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raainberry · 4 months

Text

compliments to the chef

Momo x gn!reader

synopsis - momo falls for her new chef’s flavor🤭 (she’s the sole heiress of the Hirai culinary empire and hiring you spices things up a lot more than she intended.)

wordcount - 14K (please don’t say damn when you see the price)

T/W - kinda chaebol!momo - chef!reader - mentions of food, knifes etc… - nothing violent tho - slowburn? but make it angsty? - light cussing - you lowkey hate each other but not really - enemies to lovers? - guest starring bc that’s fun - that’s all i can think of, tell me if i missed anything

Momo sent a polite smile to the man sitting across from her. The fourteenth in the past half hour.

She’s been keeping count, along with the minutes, the grains of rice left on her plate, and the amount of times he’s mentioned one of his accomplishments.

Thirty-three, seventy-eight, and six; in that order. Only two questions about her so far, one if you remove the one about her name.

She almost left right then and there, but the respect she had for her mother weighed her down on that chair. If she wasn’t going to take over the family empire, the least she could do was find a worthy successor.

A soft sigh escaped her as she pushed her food around. Being an only child was way more fun when all it meant was that she didn’t have to share it with anyone. Or get it stolen, according to the venting of her friends when younger.

She finished the few bites left, trying to drown out the sound of his voice by focusing on the flavours. She closes her eyes, appreciating their delicate yet bold dancing on the tip of her tongue.

Maybe it was the boredom clinging onto whatever could keep her mind entertained, but the taste reminded her of herself. A small smile spread across her lips, the first real one of the day.

The next one came when the man asked for the bill. Her lungs could finally grasp the air around her, her nose picking up on the different notes and aromas of the dishes around her.

She sent her compliments to the chef, adding to them a generous tip she had no idea who’s pockets it’d really land in. It’s the thought that counts.

Her senses were in heaven walking out, engraving her mind with a memory that will stick longer than the guy who’d just made her split the bill, unevenly that is.

“Let me take you home.” He said once out front. His hand held the door open to the leather seats of a luxurious car she was too familiar with.

“Oh, no it’s fine thank you.” She declined quickly. “I actually have a meeting scheduled right after this.”

“I can drop you off.”

Momo almost laughed. She found his use of the personal pronoun very funny. She almost forgot he would just be sitting near her some more while the chauffeur did the sexiest part. If the latter were to her taste, she’d have driven off with her.

“I’d rather not.” She declined. “Business confidentiality and whatnot.”

The lie was forced through an awkward smile that he found endearing enough not to question. Relief washed over her when he finally let go of her, climbing into the car, but not without asking her to keep in touch.

Another sigh, a heavy one, loaded with all those she’d held back until now as she watched the car drive away. The pressure was off, but only for a second as her thoughts soon spiraled.

No way she had to do this again… She reached in her purse, looking for the one thing that could get her out of here.

All this junk, where is it—

“You’re awful at lying.”

Her phone almost dropped to its death from the startle you gave her.

Momo had a few questions at the sight of you. Your presence and your eavesdropping were the first, but the white apron half folded around your waist and the cigarette in your hand answered most of them.

“What,” was all she managed to say though, and a smile pulled on your lips.

“I mean, I’m not fond of lies, but when you’re famous for turning your back on business, you should probably come up with a better excuse.”

“Who even are you?”

“Right, I guess that’s fair. I’m Y/n. You’re Momo, right? Hirai?”

“Y-Yeah.” Her eyes squinted, desperately trying to see what you were leading to.

Your name sounded as unfamiliar as you looked, but you seemed well informed. She didn’t like that.

“Nice to meet you,” You greeted simply, eyeing the contrast between her features and the neat clothes on her back, “So how bad was it? You look… Worn out.”

Her chuckle was distasteful, and she tried to suppress its bitterness at the reminder of her lost time. “Awful. The food caught my eye more than he could ever hope.”

You smiled, “He wasn’t bad looking.”

“But he was a bore.” She argued. “Borderline narcissistic too.”

“Deal breaker then?” You guessed, turning her laughter a little sweeter.

“Pretty much.” Her gaze found the ground in a nod before focusing back on you. “I do like it better when it’s a two way conversation.”

“Does that make me cute?”

She scoffed at the brazen question. “You wish.”

“I don’t.” You dropped your cigarette on the ground, stepping on it in a way she found more hot than revolting to her surprise. That cheeky smile of yours was most likely to blame. “Thank you for the compliments by the way. I’m glad you liked it.”

Your bow was quick, desultory out of rehearsed respectfulness. As much as you appreciated her compliments, you had better things to do in the kitchen that could get you some more.

You caught a glimpse of her jaw dropping on your way back in, and it was enough of a sight to revel in for a few days.

—

It took Momo a couple weeks to pick her jaw back up and swallow her pride. It seemed as though the latter was the only thing she inherited from her family, and she managed to set herself apart yet again.

Her parents would have never set foot in your restaurant again. Not that you had lacked respect or anything, but the fact that you managed to set her off balance… Something about it she didn’t particularly like.

Why was she back then?

You asked yourself that same question when you stormed out of the kitchen at her request. If it weren’t for your manager and his speech about image and reputation, you never would have allowed her to interrupt you and abandon your brigade mid-shift.

Hands on your hips, dragging your feet, you walked into the office she awaited you in and felt your voice die down on your tongue at the sight.

Beauty or surprise, either way it came down to her presence.

The way her hair fell down her back, delicate and blending in with the fabric of her perfectly tailored shirt. The sleek black attire formed a shadow, painting a hole cut against her silhouette and into the spring she admired in the sakura tree out the bay window.

“Hi.” She smiled, her voice a fitting melody to the sights now behind her. Enchanting, sure, but odd.

She wasn’t exactly known to be a warm one to strangers. More power to her, you could understand that. But why didn’t it apply to you?

If it weren’t for the stories associated with that voice suddenly popping into your mind, she’d have lured you in. Nothing too bad about them; only testaments of her success. Rumors about the danger surrounding her, setting her apart from her family. You didn’t care for the big industry names, but theirs always had you curious.

“You asked for me?” Your voice rang in the quiet space.

Momo didn’t seem to notice your apprehension, her smile ever so welcoming, “I did.”

It felt as though she owned the place for a second.

“Do you have some more compliments?” You wondered, eyes following her figure as she went to take a seat in the armchair across your manager’s desk.

“I do actually.” She turned the seat to face you as she mused, “That black cod was to die for.”

You nodded, thankful. “Glad you liked it.”

As much as you didn’t like the way her family capitalized on the food you took such care to value, you couldn’t deny their expertise. Even if not a lot to you, Momo’s compliment did mean something.

“But that’s not all.” Her voice pulled your eyes back on her.

You found her posture quite imposing, matching her tone, but her infamous shyness was something she never got around to master. Her gaze held yours but it lacked control.

It was hard to ignore how endearing the attempt looked to you. It just made you want to give her whatever she wanted. Reward her efforts.

“What is it?” You wondered, curious.

What could she possibly want from you? This restaurant wasn’t yours. The only thing you had control over was the kitchen.

“I want you to cook for me.” She said, and you didn’t leave room for a breath before responding, “Excuse me?”

“I meant I’d like to hire you.” She clarified, a smirk dancing on her lips at your transparent thoughts. You tried to make sense of her proposal, but she didn’t waste any time in providing details. “I’m sure you’re familiar—the annual Hirai banquet my mother holds for shareholders. I never cared for the specifics, but I want to do good by her. I haven’t been the best daughter lately so I thought I’d make it up to her by holding it this year.”

It all clicked at the mention of her mother. Of course she wouldn’t be back with her own motives.

The Hirai Culinary Group was an empire. A home to the most prestigious restaurants of the country. All housing different specialties, techniques and themes… Quite a whole lot to manage yet the quality remained flawless. Fifty years of irreproachable cuisine, you could only respect it. If only they didn’t care about business so much…

Those banquets were popular, talk of the town within the industry as it usually set the next trends and whatnot. Make no mistakes, you were tuned in as well. They did bring in some interesting elements, but you hated the way they set it all up. A disguised year-end performance meeting. White collars expecting numbers and being served them on gold plates, horizons and growth perspectives hidden in desserts.

“So she’s actually the one that asked for me.” You smirked, unexpecting of the way she’d wipe it off just a second later.

“No.” She said simply, a serene smile gracing her lips. “Why would she know about you?”

You scoffed. Good point. You could recognize that despite the blow to your ego.

“Fair enough.” You nodded. “But why should I help you?”

“Help me?” She repeated, a hint of offense creeping into her whole being. “I’m offering you to work with me.”

Perhaps she wasn’t that much of an ugly duckling among the Hirai’s.

“My question still stands. Why should I?”

A silence followed your words, hanging low over your heads and expecting the next ones to come out of her. Hopefully they’d be good enough.

Momo’s gaze suddenly drifted from yours, finding interest in her surroundings. A few details she’d noticed earlier, various frames highlighting the establishment’s foundations. She could count three of them : its history, the owner and visibly the most important—you.

“Are you happy here?” She finally spoke, tearing her eyes away from your latest reward.

“I am.”

“I’m sure you are,” she remarked, tone striking a nerve. “Highest rank, valued both within and outside—you’re basically ruling the place…”

“What’s your point?” You asked, growing impatient.

“You’ve hit the ceiling, Y/n. It’s time for a new challenge, don’t you think?”

Silence enveloped you again as you found yourself contemplating her proposition.

Momo took the sight as a sign of her job being done here, and you watched as she left her business card on the desk before gracefully excusing herself; leaving you to deal with your internal struggle.

—

In the days that followed, her offer continued to linger in your thoughts, and with each passing day, the idea of a new challenge began to take root in your mind.

It spread enough to takeover a good portion of it, sending it all elsewhere. Far enough for your closest friend here and sous-chef to notice.

“What’s up with you, you’ve been all over the place lately.” Jeongyeon asked after you nearly knocked an nth plate to the floor.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” You met her gaze and it was enough to backtrack on your words “Okay, fine there is something, but… I don’t know it’s pointless.”

The empty pot you were carrying resonated as you put it back into its designated place, partially covering Jeongyeon’s words. “Does it have to do with that Hirai girl?”

“How do you know?”

“It’s the only thing out of the ordinary enough to throw you off your game.” She chuckled, drying her hands on her apron.

Weird way to tell you to live a little more, but okay.

“So what did she say to you?” She sighed, leaning her back against the sink. “What even happened in the office, you never told us.”

“Well…” You trailed off, gettng that business card out of your back pocket. You handed it to her, and it took her a second to notice what it was.

“What are you waiting for?” She scoffed, causing your eyebrows to furrow together.

“What do you mean?”

“Whatever she proposed just accept it, Y/n”

You spotted a hint of annoyance in her voice, but you had trouble seeing if it was about you or Momo. She sure was scrubbing that counter pretty hard.

“Why?” You asked, watching as she practically polished that stainless steel by hand. Something bothered you, and it wasn’t her cleaning technique. “Are you not even gonna fight for me?”

Jeongyeon paused to look at you, catching the slight pout on your lips. Her own twisted along her features in disgust, teasing you, and you let out your first laugh of the day.

“I should be the one asking you that.” She pointed out. “The fact that you haven’t thrown that card as soon as she left tells me enough.”

“I was just thinking about it…” You admitted, only proving her point.

Jeongyeon chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re past the point of even considering it, I mean… You’ve been walking around with that business card glued to your ass for the past week, yet you haven’t told me a thing about it.”

“You think you know me so well.” You grimaced. It was playful, but part of you wanted to provoke her. You didn’t blame her for that small jab at you, but it did hurt to think she didn’t put turning your back on this place past you.

She did know you so well, though. That’s why she continued to argue her point.

“What is there to think about, y/n? The heiress of the most acclaimed and prestigious restaurant chain of the country is asking for you. No sane person would say no, never mind a chef!”

The sigh that pushed past your lips came as far back as your lungs.

“Would you say yes?” You hesitated after a while, but her answer was much faster. “With no remorse.”

“I mean, have you seen her?” She added and you laughed.

“Fine. I guess I’ll call her…” You picked up the card from the counter and stared at her name.

Well… It’s not like she had asked you to quit your job…

—

“Oh, that’s exactly what I’m asking you to do.”

“What?!”

Momo pulled the phone away from her ear at the sheer volume of your voice through the speaker. How unprofessional. Her eyes rolled soon after, once she registered what your reaction held and meant for her plans.

“Y/n, this isn’t some side hustle for your experience.” she sighed, “I’m offering you the opportunity of a lifetime. If this all goes well, you could become our youngest chef in history.”

A point was made. As much as you were cautious of her voice, it seemed you couldn’t do much about the way it managed to get to you. The words she used were ambitious, they spoke to you.

But she failed to measure just how ambitious you were.

“Why can’t I do both?” You finally asked, prompting a string of arguments being thrown to one another. A futile game of ping-pong you were determined to win, only irritating the woman at the other end of the line.

All this whining, it was like dealing with a child, and truthfully you felt like one. Asking for the best of both worlds seemed completely reasonable to you, so why wouldn’t she give it to you.

“Listen, you can’t give your all to something if your attention is split in two.” She said, losing the last bit of patience she managed to keep today. “You can’t expect to grow by splitting yourself in half, and if you think otherwise, then consider my proposal void.”

A small silence fell over the line. She made sense. She was right. So why couldn’t you bring yourself to accept it?

“If you actually stepped foot in a kitchen once in your life you’d know two isn’t even the minimum.” You scoffed.

Whatever you wanted to mean by that… even you didn’t know, but apparently it was worth thinking over as you heard Momo sigh.

The woman closed her eyes to think.

Why couldn’t you just say yes like everyone else she approached. Maybe she should have made you say it back in the office, use that pathetic confidence of yours against you.

Oh how easy you were to read and see through. Pushing buttons was so much easier when people stood in front of her.

That’s why she hated phone calls. How could she know what to say—oh.

The light bulb went off over her head.

Right… That pathetic confidence of yours.

“I’ll step in if you do.”

—

It shouldn’t have been so easy.

All it took was a half-genuine smile, and a simple promise to make things different this year with a focus on the culinary side of things. Sure, she had to admit to scouting the area in search of the most skilled and promising, which eventually lead her to your restaurant, and then… you. But it was all ego strokes. Child’s play.

Part of her was disappointed. She’d hoped for a little more resistance, a challenge promised by your initial tone and attitude towards her.

“Damn it!”

She should be more careful about what she wishes for… Momo sighed, expecting your face to peek in by the doorframe of the manager’s office, and it did just seconds later.

“Momo, it’s not working.”

“What isn’t?” She said, confused. Machinery’s top-notch, brigade is her best, there was no way anything would stop working out of nowhere.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing, just come and see.”

Momo stared at you, noticing a smile fighting to make its way onto your lips. She was apprehensive but followed you anyway.

You’d been working on a technical plate : a type of hybrid dish-dessert. An ambitious idea you’d prompted to Momo during one of the early meetings to work the menu out.

Only she had to make it an order. A boring one and near impossible to pull off. She wouldn’t listen, so you decided to show her.

As you led her to the kitchen, you couldn't help but start venting away about everything that went down since the last time she'd stepped foot in there, which was a day or two ago.

"So, first, the soufflé collapsed twice because someone—I won't name names, but it rhymes with 'intern’—forgot to preheat the oven."

Momo sighed internally. Why were you so fixated on every little mistake? Who cares about interns and their mistakes, that’s what they’re here for. She could excuse a non-preheated oven, but forgetting her birthday? Yeah, that Boo Seungkwan is definitely off the list. He had a good run, only regret was he was good with her dogs. And nice maybe.

"Then, the new mixer decided it wanted to be a blender, and let's not even talk about the chocolate ganache incident."

She nodded absently, her mind drifting to the text she received earlier from another potential suitor. The daughter of her family ‘s right hand man, Jihyo if she remembered correctly? The Park’s had a rocky history though, she took note to raise her guard on that one before your voice pulled her back.

"And of course, the sugar sculpture? Total disaster."

Momo glanced at you, wondering if you realized how whiny you sounded. She had bigger fish to fry than a failed sugar sculpture, like figuring out if she even wanted to leave this family business. If it meant she had to deal with one more daddy’s pocket leech…

"On the bright side, we finally perfected the citrus glaze for the salmon, and the guests couldn't get enough of the hors d'oeuvres last night, so I guess the test was a success.."

When you finally stopped talking and walking, she found herself face to face with an… interesting looking thing on a plate.

“What is that?” She said, dumbfounded.

“Oh, that’s the lemon pie thing you asked for.” You answered nonchalantly. “I told you it wouldn’t work.”

“Are you serious?” Her stance and tone changed, cold and threatening like you had the joy of experiencing earlier this month. Didn’t shake you anymore though. The dumb smile on your face was still there, dangerously creeping into a smirk. She couldn’t wipe it for some reason.

