, but you didn’t stop.Standing on your tiptoes, you closed the distance between you, your hands grabbing the front of his shirt as your lips crashed into his. It was intense, all-consuming, every ounce of anger, pain, and longing pouring into the kiss. For a moment, Theo didn’t move, frozen in shock. But then his hands found your waist, gripping you tightly as he kissed you back, his movements desperate, hungry, like he’d been waiting for this as long as you had. The world seemed to blur around you, the night fading into nothing as you pressed yourself against him. His lips were warm, familiar, and the way he kissed you—it was like he was trying to say all the things he hadn’t been able to put into words.

I still love you.

The thought crashed over you like a wave, and you tightened your grip on his shirt, pulling him closer. Your heart pounded in your chest, the ache in your soul finally easing as the walls between you crumbled. Theo’s hands slid up your back, one of them tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, his breath mingling with yours. He kissed you like he was afraid to stop, like he was afraid this moment would slip away if he let go. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, your foreheads resting against each other as the silence wrapped around you again.

“I…” you started, but the words caught in your throat.

“Shut up.” he growled lowly, his voice rough and desperate, sending a shiver down your spine. Before you could react, his lips crashed onto yours again, fiercer this time, more demanding.

Your body melted into his, the intensity of the kiss igniting a fire deep within you. His hand tightened in your hair, the other gripping your waist as if anchoring himself to you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. This wasn’t just a kiss—it was everything. Every argument, every hurt, every word you’d left unsaid. Every moment you’d spent trying to forget him, only to fail. It all came rushing back, raw and unrelenting, as if your souls were trying to bridge the chasm you’d created between you.

You didn’t even realise your hands were moving until they slid down his chest, resting on his lower stomach. Theo’s abdomen flexed under your touch, muscles coiling tight as he groaned into the kiss. The sound vibrated through you, making your knees weaken. You clung to him, nails digging into his skin as he pinned you hard against the cold stone wall of the Malfoy manor garden. Your bodies fit together like pieces of a puzzle, curves moulding perfectly as the heat of your bodies merged into one. You felt the thick ridge of his growing erection pressing insistently against your belly, and a needy whimper escaped your throat. Theo broke the kiss, panting harshly as he stared down at you with wild, desperate eyes. 

“Tell me you want this.” Theo demanded, his voice ragged and trembling with barely restrained emotion. His hands gripped your waist firmly, grounding you, as though afraid you might slip away before he could hear the answer. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The words weren’t just a demand; they were a plea. His eyes, dark and burning, searched yours with an intensity that left you breathless. Vulnerability hung in the air between you, raw and unguarded, cutting through the desperation like a blade. But you didn’t hesitate.

Your hands tangled in the fabric of his shirt as you surged forward, wrapping your legs around his waist in one swift motion as you jumped up. He caught you instinctively, his arms tightening around you with a strength that made your heart race. Instead of answering with words, you crushed your lips into his, the kiss fevered and consuming. It was the only answer your brain could come up with, the only way you could convey the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. His response was immediate. His hands slid to the curve of your hips, gripping you tightly as he pulled you impossibly close. He kissed you like it was the last thing he would ever do, like the world might fall apart if he let go. The heat between you was electric, your body pressing against his as his lips moved against yours with a hunger that made your head spin. Every ounce of tension, every unresolved feeling, every unspoken word came pouring out in the way his hands roamed your body, the way his breath mingled with yours.

You gasped softly as his teeth grazed your lower lip, sending a shiver down your spine. His lips moved to your jawline, then to the sensitive skin just below your ear, his voice a low growl as he murmured, “Say it.”

Your breath hitched, your fingers threading into his hair as your heart pounded in your chest. “Theo…”

“Say it.” he demanded again, his voice rough and desperate, his hands tightening their hold on you.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your eyes locking with his. The raw intensity in his gaze made your knees weak, even as his arms kept you steady.

“I want this.” you whispered, your voice trembling but resolute. “I want you. I am yours.”

Theo's eyes flashed with triumph and relief, his grip on your bare thighs.“Mine.“ He breathed, the single syllable a vow, a declaration, a promise. His hands roamed your body with renewed urgency, caressing, claiming, branding you as his own.Every brush of his fingers ignited something within you, a fire that had been dormant for far too long.

“You have no idea how much I've needed to hear you say that.” he muttered, his voice rough and unsteady as he buried his face in the curve of your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

His lips found your collarbone, trailing fiery kisses along the sensitive line as his fingers slipped under the hem of your light summer dress, hidden beneath the oversized hoodie. The fabric bunched beneath his touch as he slid his hands higher, his thumbs brushing against the bare skin of your ass with an aching tenderness that contrasted the raw hunger in his movements.

Your breath hitched, your fingers curling into his hair as you tilted your head back, giving him more access. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word felt like a balm to the wounds you’d both been carrying. 

“Theo…” you whispered, his name a plea, a prayer, a surrender.“Not here…”

“You’re right” he breathed his heart pounding with every syllable.

Theodor’s eyes never left yours, their fervour unrelenting as he began moving, his strides purposeful and hurried. The gravel crunched beneath his boots as he carried you through the shadowed garden, the cool night air brushing against your skin where his hands weren’t already burning their way into you.

You barely registered the shift in scenery, too consumed by the heat of his touch, the dizzying press of his body against yours. But when the faint glow of lights from Malfoy manor appeared ahead, reality intruded just enough for you to pull back slightly, your breath coming in gasps.

“What’s your plan?” you whispered, your voice shaky, though not from hesitation. 

“To my room here.” he muttered, his voice low and ragged. “I’m not in the mood for the others finding us like this.”

The thought of being caught sent a thrill through you, though you knew he was right. You tightened your arms around his neck, leaning into him as he navigated the winding garden paths. His movements were quick, almost frantic, yet he carried you as though you weighed nothing, his grip on you secure and unwavering.

The glow of the manor grew brighter as he approached, the grand building towering above you like a silent witness to what was unfolding. You couldn’t stop yourself from studying Theo’s face as he walked, the tension in his jaw, the way his brows furrowed in concentration. He looked so different from the Theo you’d known in the past—hardened, raw, but still achingly familiar.

The two of you slipped inside through a side entrance, the cool marble of the manor floor muffling his hurried footsteps. The distant echoes of laughter and conversation from the others reached your ears faintly, but Theo paid them no mind, his focus entirely on you.

His lips found your neck as he ascended the stairs, the faint scrape of his teeth against your skin sending a shiver down your spine. You clung to him, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt once again as he carried you through the hallways with a confidence born from familiarity.

When he finally pushed open the door to his guest room, the soft click of the lock echoed in the quiet space. The moment the door closed, he set you down gently, his hands lingering on your waist as if reluctant to let go.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence charged with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. The faint light from the window cast shadows across Theodore’s face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw, the vulnerability in his eyes that he no longer tried to hide.

“You’re sure?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek as you met his gaze. “Theodore Nott, I haven’t slept with another man since we broke up. Of course I am sure.” you said, your voice steady despite the rapid beat of your heart.

A shaky breath escaped him, and then his lips were on yours again, the kiss deeper, more deliberate this time. His hands slid down your back, pulling you flush against him as the tension between you snapped like a tightly drawn string. In the quiet sanctuary of his room, with only the faint moonlight as witness, you allowed yourself to fall completely, surrendering to the moment and to him.

“You haven’t slept with Dennis?” Theo grumbled as he pushed you back onto the bed, his body hovering over yours, his eyes roaming your figure.

You only managed to shake your head as your fingers quickly worked on unzipping your hoodie.

“Good.” Theo growled approvingly, watching intently as you shed your clothes. His own garments joined hers on the floor in a rush of movement, leaving you both bare and wanting. He loomed over you, his muscular frame casting a shadow across your skin, his heavy arousal jutting proudly from between his thighs. 

Theodore leaned down, capturing your lips in a gentle, exploratory kiss. His tongue swept across your mouth, tasting your sweetness, while his hands began to roam your body once more. They traced the curves of your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, before sliding down to cup her hips. Gripping you gently, he rolled his pelvis in a slow, teasing circle, grinding his length against your core. You moaned into the kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair as you arched into him. Breaking the kiss, Theo trailed his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the tender flesh. Every touch of Theo’s hands felt achingly familiar, yet somehow entirely different. There was a softness to his movements, a deliberateness that hadn’t been there before, as though he was rediscovering you with a reverence that made your heart ache. The way his fingers trailed against your skin, the quiet intensity in his gaze—it was all so electrifying, so much more than you’d remembered. It was as if the time apart had sharpened everything, making each shared moment feel more vivid, more real, more right than it ever had before. Reaching down, Theo guided himself to your entrance, the swollen head of his cock parting your slick folds. With a low groan, he thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful yet calculated stroke. You moaned out, your back arching off the mattress as you adjusted to his size. Theo stilled, giving you a moment to acclimate, his face a mask of concentration and tenderness. 

“Are you okay, amore?” he whispered, his voice low and gentle, cutting through the charged silence like a soothing balm.

The nickname made your cheeks flush, warmth spreading across your face in a way that caught you completely off guard. You’d heard him call you that a million times before, the word slipping so easily from his lips in the past. But now, it felt entirely new. It wasn’t just a word anymore; it was a promise, a reassurance, a reminder of everything that had been and everything that still lingered between you. Theo smiled at your reaction, pleased by the blush staining your cheeks.

“I'm better than okay.”  You managed to breathe out, your body shivering as his hands glided over your sides to settle on your hips once more. 

“So beautiful…”  Theodore groaned softly, punctuating his words with a slow, deliberate thrust, withdrawing almost completely before sinking back into your warmth. 

You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure rippled through you like lightning. Leaning down, Theo captured your lips in another deep, sensual kiss, his hips finding a steady rhythm. As he explored the wet heat of your mouth, his fingers found your nipples once more, rolling and tugging gently until they hardened against his palms. Breaking the kiss, he gazed into your eyes, his own darkened with desire. 

“Tell me what feels good, amore.” he urged, his voice a husky whisper, thick with both longing and vulnerability. “Guide me.” 

The words sent a shiver through you, not because of their intensity, but because of the way he said them—so raw, so open, as though he was offering every piece of himself in that moment. His gaze held yours, unrelenting yet tender, and you could feel his sincerity settle over you like a blanket. It wasn’t just a plea; it was an invitation, a chance to bridge the distance that had once separated you, to rewrite the way your story had ended. Your heart swelled at the raw emotion in his words, your own vulnerability mirroring his. You reached up, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer until your foreheads touched.

“Touch me.” you whispered breathlessly, your breath mingling with his.You guided his hand lower, to where your bodies were joined, urging him to experiment, to explore the sensitive places only he knew. As his fingers danced over your clit, you bucked your hips against him, a low moan escaping your lips. 

“That's it, don’t stop… please.”  you panted, your hips rocking in time with his. Theo obliged your pleas, his touch growing more confident, more insistent, driven by your pleas and the desperate need burning within him.

Theodore’s touch was like lightning, electrifying and all-consuming, igniting a fire under your skin that you hadn’t known could burn so brightly. Every brush of his fingers, every deliberate movement sent waves of pure ecstasy coursing through you, leaving you breathless and weightless all at once. It wasn’t just the sensation—it was the way he made you feel cherished, like every part of you mattered in a way that was almost overwhelming.

Theo's fingers continued their relentless assault on your clit, each stroke combined with his harsh thrusts sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. He watched you closely, drinking in the sight of your flushed skin, your parted lips, your wild hair splayed across the pillow. 

“You feel so good.” he breathed, his own arousal throbbing inside you in time with your quickening heartbeat. “I want to see you lose control, Y/N.” As if to prove his point, he increased the pressure, rubbing firm circles around your sensitive nub, his thrusts becoming harsher, deeper, needier. Your back arched off the bed, a high-pitched whine tearing from your throat as the tension coiled tighter and tighter inside you. 

“Don't stop, Theo.” you begged, your voice a ragged whisper. 

A tidal wave of pleasure bubbled inside you, building with an intensity that was almost too much to contain. Every moment, every touch, sent it climbing higher, threatening to overflow and consume you completely. It was overwhelming in the best way—like you were teetering on the edge of something profound, a rush of warmth and light ready to break free. Your heart raced, your breath hitched, and you couldn’t help but surrender to the sheer bliss of it all, letting it wash over you like a sunrise breaking through the darkness. For Theo, the pleasure wasn’t just in the moment—it was in you. Every expression of pleasure, every soft sound you made under him, every way you moved drew him in deeper, until he was utterly consumed. It bubbled inside him like a fire threatening to escape, an immense, overwhelming rush that made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t in so long. The way you looked at him, the trust in your eyes as he made love to you, made it all the more intense. His chest tightened, his breath catching as the sensation surged, flooding him with a kind of bliss he never thought he deserved but couldn’t bear to let go of. With a growl of primal satisfaction, Theo slammed into you one final time, grinding his pelvis against yours as he reached his peak. The sensation of his release triggered your own climax, your body seizing up as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed over you. You cried out his name,not caring who would hear, your voice hoarse with ecstasy, as you clung to him desperately, your nails raking down his back. Theo collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving against yours, his forehead pressed to your shoulder. 

For a long while, you lay entwined, your hearts pounding in perfect sync, the rhythm of your breathing gradually steadying as the world around you faded into stillness. The only sound was the soft, shared cadence of your breaths, filling the quiet room with a soothing, unspoken connection. It was as though the world beyond these walls had ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you suspended in this fragile, perfect moment.

Finally, Theo lifted his head, his captivating blue eyes locking onto yours with a look so full of tenderness, that made you fall for him once again. There was no smirk, no guarded expression—just pure, unfiltered emotion, the kind that made you feel as though he was seeing straight through to the deepest parts of you. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch featherlight, hesitant even, as though he feared you might vanish if he held on too tightly.

“I missed you… I missed this.” he murmured, his voice low and reverent, as though the words themselves were sacred.

His gaze searched yours, desperate, almost pleading, as though he needed to know you felt the same. His words struck something deep within you, breaking open the dam you hadn’t even realised you’d built. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you reached up, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, grounding him as much as yourself.

“I missed you too.” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “More than I ever let myself admit.”

Theo closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling a shaky breath as though your words had lifted some unbearable weight from his chest. When he opened them again, the intensity in his gaze made your heart stutter.Slowly, he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, the closeness bringing a sense of calm that felt unshakable.