“Yeah, that sucks. I guess I lost three hours of my life.” You shrugged, eyes lingering on the edible failure staining the porcelain. “Doesn’t taste bad, though.” You handed her a piece with a spoon you’d clearly already used, and Momo’s stare hardened.

“Fix this.”

Obviously, you would. But you couldn’t let it happen without messing with her first. So you stared right back into her eyes, holding her gaze just long enough to make her doubt and fear the opposite. The tension hung thick in the air, reaching a new high, until she finally broke away and walked off, her frustration evident in every step.

You watched her walk, the smirk now very apparent and mocking her back.

“I’ll do just that, you don’t have to worry.” You cupped your hands around your lips to make sure she heard it, distracting a few chefs around you.

You were oblivious to the looks they threw your way, your gaze was focused on Momo’s retreating figure.

"I'll leave you some on your desk, make sure to try it!” That smirk was evident on your lips, and she could hear it in your voice, feel it getting under her skin.

You were a challenge alright. A damn good one.

—

Momo walked back into the building only days later. You frowned at the sight of her, shoulders obviously tense paired with familiar sour features. The exposed skin told you a lot about her potential whereabouts these past few days. Added to the rumors going around, it didn’t leave that much of a mystery…

“Oh, we’re cooked.” Ryujin, the intern, mumbled under her breath, catching yours and a chef’s attention.

“Yeah, we should have seen it coming.” The chef, Mingyu, sighed, dropping a heavy pan on top of the counter beside you.

“Why, what happened?” You asked, easing yourself into their conversation.

Ryujin’s eyes widened, startled by the interruption. “I uh,” she stammered before Mingyu spoke up.

“Word on the street is, her father set her up with Park's daughter.” He chuckled to himself, making you curious.

“Park’s daughter… The Park branch daughter?” You asked, the name ringing more and more familiar. “You mean Jihyo? Isn’t she managing the H-Lounge?”

H-Lounge was a private, high end rooftop lounge managed by Mr.Park, Mr.Hirai’s right hand man. Big bar, little food, and big walls; a white collar’s favorite and the Hirai’s most profitable branch. From what you knew, Jihyo’s been pretty much running things for years now, her father only still there because of Momo’s.

“Yeah, but she’s on her way to the throne basically. Her dad’s been pushing for her to take the reins for a while now. Old man’s tired.” Mingyu commented, pulling a laugh out of Ryujin.

You squinted, watching as Momo disappeared around the corner to her office.

“Yeah. But didn’t they try to go solo with the Lounge once?” Ryujin asked, furrowing her eyebrows as she recalled rumors from a year ago. “Sounds kinda fishy.”

“And shady.” Mingyu nodded. “Seems to me like Boss Hirai’s desperate to make her stay.”

“Which one?”

You were confused out of your mind, and Mingyu could tell. He was amused when you met his eyes, begging for some clarity.

“Both,” he said. “Power play. Or two birds one stone type of deal. A Park-Hirai marriage would be beyond convenient for him—Jihyo’s a hot head, she could never hold this whole thing together without Momo stepping in at one point, he knows that. It’s the only way he gets to keep both of his most precious assets.”

You shook your head. There was no way. The idea didn’t even match with the Momo you knew. "I don't see it. Momo's way too stubborn and prideful to let something like this happen to her. She's not the type to be manipulated like that."

"You think?" Ryujin asked, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded. "Yeah. I mean, you see how she handles things... Father or not, she won't just bend to someone else's will.”

Mingyu shook his head, a knowing look in his eyes glued on Momo’s figure passing by. "I think she already is..."

You all watched as she disappeared around the corner to her office, and you noticed her shoulders slump for the briefest of moments

It was a slight, almost imperceptible shift, but it struck you deeply for some reason. For the first time, you saw a crack in that impossibly unyielding façade.

A mix of concern and confusion washed over you. Despite the fierce exterior she projected on that comeback walk, there was clearly more weighing on her than she let on. Could Mingyu be right? Was Momo already being pulled back into the company's grasp despite that stubborn pride of hers?

You felt a rush of protectiveness overcome you, but quickly pushed it aside. What a useless, unbased feeling. Momo was fine. She wouldn't let herself be manipulated so easily… Right?

You pondered on the question for a while, but came up with the same answer every time.

She’ll be fine.

You sighed as the day wound down, leaning against a counter. Your gaze wandered to the door to Momo’s office, finding it closed as always. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen nor heard it open since earlier that afternoon…

Was she still there?

Curiosity and concern got the better of you, and you decided to take the opportunity to show her the new and improved lemon pie she’d asked you to fix.

You made your way to her office, the building now eerily quiet. You didn’t wait for an answer before walking in. It was surprisingly dark, only lit by a small hanging light attached to the wall above the desk. This place was such a broom closet… You almost felt sorry for her then remembered what she’d told you.

"Technically this is still the kitchen, this wall is literal plastic."

You mentally scoffed at the memory. You couldn't believe the pettiness of that woman.

"What is that?" Momo asked, her eyes lifting from the paper for the first time in what felt like days.

Whatever was in that plate definitely looked better than the last thing you’d presented her. It held a certain finesse she wasn’t indifferent to.

"It's the pie you asked for," you said, eyes twinkling in pride. “Well, a deconstructed version of it.”

“It’s not what I asked for,” she trailed off, observing the fine details. Her eyes traced the delicate swirls of meringue and the vibrant yellow of the lemon gel. It wasn't what she had originally envisioned, but there was a beauty to it she couldn't deny. "But it's pretty."

You smiled, taking a seat on a corner of her desk as you pulled out a spoon as an offering. A clean one this time.

She was hesitant. Messing the dish up would feel like a crime, but so was leaving food unattended. So she finally dug in, picking up a bit of everything before humming at the taste of it all.

“Tastes the same as the failure, just… so much better.”

Your face lit up at the mention of that failed attempt a few days earlier. You’d kept your word and left it at her desk, hoping she’d have a taste despite the failure. It still had potential, and you wanted her to know.

“You had some?” Your eyes sparkled, and it made you look so much sweeter than you’d been lately. Momo felt herself falter for a second, slipping you a gentle smile before catching herself.

She cleared her throat, lowering the spoon down, the latter clattering on the porcelain as she went for another bite.

“I did.” She nodded. “You were right by the way. It wasn’t bad at all, just… unfortunate looking.”

You were only surprised she was admitting it; and this easily no less.

“So what do we do now? Do we listen to me more, or…?”

Momo sighed, and a victorious smile made its way to your lips before she even uttered the words. “Fine. You can freestyle a bit.” You cheered, and it took a lot for her not to mirror your happiness. “Don’t get too excited. You better follow the menu.”

“Or then what?”

She only glared at you, and the switch in her gaze was enough to turn you down. Or on. [What?]

“I’m kidding. Glad to be working with you.” You said, flashing her a grin that she could only see as cocky.

Momo's eyes rolled in annoyance, getting up from her seat and picking up the blazer on the back of it. As she gathered her stuff, you understood she was going home for the day. It was getting late, the restaurant had closed a couple hours ago and all the staff was gone too. You should get going too, but you feel a sudden pang of reluctance…

“You're going already?" You blurt out, unable to suppress the urge to keep her here just a little while longer.

Momo raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by your sudden change in demeanor. "You just shook my hand," she pointed out.

"Well, yes, but..." you trail off, grasping at your brain for any excuse to keep her here a moment longer. You couldn’t explain it. You didn’t understand either, but there was something about her presence that you find strangely comforting in the moment.

Maybe it was the lack of noise and chaos in the background, behind the office door she kept closed; only for you to burst it open anytime you had a complaint or an idea.

The silence, the dim lighting, their absence or her presence… Or the fact that she was actually pleased with your work for once. Explicitly at least. Most likely a gas leak you didn’t know about that messed with your thoughts—you couldn’t tell. But it was something.

There was something keeping you glued to that desk.

She was about to leave again, but this time you reached out and grabbed her hand, your fingers closing around hers in a firm grip. Both of you froze, the air suddenly charged with… again, something as you held her gaze.

"You said you'd be stepping in," you blurted out once more, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. You weren’t sure what possessed you to say it, but now that it was out there, you couldn’t take it back.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching as her mind raced to make sense of your words.

When she’d told you she’d step in, she didn’t think you’d take it seriously. That was her first mistake maybe, but to her, stepping in meant overseeing the preparations, making decisions about the menu, and handling the logistical details of the banquet. She never intended to actually cook alongside you, and quite frankly, she didn’t know how you could possibly think she would.

Were you stupid or purposefully getting on her nerves like you so often seemed to enjoy? Didn't you realize she had other responsibilities, obligations she had to take care of over cooking?

This was literally why she’d sought you out.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"You haven't helped once in the kitchen since we started, and it's basically been a month," You retorted, your tone edged with frustration. "For someone who prides herself on integrity, you sure are amazing at keeping your word."

Your words were like a slap to the face, and Momo felt a surge of defensiveness rise within her. Your claims sure were bold for someone who did nothing but defy her words ever since the beginning.

But beneath the anger, there's a stain of guilt, a nagging feeling that maybe - just maybe - you might have a point. From a certain angle, you could say she did kind of manipulate you into working for her by throwing that phrase; or let’s call it as it was : an empty promise.

Momo sighed as she struggled to find the right words to get herself out of this. Your gaze was merciless on her, probing and insistent as you waited for an explanation. Or just admittance.

"I meant overseeing things, making decisions about the menu, handling the logistics, the usual," she finally explained, her frustration evident in her tone. "I still have a million other things to take care of for that banquet, you know. It's not like I can just drop everything and spend all day cooking with you."

She paused, searching your face for any sign of understanding or sympathy, but all she found was a stubborn determination. A refusal to back down from your position. And despite herself, she felt a small spark of admiration flickered to life within her.

"Look," she continued, her voice softening slightly. "I appreciate your dedication, I really do. But you have to understand that I can't just drop everything to cater to your whims. I have a responsibility to my family, to our guests, to ensure that everything goes smoothly. And if that means I have to delegate certain tasks to you, then so be it."

Her words were only met with silence. She waited for your response, bracing herself for another confrontation. But to her surprise, you nodded, a hint of understanding in your eyes.

The relief washing over her heart at the sight startled her. Why did she want to see it? Why did she want you to understand anyway?

"Alright," you said, your voice calm and measured. "I get it. I just... I guess I was hoping for more, you know? More than just orders and instructions. I wanted to be a part of something. Contribute in a meaningful way."

“You are a part of something, Y/n,” she reassured, and the hand she dropped on your shoulder caught you off guard. Her gaze had softened, but it only made you panic.

Here comes the guilt tripping, you mentally sighed, bracing for impact.

Before you could even muster an attempt to deflect the incoming emotional onslaught, she continued, her words flowing with as much determination as you were used to. "You know, this banquet isn’t just another project for me. It may not seem like it, but I care about it a lot. I take it as a farewell, a thank you to my family and the opportunities they’ve gifted me."

You opened your mouth to intervene, to offer some semblance of resistance, but she plowed on, crushing any attempts to cut in. "And not only are you a part of it, you’re leading it, Y/n. I trust you."

The words hit like a ton of bricks, and for a moment, you were rendered speechless. One of the rare times in your life. Here you were, caught in the midst of a heartfelt moment, unable to muster even a hint of humor to lighten the mood. With a silent sigh, you resigned yourself to the inevitable, silently acknowledging her words.

All you could do was drop your gaze, nodding. You almost felt shameful for trying to ignore her possibly having feelings.

“Thank you for trusting me.” You muttered, fiddling with your fingers before looking back at her. “I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly. Food wise at least.”

Momo nodded in acknowledgment, finally removing her hand from your shoulder. Her feet stuttered before turning away. She’d made it to the door pretty quickly, but a sudden thought halted her tracks.

The sudden stop in the sound of her expensive heels caught your attention, and you looked up at her. Your gaze and eyebrows silently inquired her, and she smiled sheepishly. Another display of vulnerability that made your heart jump.

“Can I bring that home?”

Momo nodded towards the desk, referring to the unfinished dessert you’d brought her. She wanted to take it to her mother. Give her a preview of what was to come in a couple weeks.

The request made you smile. A little happy if you dared to say so. You reached for the plate to hand it to her, only to take it with you as you finally got up from that desk. “Wait, let me get you a takeout box.”

“We have takeout boxes?” She said, dumbfounded. You only stared at her, speechless but not surprised. You could only shake your head, before leading the way to the kitchen.

“I was just kidding by the way, I know we have them.”

She didn’t. Something you proved when you made her search for them. You let her walk around and act as though she had any idea where anything was in that kitchen before she gave up and surrendered to your amused, almost mocking gaze.

You added a few more of the day’s tests and leftovers into the box before packing it all up before sending her home with a smile.

She was nice to be around when you weren’t trying to step on each other’s toes.

—

The dining room of the Hirai residence was bathed in soft candlelight, casting a warm glow over an overly elegant table set for two. The head of the table felt empty with her father’s absence, a recurring one lately as he tended to matters deemed important for the company. Momo usually sat on his right, like she did tonight. Her mother, Mrs. Hirai, took her seat right across. Despite the picturesque scene, a palpable tension lingered in the air. Another recurrence Momo dreaded every day for months now.

Momo longed for the laughter that used to bring her family together around this table. The same one she announced her intent on renouncing to the heiress title. The same seat she’d left holding back tears at the words her father had thrown at her over a year ago.

Mr. Hirai never meant any of them, she knew that. He’d told her that, apologized soon after and long ago. But the thought, the scene, the sound… It’ll always tug at her heart, and dig the tears from deep within.

Momo swallowed hard at the sudden flashback, suppressing the pain. She managed to do that quite well; better as time passed.

The only problem was how she still couldn’t say a word at this table.

Conversation flowed in fits and starts as both women picked at their plate. Mrs. Hirai seemed determined to bridge the gap growing between them, her attempts at small talk falling flat against Momo's stony silence.

Then came a time where she was unable to bear the awkwardness any longer. The older woman cleared her throat and fixed her daughter with a searching gaze. "Momo, dear, I must say, this is all absolutely divine. You must have put a lot of thought into it."

Momo glanced up, her eyes meeting her mother's briefly before returning to her plate. "Actually, it’s Y/n who’s behind it all," she admitted, her tone guarded.

Mrs. Hirai's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Y/n? The new chef at your restaurant?"

Momo nodded, her mind already bracing for the inevitable conversation about her future. “A real talent for sure. Lots of potential. The whole experimenting thing is something we needed.”

Concern etched Mrs. Hirai's features before she composed herself, her expression becoming more serious. "Momo, don’t you want to reconsider at least once?”

Momo's shoulders tensed, steeling herself for the argument she knew was about to unfold. "Mom, we've been over this. I've made up my mind."

Mrs. Hirai regarded her daughter with a mixture of resignation and disbelief. "Think about what you’ll be leaving behind, it makes no sense! This company is your birthright, it’s your legacy, you have to uphold it."

Momo sighed, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I know, Mom, but I just don't want it. You’re asking me to be the head of it all as if I haven’t just been taking orders and following plans my whole life. I’m telling you I can’t bear all that, I don’t…"

Tears pricked at Momo’s eyes, “I don’t want to fail.”

"I understand, dear.” Mrs. Hirai's expression softened, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “But you have a responsibility to the family, to your father's legacy."

"I'm trying, Mom! Why do you think I go on all these dates for?" Momo's frustration boiled over, her voice rising slightly.

Mrs. Hirai recoiled slightly at the sudden outburst, her expression pained. "Well, it is taking a while," she murmured, "Maybe you should reconsider your approach."

Momo's jaw clenched, her frustration only mounting. "It's not my fault they're all brainless," she muttered, stabbing at the poor short ribs you’d braised to perfection. "Half of them are grossly aroused by your pockets. If you're fine with that, then tell me, and I'll gladly shorten the process."

Mrs. Hirai sighed, a mix between sorrow and anger. "Momo, we just want what's best for you. The company is important, yes, but so is your happiness."

As much as the company mattered to her parents, Momo’s happiness came above all. They’d worked so hard to provide for her, to ensure she never lacked anything. Especially love. Theirs had birthed this wonderful girl, whom they nurtured with, only wishing for her to find her own.

Seeing their daughter ready to sacrifice such a value broke their hearts more than her leaving the company.

"I know, Mom. I just wish..." Momo's shoulders sagged, her anger dissipating as she met her mother's gaze.

Mrs. Hirai saw the opportunity to mention what's been lingering on her mind. "I noticed your father has been setting you up with Jihyo. She's a capable woman, and the Park family is influential. It could be a good match for both of you, professionally and personally."

Momo scoffed, tearing through the last of her cutlet. "Jihyo’s basically the daughter of our closest enemy. She’s a wild card, Mom.”

Mrs. Hirai blinked, taken aback by Momo's bluntness. It was a true definition, but such frank acknowledgment of their family's associates was rarely spoken aloud. It felt like breaking a taboo.