“I’m not letting you go again.” he murmured, the words a vow, raw and unyielding. “Not this time. Not ever.”

~~~

The soft golden light of morning spilled through the curtains, casting long, gentle streaks across the room. The quiet hum of the world waking up outside was barely audible, muffled by the stillness that lingered within these walls. You stirred slowly, the comforting warmth wrapped around you relaxing you before you even opened your eyes. It took a moment for the memories of the previous night to settle, but when they did, your heart fluttered with a mix of emotions—love, relief, and something that felt a lot like hope.

Beside you, Theo was still asleep, his breathing deep and even. You turned your head slightly, your gaze falling on him. His face was relaxed, his features softer in sleep, free from the guarded scowl he so often wore. You watched him for a moment, taking in the rise and fall of his chest, the way his hand rested lightly on the bed between you, as if even in sleep, he didn’t want to be far from you.

It was strange—comforting, even—how natural this felt, as though the rift that had once separated you was a distant memory, something you both had decided, consciously or not, to leave in the past.For the first time in what felt like forever, the ache in your chest was gone, replaced by a quiet, steady warmth that spread through you like the sunlight outside. You let out a soft sigh, the sound barely breaking the stillness, and closed your eyes again, savouring the moment for just a little while longer.

Eventually, you sat up slowly, careful not to wake Theo as you turned to look at him properly. You traced the lines of his jaw with your eyes, the faint shadow of stubble there, the soft curve of his lips. His lashes were long, darker than you’d remembered, and they brushed lightly against his skin. Leaning in slowly, you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, your lips barely brushing his skin. He stirred slightly, a soft humm escaping him as he began waking up.

“Sleep a little longer.” you whispered, your voice barely audible, as though afraid to disturb the fragile tranquillity of the moment.

Carefully, you slipped out of bed, doing your best to keep your movements quiet. The floor was cool beneath your feet as you tiptoed across the room, gathering your scattered belongings and slipping into the oversized hoodie you had worn last night.

The manor was quiet as you made your way back to your own guest room, the only sounds around you being the faint creaks of the wooden floorboards and the distant chirping of birds outside. Your heart raced with every step, half expecting someone to catch you in the hallway, though it seemed most of the house was still asleep.

When you finally reached your room, you let out a shaky breath, leaning against the door for a moment to steady yourself. The memories of the night before rushed back in vivid detail, and you felt your cheeks flush as you hurriedly changed into fresh clothes.

By the time you made your way to the dining room for breakfast, the warm scent of coffee and pastries filled the air. The table was only partially occupied—Astoria and Draco sat close, whispering and smiling, while Blaise and Daphne were still nursing cups of tea, their expressions relaxed but tired.

You slid into a chair quietly, keeping your movements casual as you poured yourself some coffee. You could feel their gazes on you, especially Astoria’s, her sharp eyes studying you with a hint of curiosity.

“Morning.” Blaise said, his voice smooth but tinged with amusement. “You’re up early.”

You shrugged, keeping your tone light. “Couldn’t sleep.” you lied, reaching for a slice of toast. “Figured I’d get a head start.”

Astoria raised a delicate brow, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “Couldn’t sleep, huh?” she repeated, her tone light but teasing.

You avoided her gaze, focusing on spreading jam over your toast. “Something like that.” you said, hoping the flush in your cheeks wasn’t as obvious as it felt.

Draco smirked from his seat beside Astoria but said nothing, his gaze flickering briefly toward the doorway as though expecting someone else to join the table. You forced yourself to act as if nothing had happened, though the events of last night lingered in your mind, a secret you weren’t ready to share. As you sipped your hot coffee, you couldn’t help but wonder how long Theo would sleep—and how long you could keep this new shift between you hidden.

The quiet hum of breakfast was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching, followed by Pansy’s unmistakable voice cutting through the air.

“Well, well.” she drawled, her tone teasing as she swept into the room with Mattheo trailing lazily behind her. “Looks like some of us managed to survive the night without too much trouble.”

Mattheo yawned loudly, ruffling his already messy hair as he flopped into a chair with all the grace of a toppled tower. “Speak for yourself.” he muttered, reaching immediately for the coffee. “I’m still half-dead.”

Pansy rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, sliding into the seat beside him with her usual flair. Her sharp gaze scanned the table, pausing briefly on you before moving on. You kept your expression neutral, biting into your toast to avoid meeting her eyes.

“Where’s Theo?” Mattheo mumbled, his voice muffled by the mug he was now sipping from.

Draco’s smirk deepened, his gaze flicking to you for the briefest moment before returning to his plate. “Probably still asleep.” he said casually, though the slight edge of amusement in his tone didn’t go unnoticed.

Astoria hid a smile behind her teacup, while Daphne exchanged a knowing glance with Blaise. Blaise leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening as he lazily stirred his tea.

“Or recovering.” Blaise added, his tone light but unmistakably suggestive. “You know Theo—he likes to keep himself busy at night.”

You nearly choked on your coffee, the cup clinking awkwardly against the edge of your plate as you set it down a little too quickly. Your cheeks flushed a deep red, and you kept your eyes firmly on the table, refusing to look at anyone.

Astoria let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Really, Blaise?” she chided gently, though her smile betrayed her amusement.

“Just saying…” Blaise said with an exaggerated shrug, his gaze darting briefly to you before turning back to his tea.

Before you could recover, Mattheo yawned loudly once again, ruffling his messy hair as he leaned back in his chair. “Don’t blame the guy.” he drawled, his lips curling into a teasing grin. “Theo works hard when he’s… motivated.”

Pansy snorted, her sharp eyes darting between you and the others. “Motivated, huh?” she said, her tone dripping with mock innocence. Her gaze settled on you, her brow arching slightly. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Y/N?”

Your head shot up, your wide eyes meeting hers as your face burned hotter. “Of course not.” you stammered, but the unconvincing tone of your voice only seemed to amuse them more.

Draco chuckled, his smirk widening as he gestured with his fork. “Relax, Y/N.” he said smoothly. “They’re just teasing.”

Pansy leaned her chin on her hand, her smile sly. “Are we?” she mused, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

You groaned inwardly, picking up your coffee mug again in a vain attempt to hide behind it. Their teasing was almost unbearable, but even as you tried to brush it off, you couldn’t help but think of Theo and the events of the night before.

As if on cue, the door creaked open, and the unmistakable sound of Theo’s footsteps filled the room. He appeared in the doorway, his hair slightly tousled, his eyes heavy with sleep. His shirt was rumpled, and the faintest shadow of stubble clung to his jaw, making him look far more casual than usual.

You froze, your stomach flipping as his gaze swept across the table before landing on you. But unlike you, Theo looked entirely unbothered, even amused, by the attention.Without hesitation, he strode over to you, his hands moving to rest on your shoulders as he leaned down, pressing lazy, sleep-warmed kisses along your neck. The brush of his lips sent a shiver racing through you, and your cheeks flushed once again as the entire table fell into stunned silence.

“Didn’t see you in bed this morning.” he murmured, his voice husky and teasing, just loud enough for everyone to hear. “Missed waking up next to you.”

Your face burned hotter than the sun, and you heard the faint sound of stifled giggles around the table. You didn’t dare look up, knowing you’d find Pansy’s smirk and Draco’s raised brow.

Blaise, of course, couldn’t resist. “Well, well, Theo. Didn’t know you were such a romantic.” he quipped, his grin practically oozing mischief.

Theo straightened, his hands sliding off your shoulders as he fixed Blaise with a pointed look. “And I didn’t know you were so interested in my love life.” he retorted smoothly, his tone light but carrying a subtle edge that made Blaise hold his hands up in mock surrender.

“Fair enough.” Blaise said, chuckling as he leaned back in his chair.

Theo moved to pour himself a cup of coffee, taking a slow sip before glancing back at you. “Come on.” he said casually, tilting his head toward the door. “Join me for a cigarette. It’s too early to deal with this lot.”

The invitation was so nonchalant, so unapologetic, that you could only nod silently, sliding out of your chair as the others exchanged amused glances.

Pansy’s voice followed you as you headed for the door. “Don’t take too long, lovebirds!”

You ignored her, keeping your head down as you followed Theo out into the garden, your cheeks still burning. The cool morning air brushed against your skin, soothing the heat in your face, and for the first time that morning, you found yourself smiling faintly despite the chaos inside.

Theo led you to a quiet corner of the garden, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it with a practised flick of his lighter. You did the same, the faint orange glow of the cigarettes matching the warmth of the rising sun.

He leaned back against the stone wall, his gaze fixed on you with a sleepy fondness that made your heart skip a beat. Without a word, he reached out, his fingers brushing yours as he leaned in to kiss you. It was slow, unhurried, and achingly tender, his lips lingering on yours as if savouring every second.

The peaceful silence was broken by faint voices drifting from the direction of the house. You could just make out Astoria’s unmistakable tone, laced with triumph.

“Told you they’d end up back together.” she said smugly.

“Oh, shut up.” Daphne groaned. “I’ll get you your galleons after breakfast.”

Theo pulled back slightly, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, “They’re such goons.” His voice was soft and teasing, the words accompanied by the faintest smirk.

You laughed quietly, your forehead pressing against his as you shook your head. “They really are.”

For a moment, the two of you simply stood there, wrapped in the quiet morning air, the world around you fading into the background. Whatever came next, whatever teasing or chaos awaited inside, it didn’t matter. Right now, it was just the two of you, and for the first time in a long time, that felt like enough.

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© slytherinsmuse. please do not copy, claim, translate or steal any of my works as your own.

[anniebeemine]

the most dangerous game- s.r. x fem!reader

warnings: smuttttt, porn with a dash of plot.

Spencer wasn't one to lose his cool. He had always been a calm man, quietly harboring everything he ever had to, which is why it was such a genuine shock when he had you pinned against the wall, his lips on yours.

You had been purposely pushing his buttons. You'd been mouthing off all day, challenging everything he said. Even during this morning's discussion over the best way to cook an egg. He said scrambled, you said sunny side up.

The tension had been building ever since. Every quip, every playful jab had ignited something between you—something that simmered just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to erupt.

Now, with your back against the cool wall, the air around you crackled with unspoken words. His breath mingled with yours, warm and heavy, as if the world outside had faded into oblivion. You could see the surprise flickering in his eyes, a rare moment of vulnerability that made your heart race.

“Spencer…” you started, but the words were swallowed by the heat of the moment. Instead, you leaned into him, deepening the kiss. The taste of mint lingered on his lips, a reminder of the casual coffee break that had turned into a battle of wits.

He pulled back slightly, searching your eyes for clarity. “You really know how to push my buttons, don’t you?” His voice was low, a mix of irritation and something softer—something that made your pulse quicken.

The final straw came when you walked by, pressing the power button to his computer. It was one of the rare afternoons where he actually touched the piece of technology. He let out a huff, standing abruptly. You'd followed him to the hallway, trying to call out but a hand had wrapped around your wrist, pulling you into a blind spot.

You looked up at him, batting your eyelashes at him. "What do you mean?"

He scoffed. "I'll be at your house at 7:30." His voice is low and husky. "I want to find you in bed waiting for me, princess."

He lets you go, adjusting his vest as he turns.

Your heart raced at his words, the playful challenge now taking on a more serious tone. Spencer was unpredictable in this moment, and it sent a thrill through you. You watched him walk away, the confidence in his stride leaving you breathless and more than a little intrigued.

“Wait, what?” you called after him, your mind still processing the intensity of what just happened. You were used to teasing him, but this felt different—charged, electric.

He paused, glancing back at you with a smirk. “You heard me,” he replied, his tone teasing yet serious. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your cheeks flushing with excitement. “What if I don’t feel like following orders?”

Spencer turned fully to face you, his expression a mix of amusement and challenge. "Then you get nothing."

With that, he walked away, leaving you in the hallway, a whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind. The casual rivalry you had developed over the weeks had shifted into something more intense, something you had both skirted around, but never fully acknowledged until now.

+++

By the time 7:30 rolled around, you were a mess. You sat on your bed, the front door unlocked, your clothes discarded in a haphazard pile next to the bed. The anticipation was overwhelming, the memories of the last time Spencer had been here flooding your mind like a vivid daydream.

You remembered how you had surrendered to him completely, lost in the whirlwind of passion that had enveloped you both.

The bruises he left behind lingered like a badge of honor, a reminder of how he had marked you as his own. Every touch, every thrust had left an imprint, both physically and mentally, that you could still recall vividly. You had slept for ten hours straight afterward, utterly exhausted yet profoundly satisfied, a deep contentment settling into your bones.

Now, those memories sent a gush of slick through your folds, igniting a familiar ache between your thighs. Your heart raced as you thought about the way his lips had felt against your skin, how he had explored every inch of you as if you were a rare book he couldn’t put down. The way he whispered your name, the rasp in his voice as he pulled you closer, all made your skin tingle with longing.

His presence broke your daydream. He had already discarded his tie and vest. He rolled his sleeves up to his forearms, a look of amusement on his face.

Spencer took a step closer, closing the distance between you. “I do like it when you’re waiting for me,” he murmured, his tone dropping to a husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

The heat radiating off him was intoxicating, and the playful spark in his eyes made your pulse race. You could feel the chemistry between you simmering, the air thick with anticipation as you both stood on the brink of something deliciously reckless.

Your pulse quickened as Spencer closed the distance, his gaze dark with desire yet tinged with that playful mischief you’d come to love. His hands reached out, brushing your skin as if he were memorizing every curve, every inch, like he’d done before. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your neck as he leaned in closer, his lips grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I see you followed instructions,” he whispered, his voice low and laced with satisfaction. “Good girl.”

Your body responded instantly to his words, a surge of heat pooling between your thighs. You bit your lip, resisting the urge to speak, wanting him to take full control. Spencer had a way of walking the line between being commanding and attentive—he knew exactly what you needed, sometimes even before you did.

He shifted his weight, his hand pressing against your lower back as he guided you gently onto the bed. The mattress dipped beneath you as he settled beside you, his fingers trailing up your thigh, his touch igniting sparks of electricity that made your breath hitch.

“You’ve been teasing me all day,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the curve of your shoulder. “And now… you’re going to make it up to me.”

His hand slid higher, his fingers grazing your folds, finding you already slick with arousal. Spencer let out a soft chuckle, his thumb circling your clit with deliberate slowness. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

You could only nod, words escaping you as your body responded to his touch, arching into him. The teasing, the playful banter—all of it had been leading to this moment, where the tension between you finally snapped, giving way to pure, unbridled need.

Spencer moved over you, his lips trailing kisses down your neck, his hands exploring your body as if he couldn’t get enough. “Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his voice rough with hunger.

“I want you,” you breathed, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. “All of you.”

His response was immediate, his mouth crashing down onto yours, the kiss deep and filled with a fervor that made your head spin. His hand found its way between your legs again, and this time, he wasn’t teasing. He slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right, making your back arch off the bed as a moan escaped your lips.

Spencer’s lips curved into a smirk against your skin. “That’s what I thought.”

He continued his slow, deliberate assault on your senses, his fingers working you expertly as his mouth explored every inch of your exposed skin. The way he touched you, the way he claimed you—it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

And just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he withdrew his fingers, making you whimper at the loss. But before you could protest, he was already positioning himself between your legs, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“You ready for me?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

You nodded, your body trembling with anticipation. “Yes… please.”

With that, Spencer thrust into you, filling you completely, making you cry out in pleasure. He set a slow, steady pace at first, his hands gripping your hips as he moved within you, each thrust deliberate, controlled.

But as the tension between you grew, so did his pace, the slow burn giving way to something more primal, more desperate. He leaned down, capturing your lips in another heated kiss, swallowing your moans as he drove deeper, harder, his control slipping with every thrust.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back, your body moving in time with his, chasing that edge, that sweet release that was just out of reach.

And when it finally came, it hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with such intensity that you saw stars. You cried out his name, your body shuddering beneath him as pleasure coursed through you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

Spencer followed moments later, his own release hitting him hard as he buried himself deep inside you, groaning your name as he came, his body tensing before collapsing onto you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your heavy breathing filling the room as you both tried to catch your breath. Spencer’s weight was comforting against you, his arms wrapping around you as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice soft now, the edge of command replaced with something tender. “Always.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words, at the way he held you close, as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

“Always,” you whispered back, knowing that no matter how much you pushed his buttons, no matter how much you teased and tested him, you’d always end up right here—in his arms, exactly where you belonged.

[thebunnednun]

Tempted to touch! Men of One piece x Fm! Reader (Multi Character fic)

Pairings: Ace x Reader, Shanks x Reader, Mihawk x Reader, Crocodile x Reader, Smoker x Reader

Synopsis: Can someone write like a lil thing for Ace, Shanks, Mihawk, Crocodile and/or Smoker or any One Piece character (secretly) seeing their S/O being able to whine (dance) and having crazy waist control (being able to bounce their ass without movin anything else)? 🧍🏻‍♀️

A little something for @mororona who gave me the prompt.

Use this song: Tempted to Touch by Rupee

I'ma also tag @fanaticsnail I know you're sick rn, and I hope this helps, I added ben for you! Plus you love dancing and this music.

As a caribbean latina, I couldn't resist.

On with the show!!~

______________________________________________________________

Ace

The ship's corridors echoed with the distant sound of music, drawing Ace's attention as he passed by [Name]'s room. His curiosity piqued, he couldn't resist the urge to investigate. Quietly, he approached the door and peeked through a crack. What he saw took his breath away.

[Name] stood before the mirror, bathed in the soft glow of the room's ambient light. They wore a simple tank top that hugged their curves and shorts that accentuated their toned legs. The music pulsed in the air, setting the rhythm for their movements. With each beat, their hips swayed with an otherworldly grace, their waist seemingly moving independently of the rest of their body.

Ace's jaw dropped at the sight. He had never seen [Name] like this before—so carefree, so alive. His heart skipped a beat as he leaned against the doorframe, unable to tear his gaze away. A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, a mixture of amusement and admiration swirling in his chest.

"Damn," he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible over the music. He crossed his arms, feeling a rush of warmth spreading through him. "I never knew you had those kinds of moves," he thought, his mind buzzing with excitement. He watched in silence, savoring the intimate moment.

As the music faded into the night, Ace lingered a moment longer, committing the image of [Name]'s dance to memory. With a soft chuckle, he straightened up and continued on his way, a newfound appreciation blossoming in his heart.

Shanks

The Red Force sailed smoothly through calm waters, the gentle lull of the ocean providing a rare moment of tranquility. Shanks, ever drawn to the call of adventure, found himself wandering the deck in search of excitement.

As he strolled along, the distant strains of lively music reached his ears, beckoning him like a siren's song. Curiosity piqued, he followed the melodic trail until he came upon a secluded corner of the ship. There, hidden from prying eyes, he discovered [Name].

[Name] stood in the embrace of the sea breeze, their form swathed in a loose-fitting sarong that billowed around them with each movement. The soft fabric accentuated their every sway, casting shadows that danced across their skin like fleeting whispers.

Shanks, ever the playful observer, couldn't help but grin as he watched from behind a nearby barrel. His eyes widened in awe as he beheld [Name]'s dance, their waist moving with a fluidity that seemed to defy the laws of nature. Each motion was a symphony of grace and control, weaving a tapestry of enchantment that ensnared his senses.

"Well, well," he murmured to himself, his voice lost amidst the music's intoxicating melody. His heart quickened with a rush of excitement as he continued to watch, his admiration mingling with a newfound sense of desire.

As the last notes faded into the night, Shanks remained rooted to the spot, reluctant to break the spell that had enveloped him. With a soft chuckle, he finally emerged from his hiding place, his grin widening with each step.

"Someone's been hiding some talent," he remarked, his voice laced with playful teasing. He approached [Name] with a glint of mischief in his eyes, ready to share in the dance they had unwittingly revealed.

Mihawk

The courtyard of Mihawk's imposing castle was bathed in the soft glow of twilight, the air heavy with a sense of quietude that seemed to envelop the world in its embrace. Mihawk, ever the solitary figure, made his way through the shadowed corridors, his footsteps echoing faintly against the stone walls.