“Momo—”

“Listen, she's a nice enough person, but she's not what I need nor want. I know Dad thinks that pushing me towards her will make me stay in the company and keep things stable. Nice try, but we’re not six, and it's not fair to either of us."

Mrs. Hirai's face softened, "Momo, he just wants to make you jealous,” she said, a light chuckle leaving her lips.

“What?”

“You’re giving your father too much credit, as always.” She shook her head, clearly amused. “Remember when you actually were six and didn’t want to go to bed? The way he went to grab the dog and act all cuddly with it, instead of you? He’s doing the same with Jihyo. Grabbing the closest thing to replace you, hoping you’ll come tear it up and claim your place again.”

Momo's eyes widened, processing her mother's words. She was over here claiming she was so old and mature now, but he was doing the same thing as when she was young. Getting a hold of the closest, emotionally threatening enough thing around to get her to listen to him.

"So... he's not serious about Jihyo?"

Mrs. Hirai sighed. "He's serious about wanting you to stay. He thinks seeing Jihyo in your place will make you reconsider."

Momo shook her head, feeling the tears well up in her eyes again. "I don't want to be manipulated like this. I want my decisions to be mine, not because Dad is playing games."

Her mother reached across the table, placing a comforting hand on her daughter's. "I understand, dear. But sometimes, those who love us most will do anything to keep us close."

Momo's lip trembled. "I don’t care, it's not fair, Mom. How can you be okay with this?"

Hearing her mother back her father’s insane behavior was heartbreaking. Disappointing. Momo's chest tightened, a nauseating mix of frustration and betrayal surging within her as she caught her mother’s eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I'm not saying I agree with his methods, Momo. But I know he's scared. Scared of losing you."

Momo looked down, her tears finally spilling over. "I just want to live my own life, make my own choices. Why can't he understand that?"

Her mother sighed, squeezing her hand gently. "Because he loves you, and he's afraid. Afraid that without the company, without us, you'll be lost. He doesn't realize how strong you've become."

Momo shook her head, frustration and sadness mingling in her heart. "I wish he could see that."

Mrs. Hirai nodded, her voice gentle. "Show him, Momo. The banquet is yours. Let him see what you can achieve on your own terms. Prove to him that you're capable of making your own choices and succeeding."

Momo took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. "You really think that will make a difference?"

Mrs. Hirai offered her a soft smile. "I do. Just be patient.”

Momo nodded, though the weight of her father's manipulations still pressed heavily on her heart. As she focused back on the food on her plate, her thoughts wandered back to you, and she couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope.

That glimmer of hope, it burned softly within her heart. Still too weak for her to feel anything other than relief at the thought of you.

—

“Can you at least pretend to be useful?” You snapped, slamming an oven door shut. “I need everyone on deck, and you’re just standing there complaining!”

The kitchen was bustling, the whole brigade rushing around to perfect their dishes as the deadline for the banquet loomed closer. Momo had scheduled a tasting tonight, placing you at the heart of the chaos. You tried to maintain control and ensure everything was perfect, but it was hard doing so when someone seemed determined to get in your way.

Momo's behavior had shifted over the past two weeks. She'd started paying more attention, trying to be more involved. It wasn't purely altruistic—she saw a silver lining in your presence. One that could solve all her problems. You challenged her in ways she hadn't experienced since her rookie days, igniting a new source of motivation. For once, she felt driven, compelled to prove herself.

So she decided to make you feel at ease—for her own gain, yes, but you won something in the deal, didn't you?

After that night in the office, she made it a point to be around more, offering assistance, and listening to you more.

It was promising.

But she had to ruin that too.

Today, she decided to supervise the brigade as you prepared for tonight's tasting. Her presence was only getting in the way of everyone, especially you. You tried to keep your focus, but Momo's constant hovering and her split attention were grating on your nerves.

As she stood in the kitchen, her phone buzzed constantly with texts from Jihyo. She tried to juggle the mounting pressure from her father, the complications with Jihyo, and her responsibilities; but it was obviously getting too much on one plate.

You glanced at Momo, noticing the tension in her posture, the way she bit her lip as she read her messages. The way she moved, the way her eyes sparked with intensity—it all captivated you for a second, distracting you in ways you didn't need at the moment.

Momo’s irritation mirrored yours. She snapped her head up from her phone, eyes blazing. "I would if you gave me anything remotely interesting to do. I won't just fetch things for you like some errand boy."

You scoffed, crossing your arms, trying to ignore the way her anger only seemed to add to her intensity. “Seriously? Picking and choosing at a time like this? If you were just going to screw me over you shouldn’t have bothered in the first place!”

Momo only chuckled, “Really? Because I could have sworn you’d begged for me to be here.”

“Right.” You nodded. “When I did that I didn’t think you’d take it as an invite to smear yourself all over anything I do again. We agreed you’d let me handle the kitchen, why are you so hellbent on keeping tabs, just let me do my job!”

“This whole thing was my idea.” Momo shot back, stepping closer. “You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me. That name you’re so proud of means nothing without my backing.”

“You’re not doing anything but sabotaging yourself.” Your voice dropped into a dangerous whisper. “I’m gonna need you to take your eyes off your own ass and look around you. Who do you recognize?”

Momo stayed silent, her mind racing. She glanced around, seeing the faces and eyes focused on her—some confused, some irritated. She realized she couldn’t put a single name to any of them. Her heart sank as the reality of her detachment hit her. The bustling kitchen, the brigade working tirelessly, and she couldn’t even acknowledge their efforts properly.

She felt a knot of frustration and embarrassment tightening in her chest.

You chuckled, “See what happens when you’re too busy playing corporate princess? Just let me f****** handle it.”

Her anger flared again, some kind of defense against the sting of that realization. “You think you’re so indispensable, don’t you?” she hissed. “That your presence is the only thing holding this together? Get over yourself, Y/n.”

“Sure I will. Please, lead the way like you so beautifully know how!” You gestured, hands as sarcastic as your tone.

The tension was palpable, your breaths mingling as you stood face to face, neither willing to back down. For a moment, it seemed like the argument might escalate further, but then Momo broke eye contact, her gaze shifting to her surroundings.

“Your arrogance will be your downfall,” she spat, voice trembling with suppressed rage. “You think you’ve done such a great job running this s***show, huh?”

When she looked back at you, her eyes met yours with nothing but anger as something else she couldn’t quite place tried to ease itself in. She hated the way you managed to make her feel—vulnerable, exposed.

“You better prove it tonight or I’ll make sure you’ll regret ever stepping into this kitchen.”

Without another word, she turned and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving you standing amidst the chaos, that short and fragile truce between you two shattered yet again.

Tasting sure was going to be interesting…

—

That same night, the dining room was elegantly arranged, a stark contrast to the chaos of the kitchen earlier in the day. The table was set with fine china and crystal glasses, casting delicate reflections under the soft, ambient lighting. Momo sat between her parents, a tight smile on her face that didn't reach her eyes. Around the table were key senior staff members, trusted friends, and a few family members, all eager to sample the menu.

You, along with your brigade, moved seamlessly between the kitchen and the dining room. You made sure to put your hard earned skills to use, presenting each course with a practiced grace, detailing the inspiration and techniques behind every dish. Despite the tension in the air linking you to Momo, your professionalism never faltered, though your eyes rarely left the plates you were serving.

Each course was met with nods of approval, murmurs of appreciation, and the occasional question, which you answered with an admirable precision. Momo, however, remained silent, her gaze fixed on her plate. Her parents exchanged glances, concern etching their features.

When dessert was finally brought out, a hush fell over the table. You presented the dish—the deconstructed lemon meringue pie—explaining the delicate balance of flavors and textures. The room filled with the scent of citrus and caramelized sugar.

"Momo," Mrs. Hirai's voice cut through the murmurs, "you haven't said much tonight. What do you think?"

Momo looked up, her eyes meeting her mother's before shifting uncomfortably to the food in front of her. She felt the weight of everyone's gaze, including yours as you had paused in your explanation to listen.

"It's... it's very well done," she finally said, her voice painfully devoid of any enthusiasm. "The team has done an excellent job."

Her father frowned, leaning forward. "You can do better than that. Your opinion matters here. Speak up."

Momo's jaw tightened. She spent the entire evening avoiding your gaze, the argument from earlier still fresh and raw. Both of you were acting like children after a petty feud over a toy, going out of your way to avoid acknowledging each other.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. "The dessert is innovative and beautifully executed. It’s exactly what I envisioned for the banquet."

Your eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and annoyance, recognizing the lie she’d just pushed through her teeth. She hadn’t envisioned anything—you’d fought tooth and nail over every detail up until hours ago.

"Thank you, Momo," Your voice strained in an attempt to stay polite. "I'm glad it meets your expectations."

The air grew thicker with obviously unspoken words. Momo’s parents exchanged another glance, sensing the underlying tension.

Mr. Hirai cleared his throat. "It’s important for us to be honest during these tastings. If there’s anything that needs to be improved, now is the time to speak up."

Momo felt her irritation grow. "I said it's fine, Father."

"Momo, we're just trying to help.” Her mother interjected gently, “If there’s anything you're not happy with, you need to communicate that."

That’s when you decided to step in, your tone sharp. "I think we all understand the importance of feedback. I have to say Momo's input has been invaluable—despite her current silence."

Momo's eyes flashed with anger. "Invaluable? Really? Seems to me like my input has been more of an inconvenience to you."

Your jaw clenched. "I never said that. But if you actually participated instead of hovering, it might be more constructive."

"Participated?” She shot back. “You mean following your every whim? I have better things to do than micromanage your kitchen."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. You caught Momo's parents looking between you and their daughter, realizing just how deep the rift had reached.

Mrs. Hirai spoke up first to try and defuse the situation. "Let’s not forget why we're here. The food is excellent, and we’re all looking forward to the banquet. Let’s focus on that."

Momo took a deep breath, faking a smile. "Yes, Mother. You're right. The food is great. Let's enjoy it."

But the damage was done. The altercation had cast a shadow over the evening and lingered in the air, unresolved and simmering just below the surface.

—

The kitchen was finally empty, the last of the staff having been dismissed for the night. You leaned against the counter, the cool steel pressing into your back as you took a moment to breathe. The day had been long and grueling, but at least the tasting was a success, earning yourself and your brigade a few days of rest before the banquet.

You should feel relieved, at least a little bit, you knew that. Yet you couldn’t break free from the weight of the air around you, mounted with tension from yours and Momo’s altercation.

It was suffocating. The hold she had on you, you could say you’d allowed it if only you could put a stop to it. If you at least wanted to make it stop…

The sound of the door to the kitchen creaking open halted your thoughts and Momo stepped inside. You could tell by the heels clicking softly on the tiled floor, and the way you instantly straightened yourself.

You watched her approach with guarded eyes, noticing her arms crossed over her chest. You mirrored her posture when she came close enough, crossing your own, guarding yourself up.

Momo noticed, eyes flickering to the tattoos peeking from beneath your rolled-up sleeves. She hadn’t seen those a lot, only finding out you had them when she started hanging around the kitchen more. Might have been a reason for her to do so, asking you to go and reach for utensils high-up just to peek.

She shook the thoughts away, finding your eyes and focusing on them. “Hey,” she began, her voice softer than you were used to. “Good job.”

The words almost made you choke. You swallowed hard, mouth drying up at the bitterness suddenly filling your heart. Momo waited for an answer, probably feeling entitled to one before she remembered you’d never given in to her.

“How are you feeling?” She tried again, leaning against the counter across from you. Her soft tone matched her eyes this time, so you allowed yourself to answer her.

“Fine, I guess.” You shrugged, eyes sweeping the floor. “It went well.”

She nodded, hesitating. “Yeah, it did. My parents were impressed.”

“That’s good to hear.” You replied, not looking at her.

Momo took a deep breath, steeling herself. "About earlier... I'm sorry. I’m the one who started yelling. Wasn't really professional of me."

You chuckled, finally meeting her eyes. "Did you just apologize? Didn't know you had it in you."

Her irritation flared once more. "I'm serious, Y/n. I get that this isn’t something you’re used to from me, but I can admit I was out of line."

"Okay, okay," you said, raising your hands. "Apology accepted."

You were so… nonchalant about it. As if you couldn’t care less. If you were honest, you could, but the reaction you were having didn’t exactly reflect that. It wasn’t the one she expected and she didn’t like it.

She almost started another argument before catching herself. Her jaw clenched, holding back some words to replace them with others she deemed more… gentle. Better suited to air out her frustrations. “Why are you still so defensive? The tasting went well anyway, didn’t it? Everything was perfect, my parents loved it, and everything has your name on it. You got what you wanted so why the attitude? Stop being so childish.”

That kind of shut you up. Momo couldn’t believe the silence that followed her words. She was right, you were adult enough to admit that. Just not enough to do it out loud. Not enough not to talk back.

You just had to do it for some reason. Maybe it was because her words struck a nerve, hitting closer to home than you were willing to admit.

"Fine," you muttered. "But you’re not exactly making it easy."

You honestly felt like a child, not being able to process or understand what's happening, so you took out your frustrations the only way you knew how to : throwing a tantrum.

Momo sighed, exasperated. "Are you going to keep this up during the banquet too? Does talking back to me and disregarding me turn you on or something?"

You scoffed, but it’s painfully evident in the moment, that you’re indeed attracted to her. But you’d never admit that either. You wouldn’t because, apart from her being attractive, you can’t tell why that is. “You wish.”

“You know what, maybe I do.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, and Momo caught you struggling. She wanted—no, she needed—to let you know. That you couldn’t hide from her. Yet her lips refused to do anything else than let you know her own truth.

“Maybe then I could make a reason out of your behavior,” she whispered, words trembling in frustration.

Silence. Not an uncomfortable one, but odd. Eerie. Neither of you knew what the next words would be or where they’d come from, but you sure were getting ready for them.

Her eyes weren't looking into yours anymore. They were searching, reflecting, maybe even reaching out to her own fears. You saw it—the shift, the hesitation.

You didn’t expect her to speak up first.

“If you can’t do it for me then do it for yourself,” she started, “If this fails my family will take a hit, sure, but ultimately you and I both know we’ll be fine. Your career’s the only thing on the line here.”

Her voice was cold, icy, cutting through your ego with reminders of where you stood in this environment. In this industry. She jabbed her finger against your chest, making each one of her points clear and painful.

So you grabbed her hand, pushing it down with enough force to make a statement and let your stubbornness shine through yet again

"Don't," your voice low, enough of a threat to pull a reaction out of her too.

Momo's patience snapped. She grabbed a fistful of your white button-up, creasing up your pride and pulling you closer, her eyes not leaving yours.

You noticed for the first time, just how pretty she was and how dangerous that is. Your heart was desperate to make you feel it, practically racing against her own.

“You know what,” a smirk quivered on your lips at how tightly she held onto you. “Maybe this is all about more than just work.” You strained out, words slipping and pushing through the limits you’d drawn around her.

You reveled in the way she let you go. Her fist released your shirt, pushing you away only for her fingers to linger on the fabric and keep you from going too far.

You made a point to step back, biting the inside of your lip when she took a stepped forward.

Maybe it did turn you on a little.

"I warned you earlier, didn't I?” Her eyes burned into yours, as if trying to distract you from the weakness she’s been displaying. “You do whatever you want on Friday. One wrong move, and I might just keep my word this time."

"Maybe you should," you retorted, your eyes flashing with defiance, provoking the spark of anger in her own.

Her proximity was intoxicating. It would be betraying your own words, painting a coward out of yourself, but you still tried to step away. Your foot carefully slipped back, ready to carry you elsewhere and flee.

Halfway there, and you were back to square one. Suffocating under Momo’s impulse, drowning into the feeling of her lips continuously crashing against yours…

She pulled you back in even closer, her fist having claimed itself around the fresh crease of your shirt. You didn’t fight to remove it this time, finding it much easier and pleasant to surrender.

Your kisses were vicious against each other’s. Anything but gentle, fueled by anger and weeks of built up frustrations.

You lost yourselves into a simmering attraction neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Even when you found enough strength to pull apart. And even less when you realized just how much it took to do so.

The air seemed to thin out, charged with more tension than it held moments ago. More than ever before.

Your breaths were heavy, mingling with hers as you stared at each other’s features in shock and confusion.

Momo’s eyes were hazy, lips a neat mess and swollen from the kiss. “This doesn’t change anything.” she whispered, visibly shaken by her own actions.

You only nodded, busy trying yet unable to process the depth of what just happened. She slipped herself away from your arms and you watched her go, a mixture of frustration and longing churning in your chest.

The night felt colder, the kitchen emptier as you stood there, thoughts in a whirlwind. The kiss had changed everything and nothing, leaving both of you with more needs and questions than before.

—

“You kissed her?!”

“No, she kissed me!”

“That doesn’t matter!”

It really didn’t, Jeongyeon was right. So you let her slap you on the arm, the sting a light and playful discipline.