As he passed by a window, a flicker of movement caught his attention, drawing his gaze. Through the glass, he beheld [Name], bathed in the ethereal light of the setting sun. They wore a fitted top that hugged their curves and leggings that accentuated the elegant lines of their form.

The distant strains of music reached Mihawk's ears, a delicate melody that seemed to dance upon the evening breeze. And dance they did—[Name], with a grace that transcended mortal bounds, moved with a fluidity that spoke of hidden depths and untold mysteries. Each movement was a testament to their skill, their waist control impeccable, their every motion precise and mesmerizing.

Mihawk stood in the shadows, an enigmatic figure shrouded in darkness, his keen eyes fixated on [Name] as if they were the only star in a vast, empty sky. A rare smile tugged at the corners of his lips, a whisper of admiration that lingered like a wisp of smoke in the still air.

"Remarkable," he whispered to himself, his voice barely more than a breath against the canvas of the night. In that moment, amidst the quietude of his solitary vigil, Mihawk found himself captivated by the hidden depths of [Name]'s abilities, drawn to the allure of their silent dance like a moth to flame.

In the courtyard below, [Name]'s movements flowed seamlessly, each gesture a tantalizing blend of strength and elegance. The fading light cast long shadows that danced along with them, creating an almost otherworldly spectacle. As they twirled and spun, their eyes briefly met Mihawk's through the window, a spark of recognition passing between them.

For an instant, time seemed to stand still. The world outside the castle walls faded into insignificance, leaving only the unspoken connection between the two. Mihawk felt a stirring within him, an unfamiliar but not unwelcome sensation. It was as if [Name]'s dance had unlocked something deep within his stoic exterior, a flicker of warmth in the cold recesses of his heart.

[Name] continued their dance, unaware of the profound effect they had on the man observing them. Their movements grew bolder, more daring, as if sensing the intensity of Mihawk's gaze. The music swelled, and with it, the emotions that had been carefully kept at bay.

As the last notes of the melody faded into the night, [Name] came to a graceful stop, their chest rising and falling with the exertion. Mihawk remained in the shadows, his expression contemplative. He knew that this moment, this dance, had changed something within him.

Stepping away from the window, Mihawk made his way back through the corridors, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The quietude of his castle had been shattered, replaced by a new and intriguing possibility. The allure of [Name]'s silent dance had left an indelible mark on his soul, a mystery he was now determined to unravel.

Sir Crocodile

The echoes of Crocodile's footsteps reverberated through the empty corridors of his stronghold, the weight of his recent meeting still heavy upon his mind. As he neared his quarters, a faint sound reached his ears—a melody so delicate, it seemed to hang in the air like a whispered secret.

Intrigued, Crocodile followed the sound, his curiosity piqued by the mysterious allure of the music. It led him to one of the spacious rooms, where he found [Name] dancing in the soft glow of candlelight. They were clad in a stylish ensemble that hugged their figure in all the right places, accentuating the graceful arc of their movements.

Silent as a specter, Crocodile lingered in the doorway, his keen eyes fixed upon [Name] with a gaze as sharp as the blade of a scimitar. He watched as they moved with a fluidity that seemed to defy reason, their waist swaying with a skill that mesmerized him. Each movement was a testament to their prowess, a silent symphony of elegance and finesse.

A predatory smile curved his lips, a silent invitation lingering in the depths of his gaze. "Remarkable," he whispered to himself, his voice a husky murmur against the canvas of the night, a flicker of amusement dancing in the depths of his steely eyes.

[Name] spun gracefully, the light playing off their form in a tantalizing display, each motion drawing him in further. The candlelight caressed their skin, creating a shimmering halo that only added to their allure. Crocodile's eyes followed every move, every sway, as if committing them to memory.

With a silent nod of approval, Crocodile made a mental note to compliment [Name] later, in his own subtle way. But for now, he remained rooted in the shadows, content to bask in the intoxicating beauty of their silent performance. There was a predatory grace in the way he observed, a sense of possession mingled with admiration.

As the music reached its crescendo, [Name] executed a final, breathtaking spin, coming to a poised stop. For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of their breathing, the air thick with the lingering echo of their dance.

Crocodile stepped forward, his presence finally known. The movement was deliberate, almost languid, like a predator approaching its prey. "You dance beautifully," he said, his voice low and smooth, carrying a hint of the power and danger he wielded so effortlessly.

[Name] turned, their eyes meeting his, a spark of something electric passing between them. The dance had ended, but the night had only just begun.

Smoker

The ship creaked and groaned as Smoker made his rounds, the steady rhythm of his footsteps echoing through the corridors. His ever-watchful gaze swept over the decks, his stern expression softened only by the glow of his cigar.

As he passed a door slightly ajar, a faint melody drifted out into the hallway, luring him like a siren's call. Intrigued, Smoker pushed the door open a fraction and peeked inside. What he saw took him by surprise.

[Name] stood in the center of the room, bathed in the soft glow of lamplight, clad in comfortable workout clothes that hugged their form in all the right places. The music pulsed in the air, setting the rhythm for their movements. With each beat, their hips swayed with an otherworldly grace, their waist moving with a precision that defied logic.

Smoker's eyes widened in astonishment as he watched, his cigar dangling forgotten between his fingers. He took a long drag, the smoke swirling around him like a wisp of shadow. Despite himself, a look of admiration crept into his stern features, softening the hard lines of his face.

"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered to himself, his voice barely more than a whisper against the backdrop of the music. In that moment, he found himself captivated by the mesmerizing rhythm of [Name]'s dance, drawn to the raw power and grace that radiated from their every movement.

The way [Name] moved was a tantalizing blend of strength and elegance, each motion more hypnotic than the last. Smoker's heartbeat quickened as he continued to watch, his breath catching in his throat. He had never seen anything quite like this, and the sight stirred something deep within him, a mix of admiration and an unfamiliar, burning desire.

With a silent nod of approval, Smoker decided to let them have their private moment, content to linger in the shadows and watch from afar. But deep down, he couldn't wait to see the look of surprise on [Name]'s face when he casually mentioned it later, a secret shared between them like a hidden treasure waiting to be discovered.

As the music swelled and [Name] executed a particularly daring move, Smoker felt a smirk tug at the corners of his lips. He could already imagine the playful banter they would exchange, the way their eyes would light up with that spark of recognition. For now, though, he remained in the shadows, savoring the intoxicating beauty of the dance.

Benn Beckman

On a different vessel, Benn Beckman strolled through the dimly lit corridors of the Red Force, the hum of conversation and laughter from the crew fading as he ventured deeper into the ship. A faint, alluring melody reached his ears, drawing him toward one of the private rooms. Curiosity piqued, he approached quietly, the sound of music growing clearer with each step. Balancing a tray with a steaming bowl of soup, he pushed open the door slightly.

Gently pushing the door open, Beckman found himself captivated by the sight before him. [Name] was in the center of the room, their form illuminated by the soft, flickering glow of candles. Clad in cute pajamas that accentuated their every curve, they moved with an elegance that left him momentarily breathless. The rhythm of the music guided their motions, their hips swaying with a hypnotic grace that seemed almost unreal.

Beckman leaned against the doorframe, his usually calm and composed demeanor giving way to an appreciative smile. He crossed his arms, his gaze never leaving [Name] as they danced. The fluidity and precision of their movements spoke volumes about their skill, each motion a silent testament to their mastery.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he remembered something important—[Name] was supposed to be resting in bed, recovering from an illness. A mix of amusement and concern flickered across his face as he watched them, clearly defying orders.

"Adorable," he murmured, the word a low rumble in the stillness of the room. His eyes followed [Name]'s every move, a mixture of admiration and intrigue shining in his gaze.

As [Name] continued to dance, unaware of their audience, Beckman found himself drawn in more and more. The way they moved was enchanting, each step a perfect blend of strength and grace. The soft light played off their form, creating an almost ethereal aura that only heightened the allure.

When the music finally came to an end, Beckman stepped forward, his presence no longer concealed. "You dance beautifully," he said, his voice smooth and warm. "But you were supposed to be resting, weren't you?"

[Name] turned, surprise evident in their eyes as they met his gaze. Beckman’s smile widened, a hint of playful mischief in his expression. "Maybe you can teach me a move or two sometime," he added, the suggestion laced with a subtle challenge.

For now, though, he was content to let them savor their private moment, the memory of their mesmerizing dance a new secret they shared.

______________________________________________________________

I wanna add more characters later, Lemme know what characters you want! DM's are always open.

To be posted on the ao3 account soon.

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have a fic for almost everyone here in the master list. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

Seen you soon my loves!!~ <<33

[yeostinys]

Cry For Me (Sequel)

Pairing: DomCEO!Hongjoong x SubSecretary!Reader

Genre: Smut 18+, Angst, light fluff

Notes: Dacryphilia (y/n is a major cry baby), mentions of cheating (don’t do it yall, this is just fiction), Unprotected sex (please wrap it up, don’t do this irl), oral sex (f & m receiving), masturbation, explicit language.

Word Count: 15k

Authors note: This is pure horny imagination and in NO WAY, reflects on the characters in real life! If you do not like this type of content pls ignore or block me.

Pt. 1 | Pt. 3 (surpriseeeeee)

———————————————————————

You awoke to the bright morning sun streaming through the curtains of an unfamiliar room, its warmth illuminating the space in soft golden hues. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust, and when they did, you noticed the serene figure beside you—Hongjoong, peacefully asleep, his dark hair tousled and his lips slightly parted. His arms draped possessively over your waist, anchoring you to the bed. A rush of memories from the night before flooded your mind, igniting sensations that sent a thrill down your spine: the electric brush of his fingers against your skin, the roughness of his lips capturing yours, and the way he had filled you so perfectly.

Turning your gaze, you caught sight of the clock on the nightstand.

7:30 AM.

Your work shift starts soon. However, your boss who should be waiting for you in the office… is next to you, in his bed.

You stared up at the ceiling, lost in contemplation. Thoughts spiraled in your mind, revisiting the recent choices that had brought you to this moment. Your relationship with Siwoo had been stagnant, filled with a heaviness that had begun to suffocate you. You couldn’t ignore the truth any longer: you wanted to explore whatever was blossoming between you and Hongjoong. But the boundaries of professionalism loomed large, a constant reminder of the risks you were about to take.

After sending that weighty text message to Siwoo last night—declaring your choice to end things—you had shut your phone off, unwilling to hear his response. Besides, you were too occupied being entangled with Hongjoong on his massive plush bed. Now, as you lay there, a part of you hesitated, fearing the truth that awaited in those unread messages.

With a quiet sigh, you turned your gaze back to Hongjoong, letting your thoughts drift to the perfect features of his face. Your heart tightened at the memory of his confession, the vulnerability he had shown you last night. You couldn't deny the growing affection blossoming within you. Deep down, you felt certain that Hongjoong truly cared for you, and the thought sent warmth coursing through your veins. You wanted to care for him, too.

You tried to carefully move yourself from his embrace. But just as you began to shift, his hand shot out, gripping your arm gently yet firmly. You gasped, surprised by his sudden awareness.

“Where are you going?” His morning voice was raspy. He cracked open one eye, peering at you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“Oh—back to my place…” you stammered, your cheeks flushing under his gaze. “I have work in an hour…”

Hongjoong’s grip tightened as he tugged you closer, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Hm, you just slept with your boss, and you’re still trying to be on time. How cute,” he teased, the glint in his eye making your heart race even faster.

Your embarrassment mingled with a rush of excitement, a chaotic blend of fear and exhilaration flooding your senses.

“I—It’s just… you have an important meeting today to finalize a project… sir…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Hongjoong let out a heavy sigh, the sound filled with a mix of frustration and understanding. He shifted, his body hovering over yours, his presence both comforting and overwhelming.

“Y/N, I know last night was unexpected, but please don’t act like nothing happened,” he said softly, his gaze searching your face for any sign of clarity.

You felt a rush of warmth flood your cheeks, unsure how to respond. Nodding seemed like the safest option, even as your heart thudded painfully in your chest. Confusion tangled with a yearning to voice your concerns, but the words eluded you.

“Let’s go. Let me get ready, and then I’ll take you to your house. We can head to work together,” Hongjoong suggested, shifting away and rising from the bed. The sight of him slipping on a pair of boxers stirred a mix of emotions inside you—desire, worry, uncertainty.

“Hongjoong… won’t it look suspicious if we arrive at work together?” You pulled the sheets around your waist, as you sat up. The question lingered in the air, a nagging worry that tugged at your thoughts.

He turned around to face you. His hands resting on his hips as he looks at your figure.

“Is that really what you’re worried about?” he asked, his voice a blend of amusement and sincerity. He walks back to you and sits on the mattress.

“You’re my secretary, Y/N,” he continued, his tone softening slightly. “If you’re worried, we can say we had an early meeting.” He leaned down, brushing his lips against your forehead in a gentle kiss that sent a wave of warmth surging through you, deepening the conflict brewing within.

“You don’t have to worry about what anyone says. If anyone tries to talk about us, or if they say anything about you, I’ll handle it. I can just fire them,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your cheek, each word a promise that lingered in the air.

“Hongjoong, that’s not…” The weight of reality pressed down on you, and suddenly, emotions surged like a tidal wave, overwhelming and intense. Tears spilled down your cheeks, their warmth shocking you as they traced paths down your skin.

“Hey…” His voice softened, a mix of surprise and concern lacing his words. “Baby. Talk to me. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” He cradled your cheeks, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that fell.

“I want to be with you, Hongjoong… I just feel like I’ve crossed a line, like I’ve broken our professionalism,” you confessed, your voice trembling, each word laced with the weight of your turmoil.

“Y/N, I was the one who broke those boundaries,” he replied, lifting your chin so that your eyes met his. “I took that risk and chose to pursue you.” His gaze bore into yours, earnest and unwavering.

“I think I may have acted too hastily last night,” you softly say, the admission tasting bittersweet on your tongue. “I need time.”

“Time for what, baby?” Hongjoong’s voice dropped to a whisper, concern etched across his features as his heart clenched at your words.

“To fix my situation… Siwoo will probably want an explanation after I left him over text…” you murmured, feeling the weight of your choices settle heavily upon you. Hongjoong’s expression shifted, determination mixed with something deeper as he absorbed your words.

“Y/N, he doesn’t need an explanation—” Hongjoong began, but he stopped himself, recognizing the urgency in your eyes. He dropped his hands from your face, respecting your need for space.

“Hongjoong… I know he doesn’t. But I just can’t handle it that way. I want to do this right—for my own sake,” you said, struggling to project confidence even as your heart trembled.

“I want to be with you, Hongjoong. Just let me figure this out first. When I’m ready, I promise I’ll come to you… please?” The sincerity in your plea hung in the air, thick with unspoken promises and lingering desires.

Hongjoong took a moment to absorb your words, his heart heavy with understanding. It was one of the many reasons he fell for you—your morals, your commitment to doing what felt right. A part of him scolded himself for putting you in this position, for effortlessly having you succumbed to his advances, leading you to break your own morals. Yet, another part of him reveled in the power he held over you, a power that felt intoxicating, even as he recognized the gravity of your emotions.

The way you had responded to him, almost as if he could mold you to fit his desires. But the weight of that power was a double-edged sword, and he felt the sharpness of it cut deep. He knew that despite his influence, the power you held over him was immeasurable. It was your strength, your conviction, that grounded him and made him strive to be better. In that moment of clarity, he realized that he wanted to support you, to stand by your side as you navigated your feelings and decisions. He would never want to jeopardize the morals you held dear. No, he wanted to be the reason you felt empowered, not the reason you felt conflicted. The dynamic between you was complex, a delicate balance of power and vulnerability.

Hongjoong understood that while he could push boundaries, it was ultimately your choices that mattered most. He longed for a connection that honored both of your strengths, one built on mutual respect and love. And as he sat there contemplating, he made a silent vow to always cherish and protect the heart of the woman he adored.

“If he hurts you, I will kill him,” Hongjoong whispered, his voice low and intense as he leaned in to kiss you deeply. When he pulled away, he brushed away a lingering tear with a gentle finger, his gaze unwavering.

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words settling deep within you, grounding you amid the chaos.

“Let me get ready,” he said, rising from the bed and walking toward the door, the moment hanging heavy with unspoken feelings. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the promise of what was yet to come.

———

Arriving at your apartment, you unbuckle the seatbelt in Hongjoong’s car, the air between you charged with an unspoken tension. You turn to him, your heart racing slightly.

“You can come inside if you want…” you offer. A soft smile spreads across Hongjoong’s face as he nods. Together you make your way to your front door, the atmosphere quiet and contemplative.

“I’m going to shower real quick. Please make yourself comfortable,” you say softly, a hint of nervousness in your tone.

“Of course,” he replies, his smile warm as he watches you disappear into the bathroom.

Left alone, Hongjoong takes a moment to explore your space. He glances around, taking in the photos that line the walls—memories frozen in time, each image a glimpse into your life. His eyes fall on a particular picture of you and Siwoo, both smiling widely, captured in a moment of joy. A scoff escapes him; the image feels like a reminder of a life you were ready to leave behind. Hongjoong’s jaw tightens as he rolls his eyes, a deep breath escaping his lips. He knows the complexity of this situation, the emotional fallout from your two-year relationship weighing heavily on both of you. He sighs softly, you made him feel things he hadn’t anticipated, he wants you all to himself. But he knew he had to be patient, to respect the delicate balance of your emotions.

After your shower, you change into fitted slacks and a sleek black buttoned blouse. You quickly do your regular routine of getting ready for the day, not wanting to make Hongjoong wait any longer. As you reach for your phone, the screen lights up with notifications, and your stomach sinks. Fifty missed alerts from Siwoo stare back at you, an overwhelming wave of dread washing over. You can’t bring yourself to open them, so you quickly shove your phone into your purse.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you make your way to find Hongjoong. “I’m ready,” you announce, and he rises from the couch.

“Let’s go,” he says, with a soft smile.

——

Inside the car, the air was thick with tension, broken only by the relentless vibrations of your phone. Each buzz felt like a persistent reminder of the chaos you were trying to escape.

“Y/N, you should to respond to him,” Hongjoong said, his voice low and authoritative as he kept his eyes fixed on the road. There was an edge to his tone that made it clear he wasn’t asking.

You turned to him, taken aback by the intensity in his gaze.

“Or at least see what he wants. The constant buzzing is getting on my nerves,” he added, a teasing smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, but there was an undercurrent of impatience that betrayed his facade.

Feeling a heat rise in your cheeks, you muttered an apology and reached for your phone, heart racing. The screen illuminated your notifications, messages that you were too afraid to read fully. You hesitated, the anxiety coiling tighter in your chest, and ultimately decided against opening them in front of Hongjoong. Instead, you switched your phone to sleep mode, the screen darkening as you tried to suppress the turmoil within.

“What did he say?” Hongjoong’s tone remained steady as he parked the car.

“Ah, nothing,” you replied. You forced a smile, though it felt fragile, ready to shatter under the weight of his scrutiny.

Hongjoong’s eyebrow arched, his piercing gaze locking onto yours. He didn’t want to pry, but he couldn’t help but be bothered by the way he felt about this situation. You were vulnerable, and that stirred something possessive in him. He wanted to shield you from Siwoo and anyone else who dared to threaten your peace. That selfish part of him yearned for you—wanting you to be his, wholly and completely.

As the silence stretched between you, he realized he was wrestling with his own desires. It was a delicate balance: the urge to be there for you and the fear of pushing too hard, of making you feel rushed or pressured. He could live with the selfishness, as long as it meant you remained in his life. But for the sake of you. He tries to calm himself down. And with that, you two exit the car, making your way up to the building.

———

You tried to navigate the busy day as normally as possible, accompanying Hongjoong to his meetings, organizing his schedule, and tackling the last-minute tasks that piled up on your desk. With each passing hour, you appreciated the way he mirrored your efforts, striving to keep things as routine as he could. It was clear that he genuinely wanted you to feel comfortable, that he respected your choices, even as the weight of your situation lingered between you.

During a brief moment of respite, you found yourself lingering in the coffee room, the scent of freshly brewed coffee swirling around you as you stared at your phone. Finally, after much hesitation, you decided to confront the flood of messages from Siwoo. Anxiety tightened its grip on your chest as you opened the thread.

Siwoo:

- What do you mean you want to break up?

- You can’t just leave like that without an explanation.

- Do you know who you’re dealing with?

- After everything I have done for you, this is really low of you.

- Answer my calls, Y/N.

- Where are you?

The list went on, each message a reminder of the turmoil you were trying to escape. A sudden wave of emotion washed over you, threatening to spill over as you fought to hold back tears. You didn’t want to make a scene, not here, not now. Taking a deep breath, you inhaled slowly, releasing it in a heavy sigh that echoed your internal struggle.

With shaky fingers, you finally mustered the courage to respond.

Y/N: Can we meet after my shift? I get off early today.

You hesitated, the thought of confronting Siwoo in person filling you with dread. You didn’t want to hash this out over the phone, not when everything felt so raw. Almost instantly, your phone buzzed with his reply.

Siwoo: That’s fine. But what took you so long to reply? I’ve been trying to reach you.

Y/N: Sorry, I had a long day yesterday and fell asleep.

A pang of guilt shot through you as you typed the words, a familiar shame settling in your stomach. But it felt necessary; a protective barrier between you and the storm that was Siwoo’s jealousy. You knew that he had a tendency toward aggression when provoked, and you wanted to avoid igniting that fury. Deep down, you understood that your choice to be unfaithful had been wrong. Yet, it felt equally wrong to ignore how Siwoo had broken your trust long before you ever crossed that line.

As you placed your phone back on the counter, the gravity of your situation pressed heavily against your chest.

As you make your way back to your desk, the weight of the afternoon’s distractions clings to you. You try to immerse yourself in work, pouring over spreadsheets and memos, but your mind is a relentless storm, swirling with thoughts that refuse to be silenced.

“Y/N?” The soft, familiar voice breaks through your reverie. You look up to find Hongjoong standing before you, an easy confidence in his stance that sets your heart racing. The mere sight of him sends a rush of warmth to your cheeks. You can’t help but wish you could just leap into his arms and escape the world outside.

“Yes, Sir?” you respond, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

“I have a few files I need you to look over. Please follow me to my office,” he says, his tone calm yet inviting. You nod, swallowing the fluttering excitement in your chest, and fall in step behind him as he leads you down the hallway to his office.

Once inside, he strides to his desk and powers up his computer. The soft hum of machinery fills the room as he pulls out his chair and gestures for you to sit. Your brow furrows in confusion.

“You want me to sit in your chair, sir?” you ask, surprised.

“Yes, Y/N. Just so you can clearly see the concerns I have,” he chuckles lightly, his laughter sending a thrill through you. You hesitate, then shift into his chair, acutely aware of his presence behind you.

Hongjoong leans closer, his arm brushing against your shoulder as he maneuvers the cursor on the screen. “So this right here needs some adjustment…” he explains, his eyes focused intently on the monitor. You try to absorb his words, but the closeness of him—a solid warmth behind you—makes it difficult to concentrate.

Desperately shaking off your swirling thoughts, you force your gaze back to the screen. Hongjoong continues to highlight various aspects of the files, his voice steady and authoritative. You can’t help but look at him, captivated by how he maintains his professionalism despite the tension that lingers in the air between you. His features are striking—his nose perfectly sculpted, skin flawless, and lips plush and inviting.

Caught in the moment, you lean in, a sudden impulse driving you, and press your lips against his. The kiss is deep and electric, a bold confession that silences him mid-sentence. As you pull away, realization crashes over you, and your eyes widen in shock. Hongjoong mirrors your surprise

shock and amusement flickering in his eyes.

“S—sorry…” you stammer, heat flooding your face as you quickly turn your gaze away, mortified by your impulsive action.

“God, Y/N, don’t make this harder for me,” Hongjoong replies, a smirk creeping across his lips. He closes his eyes briefly, as if to collect himself, then spins the chair around so you’re facing him directly. You feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment, and you instinctively try to hide your face in your hands.

“Hey, look at me,” he says softly, his voice low and steady. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze. He’s watching you with a soft smirk, though there’s a glimmer of something deeper in his eyes—a mixture of amusement and longing.

“Don’t tease me like that, or I will deal with Siwoo myself,” he adds, his tone shifting slightly, a hint of seriousness threading through his playful demeanor. Your stomach twists at the mention of Siwoo, a lingering source of tension between you two.

“I’m sorry…” you murmur, feeling the weight of the situation settle heavily on your shoulders. You glance down, unable to meet his gaze any longer.

“Hongjoong…” you say softly, your voice barely breaking the stillness of the room. The weight of the moment hangs in the air, charged with the unspoken feelings swirling between you.

“Hm?” he hums, glancing over at you, his expression curious, almost playful.

You take a moment, searching for the right words to express the confusion that has been gnawing at you. “I don’t know why you make me do these types of things I don’t normally do…” Your voice trails off, the vulnerability of your admission leaving you feeling exposed.

A soft chuckle escapes him, and you feel a flutter in your stomach at the sound. “What do you mean, baby?” he asks, his smirk is soft as he takes in the sight of your flustered face, the way your cheeks flush with color.

You look down, suddenly shy under his gaze, but you force yourself to continue. “You… make me do impulsive things without even telling me to. I don’t know why,” you finally admit, your heart racing as the words leave your lips.

His eyes darken slightly as he licks his lips, a lingering gaze settling on your mouth. “You and me both, baby,” he replies, his tone low and teasing, but with an edge of sincerity that makes your pulse quicken.

Before you can process his words, Hongjoong leans down, closing the space between you with a magnetic pull. His lips capture yours once again, warm and inviting, a gentle urgency igniting within you. The kiss deepens, erasing any lingering doubts as you melt into him, surrendering to the moment.

Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the connection—the world outside fading away until it’s just the two of you, caught in a cocoon of shared desires and unspoken understanding. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, anchoring you as you lean into him, your heart racing with every brush of his lips against yours. Hongjoong slowly pulls away from you and curses softly.

“Fuck, I need to stop…” He chuckles, his breath against your skin sends a shiver throughout your body.

“I’m sorry…” You whisper.

“Stop apologizing Y/N” Hongjoong replied sternly, but softly. You stare at Hongjoong, the silence between you thick with unspoken emotions, a sense of awe lingering in the air. Time seems to stretch as you both take in the moment, each heartbeat echoing the connection that has just sparked.

Suddenly, a sharp knock at the door pulls you back to reality. You jump slightly, the interruption breaking the fragile tension that had enveloped you. Your heart races as you spring up from the seat. Hongjoong shifts to sit on the edge of his desk, his expression a blend of casual confidence and intrigue.

You take a steadying breath and approach the door, determined to regain your composure. As you open it, you’re met by a colleague from the project department, his demeanor serious yet slightly flustered.

“Sorry to interrupt, Sir,” he says, glancing between you and Hongjoong. “But these are the files you wanted me to fix.” He hands you a USB drive, the weight of it feeling heavy in your palm.

You accept it, nodding as he bows slightly before retreating down the hallway. Turning back to Hongjoong, you raise an eyebrow, unable to mask your disbelief. “You already assigned someone to fix the files?”

Hongjoong’s lips curl into a smirk, his eyes glinting with mischief as he leans back against the desk. “Oh, I guess I forgot…” he replies, his tone casual but the underlying tension unmistakable.

You look at him confused. “Right,” you retort, your voice laced with sarcasm as you walk back toward him, the USB drive clenched tightly in your hand.

“Here you go, sir,” you say, handing it over to him. “I’ll be getting back to work then.” You say and quickly make your way back to your desk.

———

The hours slipped by quicker than you anticipated. The workday had been a blur, each minute slipping into the next as if the world was rushing around you. An uncomfortable knot of anxiety twisted in your stomach at the thought of meeting Siwoo later. You had been dreading this, though you couldn’t exactly say why. But now that the time was nearing, that familiar wave of dread hit you full force.

You grabbed your bag, shoving your things into it with quick, distracted movements. As you headed toward the exit, your pulse quickened. You tried to shake off the uneasy feeling clenching your chest, hoping some fresh air would help.

But hhen you stepped outside, you felt even more suffocated. Siwoo was standing just outside the entrance, leaning against the wall. His posture was rigid, his jaw tight. He looked like he’d been waiting for a while.

The sight of him made your heart drop into your stomach. You didn’t expected him to show up at your workplace but here he is, standing there like he had something on his mind. Something heavy.

“S—Siwoo… you didn’t have to come all the way here,” you stammered, taking a hesitant step toward him. The words barely made it past your lips, thick with the anxiety you couldn’t shake. He straightened, his eyes locking onto yours with a sharpness that made your heart race.

“Why do you want to break up, Y/N?” His voice was loud, almost demanding, and the question hung between you like a cold wind. “I couldn’t wait anymore. I came here to get my answer.”

His words hit you like a punch. You hadn’t expected this. Not now, not like this. He looked... disheveled, like he hadn’t slept. The dark circles under his eyes, the way his hair was messier than usual—something was off. And it wasn’t just his appearance. The tension in his posture made your stomach tighten with a mix of unease and fear.

You blinked, struggling to find the right words. “Siwoo… Can we talk somewhere else? Not here, not in front of my work…” Your voice wavered, almost pleading, hoping he would agree to move somewhere more private. You didn’t want to have this conversation in such a public place, not with the heavy weight of his accusation in the air.

He didn’t answer at first, just stood there, staring at you. Then, with a sharp nod, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you toward his car.

You winced at the sudden pressure. The force of his grip was too strong, too fast, and it startled you. You barely had time to react before you were being dragged along. Anxiety shot through you as you followed him to the car, your heart pounding in your chest. You weren’t sure if it was the pain from his grip or the sudden fear of what was about to happen, but you felt your whole body tense.

Once you were in the car, Siwoo slammed the door behind you, his actions quick and almost frantic. The engine roared to life, and without another word, he sped off. His driving was reckless, faster than the speed limit, the car jerking over the road as he ignored any sign of caution. You could feel your stomach churn, the sick feeling intensifying as he weaved in and out of traffic, his eyes focused straight ahead, his face expressionless.

The air in the car felt heavy, suffocating. You wanted to say something, to ask him what was going on, but the words seemed to die in your throat. You were scared to speak, scared that something would happen if you did. The tension between you was unbearable, and your mind raced, thinking about everything you hadn’t said yet.

Finally, he pulled into a parking lot. You didn’t even need to look around to recognize the café. It was one of your favorite spots, the place you two had come to so often when things were good. Back when your relationship had felt easy, full of lighthearted conversations and laughter. Now, the place seemed like a cruel reminder of what had changed.

You followed him into the quiet almost empty café, your steps heavy, your mind already bracing for the worst. The two of you sat in silence for a while, the only sound between you the faint hum of conversation from other patrons. It was so quiet you could hear the tick of the clock on the wall.

Finally, the silence was broken by Siwoo’s voice. “So, are you going to tell me why you want to break up?” His tone was sharp, his eyes cold and calculating.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your shaking hands. “Siwoo, I don’t want to be with you anymore. I’ve fallen out of love,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

The words felt like a confession, like you were admitting some deep, unbearable truth. You looked down at your fingers, suddenly feeling the weight of everything that had been building between you. The silence stretched on, thick and uncomfortable, before you spoke again. “We haven’t been on a real date in months. And when we do spend time together, it’s like you’re not really there. You’re distracted, distant.” Your voice trembled with emotion.

Siwoo’s expression darkened. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he leaned forward, his voice hard. “Is that it? That’s your reason, Y/N?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “It’s not just that. It’s everything. You’re always too busy, and when we are together, it feels like you’re... somewhere else. I’m tired of pretending everything’s fine.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms. “You think that’s all there is to it? You know how busy I am.” His voice was laced with annoyance. “I’ve been working so hard, and you’re sitting here complaining about flowers and dates.”

You blinked, hurt flashing across your face. “You don’t get it, do you, Siwoo? You can’t just throw flowers at me and expect everything to be okay. I needed more than that. I needed you to be present. I needed you to care about me, but I realized that wasn’t a priority for you”

He stared at you, disbelief flickering in his eyes. “You’re just going to throw everything away over that?”

“Yes. I can’t do this anymore. I know what I want and need, and it’s not this.” You were shaking now, the frustration boiling over. “I’ve tried to make it work. I’ve tried to understand why you’re distant, but nothing ever changes. And you know what? I don’t even think it matters anymore.”

Siwoo’s eyes flashed, his expression turning angry, defensive. “So that’s it? You’re leaving me because of that?” He stood up suddenly, his chair scraping harshly against the floor. “You’ve never cared this much before. There must be another reason why you’re leaving.”

You were silent for a moment, then looked him straight in the eyes. “I know you’ve been cheating on me” you said calmly, emotionlessly.

Siwoo’s face went blank, then a flicker of shock crossed his features before he recovered. “What are you talking about?” His voice was strained, disbelieving.

“You’ve been cheating on me, Siwoo. I don’t know with who, but I know.”

His expression faltered, and for a moment, you saw a glimpse of the man he used to be—the one who had once cared for you. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by anger and denial. “You’re crazy,” he spat, his voice sharp, eyes narrowing. “You don’t know anything.”

“You’ve stood me up, you’ve ignored me, you’ve been on your phone more than you’ve been with me. You’ve made excuses, and you’ve disappeared for hours, and I’m not stupid, Siwoo. I know what’s been going on.”

He didn’t answer right away, his chest heaving with frustration. You stood up, your legs shaking but resolute. “I’m done, Siwoo. We’re over. Don’t contact me again.”

You turned and walked away from the table, not looking back. The door to the café closed behind you with a sharp click, and you stepped into the cool evening air. A taxi pulled up, and you climbed inside, finally feeling like you could breathe again.

———

Inside the café, Siwoo sat motionless, staring at the empty space where you’d just been. Anger churned in his chest. How had this happened? How had you figured it out? He’d always thought you were too naive, too dependent on him to see what he was doing. But now you knew, and it pissed him off. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling inside him.

With a sudden burst of irritation, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. The voice on the other end was soft and sweet. "Hello? Professor Siwoo?"

"Hey, honey," he said, his voice suddenly calm, as if the rage he’d felt only moments before had vanished. "I’m a bit stressed. Can I see you?"

"Of course, you can, sir. I’ll be waiting for you."

He let out a long sigh, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease just a fraction. After a moment’s pause, he ended the call and drove back to campus.

In his office, a young woman walked in, her face carrying that familiar smug expression. “Oh, Professor Siwoo... Did you not want to see your boring girlfriend again?” She said it with a playful edge, stepping toward him and placing her hands on his chest.

Siwoo didn’t answer immediately. His jaw tightened, and he muttered under his breath, “She pissed me off today. I needed to see your pretty face.”

The woman giggled, slipping her arms around his waist. "I hope she keeps pissing you off. You get so rough when you’re upset." She leaned in closer, and Siwoo grunted, running a hand down her neck.

“I’m so sad this is my last semester with you sir” she whispered, her voice low, her hands drifting over him. “Promise me, you’ll still let me visit you professor?”

Siwoo’s face remained cold, his expression unreadable. He pulled her closer, but his mind was far from the moment. All he could think about was you, and how you had the audacity to confront him. How you knew. Siwoo stood motionless in the dimly lit room, his gaze fixed on the woman before him. She had dropped to her knees in front of him, her movements hurried, almost desperate, as she unfastened his belt and pulled down his pants. The soft rustling of fabric was the only sound that broke the heavy silence between them. He watched, detached, as she began to work with a practiced ease, her hands swift and efficient. But Siwoo's mind was far from the scene before him. His thoughts, unbidden and unwanted, drifted back to you. How could he not think of you? It was maddening, the way your face lingered in his mind like an echo, always there, always reminding him of the things he didn't want to admit. His fists clenched at his sides as frustration churned inside him.

Why should he care? He could have anyone, couldn't he? Women like this, easy and available, were nothing to him. But it wasn't her that occupied his thoughts. It was you. He thought to himself you probably got too confident after getting that stupid job as a secretary. Making more money than him, feeling a superiority over him. That’s probably why you left so easily. Siwoo was angry. But his thoughts pulled away once he finished on the woman. Groaning, he pulled her up and pushed her towards the door.

“What!? That’s it?! What the hell?!” The woman exclaims in frustration.

“Get the hell out” Siwoo pushes her out the door and shuts it behind him. Fuming with anger at the thought of you.

———

You stepped into your apartment, the door clicking shut behind you with a finality that echoed in the stillness of the space. A wave of exhaustion washed over you, each muscle in your body slumping as if they were weights pulling you down. You’d finally done it; you’d told Siwoo that it was over. The relief coursed through you like a warm current, yet it was quickly shadowed by an unsettling anxiety that gnawed at your insides for reasons you couldn’t quite grasp.

What lingered in the back of your mind was the image of Hongjoong. All you wanted was to see him, to feel the comfort of his presence wrap around you like a soft blanket. Being with him was different from anything you had known before—a connection that felt deeper, more genuine. It was as if he had unlocked a part of your heart that you didn’t even know existed. But that exhilaration was tempered by caution; you recognized the need to pause, to breathe, and to reflect before rushing into something new.

Determined to take care of yourself, you kicked off your shoes and sank into the familiar embrace of your sofa. The cushions molded around you, a sanctuary from the turmoil outside. You closed your eyes, letting the silence envelop you, drawing a deep breath as you mentally shifted into self-care mode. Tonight was for you. You would indulge in a long, soothing shower, perhaps light a candle or two, and lose yourself in a book or your favorite music. Your life outside could wait; right now, it was all about reclaiming your peace and preparing your heart for whatever came next.

For the next few hours, you surrender yourself to the soothing embrace of rest and relaxation. The long, warm shower you took had been a necessity, the steam enveloping you like a comforting blanket, washing away the remnants of the day’s stress. Now, as you settle into your soft, inviting bed, the sheets cradle you like a gentle cocoon, promising solace and peace.

You close your eyes, willing your body to unwind and drift off into the blissful realm of sleep. Yet, despite your efforts, your mind refuses to cooperate. Instead of the quiet darkness you seek, thoughts of Hongjoong begin to swirl within you, vibrant and insistent.

His killer smirk, soft but stern voice, his intoxicating touch on yours... You toss and turn, trying to shake off the warmth that spreads through you at the thought of him.

Each time you attempt to close your eyes, visions of his face fill the void, making it impossible to find peace. You think of his confidence, the way he carries himself with an effortless charm that draws everyone in. Frustrated, you turn onto your side, pulling the blanket closer as if it might shield you from the feelings that are threatening to overwhelm you. But the more you resist, the stronger the pull becomes, leaving you craving him. All of him.

You remember the feeling of his fingers moving inside you. His warm soft lips devouring you. And the way he called your name so effortlessly… A wave of warmth filled between your legs as you began to think of him. You curse to yourself for having such lewd thoughts. But you couldn’t help yourself, that night he showed you something you never knew you could experience. And gosh do you wish you can feel that ecstasy again. Unconsciously, your hand began to move towards the heat between your legs. You let yourself envelop in the touch of yourself as you begin to think of the only man you want. Hongjoong.

You began to draw circles on your clit as you think of his strong hands instead of yours. You bite your lip trying to suppress a moan, remembering the smug look on his face as he looked at you in awe. You slip your fingers into your wet, warm entrance slowly.

“Fuck… Hongjoong~” You quietly moan. Your mind gets flooded with Hongjoong’s hard cock when he was fucking you. He filled you up so good and hit all the right spots effortlessly. You wish it was him touching you right now instead of yourself. You wish he was here holding you and telling you dirty, degrading, yet loving words.

As your pace began to speed up, tears slipped from your eyes. The sudden remembrance of Hongjoong being possessive and only wanting your tears for himself sent you over the edge. Your body filled with an overwhelming of amount of pleasure.

“A-ahh H-hongjoong~~” You squeeze your breasts and release loud moan a you come undone on your own fingers. You lay there trying to catch your breath as you slowly remove your fingers. You feel dirty about the fact you just got off on the mere thought of Hongjoong. You quickly clean yourself up before dropping back down on the soft cushion. You sigh and close your eyes… Finally, the drowsiness casts over your body. Your eyes began to go heavy from the orgasm you just had, and soon you fall asleep into a deep slumber… still thinking about Hongjoong.

———

The following morning, you arrive at the office feeling a sense of renewal that had eluded you in the past few days. With Siwoo officially out of your life, there’s an undeniable spark of curiosity about what could develop between you and Hongjoong. You’ve thought about it all night, and now, armed with a daily iced Americano for him, you stride confidently toward his office.

Setting the cup on his desk, you can’t help but smile to yourself, feeling a flutter of anticipation. Glancing at the agenda in your hands, you mentally prepare for the day ahead before retreating back to your desk.

“Good morning, Mr. Kim,” you hear the familiar greeting echo around the office. You look up from your computer to find him standing by the entrance, offering a gentle smile to the staff. Your heart skips a beat, and you feel encouraged to engage.

“Good morning, Mr. Kim—” you say, your voice steady, but he doesn’t even glance in your direction. Instead, his gaze is fixed on his watch, and he interrupts you with an air of urgency.

“Miss Y/N, cancel the meeting with the marketing department at 1 PM. I have an interview to attend instead.” With that, he strides into his office, the door closing with a quiet finality that leaves you bewildered.