A couple of days passed, and you wasted two days of your hard earned break wallowing on your couch until Jeongyeon came by to drag you out of it for brunch. You complained the whole time, for entertainment purposes, but you were thankful for her.

With how busy you’d been since joining Momo, the two of you had only seen each other once. You made sure to keep her updated though, or rather she did by pestering you and teasing you about both your behaviors. She managed to keep herself up to date with every single little thing that had happened between you and Momo.

All except the latest.

“Like it’s my fault?” You argued, “Who wears a cropped dress shirt to a tasting…”

Jeongyeon chuckled at the state of you. All sprawled out on the table, chin resting on your forearm as you played with a few crumbs of your toast. She noticed the way your eyes wandered far away from this table, probably digging into your memories of Momo in that cropped dress shirt.

How pathetic, to her delight.

She shrugged at your words, reaching for her cup. “Less fabric, less stain prone. She’s got a point.”

You threw a piece of bread at her, but she dodged. “Why did she wear a tie then?” You straightened yourself up in your seat. “Seems to me like that would be just as much fabric as a regular dress shirt.”

Jeongyeon rolled her eyes, “Stop blaming the shirt, and get a grip. You kissed her because you like her.”

“Back. I didn’t kiss her, I kissed her back.”

“That’s still a lot of kissing. So you’re not denying it, huh?” She raised an eyebrow, and snickered when you sighed. “You like her.”

You ran a hand through your hair, exasperated. "I don't even know what I feel, Jeongyeon. It's... complicated."

Jeongyeon smirked, leaning back in her chair. "Feelings usually are. But denying it won't make it any less true."

You groaned. "She's infuriating. One minute she's criticizing everything I do, the next she's—."

"Kissing you," Jeongyeon finished, taking a sip of her coffee.

You wanted to knock that smirk of hers (lovingly) off her lips, but resigned, feeling yourself smile at the joke. Too bad she was being truthful too.

"Yeah.” You fiddled with a napkin in your reach, your smile fading as you thought back to the moment. “And it wasn't just a peck, you know? It was... intense."

Jeongyeon chuckled. "Sounds like there's some serious chemistry there. Maybe all that fighting was just foreplay."

You glared at her, but couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips again. "You're not helping."

She leaned forward, her expression softening. "Look, Y/n, you've always been passionate about your work. Maybe she sees that and respects it, even if she has a hard time showing it. She's probably just as confused about her feelings as you are."

You sighed again, feeling the weight of her words. "Maybe. But what do I do now? She’s git the worst timing ever, we’ve got the banquet coming up; I can't afford any distractions."

Jeongyeon smiled knowingly. "Just be honest with yourself. And let go of your pride a little, who knows, maybe then she’ll be nice to you. If what you both truly want is for that banquet to work out, you’ll know to set this aside for now. Behave, and the rest will follow. Probably."

You gave Jeongyeon a pointed look, clearly unimpressed by her attempt to absolve herself of responsibility. "Probably?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Jeongyeon shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Hey, I'm just here to nudge you in the right direction. The rest is up to you. Relationships are messy, but you'll never know if you don't try."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair again. "I guess you're right. It's just... a very uncharted territory right now."

Jeongyeon nodded, her expression turning sincere. "I know. But she might just be worth getting into it, I mean… I wouldn’t mind letting my guard down around her.”

You rolled your eyes, "Of course you wouldn't."

"You should do the same," she said teasingly. "Seriously, Y/n."

You looked down, a small smile playing at your lips. "Maybe. We'll see."

"That's the spirit,” Jeongyeon grinned. “Now finish that toast and get back out there. You've got a banquet to hold. And a girl to figure out."

You chuckled, “Yeah, I do. Thanks, Jeongyeon."

"Sure. Just invite me to the wedding."

—

Momo stood in front of the grand mirror in her room, adjusting the final touches of her outfit. The sleek black suit, paired with a statement pearl choker, gave her an air of authority and elegance she loved to see on herself. The sharp lines of the fabric contrasted with the delicate jewelry, creating a powerful and refined look.

She glanced at her reflection, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Her mind raced with thoughts of the evening ahead, the guests, the speeches, the food, and most of all, you.

Since that kiss, everything had become a whirlwind of confusion. You were infuriating, challenging, and utterly impossible to read. The kiss had only complicated things further, as if that relationship needed another tangled strain. What was she thinking… It was hard to focus on anything else when she replayed the moment in her mind, over and over again. Your lips on hers, the intensity, the fire—it had been unexpected, unplanned, and yet, it felt strangely good.

And then there was Jihyo. The situation with her was just as headache inducing. Jihyo's texts, her father's manipulations, and the pressure to stay in the company-everything just kept weighing on her. Yet somehow, in the midst of it all, she didn't mind any of it. As if the kiss had awakened something in her, something allowing her to bear all that weight. She hadn't felt that in a long time. It made her question everything, including her feelings for you and what she truly wanted for her future.

She didn’t like that. But she didn’t exactly mind it either.

As she walked into the venue, her eyes scanned the room, filled with guests fighting for best dressed mingling along with some others… settled for comfort. The atmosphere was buzzing, poking at Momo's racing heart. She felt nervous, not just from the pressure of the evening, but from the thought of seeing you again. She hadn't seen you since that night in the kitchen, and she wasn't sure what to expect.

It took a while, but her eyes finally found you across the room, looking dapper in your chef's uniform. For the first time, as a sign of gratitude and hopefully good news for your future, you were made to wear the official uniform of the Hirai kitchens. The jet black jacket, adorned with the restaurant's insignia, felt weird and new, but the colors … You could get used to them, and the material was soft enough.

You were talking to one of the guests, a polite smile on your face, but she could see the tension in your posture. You must have felt her gaze because you looked up, eyes locking with hers for a brief, electrifying moment.

You took Jeongyeon's advice to heart, determined to behave, to keep things professional despite the need to lash out at your own confusing feelings, and by extension; her. So you approached her cautiously, using the distance separating her from you to try and calm that pounding in your chest.

"Momo," you greeted, your voice came out steady enough, but your eyes betrayed your nerves.

"Y/n," she replied, her own voice calm.

You stood there for a moment, the silence hanging heavy with the memory of your kiss, a palpable tension neither of you could ignore.

"You look nice. Very professional," You finally said, breaking the silence. Your words were sincere, and for a moment, Momo's heart slowed.

"Thank you," she replied, a small smile playing on her lips. "You look... different."

You chuckled, the sound easing some of the tension. "Yeah, I do. It feels weird but... good."

You stood still. Just there, awkward and unsure, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. Anyone passing by could tell there was something between you two, although not able to put their finger on it. Not any more than you could. But you tried; to find a way to move forward without letting your emotions get in the way of the night's success.

"I think we should... talk maybe," You said, your voice dropping to a low, almost hesitant tone.

Thankfully Momo nodded, wanting nothing more. Until she remembered where she was. "Yeah, we do. But maybe not here. Later?"

"Later," you agreed, relief evident in your eyes. "For now, let's focus on tonight."

"Agreed," she said, her resolve strengthening. "Let's give them a night to remember."

—

The banquet was in full swing, and Momo couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as she watched the guests enjoy the evening. After her brief but intense interaction with you, she’d thrown herself full swing into hosting, greeting the most important guests warmly and ensuring everything was running smoothly. She could see you, now dressed in the official Hirai colors, making your rounds with the staff in the kitchen through the glass doors.

She liked the sight. Enjoyed it even.

As the main courses began to be served, Momo took a moment to catch her breath, her eyes scanning the room. Everything seemed perfect, but she knew better than to let her guard down, and just as she was about to step back into the fray, one of the staff members approached her, looking visibly distressed.

"Ms. Hirai, we have a problem in the kitchen," the staff member whispered urgently, causing a surge of anxiety within her.

“What kind of problem?”

"The main course... there's an issue with the meat—well, it’s more the ovens not working properly—but we don't have enough time to fix it without some quick thinking."

Momo's heart picked up the pace again. This could ruin the entire evening.

Without a second thought, she hurried towards the kitchen, her mind racing with solutions. As she entered, she found you there, looking equally concerned.

“Y/n,” she called out, catching your attention. “We have a problem.”

The tension between you both flared up instantly, old arguments resurfacing in the heat of the moment. You tried to stay focused, but her presence was both a distraction and a relief. You were stressed, and seeing her only added to the pressure.

Momo crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What's going on? Why wasn't I informed earlier?"

Your jaw tightened, trying to keep your frustration in check. "It's under control. We have a backup plan. I'm using the emergency meat, but we need to cook it quickly and differently."

"Good," she said, biting back her irritation. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

You paused, debating on teasing her about stepping in, but it wasn't the time nor place. "Can you go around and make sure everyone is on time? Report back to me if there's any issue."

She nodded, her gaze softening slightly. "Got it."

As she moved through the kitchen, checking on the staff and ensuring everyone was on schedule, she couldn't help but notice the tension in your posture. Despite the pressure, you remained in control, your hands moving with precision as you prepped the backup meat. She saw the way your brows furrowed, the way you bit your lip in concentration. It struck her how much you actually cared, how deeply invested you were in all this.

When she returned to you, she gave a quick update. "Everyone's on track. No issues so far."

"Good," you replied, a brief moment of relief flashing in your eyes before the stress settled back in. "Thank you."

Momo only nodded. She wanted to say more, to ease your tension, but the words wouldn't come. So she just took a step back, intending to head back out when her eyes caught sight of a pile of uncut vegetables next to you.

"Is anyone on these?" she asked, motioning to the vegetables.

You cussed under your breath at the sight of them, wiping the sweat from your forehead. The meat chaos had messed with your train of thoughts... "Damn it, no. I completely forgot."

Momo stepped closer, pushing her sleeves up. "Relax. I'll handle it."

"What—Are you sure?"

You would question the move, but the help she was offering was too precious.

Momo nodded, already reaching for a knife. "Yeah. How do you want them cut?"

The way she proceeded to handle that knife shouldn’t have been a surprise. She did belong to a respectable culinary lineage, but seeing her in action was something else entirely.

You felt a strange sense of relief wash over you as you witnessed her skills from the corner of your eye. The fact that she was actually helping you made the situation feel a little less overwhelming.

The two of you worked side by side, and you could feel the tension easing up its hold onto the two of you as the minutes passed.

It was suddenly easier to breathe.

—

Much later in the night than you’d have liked, you stood outside the restaurant, the air of the night cool against your skin as you savored the last drags of your cigarette.

The streets were calm, the occasional hum of traffic in the distance adding a weirdly soothing track to the end of it all.

The banquet, everything had finally come to an end, and successfully, but the lingering thoughts of Momo and your unresolved tension clouded your mind.

You mindlessly watched as the guests left one by one, their laughter and chatter fading as they climbed into expensive cars and drove away. The soft glow of taillights disappeared around corners, leaving the street empty and silent every time.

You exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl into the dark sky above.

Sure, that little moment in the kitchen earlier was nice, but… There was still a lot to work through.

A familiar sound of stilettos against the rough concrete pulled your eyes off and away from some sweet looking Mercedes. It didn’t compete with the sight you knew was awaiting

Momo stepped outside and startled you with a soft, “You smoke too much.”

You looked over, a faint smile on your lips. “Well, I’m trying to quit, but I deserve this one.”

She chuckled, taking a seat beside you. You watched her, feeling bad for the expensive suit you’d eyed any chance you got. All night. “You’ll mess your pretty clothes up,” you said, stubbing out the cigarette.

“Who cares,” she brushed off. “Night’s over anyway.”

You nodded. Couldn’t argue with that. “Congratulations, by the way. Was your mom proud?”

Momo smiled at the recent memory of her parents congratulating and thanking her for her hard work. “Yeah, they both were.”

You eyed her fingers as they fiddled with each other. It made you smile, how no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to hide that shy part of her.

“Was the outfit supposed to be a statement?” you asked, and she shuffled, telling you it might have been. It amused you. “You shouldn’t have. Did it shake you up that much?” You smirked as though you hadn’t gone to cry about it to Jeongyeon.

“About that night…” she trailed off, silently hoping you’d take the reins.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell your suitors.” You shrugged, half-jokingly.

A small, playful but sincere gesture that slapped Momo in the face. She had completely forgotten about her little side quest with the pressure of the past few days. And also because you’ve been the only thing on her heart’s mind since your kiss. Before stepping out to join you, she even cut things off with Jihyo through a text, thinking it was finally the end of it all. She’d forgotten about all the other ones.

“Oh.” She managed to say after slowing her thoughts down. “Thanks.”

“No problem…”

A few long and awkward seconds passed.

“Wait, are you gonna carry on with those?”

Momo pursed her lips, thinking. “I don’t know.”

She really had no idea. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to quit the company anymore. Until her dad told her he’d slowly been warming up to her decision as he left moments ago, she forgot this was her last project.

It was great news, yeah, if it weren’t for one little detail you helped her realise a little too late.

She didn’t want it to be.

Momo cleared her throat, her lips opening and closing a few times before managing to get the words out. “Are you going to stick around?” she tentatively asked.

You shrugged, playing it cool although you had a feeling her question meant good news. Hopefully in both professional and personal parts of your life. “If you want me to.”

Momo grinned, “I wouldn’t mind.”

You nodded, suppressing a smile. “Will you?” you asked, and she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Will you stick around too? Or are you quitting and leaving the country to become a dance teacher on the other side of the world?”

“How do you know I dance?” She laughed.

“You’re a public figure, Momo. Investments make headlines, especially the heartfelt ones,” you reminded, referring to the time she donated a generous amount to her old dance school in need.

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

“Not really. Just news stuff.”

“Right.” You felt her eyes on you, rightfully suspicious. Another silence settled, although this one was a little less awkward and shorter. “Have you always wanted to be a chef?”

You simply nodded at the question, not wanting to dull the moment with details. “Thank you for the opportunity by the way. I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you, how rude of me.”

“You’re welcome,” she chuckled. “You deserved it. A lot of guests asked me to send their compliments to the chef.”

Her nudge to your ribs made you pull away instinctively, the sudden contact sending a rush of warmth to your chest. You looked down, hiding your smile as your mind rewound back to your first meeting. “You never called me chef, by the way.”

“And I never will,” she said assuredly, making you chuckle. It was all you could do for now with your focus on her hand fiddling with your own, watching as she intertwined her fingers with yours, the other caressing the exposed and sketched skin of your forearm.

She sure had gotten comfortable. The way she leaned into you, her touch becoming more familiar and assured... You wondered where it came from for a second before remembering how bad of a job you were doing at hiding the effect she had on you so far.

Well, if that’s what it got you…

“Bet on that?” You teased. A little provocation, for grounding purposes.

Momo just nodded though, still assured, and it made you even more curious about what she had in mind for her to be. “Why not?” you probed.

She only smiled, observing your features long enough to make you blush in the night. She inched her face closer to yours, her hand squeezing around yours. It felt only natural for you to lean in, and the nose scrunch she did was new, but the grin that came with it had you guessing it was a good thing. She couldn’t help but giggle as you leaned in, and you almost forgot what had pushed you so close until she spoke up.

“I’ll call you much better, and more flattering things than ‘chef’… darling,” she whispered.

You folded immediately, and this time, you were the one that kissed her. This one was much sweeter, softer. Flavors from the night dancing on your lips, teasing the ones on your tongues. Dessert and smoke, a blend of sweetness and bitterness that felt just right.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless, you felt her lips turn into a smirk against yours.. “Doesn't mean we’re done arguing, though.”

“It doesn't?”

She shook her head, her free hand reaching for a displaced lock of your hair. “Not until you quit smoking.”

“I told you I’m already trying to.”

“I know, but I also happen to think you look hot doing it.”

“Can’t wait to fight about me being hot then.”

———

epilogue if you want

@cry4mina thank you for supportively bullying me to finish this i hope you liked it

#momo x reader #twice x reader #hirai momo #twice momo #momo imagines #momo fluff #momo angst

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idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 · 2 years

Text

The Bond

Author: Nat / @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

Relationship: Neteyam x Fem!Na’vi!Reader

Summary: The bond is a beautiful thing, but it’s also the most painful thing you ever experienced.

Word Count: 14k

Warnings: Smut. Unprotected sex (wrap it up kids). Major character death. Angst. Pregnancy. ATWOW spoilers.

Comments: Hockey people look away, look away… After watching ATWOW I physically could not stop thinking about ‘what if you could feel the bond’ the way Parabatai feel each other in the Mortal Instruments and one thing led to another… This really was supposed to just be a short little imagine just to get the idea out of my head so I could work on my other projects but then I went hmmm no I think this needs some context for it to make sense and then I proceeded to write their entire fucking story cradle to grave and spent WAY too much time fact checking every single detail… There were a bunch of ways I could have expanded this, but I told myself no because no one needs a 50k+ Neteyam story... Also, this was not betad because I was not about to subject my poor beta to my current Avatar obsession.