Confusion settles in as you take your seat once more. You quickly type out a cancellation email to the marketing team, but your mind races with questions. What could possibly be bothering him? Why hadn’t he even looked at you? You exhale softly, staring at the screen, trying to shake off the unease.

Moments later, a response arrives in your inbox—a request from the head manager of the marketing team to reschedule. You glance at Hongjoong’s closed door, feeling a pang of uncertainty. He hadn’t mentioned any rescheduling… Driven by a mixture of concern and determination, you rise from your chair, notebook in hand.

You knock softly on the door, waiting for a response.

“Come in,” his voice calls out, calm yet authoritative. You open the door and step inside, closing it gently behind you. Hongjoong is hunched over his computer, typing with an intensity that makes you feel almost invisible. Your heart sinks at his apparent disregard.

“Uhm, Sir, the marketing team is asking for a rescheduled time for the meeting you wanted to cancel.” You speak clearly, hoping to draw his attention.

“Tell them I don’t want to see them for a while. They need to fix their ideas. It’s pointless for me to attend a meeting when they can’t do anything right,” he replies, his tone tinged with frustration. His eyes remain glued to the screen, leaving you feeling dismissed.

“Yes, Sir…” you murmur, jotting down his words. As you begin to turn to leave, an impulse makes you hesitate and look back at him.

“Ah, Sir,” you say, fiddling nervously with your pen. His indifference stings, yet you press on. “Shall I accompany you to the interview? I could take notes or—”

“No need.” he cuts you off, the word clipped and final. A sharp pang strikes your heart, disappointment crashing over you.

“Alright then, Sir. I will get back to work…” you reply softly, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air as you turn away, your thoughts swirling with questions and lingering hopes.

You immerse yourself in your morning tasks, trying to push aside the troubling thoughts about Hongjoong’s sudden dismissiveness. Why had he been so cold? You remind yourself that it might be for the best—not rushing into something new with him right after Siwoo. After all, you need time to heal.

As the hours tick by, the flood of questions from the marketing team overwhelms you. Hongjoong hasn’t provided any clear answers, leaving you to craft professional, half-hearted apologies while encouraging them to resolve their issues independently. Frustration simmers beneath your surface, and you find yourself stretching in your chair, letting out a sigh that feels too loud in the otherwise quiet office.

“Hi, I have a meeting with Mr. Kim today at 1 PM.” A soft voice pulls you back to the present. You look up to see a young woman standing in front of your desk, she holds a confident aura. She looks to be in college, her eyes wide with anticipation.

“Ah, yes. His office is right there,” you reply, offering her a reassuring smile. “I’ll let him know you’re here.” You begin to dial his office phone, gesturing for her to take a seat.

“Please, take a seat,” you add, keeping your tone warm despite the weight on your mind.

“Mr. Kim, your interview with—” you glance back at the young lady, uncertain of her name.

“Lee Haeun,” she supplies quickly.

“—with Lee Haeun is here,” you finish, relaying the message into the phone. Hongjoong’s voice crackles back with a brief instruction to let her in, and you hang up, rising from your seat.

“Right this way, Haeun,” you say, leading her to Hongjoong’s office. You open the door and usher her inside.

“Hello, Mr. Kim. Thank you so much for having me,” Haeun says, bowing slightly, her nerves palpable.

“My pleasure. Let’s start the interview. Miss Y/N, you may leave,” Hongjoong replies, his voice smooth but his attention solely on Haeun. He glances at you for just a moment, a fleeting look that sends your heart racing, before turning back to the applicant with a smile.

Your stomach churns at the sight. Why are you feeling this way? You chastise yourself internally. This is just work. He’s likely trying to maintain professionalism, to keep things strictly business. Still, the pang of confusion is hard to shake as you retreat back to your desk, your mind swirling with questions and a twinge of hurt. The door closes behind you, and the distance feels more pronounced than ever.

———

Hongjoong sits at his desk, the faint sound of tapping keys fading into the background as he pulls out his notepad. The room is filled with an air of anticipation, and across from him, Lee Haeun shifts nervously in her chair. Her hands clasp tightly in her lap, betraying her anxiety despite the confident smile she tries to maintain.

“Okay, Lee Haeun,” he begins, his eyes flicking to the application laid out before him. “It says here you’re applying to be part of the marketing team?”

“Yes, sir,” Haeun replies, her voice steadying as she leans slightly forward. “I’m majoring in business marketing right now, and I will be graduating in two years.”

“Which college do you attend?” Hongjoong asks, looking up from the paper, his brow slightly furrowing in curiosity.

“I attend the University located downtown, sir,” she responds, a bright smile lighting up her face. Hongjoong raises an eyebrow, noting the irony of her choice; it’s the same university where Siwoo teaches. The thought lingers in his mind, but he quickly shoves it aside.

As the interview progresses, Hongjoong asks her all the necessary questions. Haeun responds thoughtfully, showcasing her diligence and genuine enthusiasm for the field. Hongjoong finds himself impressed; she speaks with a clarity that reflects her passion.

After what feels like a thorough exchange, Hongjoong leans back in his chair, folding his arms as he assesses her. “Well, your qualifications look promising for our marketing team,” he says, standing up and gesturing toward her. “However, I will be discussing final decisions with my team. We will contact you either later today or within the next week to let you know if you got the job.”

Haeun’s face lights up with gratitude. “Of course, thank you, Mr. Kim,” she replies, bowing as she stands up and exits Hongjoong’s office.

———

You look up as the door to Hongjoong's office swings open, revealing Haeun stepping out with confidence and a radiant smile.

“How did the interview go?” you ask, genuinely curious with a soft smile.

Haeun turns, her grin stretching wider, lighting up her features. “I think it went well! I should hear back in a few days about whether I got the job.”

“I hope for the best!” you reply, waving her off with a supportive smile as she walks away, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

You glance at the clock on your desk; it’s your hour break. A wave of relief washes over you as you stretch your arms above your head, letting out a small sigh. The thought of free time is a welcome escape from the monotony of the day. However, your gaze drifts back to Hongjoong’s office door, and a nagging thought surfaces. Should you go talk to him? You’ve noticed that he seems a bit off lately, maybe there’s something bothering him.

Rising from your desk, you make your way to his office, the soft click of your heels against the floor breaking the silence. With a gentle knock, you call out, “Sir?”

“Come in” Hongjoong replies, his voice calm.

You open the door and step inside, finding him engrossed in his files. He looks up, finally making eye contact with you, his gaze steady and penetrating.

“Can I help you, Miss Y/N?” he asks, his tone neutral.

You close the door behind you and take a few steps toward his desk. “Sir… Is everything alright?” Your voice is soft, tinged with concern.

Hongjoong raises an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his expression. “Everything is fine, Miss Y/N. Why do you ask?” He crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair, exuding an air of relaxed authority.

“Uhm… I just noticed you’ve seemed a bit distant lately, sir…” You trail off, glancing down at the polished floor, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

“How so?” he leans back in his chair with his arms crossed, his interest piqued.

You take a breath, trying to steady your nerves. “You… seem dismissive of me, sir. I apologize if I did something wrong.” You look back up at him, worry etched on your face.

Hongjoong scoffs lightly as he rises from his chair. “I didn’t say you did anything wrong, Miss Y/N.” He takes a step closer, and you feel your heart quicken. The space between you feels charged, and you hold your breath as he approaches.

He walks past you, and for a moment, you think he’s heading for the door. Instead, he turns the lock, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet office. Your heart races at the sudden shift in atmosphere.

With a slow turn, he faces you, his demeanor shifting as he loosens the tie around his neck and makes his way towards you. You begin to step back, your body bumping into his desk. You’re against the cold wood, as you look up towards him. Hongjoong slightly hovers over you and smirks.

“Did you talk to the marketing team?” he asks, his voice smooth but direct. You blink, momentarily taken aback by his unexpected question.

“Yes, sir,” you reply, your voice small.

He hums in acknowledgment, his expression contemplative. “I might hire that new girl, Lee Haeun. She’s smart and seems very organized. The office has been slacking lately.” His words hang in the air, and a sense of panic begins to stir within you. What position was Haeun applying for? Was Hongjoong considering replacing you? The thoughts swirl in your mind, each more alarming than the last.

“I—I’m sorry, sir. If I haven’t been at my best, it wasn’t my intention to slack off. I—“ Panic takes hold, and tears spring to your eyes as the words spill out in a rush, your voice trembling. Hongjoong's soft chuckle cuts through your anxiety, leaving you confused.

“Oh baby, do you really think I’m going to replace you?” He steps closer, his hands cupping your face as he wipes away your tears with his thumb, his touch gentle and reassuring. You can’t help but notice the way his lips curl slightly as he studies your face, his eyes lingering on your pretty watered eyes, and tear-streaked cheeks.

“No one can replace you,” he whispers, and the sincerity of his words washes over you like a balm, soothing the ache in your heart. The flutter in your chest begins to chase away the heaviness of your worries as you look up at him, your breaths coming more steadily.

“Did you talk to Siwoo?” he asks quietly, a hint of concern slipping into his tone.

“I did,” you nod, meeting his gaze. “I talked to him yesterday. We’re over.” The words hang heavy between you, but before you can fully grasp the reality of it, Hongjoong’s lips capture yours, urgent and insistent.

His kiss deepens, and you find yourself melting against him, your heart racing in response to the electricity sparking between you.

“Good,” he whispers against your lips, his breath warm, before he pulls you back into a kiss that steals your breath away once more. The kiss becomes sloppy, the way his tongue laps over your lips over and over. You invite him in, enveloping all of him in you. Your arms are wrapped over his neck as the kiss deepens. Hongjoong softly bites your bottom lip and in response you whimper. Making Hongjoong chuckle.

“Fuck, is it bad that I want to take you right here?” Hongjoong confesses as he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours.

“We can’t…” you whisper, slightly thrilled but scared at the thought of getting caught.

“I know…” Hongjoong’s hands drop from your face and wraps around your waist. Hongjoong’s warmth enveloped you as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, the gentle press of his opened mouth kisses sending shivers down your spine. Each touch igniting a flutter in your heart. You gasp at the sensation of his tongue against your skin.

His hands tightened around your waist, a comforting grip that made you feel cherished. With a hefty sigh, he snuggled even closer, his body molding against yours as if he were seeking solace in your presence. Time seemed to stand still, and for a fleeting moment, nothing else mattered. Your fingers instinctively rose to his hair, brushing through the soft strands that felt like silk beneath your touch.

“Are you okay, Hongjoong?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, filled with concern. He responded with another tender kiss on your neck, savoring the closeness before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze.

“I wasn’t ignoring you this morning because I was mad or upset with you,” he said softly, his eyes searching yours for understanding. There was a vulnerability in his tone that tugged at your heartstrings. “I was frustrated with the marketing team. They haven’t been performing well, and the Exhibition is in a little over a month, that’s why I had that sudden interview.”

You watched as he spoke, his expression earnest and sincere. The tension in his shoulders seemed to ease as he opened up.“I’m sorry if I worried you,” he continued, his thumbs brushing lightly over your hip, the fabric of your shirt soft against your skin. His touch was tender, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for assuming the worst,” you replied, offering him a soft smile that you hoped conveyed your understanding. The bond between you felt stronger in that moment, forged through shared concerns and open communication.

Hongjoong’s face softened at your response, and he leaned in closer, the playful glimmer in his eyes returning.

“After work, let me take you out on a proper date,” he suggested, his smile infectious. You couldn’t help but nod enthusiastically, a thrill of excitement coursing through you at the thought of spending more time together.

He chuckled softly at your eagerness, the sound wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Leaning in, he planted another sweet kiss on your lips, leaving you breathless. It was a promise of the evening to come, and as you leaned into him, you knew that this moment was just the beginning of something beautiful.

———

As the sun decreased in the sky, You found yourself glancing at the clock over and over, each tick amplifying the racing of your heart. The promised date with Hongjoong makes you anxious is a good way. This will be the first time you’ll see him outside the sterile confines of the office, and anticipation coiled in your stomach like a tightly wound spring. Despite spending the last two years as his secretary, you realized you hardly knew him. The past few days gave you a sneak peak into what he’s like as a lover and your heart fluttered at the thought of it.

You sat at your desk, watching as your colleagues began to trickle out of the office, their laughter and chatter fading into the distance. The clock ticked down the final minutes of the workday, and a flutter of anticipation danced in your stomach. You quickly pulled out your compact mirror, its surface reflecting the soft light of the room. With steady hands, you began touching up your makeup, reapplying lip balm and smoothing down a few unruly strands of hair that had escaped your carefully styled look.

Once you were satisfied, you turned to your desk, gathering your belongings with a sense of urgency. As you packed away your notebook and pens, you felt a rush of excitement mixed with nerves.

Just then, as if he could sense your eagerness, Hongjoong emerged from his office, his briefcase in hand. He paused for a moment, his gaze finding yours, and a soft smile broke across his face. The sight of him made your heart skip a beat, and you instinctively returned the smile, rising from your seat as if drawn by an invisible force.

“Are you ready?” he asked, approaching you with a casual confidence that made you feel both at ease and electrified. You nodded, your voice momentarily lost in the whirlwind of your thoughts.

Without hesitation, he reached out, taking your bag from your hand. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine as he swung the strap over his shoulder with an effortless grace.

“Let’s go,” he said, giving you a playful wink that made your cheeks flush. With a mix of eagerness and trepidation, you fell into step behind him, as you both make your way to his car.

———

Hongjoong took you to a charming local restaurant that felt like a hidden gem, its exterior adorned with hand-painted signs and warm lighting. The cozy atmosphere, with wooden accents and family photos lining the walls, was a stark contrast to the upscale dining spots you had expected him to choose. Yet, as you stepped inside, you felt an unexpected warmth wash over you. It was clear that he wanted to make this evening about comfort and connection, rather than extravagance, and that thought made your heart swell.

“This is one of my favorite restaurants,” he said casually, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “My parents always took my brother and me here as kids.” The way he spoke about it brought a smile to your face; the small detail felt intimate, revealing a side of him that was endearing and genuine.

As you settled into a booth, the scent of savory dishes wafted around you, making your mouth water. You glanced over the menu, excitement bubbling within you. “What do you recommend?” you asked, turning to him with a bright smile.

Hongjoong looked thoughtful, scanning the menu. “Hmm, their beef short ribs are really good, and their tofu soup is delicious,” he suggested as his eyes scanned through the menu.

“I trust you to order,” you replied, a soft giggle escaping your lips. He raised an eyebrow at you in surprise.

“Don’t be shy now, Y/N,” he chuckled, the sound warm and inviting.

“I’m not! I trust your judgment since you’ve been here many times. I want to have what you get,” you insisted, your sincerity reflected in your gaze. He laughed softly, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine, and nodded in agreement.

Minutes passed, and one by one, a delightful array of side dishes and main entrees began to fill the table. Hongjoong wasn’t exaggerating; each bite was like a comforting embrace, reminiscent of home-cooked meals.

As the evening deepened, the conversation flowed effortlessly. You talked about everything from childhood memories to current events, laughter punctuating your exchanges. With every shared story and knowing glance, you felt yourself falling harder for him.

As you took your last few bites, savoring the rich flavors of the meal, you caught Hongjoong’s gaze. He was watching you with an affectionate smile, clearly admiring how much you were enjoying the food.

“Are you ready, baby?” he asked, leaning back against the booth with a relaxed yet attentive demeanor. You looked up at him, cheeks stuffed with food, and nodded eagerly. His chuckle echoed softly in the cozy space, a sound that made your heart flutter as he waved over the server to settle the tab.

After the bill was paid, you both decided to take a stroll through the nearby park before he dropped you off at home. The quiet night wrapped around you like a warm blanket, the stars twinkling overhead as you walked hand in hand. The soft crunch of gravel beneath your feet punctuated the serene atmosphere, and you felt a sense of peace envelop you.

“Y/N?” Hongjoong called softly, breaking the comfortable silence. You turned to look up at him, curiosity shining in your eyes. “Hm?” you hummed in response.

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze still fixed ahead. “What did Siwoo say when you ended things?” His voice was gentle, but you could sense the undercurrent of concern. You felt your lips thin into a line as memories of that difficult conversation flooded back. You couldn’t blame him for being curious—he was the one who helped you realize Siwoo was being unfaithful.

“He was upset and angry…” you replied softly, your voice steady but lacking the weight of sadness. You turned your gaze forward, lost in thought. “He tried to gaslight me, making it seem like I was leaving him over stupid reasons.” You rolled your eyes at the memory. “But once I told him I knew he was cheating, his whole demeanor shifted. He didn’t admit to it, but I could see the guilt written all over his face.”

You glanced at Hongjoong, whose expression remained thoughtful as he listened intently. “After that, I just left. I told him we were done and to not contact me again.” You stopped in your tracks, the sudden halt causing Hongjoong to turn and look at you.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly, concern flickering in your eyes. He smiled reassuringly and nodded.

“I’m more than okay, baby,” he said, ruffling your hair in a playful yet endearing gesture. “But if he ever bothers you again, please let me know, okay?” His sincerity made you feel safe, and you nodded in response.

“Let’s go home. It’s getting late,” Hongjoong suggested, feeling the weight of the day begin to settle. As you resumed walking, hand in hand, a warm sense of hope filled the air between you, chasing away any lingering shadows of the past.

———

For the next month, being with Hongjoong felt like living in a dream. Each day, you found yourself eagerly anticipating the moments you would share together, both in and out of the office. Despite his dominant and authoritative demeanor during work hours (and in bed), he revealed a softer side to you—a side that was attentive, caring, and incredibly endearing. Those little gestures, like the way he would brush a stray hair behind your ear or how his eyes would light up when you shared a laugh, made you feel cherished.

Your initial worries about the complexities of a relationship between worker and boss faded away. Hongjoong had a natural ability to keep his professional and personal lives separate, making it clear that he understood the boundaries of his position.

The two of you seamlessly balanced your work and personal lives, slipping effortlessly from professional colleagues to romantic partners. You’d share knowing glances during meetings and subtle touches when no one was looking. Those stolen moments turned mundane workdays into something special. Yet, it wasn’t without its slip-ups. There were instances when the chemistry between you became too overwhelming to ignore, leading you both to steal away into his office for passionate make-out sessions, and heated quickies.

Each time it happened, it felt both exhilarating and dangerous, as if you were living on the edge of a thrilling secret. The thrill of being discovered added an electric tension to those encounters, heightening the rush of intimacy that had blossomed between you.

———

“H—Hongjoong, not here~” you giggled, your voice a playful whisper as his lips brushed softly against your neck. The gentle kiss sent a flutter through you, warmth radiating from the point of contact.

“Shh,” he murmured, his warm breath tickling your skin, igniting an electric thrill that danced along your neck.

You were tucked away in one of the meeting rooms on the second floor of the building. Just moments ago, you had accompanied him to a meeting with the marketing team. The atmosphere had been charged with creativity and collaboration, and everything had gone off without a hitch. Hongjoong was in a better mood about the marketing team once he hired that new girl, everything seemed at place.

Once the last of the team members left and the door securely closed, the mood shifted entirely. Hongjoong pounced on you as soon as the coast was clear.

“Let’s be quick,” he teased, his voice low and conspiratorial. You felt your heart race as he leaned in, capturing your neck again with his wet kisses. Each touch was warm with an underlying intensity that made your pulse quicken. You leaned into him, caught off guard by the warmth and familiarity of his embrace. The world outside faded into a distant hum as you focused solely on him.

“But what if someone walks in?” you asked, a hint of laughter lacing your words, though you secretly delighted in the thrill of being together in such a private moment.

“Let them,” he replied, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. His confidence was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

Hongjoong swiftly lifts you onto the table and hikes up your skirt. His hands massage your soft thighs, sending a shiver down your spine.

“How about I just help my baby out for now yeah?” Hongjoong whispers on your lips before planting a gentle kiss. You’re confused at his suggestion. Help out you?

And within an instant, Hongjoong is on his knees. He leaves a kiss on your soft thighs and runs his hands over your legs.

“Try not to be loud baby.” Hongjoong hooks his finger under your panties and moves it to the side. Without hesitation, he begins to lap his tongue over your clit.

You gasp at the warm feeling of his tongue. Your hand shot towards your mouth as you try to muffle your moans. Hongjoong holds onto your thigh to keep you from squirming. His lips move skillfully on your pussy, devouring every part of you. You can feel the tip of his perfect nose rub against you, creating more pleasurable friction. The sounds of your wet cunt mixed with you trying to catch your breath makes Hongjoong grow harder in his pants.

“Cum for me baby,” Hongjoong mumbles as he encourages you while picking up his pace. Your hands instinctively moves towards his hair, pulling him closer as you move your hips against his mouth.

“F—fuck Hongjoong… I’m so close” You whisper a whine.