Disclaimer: I thought Neteyam was 20 the whole movie so that’s how old he is in this, which is about the same age Jake and Neytiri were in the first film. And also, Neteyam wears a battle belt, which means he is seen as a man among the Omatikaya.

do not repost, do not claim as your own

Tsaheylu.

The bond.

The beginning and the end of everything.

You feel their breath, you feel their heart, you feel their strength. It’s your way to connect with the world around you. At least, that’s what they always told you.

It’s a beautiful thing the bond. You can ride and fly and see and hear without uttering a single word. And most beautiful of all, you get to feel your mate, if you were lucky enough to find one.

With a mate, it wasn’t just their breaths and heart you felt like a horse or an ikran. It was deeper, much deeper. You felt them. Their thoughts, their memories, the every ounce of their being. The bond ties you to them—to their soul—for life, connects you to them in a way you’d never be connected to anyone or anything for as long as you lived.

It’s a beautiful thing the bond.

You could remember the first time Neteyam brought up the possibility of mating.

The golden son, the next Olo’eykton, the first-born son of Toruk Makto and Neytiri, Neteyam always had big shoes to fill, and it was always something he struggled with in silence. Who was he to talk to about the shade of greatness he grew up in? His father? His mother? His little brother? None of them understood, and none of them saw him.

But you did.

For as long as you could remember, Neteyam had been your closest friend, and you his—outside of his siblings at least. Kiri wasn’t much younger than him, but she had always been closer with Lo’ak than him, and Neteyam had always had more of a protective, fatherly role than a brotherly one with them and Tuk especially.

But you? You held no expectations for him. With you he was just Neteyam—or ’Teyam when he made you laugh hard enough you could barely breathe. You did everything with him. Training, hunting, claiming a banshee. Every step, you were there, and there was no one you felt closer to than him.

You didn’t have a big family like he did, it was only you. But you had him. He was your best friend, your everything, your—

Neteyam was going to be the next Olo’eykton and whoever he took as his mate would be the next Tsahìk, so you knew it wasn’t a decision he took lightly. If his father wasn’t Jake Sully, you were sure he’d have been betrothed to a woman his parents deemed worthy of being the next Olo’eykton’s mate. You didn’t know if Eywa had her eyes on you at the decision not to betroth him because, on one hand, there was a chance he’d take you, but on the other, you knew him choosing another of his own will would break you irreversibly.

Neteyam had shown some interest in the other girls in the village, especially the ones his mother mentioned to him, but you never saw him have more than a few conversations with them, mostly about hunting, which they didn’t seem to appreciate as much as you did.

You didn’t know that they were never the one he wanted. That for him, there had only ever been one.

It was the eve of his iknimaya ceremony, the final step of him becoming taronyu, of becoming a man, that he first brought up the possibility of mating with you. Once he became a man, he could choose a woman.

The thought alone made your chest tight. You couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning in your tent before you finally resigned yourself and slipped out. A night walk in the forest would, at the very least, keep your mind occupied.

You should have known Neteyam had the same idea.

Becoming a hunter, becoming a man, becoming one of the People, and earning his place in the clan all weighed heavily on him. He lived in the shadow of his father who had gone from Sky People to one of the People to Toruk Makto to Olo’eykton in a span of a few months. He was only the sixth Toruk Makto since the first songs and Neteyam knew that even if he were to be a great Olo’eykton, he’d never be his father, and it ate at him.

No matter how hard he tried, Neteyam couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned but his mind fought his every attempt at sleep. He knew he needed sleep for the day ahead, but he wasn’t granted peace and finally he resigned himself to a walk to clear his mind. At the very least, the night would pass more quickly and bring him into tomorrow.

Neither of you realized the other was close, not at first. Your mind was so consumed by the thought of him that you weren’t looking where you were going and didn’t put the care into your steps like you knew you should. The snap of the twig under your step was secondary to you, but it made Neteyam’s ears twitch.

He wasn’t alone.

A moment later, another twig snapped under your foot and Neteyam let it consume his attention. All he had on him was his knife, but it would have to do, he was the best hunter of his age after all.

He followed your uncaring, twig breaking steps silently with his knife down, unsure of what he was following. But as soon as he caught a flash of blue skin in the dark, he let himself relax a little. When he stepped a little closer to get a clearer view, he sheathed his knife as he let out a soft laugh. He’d know you anywhere.

The sound of his laugh made your ears twitch and you tensed. You’d know that sound anywhere. “Neteyam?” You breathed as you turned around and a moment later, he revealed himself with his hands up and a playful smile on his lips as he said your name back to you.

“It is late,” he told you as he stepped closer, his tail flicking behind him. “You should be asleep.”

“As should you,” you replied and returned his smile. “You have a big day tomorrow.”

“Ah,” he brushed you off with a short wave of his hand. “I’ll be fine,” he told you. “I do not have to hunt tomorrow, just become taronyu.”

Your smile slipped for half a moment before you pushed it back up. “I know,” you replied, hoping your tone didn’t betray you.

His ears straightened as he watched you and he hoped, oh Eywa he hoped, that he wasn’t misinterpreting your hesitation as he stepped closer to you. “Once I become taronyu, I may take a woman.”

You couldn’t hide the disappointment in your eyes so you turned away from him. “I know,” you whispered. “It’s a big day for the clan. There are many fine women to choose from.”

His heart dropped, fearing rejection from the only woman he had ever wanted. “I know,” he said and let his tail brush yours as he stepped around you, forcing you to look at him.

You shivered at the touch but brushed it off as an accidental touch. “Your father is very fond of Miayho, and your mother favours Zia,” you told him softly, unable to meet his eyes.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “But I’ve already chosen.” His words made your heart drop and you tried to turn away from him again, but he cupped your cheek to stop you. “But this woman must also choose me.”

“She must be lucky,” you whispered, your heart aching.

“She is,” Neteyam smiled. “She is strong and beautiful and a little slow at times, but she is the only one I could ever want.”

“’Teyam,” you breathed, your voice breaking, but his smile never faltered.

“I’m speaking of you,” he told you and softly shook his head. “Tomorrow I am granted the chance to choose a woman, and you are the only woman I have ever wanted. I choose you, if you choose me, too.”

You were quiet as the weight of his words sunk in, but slowly you cupped his cheek, too. “I chose you the moment I saw you,” you replied and rubbed your thumb over the deep blue line that traced the arch of his cheek.

Neteyam’s smile filled your chest with warmth and you leaned forward to rest your forehead against his. Neteyam’s smile softened as he rubbed his nose against yours. He’d mate you right here right now if you let him, but it was not the way, and a day was a short wait compared to the years he had already been waiting.

“So, it is decided, then?” He asked as he pulled back to look at you.

“It is,” you blushed and dipped your head as your ears went back, already itching to reach for your braid. At your words, Neteyam’s shoulders lightened, somewhat anyway. The weight of being the next Olo’eykton and living up to his father still plagued him, but he knew as long as he had you by his side, he’d be alright.

“We should sleep, then,” he told you and bit his lip. “I intent to mate you before Eywa tomorrow.”

Your blush darkened as you smiled. You didn’t dare ask if his mother or father approved of the match, you didn’t care, you just wanted him, needed him. “We should,” you agreed and tilted your chin up. “It is a big day tomorrow.”

Neteyam’s smile widened and he dipped his head. “A very big day,” he agreed and took your hand before he led you back to the village. The sooner you both fell asleep, the sooner tomorrow would come, and the sooner you could become one.

“You could stay with me,” you told him as you approached your tent.

There was nothing Neteyam wanted more, but he also knew his father would expect him in his own bed bright and early and he didn’t want to start the big day on the wrong foot. “Tomorrow night,” he replied and dipped his head. “Tonight will be our last night apart.”

You hated when he pulled his hand from yours, but you knew he was right, that it was the way. You had waited years for this, you could wait another night. “Tomorrow,” you nodded.

“Tomorrow,” he echoed you before he stepped back. Still, he watched as you slipped into your tent safe and secure before he made his way back to his own and prayed to Eywa his father hadn’t noticed his absence. Thankfully, he hadn’t, and Neteyam settled into his bed with a smile and warm chest.

Tomorrow he became taronyu.

Tomorrow he became a man.

Tomorrow he gained you.

His eyelids were heavy and sleep came more easily to him. One moment he was thinking of your beautiful golden eyes, the next he was passed out, dreaming of your smile and the comforting flowery scent that always clung to your hair.

The sun woke him bright and early like it always did and he smiled as he stretched out.

Today was the day.

“Are you nervous?” Lo’ak asked him over breakfast and Neteyam rolled his eyes.

“Why would I be nervous?”

Lo’ak’s shit eating grin widened as he shoved his brother’s shoulder, “that no woman will want to mate with your ugly face.”

Any other day Neteyam would have told his brother off and shoved him back, but your words were still fresh in his mind—I chose you the moment I saw you—and his ears went back as he dipped his head.

Lo’ak’s smile faltered as he moved closer, his ears perking up before he knocked his shoulder against his brother’s. “Bro,” he said under his breath so their parents wouldn’t hear. “Got something you’d like to share?”

Neteyam knocked his shoulder right back against his brother’s. He was quiet for a moment as he debated whether he should say anything, but Neteyam knew his brother well, better than anyone, and he knew Lo’ak wouldn’t stop pestering him until he spilled. “I may have already chosen a woman,” he said with a small smile. “And she has chosen me as well. We will be mated before Eywa.”

“Bro,” Lo’ak breathed and put his hand on the back of Neteyam’s neck as he gave him a little shake. “You asked her?” Neteyam didn’t have to say a name for him to know he meant you.

Neteyam dropped his head again as he nodded, “it is decided.”

“I am surprised she settled for your skxawng ass, but I am happy for you, bro,” Lo’ak grinned, and he laughed as Neteyam bared his fangs at him and shook him off.

“Watch who you call skxawng, skxawng,” he replied, making Lo’ak laugh hard enough that their father looked over at them and their ears went back as they quickly went quiet.

Jake watched his sons for a long moment before he stepped over and sat down next to Neteyam and put his hand on his shoulder. “Are you ready, son?”

Neteyam smiled as he nodded, “born ready, sir.”

“Good,” Jake smiled and patted his son on the back. “Your mom has the paint, whenever you’re ready.”

Neteyam’s tail flicked behind him. “Actually, if it’s alright, there’s something else who I’d like to do the paint.”

For a moment Jake’s eyebrows raised as he looked at his son before the corner of his lip twitched up as he remembered when Neytiri painted him for his own iknimaya. “Of course,” Jake nodded. “But you have to tell your mother.”

His mother wasn’t exactly happy to give up the chance to paint her first born son ahead of the ceremony, but Neteyam rarely asked for anything and she could see in his eyes that it meant a great deal to him, so she resigned herself and handed the bowls of paint over to him. “I hope you chose well, my son,” Neytiri told him.

“I did,” Neteyam replied with a smile. “Thank you, mother.”

The bowls were full and despite their small size, they felt heavy in his hands as he headed out to find you. Neteyam knew both you and the village like the back of his hand so it was easy for him to find you. you blushed as he met your gaze and he smiled before he lowered his head to you and he sat down across from you.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” You asked him softly, buzzing with anticipation of what was to come.

“I should, yes,” he agreed and sat the bowls of paint down in front of you.

“Neteyam,” you breathed. It was traditionally done by mothers.

“I want you to,” he smiled. “That is, if you want to, too.”

You were quiet for a moment before you nodded. “I want to,” you smiled softly and moved the bowls closer to you, the weight of their significance not lost on you as you beckoned him closer. “Now?” You asked softly.

Neteyam nodded as he moved closer. You blushed when he ginned at you shoved his shoulder before dipping your fingers into the white paint. You started with his arm, your touch light as you traced familiar patterns over his skin. Neteyam shivered, both at the coolness of the paint and your touch and it made you blush deepen as you focused on your lines, not wanting to mess any of them up, especially when you felt the weight of his gaze on you.

After his arms, you moved on to his chest and you gave Neteyam a look when the corner of his lip twitched up. “I am well aware you are a mighty warrior, Neteyam,” you told him and pulled your fingers back so you wouldn’t ruin the lines.

“But now you feel that I am a mighty warrior,” he smirked, making you roll your eyes.

You were quiet for a moment as you tried to think of a reply. Slowly, you trailed your fingers down his abdomen and let your lip twitch up when you felt him tense at your touch. “I do,” you hummed and looked up at him. “And soon I will feel all of you.”

You bit your lip as Neteyam’s eyes darkened but you devoted your attention to finishing the lines on his abdomen before you picked up one of the bowls and moved to his back, giggling as Neteyam’s tail kept flicking as you traced the patterns on his skin and once you were done, you hesitated before pressing a soft kiss to the back of his neck and giggled when his ears stood straight up.

“You are a tease, woman,” he breathed as you settled back in front of him to paint his face.

“Am not,” you replied with a smile as you dipped your fingers into the paint again. “Now stay still.” To his benefit, Neteyam was still as he watched you, his tail flicking every now and then as you traced careful lines over his face, finishing with a feather light touch over his lips.

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips as you looked him over. “You are ready,” you told him as you sat back on your haunches.

“I am?” He asked and you nodded.

“You are.”

Neteyam knew kissing you would ruin the paint you worked so hard to get perfect, but he still thought about it and it took every ounce of his self control not to kiss you. “Thank you,” he smiled before he stood and your heart fluttered in your chest as you took him in.

Your best friend. Your lover. Your mate.

A man.

You took his hand when he extended it to you and let him lead you down to where the ceremony would take place. To no surprise, his parents, siblings, and grandmother were already there and when you met his mother’s gaze, you get go of his hand. You weren’t mates yet and this was his ceremony. A ceremony for the clan.

At the loss of your hand, Neteyam looked back at you but you gave him a reassuring smile as you encouraged him on with a nod so he returned his gaze to his parents. Slowly the rest of the clan emerged and began to form the circle around him, and you.

“Neteyam,” Jake started as he looked at his son, trying and failing to restrain his smile. “My son. You tamed an ikran and completed your dream hunt. You are one of the People now,” he said before putting his hands on Neteyam’s shoulders just like Eytukan had done to him many years before. Once Jake touched Neteyam, the rest of his family and then the clan followed suit, one by one until everyone was connected as they welcomed Neteyam into the clan as a man.

You smiled at him as the people began to separate and once he could, Neteyam turned and put his hand on your shoulder, making you blush. His parents weren’t oblivious as they watched you, and Jake gave Neytiri a knowing smile as he held his hand out to her. It felt like just yesterday that she had done the same to him and he was happy for his son. He chose well, just like he did.

Every time a member of the clan came of age, there was a celebration. It was filled with food and dance and stories and songs; and Neteyam spent the whole night looking at you.

He was seated between his father, the Olo’eykton, and Lo’ak, and you were across from him, much too far for his liking. He could hear the people telling stories, but he wasn’t listening as he focused on you. You were the only thing that mattered to him.

You had put flowers in your hair and you wore a top he didn’t recognize so it had to be new and Neteyam couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were his everything.

It was only once the sun began to dip in the sky and people returned to their tents that Neteyam was able to steal some much needed alone time with you.

Neteyam washed the paint off and put his newly earned battle belt on by himself, but Jake stuck around with a gut instinct and gave his son a nod before he put his hand on his shoulder. Neteyam didn’t have to tell him for him to know he intended to take a mate, he remembered his own youth well and he could only hope his son found the same happiness he found in Neytiri.

Neteyam nodded back to his father, a smile playing on his lips. “Are you sure, son?” Jake asked and Neteyam nodded.

“More sure than I have ever been.”

“Good,” Jake nodded and squeezed his son’s shoulder. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

It was Neteyam’s turn to laugh and he shrugged his father’s hand off, dipping his head to his father one final time before he slipped out to find you. He was a man now, and you were his to claim.

Neteyam held his hand out to you and you blushed as you took it and let him guide you toward the Tree of Souls. If you were to be mated, then you were going to do it properly and you would be mated before Eywa.

It was only you and Neteyam before the tree and your heart raced with anticipation. By the time you got before the tree, before Eywa, you were a couple steps ahead of Neteyam and your ears twitched with every step he took to close the distance between you. Your tail flicked as he shifted his weight and it took him way too long to touch you, his hand just barely brushing your back to make you look at him.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he said softly, giving you an out. But you didn’t want an out.

“I want to,” you told him, holding his eyes before you slowly lowered yourself to your knees, your heart racing. This was the moment you had been waiting for your whole life, with the person you had been hoping for.

Neteyam followed your lead and knelt across from you before he pulled his braid over his shoulder. You held his gaze as you did the same, your braid heavy in your hand. You had made the bond with horses and your ikran, but taking a mate was something else entirely. Your heart raced with excitement and anxiety as you gripped the end of your braid and held it up, your tendrils searching for his.

You held Neteyam’s gaze as he gripped the end of his own braid and held it out. You let your eyes drop to your braid as he brought his closer. He paused to give you a chance to pull back, and when you didn’t, he moved his braid closer, letting his tendrils intertwine with yours.