“Yeah? Cum on my face, baby” Hongjoong groans, lapping his tongue over and over. Hongjoong’s free hand quickly shoots up to cover your mouth, knowing your orgasm was close. Hongjoong sucks on your clit, and in an instant you come undone on his mouth. As you shake under his touch, he slurps every drop of you, making you moan muffled curses against his hand as you ride out your high.

Once you calm down, Hongjoong releases his grip on your mouth. He stands up on his feet a smirks at you. He licked his lips and wipes his mouth.

“Atta girl” He growls a chuckle. Hongjoong leans in and kisses you, giving you a direct taste of yourself, a wet string connected between your mouth and his. You moan at the lewd motive. Hongjoong quickly leans over to grab a few tissues and begins cleaning you.

“Let’s get back to work…” Hongjoong smirks at your flushed face as he pulls you off the table. You adjust your skirt and clear your throat, while Hongjoong fixes his tousled hair.

You trailed behind Hongjoong, your legs feeling slightly unsteady beneath you. The hallway was blissfully empty, allowing the two of you to slip away from the meeting room without raising any suspicions.

“Thank you for your hard work, Miss Y/N,” he said, flashing you a charming smile accompanied by a playful wink that sent your heart racing.

“My pleasure, s-sir,” you stammered, bowing your head slightly as you watched him walk away, his confident stride taking him in the opposite direction from where you were headed. You turned and made your way toward the elevator, your cheeks still flushed from the encounter.

As you waited for the elevator doors to open, you tapped your heels against the floor, adrenaline thrumming beneath your skin. When the silver doors slid apart with a soft whoosh, you stepped inside, pressing the button for the top floor. The elevator began its ascent, and an awkward silence enveloped you.

Suddenly, a voice broke through your thoughts. “Ah, hold the door for me, please!” You jolted, quickly extending your hand to keep the door from closing. A new familiar figure rushed in just in time—Lee Haeun, the newest addition to the marketing team.

“Thank you so much, Miss Y/N!” Haeun gasped, a bright smile spreading across her face as she caught her breath, bowing slightly.

“It’s no problem, Miss Lee,” you replied, returning her smile and clasping your hands around the clipboard you held. The elevator settled into a quiet hum, the tension from moments before gradually fading.

“Ah, I know I’m still new here…” Haeun broke the silence, turning to you with an earnest expression. “I’m just trying to get to know everyone better,” she continued, her smile warm and inviting.

“Don’t hesitate to speak to me, Haeun! I know it can be hard adjusting to a new work environment,” you encouraged, genuinely hoping to ease her transition.

“Thank you~” Haeun beamed, giving a small bow once more. “I hope, I’m not crossing any professional boundaries here, but I’m curious…” Haeun begins, you look at her piqued in interest, “Is Mr. Kim seeing anyone? I mean he’s just so young and handsome…” She sighs and smiles, “And he’s always working. So it just makes me wonder you know?” Haeun giggles, a slightly irritable ringing echoes in the elevator.

“Ah~ I’m not sure Miss Lee. I don’t know too much” You force a smile at her. She responds in an aspirated “Ahh” as she nods. Silence floods the super… slow… elevator once again.

“I’m in my last year of college, so I’m really grateful to have this job opportunity so early on even though I don’t have my degree just yet!” Haeun says unexpectedly with enthusiasm and confidence.

“Oh wow! That’s amazing. Which university do you attend?” you ask, turning towards her trying to be respectful.

“I attend the university downtown!” she replied, her enthusiasm infectious. You fought to maintain your composure at the mention of the familiar institution, annoyance swirling within you.

“Impressive! That’s a great school,” you said, managing a tight smile as you turned back to face the elevator doors.

“Yeah! My Marketing Professor, Park Siwoo, was the best,” Haeun said, a dreamy expression crossing her face as she looked down, lost in thought. Your breath caught at the name, and you nodded, forcing a smile as you cursed silently at the elevator’s sluggish pace. Why was it taking so long? The walls felt closer now, and you could almost sense the weight of memories you’ve forgotten pressing in on you.

*Ding.*

The elevator chimed softly, and Haeun turned to you, her expression bright.

“This is my floor. It was nice talking to you, Miss Y/N.” She gave a polite bow, and you instinctively mirrored her gesture, a warm smile on your face despite the lingering unease within you.

As the doors began to slide shut, you watched Haeun step out, her figure quickly disappearing into the bustling office beyond. The elevator felt suddenly empty, a cocoon of silence wrapping around you. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the unwelcome thoughts that had surfaced during your conversation.

It must just be a coincidence, you told yourself firmly. After all, Park Siwoo isn’t relevant anymore—a distant echo of a time you have already forgotten. What mattered now was the present, and the happiness you had found with Hongjoong.

———

The exhibition was only a week away, and the atmosphere in the conference room buzzed with a mix of urgency and anticipation. Hongjoong stood at the front, radiating a sense of authority that commanded attention. His gaze swept across the room, ensuring each team member felt the weight of his words.

“I need everyone to be on their A game,” he said, his tone firm yet focused. “We have no room for mistakes. Each department should know their responsibilities for the next few days. If you’re unsure, consult your department manager. For serious questions, reach out to Miss Y/N—don’t come to me.” He paused for a moment, allowing the gravity of his instructions to settle in. “Understood?”

A chorus of enthusiastic “Yeses” filled the expansive hall, reverberating like a well-rehearsed symphony. You sat at the front corner, diligently taking notes and keeping track of the time, mentally organizing tasks as Hongjoong spoke.

“That is all then. You are all excused,” he concluded, nodding slightly. The room erupted into movement as colleagues rose from their seats, and you swiftly jotted down the final points before beginning to tidy the files spread across the table.

Just then, a soft, melodic voice broke through the chatter. “Ah, Mr. Kim~” You looked up to see Haeun approaching, her smile bright and inviting.

“Yes, Miss Lee?” Hongjoong responded, turning his attention to her, his demeanor shifting slightly, a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.

“I know this might be last minute,” she said, leaning closer with an air of excitement. She pulled out her notebook, flipping it open to reveal her ideas. The distance between you and them felt substantial, making it difficult to hear their exchange.

As Hongjoong took the notebook from her, you noticed their fingers brush—a fleeting touch that ignited a flicker of annoyance within you. You turned your gaze away, but something compelled you to look back. Hongjoong placed the notebook on the table, his focus narrowing, clearly invested in their discussion.

Their mouths moved in animated conversation, and then Haeun giggled, her laughter ringing like a bell. Your irritation surged as she playfully brushed her hand against his arm. Hongjoong returned her smile, and your heart sank. Unconsciously, you rolled your eyes, gathering your belongings in an effort to quell the jealousy creeping into your chest.

Finally, Haeun bowed slightly, her smile lingering as she exited the room, leaving you and Hongjoong alone in the spacious conference hall. The echoes of Haeun’s laughter faded, replaced by an uncomfortable silence that settled heavily between you. Your heart raced, caught in a tangle of confusion and unspoken feelings as you tried to maintain your professionalism.

Rising from your seat, you felt a flutter of anticipation as you caught sight of Hongjoong making his way toward you. His footsteps were purposeful, echoing softly in the now-empty conference room. When he finally stopped in front of you, a spark of awe lit up his features, and he offered you a warm, gentle smile.

But instead of feeling buoyed by his gaze, a small frown creased your lips. You quickly turned your face away, an unwelcome surge of tears threatening to spill over. You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to hold them back.

“W—we should go,” you said softly, attempting to step past him. However, Hongjoong sensed your mood immediately. His hands found your shoulders, gently but firmly anchoring you in place. He let out a loud sigh, his expression morphing into a playful smirk that only deepened your frown.

Hongjoong chuckled, his hands moving to cup your cheeks, his touch warm and grounding. “Why are you pouting? Hm?” he teased, his voice light yet sincere. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, instead focusing on the floor, the weight of your emotions making it hard to speak.

“Y/N, if you don’t answer me now, I won’t be able to fix it,” he said, his tone shifting to something softer, yet still laced with determination. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles into your skin, and you felt the warmth seep through you, yet it didn’t fully chase away the storm brewing inside.

Taking a deep breath, you finally spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “Haeun… has been so touchy with you…” You paused, your heart racing. “Like, every chance she gets when she sees you, she’s so close, touching your arms, giggling with that annoying voice of hers. It’s so obvious she likes you.” You mumbled the last part, just loud enough for Hongjoong to hear, but it felt like a confession that hung heavily between you.

His brow arched in amusement, a playful grin forming on his lips as he took in your words. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the hint of jealousy you couldn’t quite mask. “I’m serious, Joong… it’s not funny,” you insisted, your gaze dropping back to your feet as fresh tears threatened to spill.

“Oh baby~” Hongjoong cooed, lifting your chin with a tender touch, forcing you to meet his gaze once more. Leaning closer, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, igniting a warmth that coursed through you. “You’re overthinking,” he murmured against your lips, punctuating his words with another gentle peck. “I’m all yours,” he whispered again, another soft kiss, drawing you in closer. “And…” he continued, leaning in once more, “you’re all mine…”

With that, he deepened the kiss, enveloping you in a warmth that pushed away the lingering doubts. The world around you faded, leaving only the two of you in that moment, the connection between you both undeniable and intoxicating.

You couldn’t help that one single tear drop from your eyes as Hongjoong continued to kiss your lips. His thumb swiftly wipes the tear and smirks against your lips,

“Going to cry for me, baby?” He teases between the now heated make-out. You whimper against him and he chuckles. Finally pulling away, a bridge of saliva connects your lips,

“Fuck~ we need to stop” Hongjoong whispers, his hands still cupping your face. “C—come over tonight?” You quietly suggest. Earning a wide grin from Hongjoong.

“Naughty girl…” Hongjoong groans softly and releases his hold on you. He looks at you in awe and nods

“I’ll see you later” He winks at you and you blush, before you both make your way back up the top floor to finish up work in anticipation to make the day go by faster.

———

You stumble back into the door as Hongjoong attacks your lips. Eagerly kissing you as if he hasn’t tasted you in years.

“J—Joong let me open the door” You giggle against his lips. Your house keys jingle from your hand thats gripped by Hongjoong’s. He swiftly takes the keys away from you, mouth still on yours. He quickly unlocks the door and you are both pushed inside. Hongjoong kicks the door closed behind him and locks it.

In an instant you drop your bags and Hongjoong effortlessly lifts you off the floor. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck, as you continue drowning in his kisses. He carries you to the comfort of your bedroom. Your body softly drops onto the mattress and Hongjoong interlocks with your hands above your head. He leans into your neck and takes a whiff of your scent, sending a shiver down your spine. He releases a sigh as he opens mouth to leave warm, wet kisses all over your neck. You moan at the sensation.

“Are you going to be my good girl tonight baby?” Hongjoong whispers in your ear.

“Y-yes” you whimper in response.

“Yes what?” he groans and takes your earlobe between his teeth

“Yes Hongjoong” You moan.

“I love it when you moan my name” Hongjoong says in a teasing tone. His hands release from yours and make their way to your blouse. He skillfully unbuttons your shirt and whips it open, revealing your bra covered breasts. He leans down to kiss the exposed areas. You whimper at the seemingly slow pace he’s going. You want to feel all of him already, but he’s clearly taking his time with you on purpose.

Your hands reach up towards his tie and you begin to loosen it up, earning a chuckle from Hongjoong. You finally pull the tie off his neck, and begin to work on his buttons.

“Someone’s eager?” Hongjoong smirks as he watches you hastily unbutton his black shirt and attempt to push the fabric off. Hongjoong chuckles at you and leans back to rest on his knees as he tugs the rest of his shirt off. You prop yourself up and reach towards his arms, admiring his hidden tattoo. You desperately kiss him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, making you two fall back onto the mattress.

“Don’t be a brat Y/N” Hongjoong mumbles against your lips and pulls away. He stands up, off the bed and pulls your legs to bring you towards him. He begins removing the rest of your clothes one by one leaving you only in your beige lacy panties. Hongjoong starts to unbuckle his belt, you lean up to watch him in awe. His eyes remained on yours.

Instinctively, you move forward, dropping yourself on your knees onto the floor. You rest against the side of the bed for support as Hongjoong steps towards you. He takes off his pants and grabs a hold of the back of your head. He caresses it for a brief moment before pulling you closer to his clothed dick. You open your mouth and began rubbing your face on the soft warm fabric that hugged his hard cock.

“Fuck… you’re such a dirty girl” Hongjoong hisses at the sight of you. Your hands move to pull his briefs down and his hard cock springs out. Without hesitation, you take the tip of his cock into your mouth. You swirl a few circles with your tongue before popping your mouth off. You stick out your tongue, lick from the base of his cock and back up to his tip. Hongjoong moans at the feeling of your warm tongue. You repeat the motion a few times before taking all of him into your tiny mouth.

Both of Hongjoong’s hands grab a hold on your face. You gawk your head up and down taking him deeper at a slow but steady pace. Hongjoong can’t seem to get enough of you as he steps forward while holding onto your face, making your neck lean into the mattress. You relax a bit before Hongjoong begins to fuck your mouth. He moves his own hips at a faster pace as he fucks your mouth, head into the mattress. You moan at his sudden roughness. Your moans send a vibration through Hongjoong, making him pick up his pace. He constantly hits the back of your throat causing you to cough. Hongjoong pulls away from your messy slobbery mouth and groans in temptation.

“Up” he demands in one word, and in an instant, you’re up on your feet. Hongjoong lays down on your bed and props himself up at the headboard. He taps his lap, signaling you to ride him. Without another word, you crawl towards him on the mattress. He bites his lip at the sight of you. You straddle your legs over his lap and hold onto his shoulders.

“Put it in baby” Hongjoong softly says, getting impatient as well. You sink down onto his dick and release a loud moan. Hongjoong groans and wraps his arms around you.

“F—fuck Hongjoong~” you whimper as you take time to adjust yourself. Hongjoong’s hand carefully rubs your back as you remain still.

“Still can’t handle me yet baby?” Hongjoong chuckles and moves his hips forward.

“Ah~ Joong” you moan and hold onto him tighter. “It’s alright baby. move for me” Hongjoong whispers. Your eyes started to well up. Tears piercing the corners of your eyes.

Your hips began rocking against Hongjoong’s at a slow pace. His cock hits your g-spot over and over as you move your hips forward. Hongjoong’s hands caress your hips and tightens his grip.

“Hold onto me baby” Hongjoong whispers. You lean forward and hold onto his shoulders. He begins to thrust his hips upwards, deepening his feel into your wet pussy. You yelp at the painful pleasure.

Your tears fall from your eyes as his pace picked up.

“You feel good baby?” Hongjoong moans in your ear. “Y—yess Hongjoong” You manage to whimper out.

“Fuck you make me feel so good Y/N” Hongjoong growls and smacks your ass. You begin bouncing on his cock moving at your own pace. Your breast jiggle at each bounce, causing Hongjoong to reach towards them and take one into his mouth.

You’re a moaning mess on his cock, you feel yourself so close to coming and Hongjoong notices.

“Cum baby, don’t hold back” He groans and takes over the pace, he holds onto your waist and you scream in pleasure, your orgasm washing over you. Your tears keep flowing down and Hongjoong chuckles as your fucked out expression.

Hongjoong cups your flushed cheeks and kisses your forehead. He looks into your glossy teary eyes and smirks,

“I’m not done with you baby” He leans your bodies forward and drops you down onto the mattress.

“Turn around” He demands. You’re a panting mess as you flip over on all fours. Hongjoong pulls your ass towards his crotch and pushes your head down. You moan at the sudden movement.

He smacks your butt and grips onto to it.

“H—hongjoong~” You gasp, pushing your ass back against his body. He chuckles at your eagerness.

“Yeah baby?” He coos, fondling your ass with his hands.

“F—fuck me please” You whine into the mattress. “You want to cum again baby?” Hongjoong leans down to kiss your soft arched back. All you can do is hum in response.

“I can’t hear you” He teases, rubbing his cock on your clit. You whine at the overwhelming stimulation.

“Yes please I—I want to cum again” You moan in eagerness. Without hesitation, Hongjoong enters you, hitting your g spot with ease at this new angle.

“Want to cum on you again Joong” You whimper into the soft sheets.

“F-fuck you’re already going to make me cum baby” Hongjoong moans picking up his pace.

Hongjoong’s hand reaches over to your hair and he grips onto the soft strands. He applies a gentle pressure, pushing your face deeper into the mattress. He fucks you deeper, earning a loud yelp from you. His roughness sends a wave of pleasure through your body, your tears can’t help but keep flowing down as he fucks you senseless. You grip onto the sheets as his thrust becomes sloppier.

“Cum with me baby” Hongjoong grunts holding onto both of your hips.

“Y-yess, so close” you whimper moving your hips with his.

“F-Fuck, fuck baby” Hongjoong moans loudly at the sight of your ass bouncing against his cock. Your pussy tightens at his voice, coming on his hard dick, you hit your second orgasm.

Hongjoong quickly pulls out and pumps his shaft on your soft ass. He releases a loud grunt as his warm milky cum splatters onto your back and ass. You moan at the feeling.

“Goddamn baby” Hongjoong moans and rubs his cum all over your butt.

“H—hongjoong” you whine and shake your hips in protest. He chuckles at your gesture and playfully smacks your butt.

“I’ll clean you right now baby” Hongjoong moves off the bed and grabs a damp rag from your bathroom.

After cleaning you, Hongjoong flips you over and pulls you to his chest. He peppers your face with kisses and you giggle at the gentle feeling.

“You’re all mine baby” Hongjoong whispers kissing your forehead. Slowly you feel your eyes go heavy, your body tired out from the hot steamy session. The sound of Hongjoong’s steady breathing mixed with yours draws you both into a deep sleep, holding onto each other.

-

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SURPRISE SURPRISE THERES A TRILOGY!

Read Part 3 Right Here 😏

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Author’s commentary: I am so so sorry for the delay on posting the sequel. I wanted to finish the Trilogy to post up right away at the same time😝. I really hope yall enjoy this. Don’t forget to to follow me for more. Feel free to scream in my comment and ask box🤭

[schemmentigfs]

Hi! I have a request on mean!mommy Melissa x R? When Melissa caught r flirting with someone (on purpose) and she decided to take R home and punish the hell out of R and comfort her after?

Tempting Fiery Redhead Devil.

summary: Jacob reveals that Melissa once told him that she wasn’t a jealous person. Outrageous by the made-up lie, you decide to take revenge by flirting with one of the teachers at the book club reunion without knowing that it would lead to painful consequences later at your girlfriend’s place.

warnings: porn with plot, mommy/mistress kink, a little toxic melissa? strap-ons, blowjobs, degradation, squirting, praises, fingering, oral, mentions of voyeurism.

shout out to the person who said that mel eats pussy for breakfast, CUZ SHE DOES! and for lunch and dinner too. 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩btw, I managed to get some free days so send prompts for me to write! :)

Monday mornings at an elementary school as a teacher were always quiet and ordinary, being the beginning of the week they ever tended to be slower or considerably boring. Even discouraging at times, and today things weren’t very different, actually it seemed the same old thing. Everyone who worked at Abbott Elementary was still sleepy and in a bad mood, trying to gather strength to start the day after a quiet relaxing weekend away from the common chaotic environment which seemed to take over the entire building.

You weren’t much different from the rest. Struggling with the urge to not to close your eyes and sleep on the hallway benches, exhaustion taking over every inch of your body. Which was quite curious and comical since your weekend off from work had been, to say the least, like a visit to paradise. On Saturday and Sunday you stayed at Melissa’s place, enjoying your girlfriend’s company in the little bubble that both built in these nine months of an established relationship.

You didn’t understand why you looked so tired. Most of the time, on those two days you and the older woman cooked together and cuddled on the couch watching romcoms — Melissa’s secret favorite genre of movies. A great counterpoint to the tough and mysterious persona she was known for throughout South Philly. Until the memory hit your head. In the middle of a scene from 50 First Dates, the redhead began to place heated kisses and bites on your collarbone starting a makeout session that ended with you under the sheets moaning and screaming her name while she went down on you.

“You taste so divine, babygirl,” she said between tortuous and slow licks. Seeming genuinely enchanted by your flavor. “I could spend hours with your thighs suffocating my head.”

As she savored your entrance, her fingers traced teasing circles along your inner thighs, sending shivers through your body. Her breath, warm against your skin, whispered countless promises yet to come, mingling with the soft hum of approval as she continued to explore your depths with a hungry curiosity.

You bucked your hips, moaning loudly, massaging the well-defined red curls that were slightly messy. “Feels so nice. More, please mistress!”

She moaned into your pussy, reaching out one of her manicured hands to twist your perk nipples. The pain made you tighten your grip on her hair, arching your back off the bed. The woman pinned your hips down again, you let out a strangled cry. Letting yourself get lost at the feeling of Melissa taking care of you, the way she knew how.

“Aw, that was such a cute noise, baby. Do you like it when mommy takes charge and praises you?” she talked you through it. “I know you do, so good for me, letting mommy play with you like this.”

Melissa placed a kiss on your clit, replacing her tongue with two fingers, making you cum at an impressive speed with a pitched gasp. While you were coming down from your high — eyes closed, body trembling and breathing heavily, the woman followed a trail of kisses and licks through your body until she reached your face. Where she captured your lips in a hungry kiss, making you moan as you tasted yourself in her warm skillful mouth.

When you part for the air, you mapped shapes into the freckles on her back. Looking at your girlfriend with doe eyes and a weak smile, still recovering from the orgasm and trying to control your irregular breath.

“Mel, can you approach a little more?” you broke the silence wanting more contact with her body. She giggled hearing your request and moved even closer. Not wanting to spend a second away from you.

“You're so good to me, hon,” she returned the smile, pressing a gentle peck on your cheek. “So good. I'm so proud of you.”