It was unlike anything you had every experienced before.

The air left you lungs and you closed your eyes as you leaned into him, resting your forehead against his as you took a deep breath to steady yourself. His touch felt like electricity as he trailed his hands up your arms. And then you were overcome with warmth and familiarity and comfort. Home, you realized. You felt at home. You pulled back to look at him, your jaw slack and pupils blown and you found Neteyam looking back at you with the same awestruck expression. Warmth and pleasure coursed through your veins and when he cupped your cheek, you leaned into his touch.

And then he kissed you. For as long as you could remember, you dreamt of the touch of your mate, but it was so much better than you could have imagined and you melted into the kiss as you rested your hands on his shoulders and moved closer.

Neteyam’s hands trailed down to your hips and you let him pull you onto his lap, both of you desperate for every touch you could steal. You pulled back from the kiss to catch your breath as you struggled to keep air in your lungs, your pull to Neteyam so strong. Your jaw was slack as you looked at him and you were sure your pupils were as blown as his were.

“Neteyam,” you breathed and rubbed your nose against his, craving his touch.

“I know, my name,” he breathed and rubbed his nose back against yours as he let you feel him through his loin cloth. It pulled a soft moan from your lips which he quickly quieted with another kiss.

“I need you,” he said against your lips and let his hand brush the top of your tail, knowing how sensitive it was, and he was rewarded with you rocking your hips into his.

“I need you, too,” you told him and pulled back so you could run your hand down his strong chest to his newly earned warrior’s belt. It wasn’t something you had ever put on let alone taken off, so Neteyam had to help you rid himself of it so you could once again trail your fingers down his abdomen and down to the top of his loin cloth.

Neteyam’s soft groan had heat pooling between your thighs and you were sure he could feel it. “’Teyam,” you whispered and covered his hand on your hip with your own. His golden eyes were dark as he looked at you and you slowly guided his hand up to your chest, needing him to touch you.

Neteyam had seen your chest more times than he’d care to admit, the necklace and beads provided little coverage, but seeing you and feeling you were two entirely different things. Your skin was warm and soft beneath his touch, but your nipples were hard and when he caught it between his fingers, he was rewarded with a soft moan from you, which he desperately wanted to hear again.

He licked his lips as he brought his hand up to your other breast. His hands dwarfed you, and you moaned and leaned into him as he pinched your nipples, learning exactly what you liked, what you needed.

“’Teyam,” you whined and rocked your hips into his once again. His touch wasn’t enough, you could feel him and you needed him. “My mate,” you whispered and trailed your hands down his back.

“I know,” he nodded. You didn’t have to tell him for him to know. He gave a final tweak to your nipples before trailing his hands down your sides to the band of your loin cloth. He kept his eyes on yours as he undid it and slowly peeled the material away from you. it only made your racing heart more intense as you rested on his lap, and your tail brushed his knees as he looked at you before he laid you back against the soft moss.

You were bare to him, but you didn’t care as he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky. Neteyam ran his eyes over you before he reached down to untie his own loin cloth, and then there was nothing between you.

“Please, ‘Teyam.”

He nodded and ran his hand up your thigh toward where you needed him most. As soon as his thumb reached the seam of where your thigh met your hip, Neteyam could feel how badly you needed him, your wetness coating your skin, pulling a soft groan from him.

When he finally touched you, his touch was light and you let your eyes close as you moaned softly. He was gentle as he trailed his fingers up your slit to the bud at the top and he was rewarded with a loud gasp when he rubbed your clit. He watched you with careful eyes as he circled the bud with his fingers and felt how you throbbed for him.

The tips of his fingers were rough from his years of hunting, and between the roughness and sureness of his touch, you wouldn’t last long. Your high was building fast and when you opened your eyes and found his familiar golden eyes looking back at you, it sent you over the edge.

“Neteyam,” you moaned as you came, your back arching as you pressed your hips into his hand. Neteyam groaned as you drenched his hand and he kept rubbing your clit through it, loving your blissed out expression. It was only when your moans turned to whines that he trailed his fingers down your slit to your entrance.

“May I?” He asked and you nodded quickly so he pressed his finger into you, moaning at how warm and tight you were. His mate, he thought. His perfect mate.

Once you adjusted to his finger, he added a second, not wanting to hurt you. He felt your every flutter around his fingers and it made his cock ache. “I need you,” he told you, his voice rough from holding himself back.

“Then have me,” you replied and spread your legs wider, desperate for your mate.

“Eywa have mercy,” he whispered and pulled his fingers from you before slotting himself between your thighs. He didn’t have to ask, he could feel your need, and he held your gaze as he guided himself to your entrance.

You gasped as he pressed into you and he rested his forehead against yours until his hips were touching yours. “My mate,” he breathed as you ran your hands down his back, and when you wrapped your legs around his hips, you felt his tail brush your ankle. Neteyam’s breaths were shallow as he rested his forehead against your shoulder, both of you needing a moment to adjust.

You were finally tied together the way you always should have been.

Together.

Connected.

One.

“’Teyam,” you breathed once you had adjusted and you cupped the back of his head.

He knew exactly what you needed and he nodded as he pulled halfway out before thrusting back into you and started a slow rhythm, soaking in every feeling of you. You had never felt so connected to someone and you melted at his touch, unsure of where you ended and he began.

His movements were slow but sure and you were consumed with the feel and smell of him. He filled you in a way you didn’t know you could be filled and you could feel yourself get closer and closer to that high with his every movement.

It wasn’t long until your moans grew louder and you dug your nails into his shoulders as your tail thrashed against the moss. When you came, your veins were filled with warmth, a warmth that only Neteyam could feel as his hips stuttered. The feeling of his mate cumming around him was indescribable and it pushed him ever closer.

He fucked you through your high before he picked his pace up, searching his own high. It wasn’t long before he came, too, burying himself deep inside you as he filled you up. You gasped at the feeling and pulled him closer, needing every piece of your mate you could get.

Neteyam smiled into your neck as you both caught your breath, and he pressed a light kiss to your skin before he pulled back to look at you with a soft smile. “We are mated before Eywa,” he breathed and cupped your jaw.

You leaned into his touch with a soft smile. “We are mated for life,” you replied, making his smile widen.

“My mate, my beautiful mate,” he smiled and rested his forehead against yours as you both soaked each other in.

You stayed with your forehead against his as your highs melted away, and slowly Neteyam pulled out of you, murmuring a soft apology when you whimpered at the loss of him. You could still feel his every breath and heartbeat, just like he could feel yours, and when he reached to break the bond, you shook your head. “Can we stay like this?” You asked softly.

Neteyam dropped his head as he nodded and he gave you a small smile before he kissed you softly. His every touch felt like home and you melted into him. He ran his thumbs over your cheek as he looked at you, his eyes full of love for you before he let himself settle behind you. His chest was warm against your back as he wrapped his arms around your waist and you smiled to yourself as you leaned back against him.

You could feel his breath and his heart and the entirely of his being.

Whole, you realized, you felt whole. Neteyam was your other half, the part you hadn’t realized you were missing. Your everything.

The bond was a beautiful thing.

You smiled as you melted back against him. Your eyelids were heavy and it was easy for sleep to claim you, and when it did, you dreamt of your future with Neteyam—the way you’d grow together and the son he’d give you—and you smiled as you slept, unaware that Eywa had shown Neteyam the same dream.

When you woke to the sunlight streaming on your face the next morning, Neteyam was already awake, just soaking in the feeling of you, your braids still conjoined. He smiled when he realized you were awake and guided you onto your back so he could look at you as he rested on his side.

“Good morning, my mate,” he smiled softly.

“Good morning, my mate,” you repeated and reached out to cup his cheek. Neteyam leaned into your touch, making you smile as you ran your thumb over the arch of his cheek.

All he wanted was to stay wrapped up in you forever, but he knew you both had things to do and expectations to meet. “We should head back to the village,” he whispered and you sighed before nodding.

“We should,” you agreed, even if all you wanted was him.

He nodded and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before he asked to separate your braids. You didn’t want to, but you nodded and let Neteyam pull his braid from yours. You gasped at the break, feeling colder than you did a moment before, but even without the bond you could feel Neteyam. It was nowhere as strong as when your braids met, but he still lingered in the back of your mind and you knew you lingered in the back of his. You gave him a soft smile as you trailed your hand down his arm and he grinned at you, so in love with you.

It wasn’t hard for both of you to redress, through it did take you a few extra moments to clean your thighs, which made Neteyam smirk as he watched you, both of you taking your time, neither of you wanting the moment to end.

You had left the village as individuals, but now you returned as a mated pair. You held his hand as you let him guide you through the village toward his parents, toward the Olo’eykton.

As the Olo’eykton, it was his duty to know of every newly mated pair, and had it been anyone but his father, you wouldn’t have been so nervous. Sure, it was soon after his iknimaya, but he was still a man. But it was Neteyam’s father and Neteyam was the next Olo’eykton, making you, his mate, the next Tsahìk, and you couldn’t disappoint his family, or the People.

To no surprise, his family was already awake. Village life always started early.

“Neteyam,” Neytiri started when she laid her eyes on her oldest son, but her next words died on her tongue when she saw him holding your hand. He didn’t have to say anything for her to know. At his mate’s voice, Jake looked over and the corner of his lips twitched up as he saw his eldest son, already sensing his earlier intuition was correct.

“Mother, father,” Neteyam said and dipped his head to his parents, his hand never leaving yours, “I am taronyu now,” he continued. “Which means—”

“You may now choose a woman,” his mother finished for him, thinking back to the night she told Jake the very same words.

“Yes,” he breathed before he glanced back at you with a smile. “And I have.”

“You have?” Jake asked and Neteyam nodded as he looked to his father.

“We are mated before Eywa.”

His mother took a sharp breath in, not in disapproval, but out of realization that her eldest son had truly become a man and had left her nest. Jake touched Neytiri’s arm to ground her as he nodded to his son. “We’re happy for you,” he said for the both of them before looking at his own mate, encouraging her to say something.

“We are,” she breathed and stepped forward to cup Neteyam’s cheek. “My son,” she whispered and ran her thumb over the arch of his cheek.

Neteyam smiled at his mother before he nodded and pulled back from her touch, his smile widening as he looked at you and let his tail brush yours. Jake nodded at the interaction before he smiled at you, “welcome to the family.”

Your smile widened before you dipped your head to him. “Thank you, sir.”

“Nah,” Jake waved his hand. “It’s Jake.” He told you, though one day you’d come to call him ‘dad.’

You were welcomed into the Sully family with open arms. Neytiri had her reservations, as would any mother, but Jake adored you. He saw how deeply you cared for Neteyam, and how deeply Neteyam cared for you, and though he’d never admit it, Jake could see him and Neytiri in you two.

Neteyam’s youngest sister, Tuk, adored you and though Neteyam was her best friend, you were a close second. Kiri was happy to have another sister, and one closer in age than Tuk. And Lo’ak…

Lo’ak treated you like you had always been there. He didn’t hesitate to make fun of you like he did for the rest of his siblings, and he certainly didn’t hold back as he made fun of you picking Neteyam for your mate. It always made Neteyam roll his eyes and, more often than not, call his sibling a skxawng, but it made you smile because it meant you were truly part of the family and you loved it.

The bond was beautiful, as was the family you gained with it.

The problem was, nothing stayed perfect forever.

Everything changed the day Jake realized there was one too many stars in the sky.

Twenty years before, Toruk Makto led the clans to victory over the Sky People, all Na’vi knew his story, but the war was over, something of the past, something that had come and gone before either you or Neteyam were born—or it was supposed to be anyway.

The Second War against the Sky People was more intense than you could have ever imagined, with the guns and the fire and the relocation and the devastation and the death—so many deaths.

A very capable hunter, Neteyam was always involved in the war effort. A spotter. He tried to reassure you that it was the safest role he could have, that he wasn’t on the ground on the front lines, but it didn’t make you feel any better. There was no “safe” in a war. And you had seen too many of your people die.

As the mate of the next Olo’eykton, you could be the next Tsahìk, so Mo’at had taken you under her win, teaching you so you could one day take her place. So, unlike your mate, his parents and his brother, your role in the war wasn’t out there but back at home as you worked to heal the wounded—and make comfortable those who would be welcomed into Eywa’s arms.

You knew your role was important, but it was hard. It was hard to see the devastation and the death, and it was hard knowing your mate was out there and could just as easily be the next person who came through the tent flap in need of help.

You could never breathe deeply, let alone eat or drink, until he was home safe.

And the day he came back home bruised and bloodied, you dropped your tray of herbs before you rushed to him, even as Jake scolded him and Lo’ak.

“I’m fine,” he told you softly, but the blood on your hand said otherwise.

“You are bleeding, he is bleeding,” you said as you turned to Jake after he finished his little speech. “I am taking him to Mo’at.” Neytiri backed you up, also worried for her son, so Jake dismissed him and you heard Neytiri arguing with him as you led Neteyam toward the healing tent, your hand on his back.

“I’m fine, truly,” he repeated once you two were out of earshot of his parents.

“You are hurt,” you replied softly and stopped to look at him, taking his hand in yours. “My heart aches seeing you hurt.”

Neteyam gave you a soft smile and rested his forehead against yours. “I am fine, my mate,” he said before he kissed you. “I feel no pain when I am with you.”

His words made your heart flutter and you retuned his smile. “You still require healing,” you replied and led him to Mo’at’s tent where Kiri was helping her grandmother.

You knew you should help Mo’at, but you couldn’t find it in you to leave your mate’s side. Kiri knew what to do, she was even better than you were, and you were more than happy to let her assist Mo’at while you held Neteyam’s hand, the end of your tail curled around his ankle.

Your heart ached every time he winced at the sting of the antiseptic and you squeezed his hand as you watched Mo’at and Kiri. His wound looked worse than it was, and you let out a relieved breath as they finished up.

“See?” Neteyam smiled weakly. “I’m okay.” You shook your head but still thanked Eywa that your mate was alright.

Still, you struggled to find sleep that night, your mind consumed with the what ifs of your mate’s injury. It would be too easy for his injury to be worse, for him to be taken from you. You had seen too many lose their mates the last year and had their blood curling screams as their hearts shattered beyond repair permanently imprinted in your memory.

To lose a mate was a fate worse than death, and you knew you’d never survive it.

Neteyam healed quickly from his wounds and Lo’ak was grounded for his recklessness. Neteyam was back on his ikran long before Lo’ak was, and without his ikran, without being involved in the war, Lo’ak somehow managed to create even more trouble as he convinced his siblings to return to the old shack.

It was a harmless intention born out of boredom and frustration, but the results were life altering.

It was Avatars. New Avatars. In tactical gear. They managed to get Lo’ak, Kiri, Tuk and Spider under their knives and you didn’t want to think of what could have happened if not for Jake, Neytiri and Neteyam. But Jake knew they’d never stop hunting them, hunting his family. They may have won the battle, but the war still raged.

Everything changed after that, after they took Spider.

Jake and Neytiri knew the People would never be safe as long as they stayed with them, so they had to leave.

The words were like stones in Neteyam’s heart as he told you his family was planning to leave.

The Forest was your home, the only place you ever knew, the only place you ever wanted to know. The Forest was where you were born, where you grew up, where you fell in love with Neteyam, where you were supposed to raise your children.

Neteyam could sense your hesitation. “My father said it was for the best. He said that the Sky People are hunting us and not the People, so if we leave, the People will be safe,” he explained as he took your hand in his and brushed his tail against yours. “But I will stay with you if you ask me, my mate.” He would follow you to the end of the world if you asked.

You tightened your lips as you thought, but it was an easy decision. Just a painful one. “I go where you go,” you told him softly and squeezed his hand. “You are my home and my future, Neteyam.”

In hindsight, you really wished you had asked him to stay.

You packed your things onto your ikran and your heart ached as you said your goodbyes, but Neteyam was your mate. You couldn’t be without him.

Neteyam flew by your side as you left the Forest and even without touching him, you felt his comfort and you gave him a soft smile. As long as you were together, you’d be alright.

In the end, you found sanctuary with the Metkayina, the reef people.

It was hard to learn their ways, it was hard leaning the way of the water when the Forest was all you knew, but what you didn’t expect was how hard it was to see Neteyam lose his battle belt. His whole life he had been working toward it, working to become taronyu and earn his place among the People, and he barely had it a year before it was taken from him; before his symbol of manhood was taken from him.

Neteyam may have been taronyu, a man, among the Omatikaya, but you were Metkayina now and the iknimaya of the Omatikaya meant nothing here. He had to learn the way of the water and earn his place among the Metkayina before he’d be seen as a man.

Like Jake, Neteyam’s ears dropped as his belt was taken away and you did your best to steel your shoulders like Neytiri. You both had to be strong for your mates.

None of you were seen as adults among the Metkayina, but rather as children. It frustrated some more than others, like you and Neytiri. Neteyam took after his father and tried to take the transition in stride and did what he could to fit in.

And if the relocation and the helpless feeling wasn’t enough, you were sick a few times after the transition. Initially, you blamed it on the dietary shift. Sure, fish had been a part of your diet before, but it was freshwater fish and something you only had on occasion rather than every meal of every day. It was easy to blame your sickness on the fish, you just didn’t realize that none of the others were getting sick. Not until you were shucking oysters with Ronal at least.

Ronal was the Tsahìk of the Metkayina. She saw all and she was especially hesitant toward you and Neytiri. Both you and Neytiri were being trained to become the Tsahìk of the Omatikaya, so it was natural for you both to resume your training with Ronal, she just wasn’t overly fond of the idea.

Ronal let it go the first few times you gagged at the smell of the oysters before she sighed. “Have you mated recently?” She asked without looking at you.

Your eyes bugged at the question. “Why do you ask?” You replied and stopped shucking to look over at her.

“Because I am wondering if you are with child,” Ronal replied, and the knife slipped from your hand.

“What?” You asked breathlessly.

“With child,” she repeated simply. She had had two children of her own with a third on the way, and she had helped to deliver more babes than she could count. She knew the signs well and given the amount of time she had been spending with you over the last couple weeks, she could see them in you. When you didn’t answer, Ronal looked over at you, “it is a simple question. Have you mated recently?”

Your ears went back as you blushed and nodded. Ronal hummed and put the oyster she was holding and her knife down before she stood and beckoned you up. She hummed as she looked you over before she touched your forehead and then your stomach.

“Food aversion?” She asked and you nodded.

“Fatigue?” You nodded again.

“Have you bled?” You thought about it for a moment before you ears went back further. You had been so focused on fitting in and your mate you hadn’t realized.

Ronal hummed and stepped back. “I do believe you are with child,” she said before she returned to her oysters like your world hadn’t just shifted on its axis—again.

Your hands shook as you gently touched your stomach.

Pregnant.

You—

You’d be lying if you said you couldn’t be, you certainly found comfort in your mate’s arms many, many times since the relocation. But pregnant? Now? Could there be a worse time?

Slowly, you pulled your hands back and took a deep breath to clear your mind and ground yourself before you picked your knife back up and reached for another oyster.

“There are other things to do,” Ronal told you. “If the small bothers you, you will be slow. Tsireya will provide you with a different task to do.” You wanted to take her up on the offer, but you could hear Jake’s voice in your head telling you not to cause trouble and pull your weight, so you shook your head.

“I will be fine.”

She hummed but wasn’t surprised when you gagged again a moment later and she cast a look in your direction. You sighed as you nodded and moved your basket of unshucked oysters over to her, “I will find Tsireya.” If she smiled as you walked away, well, no one had to know.

Everyone was still so focused on fitting in and you could see the way looking after Lo’ak and keeping him out of trouble weighed on Neteyam, so you kept the news to yourself. If you told him, he’d only worry about you more than he already did and you didn’t want that.

And, well, it was no surprise that Ronal wasn’t fond of you. Forest People. Outcast. Alien. But knowing you were with child made Ronal soften. She didn’t look at you with the same animosity she did the others, and every time she saw you, she was sure to ask how you were doing. The Sullys were smart people, and it didn’t take Neytiri long to put two and two together and realize something was up with you, but she kept her suspicions to herself as she kept a careful eye on you.

You had always been the more affectionate one in your relationship with Neteyam, always touching him or seeking to touch him, but now you were reserved. At first, Neytiri thought you two were fighting, but Neteyam assured her you weren’t, that it was just the move and the swimming was exhausting you and the fish wasn’t agreeing with you, which was true—it just wasn’t the whole truth.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell him. You did, you just didn’t want to add to his already full plate, and then the longer you kept it a secret the harder it was to tell him. Between Kiri’s seizure and Norm coming and Lo’ak and Neteyam’s fight with Ao’nung and Payakan and the Tulkun, there just wasn’t a good time to tell him.

It was only after yet another dinner you couldn’t keep down that the truth finally came to light.

“You are unwell,” Neteyam said as he followed you toward your hut. It was the third time this week and he was tired of you constantly brushing it, and him, off.

“I’m fine, Neteyam,” you sighed. “It’s just—”

“The move? The fish?” He repeated your words back to you. “No, I don’t believe you. Have you spoken to Ronal? She is Tsahìk and she could help you.”

You hesitated before you turned back to look at him with tight lips before you sighed and took his hand. He gave you a concerned look as you guided him down to the beach where you could have some privacy. “Ronal can’t help me,” you said as you turned to face and gently fiddled with his fingers. “Because I am not sick.”

“It is just us, my mate, you never need lie to me,” he replied softly and used his free hand to cup your cheek.

“I’m not lying, ‘Teyam,” you breathed and covered his hand with yours before you guided it down to your stomach. “I’m not sick, I’m with child.”

Neteyam froze as he let your words sink in before he softened. “You are with child?” He whispered and stepped closer to you.

You nodded, “it’s horrible timing, but—”

“But nothing,” he smiled. “This is amazing news! We’re having a baby—the first of many I hope.” You were taken by surprise when he picked you up and spun you around, completely elated.

You laughed softly as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders before you patted him. “Enough, ‘Teyam, I’ll be sick again.”

“Right, sorry, my love,” he replied and sat you down, his smile never wavering as he touched your stomach again. “I’m just really happy.”

“I am, too,” you said softly and covered his hand before you kissed him softly. He cupped the back of your head to keep you close, but you both couldn’t stop smiling so you pulled back and rested your hand on his chest, feeling the familiar, comforting beat of his heart.

Neteyam wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer by the small of your back before he rested his forehead against yours. “I would take you here and now on the beach if you let me, my mate,” he hummed.

“Anyone could see, including your parents,” you laughed.

“Then let them see,” he hummed and when he tried to kiss you again, you shoved him back, making him laugh loudly before he pulled you close again, the tips of his fingers brushing the base of your tail, knowing how sensitive it was.

“Once the sickness passes,” you told him and guided his hand back up to your back.

Neteyam softened and he nodded, “of course, my mate. May I at least hold you tonight?”

“I’d expect nothing else,” you smiled and let him lead you back toward your hut. Once Neteyam closed the flap, you rid yourself of your top—another sign of your growing baby was how swollen and sensitive your breasts had become and the weight of the beads irritated you in a way they never had before.

Neteyam groaned low in his throat as he knelt on the bed, “are you sure you don’t want me to pleasure you, my mate?” He asked softly.

“Maybe tomorrow,” you laughed and pulled him down next to you and you laughed when his hand managed to find your breast after he settled behind you. He didn’t try to do more than hold your breast while his other hand rested on your stomach, so you let him as you pressed yourself back against him.

The reef wasn’t the Forest, but it was nice and welcoming and you could see you two raising your children along the blue water and sandy beaches. Neteyam’s tail curled around your ankle and you smiled as you tried to press yourself closer to him. You could feel him smile into your neck and it was easy to fall asleep.

He was your everything.

This family was your everything.

And if you knew what would happen next, you would have fought sleep to soak in the feeling of his arms one last time. You would have memorized the beating of his heart and the rise and fall of his chest. You would have traced every dark line that decorated his body. You would have held him a little longer.

You wouldn’t have taken the moment for granted, expecting thousands more in the coming years.

But you didn’t know what would happen so you didn’t, and the ache of regret would eat at you for the rest of your days.

The bond… it’s a beautiful thing.

Until it isn’t.

The village was devastated by the hunting of the Tulkun by the Sky People. They were their spirit brothers and sisters, and Jake didn’t have to say it for you to know it happened because you were here. They weren’t hunting the Tulkun, they were hunting you. When Jake took the tracker from Neteyam, you took his hand and he tried to reassure you as he squeezed your hand.

“You tell the Tulkun if they’re hit by one of these, they’re marked for death.”

Jake’s words hung heavy in the air. Neteyam gave you a look that told you everything would be okay, but your stomach still twisted. You came to the Metkayina to hide; to keep your people safe. You promised them you were done with war, but the war still followed you—and at the cost of their spirit siblings.

And because nothing ever came easy, Lo’ak was determined to warn Payakan himself. Neteyam followed Lo’ak, knowing his brother better than anyone and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw Lo’ak gathering a saddle for an ilu.

He shook his head, a frustrated smile on his lips, “no way, you’re not going, baby brother.”

Lo’ak wasn’t having any of it. “I have to warn Payakan,” he told his brother firmly.

“No. You have to keep your skxawng ass here,” Neteyam replied, gritting his teeth. For once, could he just listen to him.

But Lo’ak never did. “He’s outcast. There’s no one to warn him but me.”

Neteyam shook his head as he clenched his fist. “Bro, why do you always have to make things so hard?” Neteyam said exasperated as he touched the top of Lo’ak’s’ head, but Lo’ak quickly shoved him off as his eyes hardened.

“No. You mean why can’t I be the perfect son like you, a perfect little soldier. Well, I’m not you, okay? I’m not you. He’s my brother. I’m going.” Neteyam clenched his jaw as he stepped back, his brother’s words cutting him like a knife. If he only knew the weight of his words, but he didn’t and he never would as Neteyam swallowed back the bitter words threatening to spill out and he steeled himself as stepped closer to his brother.

“Oh, he’s your brother? No, I’m your brother,” his voice was hard as he stared Lo’ak down, but Lo’ak didn’t concede and he scoffed before he dove in the water, heading for Payakan and Neteyam knew he had to go after him.

“Neteyam!” You called as you came up behind him and he shook his head.

“He’s going to Payakan,” he told you and you were hot on his heels as he summoned his ilu, as were Tsireya, Kiri, Tuk, Ao’nung and Rotxo. But when you went to summon your own ilu, Neteyam put his hand on your stomach to keep you back. “I need you here where you’re safe,” he told you but you shook his head.

“I’m going, Neteyam.” He opened his mouth to argue, but your look silenced him. Wherever your mate went, you would follow.

His tail flicked as he clenched his jaw before he nodded. “With me then,” he said before he dove into the water and you followed his lead. You quickly settled behind him on his ilu and wrapped your hand around his waist while he held onto the reigns of the ilu with one hand, his other hand reaching back to hold your thigh, keeping you against him as he followed after Lo’ak to Payakan.

By the time you got to Payakan, Lo’ak was struggling against the red tracker buried in Payakan’s back while the others tried to help. You and Neteyam were quick to jump on and help, but the tracker was in deep and you realized quickly that the demon ship was rapidly approaching.

“Call dad,” Neteyam said to Lo’ak. “Just do it.”

He didn’t want to, he knew the trouble he’d be in, so he hesitated before he called Jake. Lo’ak’s words were muffled as you all focused on the tracker. Your heart raced as you kept glancing between it and the demon ship. “Come on, come on, come on,” you said as Neteyam tossed a rope up to Ao’nung who wrapped one end around the tracker while Neteyam wrapped the other end around the reigns of his ilu.

“Please, Eywa, please,” you whispered as you pulled and pulled and finally the tracker gave, and you all fell at the release of tension. Neteyam was quick to gather the tracker as Lo’ak told Payakan to go.

“Go, I’ll draw them away,” Neteyam told you, making your blood go cold. When you opened your mouth to argue, Neteyam shook his head. They were after the tracker and Neteyam couldn’t have it anywhere near you, your baby, or his siblings. “Take Tuk, I’ll see you after.”

You had no choice but to nod and you gathered Tuk and Kiri on Kiri’s ilu and led them into the seaweed for cover, but the submarines followed you. Your mind raced as quickly as your heart as your ilu weaved between plants and leaves, desperate for any cover, but there wasn’t any to be had. There was too many of them.

The submarines swarmed you, forcing you off the ilu and you kept your eyes on Tuk as you swam toward an air pocket, Lo’ak and Tsireya right behind you while Kiri ended up with Ao’nung and Rotxo. “They’re coming,” Tsireya said and you were all quick to dive back under, but it was useless. The submarines could move faster than you could swim.

It was over when they launched the net at you. You didn’t realize it was coming until it was too late, the net already surrounding you and the air left your lungs as you began to panic. Lo’ak managed to escape before it caught him and he pulled at the net trying to rescue you, Tuk and Tsireya, but it was no use. The net scooped you up and dropped you on board the demon ship. Your vision swam as you tried to catch your breath, your lungs burning, and before you knew it, you were bound to the demon ship’s rail.

You watched as Tuk, Tsireya and Lo’ak struggled against the bonds but you knew it pointless. You were stuck. You were stuck and your mate was somewhere out there. You felt useless as the Metkayina attacked the demon ship. When you came and begged for sanctuary, you had promised them there would be no more war and now the war was here and they’d die because of your family.

You looked Tuk and your heart sank at the terror in her eyes, and you were so focused on Tuk you didn’t notice Payakan until he was on top of you, desperate to save Lo’ak.

All hell broke loose after that.

“Don’t watch,” you told Tuk. “Keep your eyes on me, okay?” Neteyam had always been her favourite family member, but you were a close second given you were his mate. Her cheeks were wet with tears as she nodded. “Just keep your eyes on me, Tuk,” you repeated.

It was only when Neteyam jumped on board that you were finally able to take a deep breath. A smile played on his lips as he cut your bounds, then Tuk’s, then Tsireya’s before he reached his brother and cut him free. “Who’s the might warrior? Come on, say it,” he grinned as he touched Lo’ak’s head before he turned back to you.

“Bro,” Lo’ak smiled and reached for a gun while Neteyam had his back to him.

“Go, get out of here. Take Tuk. Go,” Neteyam said to you.

“Neteyam—” you tried but he shook his head.

“Go,” he repeated, begging you to listen to him, and you clenched your jaw as you tried to lead Tuk away, and Neteyam kept his eyes on you, desperate to make sure you and Tuk were safe. But when he heard the familiar click of a gun, he turned back to his brother.

“We have to go,” he said but Lo’ak shook his head.

“He has Spider. Come on, bro, we can’t lose him,” Lo’ak said and headed into the ship.

Neteyam protested under his breath before he followed after his brother. Lo’ak always had to make things difficult.

At the same time, they managed to grab Kiri. Tuk’s scream for her sister would forever be imprinted in your memory, but you had to get her to safety. Jake and Neytiri would get Kiri.

Except, Tuk fought your hold on her before she slipped free and headed back for the ship. “Sullys stick together,” she said and you grumbled under your breath before you abandoned your ilu and headed after her, needing to keep her safe.

“This isn’t a good idea, Tuk,” you whisper shouted at her, but she ignored you, desperate to save Kiri, and you were sure to be quiet as you followed her.

“Kiri!” She called when she saw her sister, slipping under the bars as you both tried to break Kiri’s bonds, but it was no use and an Avatar was quick to bind Tuk to the rail next to Kiri before shoving you back into the water. Your heart sank and you wanted nothing more than to jump up and fight and rescue them and keep them safe, but when the bullets hit the water, you knew it wasn’t an option and you called to a nearby ilu and quickly jumped on. You’d have to find another way to rescue them and you circled the water looking for any sign of your mate and Lo’ak.

You were granted a moment of relief when you saw Tsireya, but it was short lived as you realized she was alone and your heart sank. Tsireya pulled her ilu up beside yours and pursed her lips as she shook her head. Neteyam and Lo’ak had to still be on board.

Your heart twisted before a flash of cold went through your body and you gasped for breath under the water, the air bubbling around you as Lo’ak, Spider and Neteyam jumped into the water above you, bullets still raining around you.

No.

You knew it. Before he could even say it, you knew, the freezing cold blooming in your chest that left you gasping for air as you resurfaced in the water.

“That was insane, cous,” the voice was muffled in your ears.

“Neteyam,” you breathed and reached out to him.

“You skxawng, I’ve been shot.”

Panic coursed through your veins and you swore you didn’t breathe as you wrapped your arm around him to keep his head above the water, the normally clear water stained red with his blood. Too much blood.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” you said to both him and yourself, even as the ice in your chest melted to a sharp ache that shot down your arm and Neteyam’s expression twisted in pain.

The panic in Lo’ak’s eyes mirrored your own as he helped you get Neteyam onto the ilu before he pulled you on too. “Shit,” he hissed under his breath. Neteyam was a mighty warrior, the best of his age, but he was weak in his arms.

“They have Kiri and Tuk,” Tsireya tried to tell him, but the words never really processed for him.

“We can’t go back,” he replied and raced for the rocks, Tsireya and Spider holding on to the side if the ilu’s reigns. You kept your hand pressed against Neteyam’s chest as you moved through the water and his hand gripped your wrist tightly, needing to hold on to you, needing to anchor himself to you.

It only took a minute to get to the rocks, but it felt like hours. Lo’ak helped you carry Neteyam as he gritted his teeth in pain. Your chest felt tighter with every passing second and you didn’t know if it was your own anxiety, or your mate slipping through your fingers.