The next morning and also the last day you stayed at her house, the woman didn't give you any time or chance to rest. While preparing breakfast, she bent you over the kitchen counter and fucked you senseless with one of the strap-ons which she kept in a secret box that contained various sex toys that she used with you in bed. Things like vibrators, handcuffs and whips stood out in this huge selection of objects.

“Mommy,” you mewled between violent thrusts and hearing her animalistic grunts accompanying the movements of her hips slamming into you. “I can’t hold it any longer, please let me come.”

“That’s it, be a good girl and cum for mommy,” she whined, finding her own release after hearing you scream her name. Melissa gently pumped her cock inside you for a while, before pulling out with a kiss down your spine to relax your body on the aftershock. She throwed the harness on the floor to worry about cleaning up later.

You made a dissatisfied noise, feeling empty. She noticed and started calming you.

“I gotcha baby. You’re okay, now let’s get ya cleaned up and fresh.” The redhead carried you in her arms bridal style to the upstairs bathroom and kept her promise, giving you a warm, relaxing bath that you enjoyed every second melting on her embrace and sighing passionately with each caresses and kisses given.

After your shared bath, Melissa made blueberry pancakes along with strawberries and apple juice — your favorites — and took you back to bed. But this time, she didn’t start another round and just spooned you from behind, whispering sweet nothings as you fell asleep with an adorable smile on your face.

“So beautiful and precious,” she told you. “Ti amo, dolcezza mia. Sono la donna più fortunata del mondo.”

“I love you,” you managed to say sleepily, turning around to face Melissa and snuggle into her soft and comfy chest. That at this point had become your favorite place to sleep in peace, the sound of the redhead's heartbeat always calmed you down. “More than anything, babe.”

The last thing you felt before drifting off was a tender kiss on your hair.

That Sunday, you slept like a baby. What a completely unforgettable weekend, those pleasurable moments with your girlfriend were always cherished. No matter how much energy it took from you, leaving Melissa in complete control was special and made you feel loved in her presence.

Stopping walking for a bit as your feet feel sore through your green all-stars, you complain once again.

“I just need a double dose of caffeine and a medicine to calm down,” you breathed out, practically dragging yourself with your heavy bag on your shoulder. “Dude, why do I pack so much stuff in this damn thing? There’s enough props that could fit in Ava’s bunker.”

Mr. Johnson, who was sweeping the floor with small headphones humming the Jacksons famous Blame on The Boogie tune, laughs at your complaints making you startle, placing a hand on your chest while meeting his gaze. “You look like Ms. Teagues waking up confused in the nurse’s office after taking out the entire power in school,” he commented casually. “Where is that willingness? Does Ms. Schemmenti have anything to do with this?”

The mockery makes your cheeks take on a red blush. Everyone was now aware of your serious relationship and every opportunity given they found a way to make fun of the dominance she had over you, in a respectful way, obviously. No one would dare to disrespect Melissa’s precious girlfriend that she protected with all her heart.

You didn’t mind all that teasing of course, it was hilarious and a bit harmless when someone did it. Perhaps, these jokes were so good that they made you laugh genuinely. But since you’re known through the entire building as one of the shyest and quietest teachers, that often led to extremely embarrassing situations.

Like one time on development day where in the middle of Ava's ridiculous presentation, sharing what she had done over the summer vacation instead of her plans for school in the new school year. At the back of the library, Melissa began tracing imaginary patterns on your soft thighs, each movement closer to your core without caring about the rest of the staff present. Self-conscious and afraid of being caught, you grabbed her hand, pulling it away in dismay. But the ambitious woman just gave a smug grin and continued her ministries, earning a deep, shaky sigh to fall from your lips.

The redheaded teacher was only testing the waters, shamelessly teasing you to see how far you would reach the limit. That meant, begging to be touched by her.

“Lissa, we are in the same place as our co-workers. That isn't a great idea!” you protested, unsuccessfully trying to maintain your professional demeanor in public.

“Don’t be a pussy, you can handle it, dollface.” She replied with her pupils blown with desire, waiting for you to give in.

“Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti,” you tried with a firm tone but were interrupted with a slap on your left thigh. That would definitely leave a mark. “What are–”

“Sarai una brava ragazza per me, o ti comporterai come una stronza?” Melissa scoffs with a humorless laugh, knowing that when she said something extremely dirty in her native language, it quickly turned you on. “O vuoi un altro segno rosso sul sedere?”

“Uh?”

She jeered with false sympathetic eyes. “Poor baby, cat’s got your tongue?”

“No, but..”

Barb, who was there that morning — almost fast asleep, and inpatient, noticed the almost inappropriate act in public and ended up reprimanding you and her work wife with an incredulous look. “Ladies, we’re on school grounds. This is a learning space, please behave.”

“Please forgive us, Mrs. Howard, it won't happen again!” you spoke out, chastising for sounding like an horny teenager caught by your parents in the middle of an intimate moment. “We’re just fooling around to take our mind off the nonsense things Principal Coleman says about her spiritual retreat.”

“Mmm, I see.” She hums, falling back asleep tired from all the chatter.

You put your hands on your face, feeling embarrassed and shy. Jumping on your seat for a brief second when Melissa puts her own palms on top of yours, making you look directly at her.

“Do ya think you can get away that easily?” your girlfriend teased with a tilt of her head, leaning in to drop a comment in your ear. “Bambina cattiva. I suppose mommy has to teach you a lesson. Doesn’t she?”

She wasn't suggesting what you were imagining, was she?

“I dunno if we should have a quickie in here. It’s easier and safer to do this at home, there’s more privacy and I don’t want to get on any trouble—”

“Shut up and follow me outside,” Melissa interrupted, grabbing you by the arm with a certain possession. The touch makes you squeal in pain. “Do I have to discipline you to be more obedient when receiving orders?”

“It will not be necessary. I’ll behave, ma'am.”

“Good.” She replied, satisfied with your answer. “See, you can obey me. It’s easy.”

The disapproval warning given earlier by Barbara was a little in vain, as minutes later the redhead ended up pulling you to the parking lot and covering your mouth, roughly fingering you in her car as a punishment for not keeping quiet. Risky but also hot.

“Mommy’s little slutty girl,” Melissa groaned in the backseat with a sweet ridiculous voice compared to the almost aggressive way she inserted four fingers into your tight hole. “So fuckin’ pretty, all mine.” The words made your walls clench around her, obtaining another moan to escape from the redhead’s labia.

“Yeah, mommy. Only yours,” you whimpered, before cumming hard in the older woman's strong arms. Collapsing as Melissa holds you tightly against her. “Fuck!”

“Questa è la mia principessa,” she concluded that day, tracing your lower lip with her finger affectionately. “Why don’t we go home right away, hon? I guess someone deserves to be rewarded for the good job she just did for me.”

“Please,” you answered with some difficulty, nuzzling your face in the crock of her neck. Inhaling the sweet aroma of jasmine from her perfume. You weren't so naive as you seemed, the reward meant that Melissa was going to let you touch her. And you would never refuse an offer to pleasure that goddess sculpted by angels.

“Please? Such an obedient baby. How could I deny something from a sweet thing like ya?”

Melissa was always attracted to your innocence and purity. There was something charming about the way you acted with any unintentional sexual provocation she threw your way, giving a shy smile in response or a nervous laugh. Or how you blushed afterwards when you asked her to explore something new in bed together, or buried your face in her chest when she showered you with kisses and called you her good girl. That drove her instantly insane. Since after all, you were just her pretty angel that she loved corrupting and ruining.

“Mr J..” you gave a panicked smile coming back from the memory, about to think of an excuse so you can run and get out of there as quickly as possible. “I-”

The janitor rolled his eyes in amusement when he noticed how desperate you were.“I'm only joking kid, chill out. What happened to your sense of humor and improvised jokes?” he questions. “I think the ghost of bad mood got you, boo!”

You raised your eyebrows without expressing any reaction. “Ghost of bad mood? That sounds like something my fourth graders would say.”

“And something you would say if you were in a good mood!” The guardian retorts. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to finish cleaning the rest of the hallway and classrooms before the rascals arrive. And please, no pornographic acts in my closet again. You're lucky enough that the hidden cameras didn't capture anything or maybe could end up having consequences.”

Oh, another honorable mention of one of the ‘secret and public’ makeout sessions between you and Melissa on school grounds, which ended with you both getting caught after sex by Janine, it's safe to say that this experience was definitive for you two agreeing not to have quickies in any corner of Abbott anymore.

“Yep, understood, Mr. Johnson. No more activities in your closet,” you lowered your head, giving a small groan in irritation.

You continued to walk towards the break room, relieved it was twenty minutes left for the first bell to hit. Opening the door, you find Melissa who was keeping her leftovers from the weekend dinner in the fridge. You lean against the wall, watching her with a goofy smile. She truly was a vision. Seconds later, the woman beams when she notices your presence, she is always mesmerized everywhere you are. According to her, your beauty was breathtaking.

“Hey, babe,” you greeted, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, enchanted by the way her bright eyes roamed your figure with adoration and longingly.

“Buongiorno amore,” she tells you gently in her sleepy morning voice and gives you a sweet peck on the lips. Normally Melissa didn’t show affection in public for preferring to be reserved — she wasn't a big fan of pda, jesting that sounded annoying. But lately she's been making an effort and exception after hearing you mention that it was one of your favorite love languages. “Someone seems whacked, hm?”

The false pity in her tone, doesn't go missed by you.

“I think a certain second grade teacher had something to do with it,” you playfully swat her on the elbow. “Earlier, it was a challenge getting up to change. I had to sit on a chair to put on my clothes, my legs were wobbly like jello!”

She laughs and boops your nose. “It means I fucked you well that weekend, honey. In fact, I can't wait to have a moment for ourselves again. So I can bury my head in your dripping cunt until you beg for me to stop.” Melissa whispers with a sensual wink and lets you wordless, returning to the usual table she shares with Barb.

If there was one thing she was good at, it was being a complete pervert. Consider it to be one of her many specialities. “Uh, right. That sounds perfect,” you stuttered and composed your posture to avoid shameless questions from the other teachers and move towards your main goal; the coffee machine. The staff room remained in a comfortable and compressive silence but something caught your attention immediately.

“What’s so hilarious there?” You asked in doubt as you turned on the almost broken machine with some difficulty to prepare a fresh cappuccino so you could recharge your social batteries before your students arrived that morning and heard Jacob and Janine whispering to each other excitedly. The small discussion between them echoed through the lounge, drawing the attention of the other teachers and staff members present in the room, who decided to ignore them. Finding the dynamic duo's infectious energy considerably irritating.

Gregory, who was sitting near the vending machine, exchanges glances with you and just shrugs at the interaction between his girlfriend and best friend.

“I have no idea what is being said, although it sounds very productive.” The teacher finishes, returning to pay attention to class planning and also to suggestions for his garden.

“Can this assumption be considered valid?” Jacob ponders with his hand on his chin, thoughtful for two measly minutes. “I mean, it only mentions a small percentage! I shouldn’t worry about that, right?”

Janine puts her hand on his shoulder, giving a gentle but firm pat. Sometimes the history teacher got anxious easily even depending on how silly the subject was. “Don’t worry, it’s just a small result that says you are considerably calm.” Finally, she turns her head towards you. “Good morning, Y/n! We were just checking out a BuzzFeed test that looked fun.”

“BuzzFeed test?” you raise an eyebrow holding back a laugh as if that was a funny joke made up by the younger teachers. “Is Hill freaking out about a quiz? No way.” It was common knowledge that the topics discussed by the two tended to be genuinely meaningless most of the time. And that seemed like another one on the list.

He defends himself, sounding somewhat dramatic. “It's not a simple quiz, it's one to find out how jealous we are with our partners.”

So it wasn't just a meaningless or random conversation. Just a test to reveal your level of jealousy? That was kind of interesting, no matter how stupid it seemed. Curious about the subject, you pull up a chair to sit next to them. “And what was the result you two got? Is it that bad?”

The second grade teacher takes her phone out of her pocket and checks the result again. “Mine said I’m quite naive and don’t feel jealous most of the time.” She sighs, looking a little offended by the adjective given in the sentence.

“Acceptable, if you don't take it personally as you always do in any situation. And Jacob?”

“My result said basically the same thing. Just adding that my jealousy could just be a small signal of paranoia caused by some insecurities,” the man shrugs, clearly uncomfortable with the suggested issue. Making a mental note to discuss it with his boyfriend later. “Rude if you ask me.”

You switch your gaze between your friends, taking a sip of your cappuccino. “Well, no offense, but in my opinion that makes a lot of sense.” The words that slip off your lips make them cast an incredulous look your way. “What?”

“If you say so,” Janine comments and clears her throat to take the attention away from her. “While we’re on the subject, let me seize the opportunity. Do you get jealous easily?”

The question sounded so silly and naive that for a measly second the idea of ​​not answering immediately seemed completely valid. So valid that you even considered it but decided against it when you remembered that she might be on your case later, insisting to the point of making you lose your mind with the typical interrogation.

“No!” you said proudly with a grin, convincing them. “I am someone who is considerably controlled.” Your focus goes to Melissa, who had put down her word search game and had nudged Barbara to watch the morning program presented by Jim Garden. “But that one over there? It's worse than the devil himself when she gets jealous.” You pointed to the redhead discreetly with a playful smile. Silently thanking that she wasn't listening.

Jacob gives you a puzzled look and gestures with his hands for you to come closer and whispers. “Huh, it's curious you mentioned that, Mel Mel once said she wasn’t the jealous type.”

Was this the best he could do to try and get a genuine giggle out of you? What a complete idiot.

“Right, and I adore attending the book club meetings at the gym twice a week,” you say sarcastically. Hoping that he was only teasing and saying something out of pocket, but your expression changed into a frown after noticing the truth and sincerity in his words. “That's impossible! When did she say it?” You almost shouted but covered your mouth with your hands so as not to attract any attention.

Jacob inhaled deeply, looking for the right words to not make you freak out. “When we...” The pause makes you slam your hand on the table, urging him to continue.

“HILL.”

Your patience began to run out when the Italian woman’s voice manifested about to make a fuss.

“Could youse control that noise over there?” Melissa grumbles from the couch that occupied the break room. “I’m trying to focus on the news,” she points to the television that was playing Channel 6.

“Sorry, honey!” you apologize, closing your eyes and taking a minute to recover, repeating the prompt. “When was that, Jacob? Answer me.”

“It was when we were watching some episodes of The Real Housewives of New Jersey in my apartment last month. In one moment, Mel burst into laughter and said that she had never felt jealous on an extreme level. Not a single time.” He recalled.

Your breathing hitches. The realization hits you like a punch in the gut. That sounded like a stupid April Fools joke.

Melissa Schemmenti was a jealous woman by nature. No matter how much she denied it, she made clear in her actions. Whenever someone flirted with you, her infamous fight or fight instinct was activated. You've witnessed many times the way she clenched her fist, bit her lip impatiently and gave a death glare to anyone who dared to mess with you. The Sicilian woman made a point of showing that her girl belonged only to her and no one else.

And knowing that she preferred to be stubborn and lie to hide that she was vulnerable and maintain her reputation as a fearless woman with a heart of stone rather than actually tell the fucking truth made you extremely outrageous. Did Melissa have the slightest idea and notion of how much this could upset you? Apparently not.

It was truly childish behavior to act dramatically about something stupid like that but who cared, it was your right to be bothered by it.

“She said? Great, we’ll see about that,” you mutter in a venomous tone with arms crossed. “It’s time for someone to try her own medicine.”

Jacob widens his eyes, afraid that he has revealed more than he should and leaves the table to go towards Gregory to discuss something lighter and more restrained like Dungeons and Dragons.

“Do not under any circumstances tell her that I said anything!” he begs in fear. “Sometimes, that woman scares the hell out of me. Even though I consider her a maternal figure, she—”

“No need to shit your pants, squidward. You’ll be able to sleep peacefully with doors open and lights off, the tenebrous green-eyed monster will not appear under your bed and rip your feet off.” You mock him and he just bites his nails, still scared.

Ava who was listening to the conversation pipes in. “Bitch, don’t tell me we're about to witness some real sapphic drama between you and our favorite milf. Watching this will be more fun than all the heterosexual drama between Janine and Gregory since he started working here.” She winks with a smirk.

“AVA,” Janine begins with a sigh, her exasperation palpable. "Seriously?"

“Quiet, lowercase. We're about to witness a historic fight between Abbott's hottest couple,” Ava retorts, clearly entertained.

As the silly provocation between the two women escalated, you quietly slipped out of the staff room. A bittersweet expression crossed your face, your stomach aching with discomfort. The camera crew, who had been filming the entire scene, noticed your sudden change in demeanor and hurriedly pulled you into the hallway for an impromptu interview.

“Sometimes, Melissa can really surprise me. Some moments are pleasant, others... not so much,” you said softly, absently playing with the ring on your left hand. “It’s just challenging to navigate at times.”

The cameraman nodded, urging you to elaborate more.

“She has her own way of seeing things,” you continued, gathering your thoughts. “I guess we all do. But that doesn't justify her acting like a damn bitch.”

——

The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind of chaos. From the moment the kids entered your classroom for the first period, they seemed determined to test every ounce of your energy, concentration, and patience. Your usually well-behaved students turned into mischievous imps whenever they caught a moment's respite from your watchful eye. Normally, you didn't mind their occasional antics; it was part of the joy of teaching. But today, dealing with their exuberance felt overwhelming, compounded by the weariness that weighed heavily on you.

Before heading to the cafeteria, your little eagles had transformed into small devils, finding mischief in every corner of the class. Pencils flew like missiles during quiet time, paper airplanes soared across the room during small breaks, and even the usually attentive ones seemed to have caught a case of the giggles that spread like wildfire.

You found yourself back in the classroom after a much-needed lunch break with Janine, Gregory, and Jacob at a quaint restaurant seven blocks from school. Spending time with the trio had been a welcome distraction from the confusion and hurt caused by Melissa’s unfounded lie about her jealousy. You were thankful that the topic hadn't resurfaced during lunch.

Initially hesitant when Gregory invited you to join them, fearing it might fuel gossip about that topic, you eventually relented at Janine and Jacob's insistence. They assured you they wouldn't bring up anything uncomfortable, and instead, the conversation flowed to lighter topics—celebrities, nerd conventions, upcoming seasons of TV shows, and plans for the next weekend’s parties.

Faced with a daunting stack of tests to grade by Thursday morning, you absentmindedly clicked the tip of the red pen. The harsh, flickering light strained your eyes uncomfortably. Thoughts swirled in your mind—was retaliating against Melissa fair? Or would it be wiser to simply ignore her falsehood? You trusted Jacob. He wouldn't lie about something like that, would he?

Maybe the best course of action was to confide in your girlfriend about the insecurity that the revelation had sparked. But the thought of admitting to Melissa that her words had shaken you, worried that it might seem like making a mountain out of a molehill, made you afraid. You didn't want to burden her with unnecessary drama.

“Ms. Y/l/n?” A voice from the back of the room interrupted your thoughts, causing you to hastily put your glasses back on and stand up to address the class.

“Yes, Jayden? How can I help you?” you responded, trying to maintain composure despite the unexpected question.

The boy looks at you with a neutral expression, before saying something unexpected. “I just wanted to know one thing. Are you pissed off at Ms. Schemmenti?”

You were taken aback in the heat of emotion. “Wait, what?”

A chorus of awed whispers erupted among the students, making you wish you could disappear into the floor. The speed at which gossip spread through the school was staggering, and controlling it seemed impossible. Your only hope was that Melissa wouldn’t hear about this.

“Class, let’s settle down,” you scolded, though your own nerves were evident. Fidgeting with the pearl necklace around your neck, your fingers trembling slightly, you replied, “What makes you think that, buddy?”

He gestured towards the framed photo on your desk—an adorable snapshot from one of your early dates with Melissa, a day she surprised you with a picnic in the park. You both had agreed to keep your relationship private initially, which made this moment all the more intimate and cherished.

“You haven’t been holding the picture and staring at it with puppy heart eyes today since the first class started. And you always do that, so somethin’ is clearly wrong here.” Jayden notes.

“And we didn't see you coming out into the hall to visit her when you dropped us at art class,” Skylar added with conviction.

Elijah, who was engrossed in his drawing, wisely pointed out. “And also, you didn't take out your phone to text her and laugh at her dad jokes,” he chuckled, grimacing.

Fucking hell. It was remarkable how observant these kids were, noticing every detail of your daily routine. They were right, but explaining the nuances of your relationship to them felt awkward and unnecessary.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you spoke. “Everything’s fine. I’m just a bit distracted today, that’s all. But everything between us is as it should be. Understood?”

“Got it,” the students chorused, finally leaving you in peace. It was both amusing and exasperating to have to justify the intricacies of your relationship to a bunch of curious children—a situation you never imagined facing in your years as an experienced teacher. One thing was certain: your therapist would hear some interesting stories next month.

“Why can't I ever have a normal morning in this place?" you muttered, rubbing your temple as the camera zoomed in on your face. "I swear, it's like Abbott is conspiring against me. On summer break I will vanish from Philadelphia.”

——

After dismissing your last student for the day, you locked the classroom door with a defeated expression. Gathering your things, you made your way to the gym where Ava’s book club meeting was set to begin in fourteen minutes. The prospect of discussing books didn’t seem quite as pleasant knowing Melissa would be there, oblivious to your seething anger.

Speaking of the older woman, in the last period you thought of a naive plan to get some much-deserved revenge. Your plan was initially short and objective, leaving Melissa jealous by deliberately flirting with another staff member to the point where she lost control completely. It seemed simple to think like that straight away, the real problem would be execution and you knew it would be complicated.

Furthermore, there were three stages for the older woman to enter possessive and dominant mode. First, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Second, she clenched her teeth and bit her lips, feeling the blood rush to her head at a frightening speed. And finally, threatened anyone with her greenish orbs, sometimes even opting for violence methods featuring the emotional support baseball bat who she affectionately nicknamed Edith Houghton.

To push her to these stages, your flirting would need to push boundaries. But could you really go through with it, right? You just needed a suitable target.

Lost in thought, you walked slowly towards the stage, pulling out the book from your bag and flipping through its highlighted pages of One Of The Good Guys. Distracted and not paying attention, you collided with someone, sending both of you and your belongings sprawling to the floor.

“Ouch,” you complain. “My things are all scattered! What a great way to finish my Monday.”

“Fuck! Sorry!” A male voice exclaims in ecstasy, clearly frightened. Reaching out his hand to help you up.

You looked up and recognized Benjamin Cooper, one of the newly hired teachers for seventh grade. He wasn't a frequent face in the break room, often seen at meetings and conferences, seeming introverted and anxious around the rest that worked there. As if the poor twenty-six year old was looking for validation from those more experienced. Fairly that made you feel a little sorry and wanted to help him fit in.

“No worries, Mr. Cooper,” you said, accepting his hand with a small smile. “I was equally distracted.”

Benjamin blushed. “I should have been paying more attention. I've been a bit lost in my own world.”

“Win-win, right?” you replied with a light laugh. “So are you here for the book club?”

His face lit up at the question. “Yeah, Janine recommended it as a good way to get to know everyone here better. She said it’s quite an adventure.”

Before you could respond, Ava appeared, clapping hands. “Come on bitches, let's get this over with. I have a party club to attend later.”

——

The conversation is lively, everyone spent the next forty minutes discussing the story of the book, seeming intrigued by how the plot unfolded. But you have a different goal today. You steal a glance at Melissa, sitting on the other side of the circle, before turning to Benjamin, who is next to you.

Then let the games begin.

With a charming smile, you lean slightly closer to Benjamin, enough so that your legs are almost touching. “You really captured all the nuances of that character,” you say, voice sweet and complimentary. “It’s rare to find someone who sees so deeply between the lines.”

He smiles, clearly flattered. “Thank you, Y/n. I always try to pay attention to the smallest details.”

As the conversation continues, you laugh at his jokes, lightly touch his arm as you speak, and ask questions that demonstrate a genuine interest in his opinions. Your eyes shined with excitement, but every now and then, you would cast a calculating glance toward Melissa, watching her reaction.

The second grade teacher, sitting a few feet away with her legs propped up on another free chair, tries to remain calm, but her fingers nervously tap the cover of the book. Her eyes squint whenever they land on both of you, and her jaw is tense, her lips forming a thin line. She sees how you are purposely trying to at the same time attract his attention and piss her and she feels a mixture of anger and jealousy rising inside her.

During a pause in the debate, you laugh again at something Benjamin said and touch his knee, leaving it there for a moment longer than necessary. The redhead, no longer able to contain herself, stood up abruptly, attracting the eyes of everyone in the room.

“I need some air,” she says, her speech controlled but carrying a cold tone. She leaves the room quickly, leaving an awkward silence behind.

You watch her leave, a victorious expression flickering across your face before turning her attention back to him. “Sorry about that,” you whispered, trying to play it off. “She must be tired. Mel had a busy morning. Mondays are kinda tough for her.”

Benjamin, a little confused, just nods, while the others exchange puzzled glances. Except Ava who just remained lying on the floor, playing on her phone and enjoying the spectacle in front of her.

The principal laughed shamelessly. “Things are heating up! Mr. Johnson, get the damn popcorn ready. Someone is going to drop dead here!”

Her casual remark caught Barb's attention. She pieced together the situation and gave you a skeptical look, silently questioning whether you were brave or reckless to challenge Melissa without fear of serious consequences.

“Y/n.” She responds quietly enough just for you to listen, making a cutting gesture across her throat. “Sweet baby Jesus and the grown up too, what on earth are you doing?”

In a bold move, you raised a finger to your lips, implying that it was a deserved payback. The words of reprimand almost escape the brunette's throat, but she stops herself. Too stunned to speak against.

Mr. Morton whistled, drawing everyone's focus back to the book discussion.

You could have sworn you heard the noise of the redhead in her classroom, punching some makeshift bag to gauge the tension. Your creative imagination could visualize the scene perfectly, Melissa would have her back to the closed door, her body tense and her fists flying towards the object, hanging in the corner of the room. Each blow precise and full of strength, sweat running down her forehead and the veins in her neck standing out, highlighting the gravity of her dangerous emotions.

She would also probably be mumbling disjointed words with a focused expression.

After a few minutes, Melissa returns, carrying a bottle of water, trying to maintain her composure. As she handed the object to you, your eyes met hers for a moment, filled with unspoken emotions. “You forgot it in your classroom, darling,” she says, more controlled, but her body language says much more.

You take the bottle, fingers brushing your girlfriend's, and give her a smile that's both apologetic and mischievous. “Oh, how forgetful I am! Thank you, gorgeous,” you reply, the word loaded with meaning.

The rest of the meeting continued with a palpable tension in the air, and although your plan had been completed successfully, the atmosphere changed when the man innocently asked if you would be interested in going out sometime so you could visit a bookstore downtown.

Melissa watched from afar, her jaw clenched as she saw the blonde place his hand on your shoulder, inviting you to join him. Jealousy boiled inside her until it erupted into an outburst she couldn't contain. With determined steps, she stormed towards you, eyes flashing with indignation.

“Oi, you piece of shit!” she shouted, her voice echoing through the room. “Aren't you ashamed to flirt with my girlfriend in front of me?”

Benjamin turned around, surprised by Melissa's outburst. His smile disappeared instantly, replaced by an expression of bewilderment.

“Ms. Schemmenti, I... I wasn't...”

“I don't want to hear your excuses!” Melissa interrupted, her voice still thick with fury. “I have a baseball bat hidden in the trunk of my car and I'm not afraid to stick it right up into your ass—”

The youngest, visibly shaken, quickly retreated from the room, leaving space for others to quietly exit in his wake.

Barb stood at the entrance, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she observed the tense scene unfolding before her. As the fight between you and Melissa began, the kindergarten teacher's shock and disapproval grew. She had always known you two to be level-headed professionals, and seeing you in such a state of conflict was unsettling.

After a few moments of observing, she shook her head in disbelief. She knew that intervening in such a heated exchange would likely only make matters worse. Instead, she turned on her heel and quietly left the gym, praying that it would end soon.

“You've got some nerve, Y/n,” Melissa spat, her voice sharp with anger. “Flirting with him like that, right in front of me?” She had been pacing back and forth, her frustration boiling over into shouts that echoed off the walls. You, on the other hand, sat calmly in one of the chairs again.

“Please Schemmenti,” you scoffed. “You're just upset because I caught you in a lie.”

Her eyes narrowed, jaw clenching in frustration. “Lie?! What the fuck are you talking about?” she demanded, her voice rising.

You leaned back on your seat, crossing your legs casually. “You said to Jacob last month that you weren't a jealous person, remember?" you taunted. “But it's clear as day that you are!”

Melissa's face flushed, her hands balling into fists at her sides. She had hoped to keep her jealousy hidden, but you had seen right through her facade. “That's not the point,” the green-eyed woman snapped, her voice tinged with bitterness. “You shouldn't have been flirting with him in the first place.”

“Maybe if ya were more honest about your feelings, we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

She advances towards you quickly, like a predator surrounding its prey without caring for the way your body shrank and trembles with dark green eyes studying you carefully. You are startled by the movement and lose your balance, falling from the folding chair. Making a thunderous noise, leaving your cheeks flushed in embarrassment

“Crap,” you hiss in pain. “I’m going to need a bucket full of ice to assess this fall. Uh?” The attempt to calm her down backfires when she only rolls her eyes in annoyance silently shutting your mouth with her infamous mortal glare.

Melissa leans on top of your body, biting and licking your earlobe before whispering a simple command that she expects you to follow without any questions or complaints. Her heavy breathing makes you suppress a small whimper. “I want you to meet me at the parking lot in four minutes. It looks like someone needs to remember how to behave like a good girl and not disobey mommy again.”

You just agree, too muzzy to speak. She gets off of you, picks up the purse that was on the side of the chair and takes one last look at you, before disappearing in her angry walk, the noise of her boots makes your head spin.

You were in trouble. And about to see the meanest side of your girlfriend while dealing with the terrible consequences of your acts.

——

The heavy silence of the house is broken by the abrupt sound of the front door slamming shut. Melissa enters, her face a mask of suppressed fury, her eyes burning with a jealousy she can no longer control. You, mesmerized by the intensity of the older woman's expression, take a step back, but there is no time to react.

With a quick movement, she approaches, her hands firm but gentle, holding her precious girl around the waist. Without a word, she lifts you onto her lap, her muscles tense with anger and neediness. Taken by surprise, you feel your heart racing, a mixture of fear and excitement taking over.

Melissa strides purposefully down the hallway upstairs, fury burning in every movement. Sucking and biting your neck, creating purple marks that she knew would be difficult to hide later. When you reach her large room, she pushes the door with her foot, entering a space that now seems small and suffocating. “You've been quite naughty,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. “I think you need a gentle reminder of who's in charge.”

The bedroom is shrouded in soft gloom, lit only by the diffused light from the lamp on the bedside table. The redhead takes in your figure, who is standing next to the bed, your eyes shining with anticipation and a hint of nervousness. Melissa looked deeply into your eyes, feeling the weight of desire and anticipation. Slowly, with a firm but tender touch, she began to undress you, piece by piece, letting each item of garment fall gently to the floor. Her slender fingers slid across the smooth skin.

She begins to unbutton her own blazer, revealing the pale, unblemished skin beneath. Each undone button is executed with calculated precision, his eyes never leaving yours. Melissa slides her blouse and bra off her shoulders, leaving them coughed next to the mirror.

Her hands go down, undoing her belt and black leather pants. The soft sound of the zipper coming down echoes through the silent room. She slides her pants down, revealing her sculpted legs, and kicks them to the side. After taking off her underwear. Melissa stands up again, completely naked, a perfect contrast between confidence and vulnerability.

The soft light from the lamp outlines every curve of her body, creating shadows that dance across her skin. With a nonchalant face, she walks to the drawer and opens it, taking out the harness and dildo. With dexterity, she attaches the accessory to her waist, adjusting it perfectly. The strap-on contrasts with her milky skin, looking like a natural extension of her body.

“Kneel.” Melissa commands, pointing to the center of the floor. There's a harsh, venomous tone to her hoarse voice and you get the feeling that you're going to be humiliated by the older woman for acting and behaving like a brat. Without hesitation, you obeyed, lowering yourself to the floor, knees meeting the cold wooden floor.

She sits on the edge of the bed and spreads her legs, with a maniacal smile and a demonic look in her green eyes — now dark with excitement. The sight looked quite pornographic, her red hair was now tied up in a beautiful ponytail, the way that her curves and magnificent body were on display for you.

“Suck it. Now.”

Your breath caught at Melissa’s words, a mix of anticipation and excitement flooding your senses. With a soft nod, you reached for her harness, your fingers clumsy tracing the contours. The smooth texture felt foreign yet strangely enticing in your hands.

She groaned at the sight of you wrapping your lips around her, the other end rubbing her clit causing a gasp. “That’s a good little girl, taking mommy's cock so well.” You moaned at her praise, running your tongue over the length, sucking and licking.

As you continue, she begins to move her hips slightly, pushing the silicone a little deeper into your mouth, establishing a slow but steady rhythm. “You like that, baby? Letting me take control of ya?” she asks. “Seeing you like this, so submissive and dedicated makes me so damn wet.”

She receives a muffled moan of confirmation, your palms resting on Melissa's thighs to plead more physical contact.

“Good pet.” The woman repeats. “Keep going, you’re making me so proud.”

You whined, feeling a wave of heat rise to your face. Looking away, trying to hide the blush that was certainly coloring your cheeks.

“Holy shit, baby. Mommy is so close. Make her come in your mouth with that magical tongue of yours.”

The answer is immediate. You increase the intensity, mouth working expertly as she continues to fuck your throat on agressive movements. The sound of panting breaths and whimpers fills the bedroom, creating a symphony of submission and pleasure. Every movement is meticulous, showing your dedication to pleasing. Melissa lets out a sigh, her fingers tangling in your long hair, guiding you gently as she reaches her orgasm.

“Fuck.”

She lay on her back, her auburn hair fanned out across the pillows. sinking into the softness of her king-sized bed, mind still buzzing with euphoria.

“Come here.” The tempting woman commands softly, reaching out her hand to you. Without hesitation, you position yourself over Melissa, straddling her. She holds you with a mischievous smile, helping you align yourself with the strap. “Ready for me?”

You yelp, cheeks flushed pink, holding onto her shoulders for balance. Slowly starting to lower yourself, feeling the toy enter your tight hole, a soft moan escaping your lips as the redhead fills you up deliciously.

“Such an obedient plaything,” Melissa whispers. She lets go of your waist and slides her hands up, firmly cupping your breasts. “Now ride me, sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” you whimper. “Of course, mommy—”

You begin to move, getting up and lowering yourself slowly at first, finding a comfortable rhythm. She watches in awe, fingers lightly squeezing your tits as she moves her hips up to meet yours. “Good girl. That’s it.” The Italian praises, encouraging.

As your motions progressed, bouncing with more intensity now back and forth, Melissa lets out low and hoarse moans. With a firm touch, she slaps your left breast, the skin turning slightly red from the impact. You arch your back, letting out a loud moan in response, intensifying the experience. The woman repeats the gesture, this time on the right breast, her hands caressing and squeezing right after the slap.

“Does that hurt? Oh baby.” She laughs. “Do you enjoy being my sweet little toy?”

“Yes!” you say between growls, more desperately. Each thrust sends waves through your body, the slaps to your breasts only intensifying. “I was made to be used by you.”

Melissa continues to encourage you, soft hands alternating between slaps and caresses. The bed starts creaking and you grab the headboard to have something to hold on, your knuckles turn white as you reach your climax, a groan of her name echoes in the residence, your body collapsing on top of her. The mattress sinks on impact, but you don't seem to worry about that.

You remain in that comfortable position for a while, the hands that were scratching your back now rest on your ass, caressing the soft flesh with a delicious lightness. Melissa's touch is intimate yet confident, each stroke a gentle exploration of familiar territory, as if following a recipe she knows by heart.

Rubbing your cheek against her shoulder, your mind melts and enters a state of relaxation. The feeling of her heathen and sweaty body pressed against yours and enveloping both of you in an intimate warmth makes you realize that there's no place else you'd rather be.

Outside, the night holds its breath, unaware of the intensity unfolding within the sanctuary of your shared passion.

“So fuckin’ good.” Melissa babbles, mostly to herself. “Dio, è così dannatamente bello. Posso sentirlo pulsare sul mio cazzo.”

She then delivered the first spank on your bottom, making you involuntarily jump in surprise. The bite you give in the valley of her big breasts awakens an primal animalistic desire on the woman underneath you.

In a blur of adrenaline and urgency, she placed more aggressive slaps on her ass, leaving it completely redden and sore, ignoring your cries. The action was enough for your juices to drip onto the sheets.

“Such a dirty whore, mommy needs to clean her before she makes more mess.”

Slowly, after at least ten swats on each buttock, Melissa removed you from above her, pulling your hair with all the strength she possessed. And pushing you to remain lying in bed, she grabs your wrists, pulling them above your head, trapping them firmly.

“Keep those hands to yourself or I will handcuff them.” Your heart misses a beat, you feel Melissa’s internal struggle, a deep desire.

The older woman lies on her stomach between your legs, leaning down to bite the inside of your thighs. Each kiss is teasing and intentional, leaving a trail of fire on your skin. You moan, your hips arching slightly in response to Melissa’s touch. “Babe…” you whisper, full of need.

“Shhh,” she whispered back, slapping your pussy and kissing your mound leaving a red mark of lipstick, claiming you as her property before spreading your folds apart. “I’ll take care of you, babygirl.”

Melissa gets closer, her tongue finally finding your puffy and throbbing clit. She starts with slow and circular movements, exploring each centimeter with experienced precision. You yearn, your fingers massaging your own breasts, trying to find some relief for the overwhelming wave that begins to take over.

“Lissa,” you exclaimed her nickname like a prayer. “Please.”

“You think you’re so smart. Flirting with that Stronzo on purpose just to get fucked by me later. I know you better than that, doll.” Purrs the redhead against the sensitive skin, her words sending vibrations of pleasure making the knot in your stomach slowly loosen with each degradation.

“I held back so much not to fuck you in that damn gym,” she continues raising her head. The pink lips shining with your wetness. “In front of that motherfucker to prove that you're just a brat desperate for mommy's attention. Isn't that true?"

“Yes, mommy. I'm a...brat who enjoys your attention.” you scream breaking under the intensity of the sensation.

Satisfied, Melissa buries her head between your pussy again, nibbling you with her sharp teeth. Tears begin to stream down your eyes, the feeling becoming too much. Your legs close around your girlfriend's head, keeping her trapped and slightly suffocated, your eyebrows twitch in concern. But she smiles widely, her own excitement borning. The Italian wouldn't mind if you suffocated her even more, finding the idea of ​​passing out while pushing you to the edge hot.

As your senses heightened, you noticed a peculiar sensation — a slight blurring of the edges of vision and a distant echo in your hearing. Melissa, sensing your arousal nearing its peak, intensified her efforts, her fingers and tongue working in sync to stimulate your most sensitive areas.

Suddenly, with a shuddering cry, your body convulsed in ecstasy, a rush of liquid escaping you as you experienced the intense release of squirting for the first time. Your cum splashed onto Melissa's mouth and chin. She moaned softly, savoring your taste as she continued to gently lap your folds drawing out every last bit of your pleasure.

You gazed at the ceiling, feeling simultaneously grounded and weightless. Drifting in a dreamlike state you struggled to anchor yourself back to reality, still overwhelmed and sore.

Melissa, noticing your distant gaze and subdued responses, felt a pang of concern. She gently traced your cheek, her touch seeking reassurance in their connection. Yet, as you remained unresponsive, the redhead’s worry deepened.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, her heart sinking with the realization that perhaps she had misread your intimacy. She cursed herself for possibly misinterpreting the intensity, fearing she had hurt you or worse.

The older woman propped herself up on one elbow. “Amore, breathe with me.” She said, her tone soothing guiding you through slow, deep breaths.

Gradually, the haze began to lift, the bedroom coming back into sharper focus. You felt a sense of clarity returning, though the confusion still lingered at the edges of your mind. You looked at Melissa, finding solace in your girlfriend's steady gaze.

Your eyes reflected a mix of exhaustion and gratitude. “I'm tired, Mel," you admitted quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “And a bit overwhelmed.”

She nodded understandingly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your sweaty forehead. “It’s okay, hon. I've got you.” She murmured, her words a comforting promise.

She gets up, trying not to make any noise, and goes to the bathroom. There, she wets a small towel with warm water, wringing it out before returning to the room. Melissa sits down next to you again and begins to gently clean your aching body, starting with your face and working your way down to your neck, shoulders and arms. Each touch is delicate, as she whispers sweet words of comfort and love.

After cleaning you up, Melissa grabs a bottle of soothing lotion from the bedside table and begins massaging your reddened skin, soothing any discomfort it may have caused. “I love you, baby.” she says, kissing your shoulder blades, while her hands continue their careful work.

You sigh, relaxing more with each touch. “I love you.”

She finishes the massage, tucks you with a soft blanket and lies down next to you, her presence comforting. And wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, and you can feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against your back. You intertwine your fingers with hers, your breathing syncing with the calm rise and fall of her chest. Together, you fall into a peaceful sleep.

——

The next morning, you walked into school, steps a little uneven, a flush of embarrassment coloring your cheeks. Melissa was right beside you, a wide grin plastered on her face as she stifled laughter. She kept a supportive hand on your lower back, guiding you down the hallway.

As you made your way, you passed Ava and Barbara, who were welcoming students. Ava raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. She made a scissor motion with her fingers, earning an exasperated sigh from the veteran teacher.