Your hands shook as you moved around him and your ears started to ring as you rolled him onto his side. The shot was clean through.

“It’s almost always better for the bullet to be clean through.” You could hear Jake’s voice in your head and you laid him back and put pressure on his chest as you begged Eywa to help you.

It was almost always better.

Almost.

Neteyam’s hands were coated in his own blood and he looked up at you with wide, terrified eyes before he grasped your bicep, his grip nowhere near as strong as it was when he held your wrist.

“You’re okay, you’re going to be okay,” you told him, willing your voice not to shake so you could be strong for your mate. He breathed your name before he scrunched his face up like he was trying to get away from the pain. “You’re going to be okay,” you repeated before pulling your eyes away from his as Jake and Neytiri settled around you.

“No, no, no,” Jake whispered as he perched across from you.

“Clean through,” you told him before he could ask, your ears back and hands red with Neteyam’s blood, and your heart dropped at the way his ears went back. “No,” you whispered, unable to muster your voice any louder before you looked back at your mate. He had to be okay.

He had to.

“You’ll be okay,” Neteyam told you as he struggled to force air into his lungs.

The ache in your chest began to ease to a fuzzy feeling and you shook your head. “No, no, Neteyam.” You couldn’t lose him. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t survive it.

“You’ll both be okay,” he breathed, his voice softer than a whisper as he dropped his hand to your stomach.

“I see you; I love you,” you told him, desperately trying not to cry and you pulled one of your hands from his chest to cup his jaw, your thumb tracing the dark line that decorated the arch of his cheek.

“I know, I—”

Neteyam never finished his sentence and his hand dropped from your stomach, leaving a bloody handprint in its wake.

You felt the moment he died.

The warmth, the comfort, the unmistakable feeling of him, fizzled out, replaced instead with an unshakeable feeling of emptiness.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

You were supposed to spend your life with him.

It was supposed to be you and him.

You and him.

You were lightheaded as you settled back on your haunches, your hands red with his blood and Lo’ak caught you as you swayed.

Numb.

The only way to describe the feeling was numb, like he had taken your soul with him when he died, leaving nothing but an empty shell in his wake.

And maybe he had.

The bond is beautiful, that’s what they tell you. But they never tell you of the anguish that comes with it.

You could separate your life into before Neteyam and after Neteyam. The before wasn’t important, it didn’t matter, because Neteyam was your world. He was your everything, your world spun on an axis of you and him. The People say you’re born twice, once when you are born and then again when you find your place among the people, and you were born again the day Neteyam chose you. And now all that was left of your mate was his bloody handprint and the world had the audacity to keep on spinning.

The ringing in your ears drowned out Neytiri’s blood curling scream for her first-born son, and you slouched into Lo’ak as you kept your eyes on Neteyam’s. His beautiful, golden, lifeless eyes.

You didn’t hear Jake ask Lo’ak where his sisters were. You didn’t hear Tsireya tell him they were on the ship. You didn’t hear Spider tell him to follow him. And you certainly didn’t hear Jake tell Lo’ak to stay and that he had done enough. You didn’t hear any of it as you kept looking at your mate, unable to pull your eyes away, no matter how painful it was.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

You only heard Lo’ak tell Tsireya he was going because he pulled back from you, jostling you enough to pull you from your trance to steady yourself. “Lo’ak, no,” she replied desperately, but there was no stopping him as he dove back into the water, leaving you alone with her and your mate’s dead body.

You didn’t know how long you two sat there in the silence, it could have been seconds or minutes or hours, before Tsireya broke it. “We should wash your hands,” she said softly.

You curled your hands into fists. You didn’t want to. Washing the blood off meant losing the only tangible part of your mate you had left. But you knew she was right, so you nodded and you moved on autopilot as she led you to the edge of the water. Your gaze was blank as she washed Neteyam’s blood off your hands, but you drew the line when she reached for your stomach.

“No,” you said sharply and gripped her wrist before she could touch you. Her ears went back as she nodded before she took your hand in hers as you sat back on the rock.

You felt both empty and heavy at the same time as you sat there before Tsireya found her voice again. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, unsure of what else to say.

Your ears went back as you nodded, not trusting your voice. You opened and closed your mouth a few times before you looked over at her. “You and Lo’ak deserve better,” you whispered and touched your stomach, desperate to remind yourself of something worth living for.

Her ears went back even further as her shoulders dropped, but she followed your hand with her eyes. “He—” she started before she stopped herself. “Are you?” She asked instead.

You nodded again before you looked over at her with tears streaming down your cheeks. “I can’t do this on my own. I can’t do this without him.”

Her shoulders dropped as her ears went back again. She couldn’t imagine what you were feeling. “You won’t do this alone,” she told you softly. “You have the village behind you.”

You knew she only meant to comfort you, but her words only reminded you that Neteyam would never meet his child. “But I need him,” you whispered before you pulled your hand from her and pushed yourself away from the water’s edge.

Your heart broke all over again as you looked at your mate, laying there lifelessly, blood staining his beautiful blue skin. His eyes were still open as they stared at the sky above—at nothing. You couldn’t help the sob that escaped you as you looked at him before you reached out and softly closed his eyes. He’d look like he was sleeping, if not for all the blood.

But despite all the blood, you laid down next to him and gently put your head on his chest as you curled into him, your tail wrapping around his ankle.

His chest was silent and still and you wept into him, begging Eywa to give him back.

But she didn’t.

His chest never rose, his heart never beat, his skin never warmed, and his eys never opened.

He was gone.

Your beautiful mate was gone and there was nothing you could do to get him back.

The funeral was harder than you expected, having to say goodbye to his body as you, Jake and Neytiri lowered his body down to the Cove of the Ancestors. You knew that he was gone, that your mate was gone, that it was just a shell of his being, but you still wept, your tears burning your eyes more than the salt ever did.

Your lungs burnt as the air left you as you watched as the cove took his body, wrapping around him as it slowly consumed him, and just like that, he was gone, a piece of the ocean.

The way of water has no beginning and no end. The sea is around you and in you. The sea is your home, before your birth and after your death.

The first thing anyone heard when you resurfaced was your sob and you let Neytiri hug you as you sobbed into her shoulder. “My child,” she whispered as she held you close.

“It’s not fair,” you managed to get out between sobs.

“I know,” she whispered, her heart just as broken as yours.

Eywa holds all her children in her heart, but all you wanted was to hold him in your arms.

And if you thought the funeral was hard, visiting the Spirit Tree was even harder. Jake and Neytiri had gone soon after the funeral but took you days to get the courage to visit, to visit Neteyam.

Your tears disappeared into the salt water as you held your braid in your hand. Your heart ached in your chest, but slowly you let your tendrils connect with the Spirit Tree.

At first, all you felt was warmth as white consumed your vision, but then you were filled with the familiar view of the Forest, of your home. You smiled to yourself as you looked around, and just like that, Neteyam slipped out from between the trees, his battle belt and ikran eyewear on and your eyes watered as you looked at him, every bit the man you loved.

“Neteyam?” You asked and he smiled as he came around you, his tail wrapping around yours in a way he knew comforted you.

“Why are you crying, my mate?” He asked concerned he reached out to cup your jaw.

“I’m just happy to see you,” you told him breathlessly and you committed his smile to memory.

“I’m happy to see you, too, my mate,” he replied and you trailed your eyes over every mark on his body as your heart wept.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

Neteyam was your everything, your best friend, your lover, your mate, the father of your child.

From the moment his braid meant yours, you felt him. You felt him in a way no one else could and no one else would. You felt his being. And too soon you had felt him go.

Memories of you two as children, growing up, becoming teenagers, and falling in love, flashed before your eyes and you took water into your lungs as you sobbed, forcing yourself to pull back from the spirit tree and returned to the surface, one hand treading water as you held your stomach with the other.

A boy, you thought suddenly, the Tsahìk abilities you had been training for finally showing themselves. You were having a boy.

The bond is a beautiful thing, but it’s also the most painful thing you ever experienced, the beginning and end of everything, of all that you are.

#neteyam #neteyam imagine #neteyam x reader #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar twow #avatar twow spoilers #avatar spoilers #avatar imagine #avatar the way of water imagine #avatar twow imagine #avatar smut #avatar the way of water smut #avatar twow smut #neteyam smut #mine #i really dont know if posting this was a good idea but umm yeah throwing this into the abyss #if this flops i might just delete it lmao

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emsfallingsky · 1 year

Text

The Deepest Cut

Jake x reader

Word Count: 14k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY! graphic sexual content, Angst, degrading, praise, impact play, slapping, language, name calling, unprotected sex, fingering, edging, drinking...that's all I think???

Summary: After a constant back and forth battle between the two of you that seemed to last forever, you find yourself in a position you couldn't even imagine, making you ask yourself if the two of you truly hated each other or were too caught up in your own feelings to truly express how you felt for each other.

You could feel him before you could even see him. The four walls that shaped the large room now felt reduced and constricted. The air became thick and heavy, forcing yourself to take in long deep breaths. You felt your jaw immediately set in place, your teeth practically grinding down to small pieces of sand from the pressure.

You stood in the kitchen casually chatting with his brothers. Sammy was sitting on the counter, sipping out of his red solo cup while Danny stood next to him doing the same. Josh was on a drunken tangent that made zero sense but because of the effects of the alcohol, it had you all listening in intently.

The sound of music trailed throughout the house, making them shout over one another trying to get a word in. A few people came and went into the kitchen refilling their own drinks or coming in to try and find someone they knew.

You had drained your cup and walked around to the other side of the island, grabbing a bottle off the counter to refill your drink when you felt him. The room grew stiff and cold, adrenaline surging into your veins and making the steady rhythm of your heart pick up in its pace. Even with your back faced to him, you knew.

The chirping of your friends stopped, and you flicked your eyes up to see them all looking past you towards the doorway of the kitchen.

Your hands clenched and you set the bottle down far harder that you had intended, making a clatter as it struck the counter. Every bone in your body became stiff and rigid and you had to will yourself to not turn around and instantly snap at him.

Josh coughed and Sammy slid off the counter. “Jacob,” Josh said, quickly flicking his eyes over to you, a silent conversation playing between the two of you. You met Josh’s eyes and gave a tiny shake of your head to let him know it was fine. You reached for the juice on the counter and slowly began to pour it into your drink.

Instantly your body start to lock up and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, feeling him come to stand right behind you. You quickly twisted the cap of the juice back on and turned on your heels not being able to take any more of it.

You hadn’t realized just how close Jake was to you so when you spun around, you found yourself taking a step back against, pressing the small of your back against the counter, his face was only inches away from you.

“What?” you spat out through gritted teeth, crossing your arms over your chest.

You saw the corner of Jake’s lip curl up in a smirk and he let out a small laugh. “What? I can’t even walk into my own kitchen without you chewing me out,” Jake taunted, crossing his own arms over his chest, and leaning in closer to you.

What had started off as casually making playful and teasing comments to one another ended up in an endless battle that the two of you never saw coming. At first you paid no mind to it, it was fun-flirty even. But as time went on, the two of you kept cutting deeper into one another trying to strike a nerve that was buried beneath each other's flesh.

You don’t know how it happened but soon enough the two of you couldn’t stand each other. You found yourselves complaining at the thought or idea of even having to see each other and God forbid you actually ended up in the same room together. The two of you would go at it spitting venomous words at one another while you continued an endless verbal assault at one another.

Before you knew it, the two of you couldn’t stand each other. It was actual torture to have to stand in the presence of one another and it came to a point where his brothers made sure the two of you rarely crossed paths. This on the other hand had been unexpected but was unavoidable.

The Kiszka’s were known for throwing crazy parties every time their family left time leaving practically the whole town to cram together in their home. The voices of the others start up again, seeming to look past the interaction seeing that it was so far somewhat civilized.

You narrowed your eyes, locking them with Jake’s while watching him try to fight the smile that was forming across his face. You rolled your eyes and let out a scoff. “You just always have to show up huh?” you spat out.

Jake smiled and let out a giggle…a giggle? He placed one hand to the side of you, next to your hip and leaned against the counter, his body was practically up against yours. “You really are that dumb huh? I told you it was my house,” Jake said, clenching his jaw and speaking through his gritted teeth.

You let out a huff and turned your head to the side, ripping your eyes away from him. “Fuck you Jake,” you said, letting out an annoyed sighed.

Suddenly you could feel his breath against your neck, the tip of his nose lightly brushing against your jawline. “You fucking wish,” Jake whispered into your ear.

Your whole body tensed, and you sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the air catch in your chest. A familiar-yet shameful feeling grew within you, making you clamp your legs together with fail feeling Jake’s own leg positioned between yours, brushing against the exposed skin of your thigh. You took in a deep inhale trying to calm yourself down but instead were met by the intoxicating smell of his cologne that made your head start to spin.

Jake chuckled and glanced down, noticing your movement. Instead of removing his foot from between your legs, he nudged it further open with the side of his foot. “Ah, you do want me to fuck you then huh?” Jake taunted.

Your cheeks flushed, feeling embarrassed that you had been caught. You knew what you were feeling was wrong but the ache growing between your legs had your head spinning and telling you that those thoughts in your head were good.

You quickly turned your head back practically bumping your face against his. You locked eyes with him and clenched your jaw. “You’re out of your mind. Why would anyone want to fuck you?” you spat at him.

A smile grew on Jake’s face, and you watched his tongue poke out, wetting his bottom lip. “Must be my charm,” Jake said, giving you a wink.

You threw your head back and laughed, truly taken back by his comment. “You? Charming? You clearly must be drunk,” you said, tauntingly.

Jake’s smile on his face disappeared and his face set in a glare. He inched himself closer to you, so your noses were practically touching. “Maybe, but love, I can guarantee there is no amount of alcohol in the world that could possibly rid me from the amount of anger and hate you make me feel,” Jake sneered.

You found your eyes dancing around his face, a blank expression on yours not knowing what to say. Most of the time you were able to brush off his comment but this one cut into you.

Your jaw clenched so tight that the muscles in your jaw screamed at you. Your chest rose and fell heavily with each breath you took, and you were surprised you couldn’t see puffs of smoke in the air as you pushed out an audible huff through your nose.

Jake let out a breathy laugh and turned his head away from you. “What? Can’t take the heat?” Jake asked, tilting his head to the side. From the angle he tilted his head, your eyes cascaded down his neck seeing his Adam's apple bob up and down in his throat while he awaited your response.

You hated him. You hated the way he spoke to you; you hated the way you instantly found yourself getting riled up just being in his presence, but most of all you hated the way he undeniably made your legs clamp together and left your panties in a dripping mess.

You uncrossed your arms letting them fall back to rest against the island. “Of course, I can take the heat. You’re just pathetic is all. You’re a fucking ass Jake Kiszka,” you sneered, tilting your chin up towards him.

Jake smirked and trailed his eyes trail over your face, landing on your lips. Your mouth parted and you wet your bottom lip with your tongue unconsciously. Jake moved his face closer to you and rested his other hand to the side of you, trapping you between his arms and the counter.

Your mind started to race as his eyes stayed locked on your lips, still inching close. You soon found your eyes slipping shut but just before his mouth was about to connect with yours, he turned his head and looked over your shoulder. His hand that was by your hip moved behind you as he plucked a bottle off the island.

Jake pushed himself back, a playful smirk on his face, watching your face twist in confusion. “Something wrong love? Were you expecting something else?” Jake asked, pulling the top off the bottle, and taking a swig from it.

You let out a frustrated groan and glared at him, crossing your arms against your chest once again. “Of course not. I’m not that stupid and I’m not that fucking easy,” you said, rolling your eyes. You even found it hard to believe the lie you pushed past your lips.

“So I’ve noticed,” Jake said, smirking at you as he raised the bottle back to his lips. You uncrossed your arms and smacked them down at your sides, bawling your hands into fists.

“God, you just make me so fucking mad you know that?” you snapped, taking a step forward towards him.

“Ah, do I? I haven’t noticed,” Jake smirked, tilting his head down to look at you.

“Would you stop that!” you yelled, feeling a crease form between your brows.

“Stop what doll?” Jake said, cocking his head to the side, trying to read you.

“You! Fucking smirking and laughing and shit. You find this amusing?” you asked, pushing a finger into his chest.

Jake was taking another sip out of the bottle but sputtered and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as the liquid leaked out of the corner of his mouth. He let out a small laugh and swallowed the rest of the alcohol. “You know, I do actually. It’s very amusing,” Jake grinned, taking a step towards you. “It’s very cute how you’re trying to hide just how bad you want me,”

Another frustrated groan left your chest, and you shook your head. “God, I fucking hate you so much. You just make me so fucking mad. I-I swear sometimes I just wanna-“

“Just wanna what? Hm? Wanna hurt me?” Jake said, taking another step towards you and moved his mouth to the side of your ear. “Do you promise you’ll make it hurt baby?” Jake whispered into your ear.

A small gasp escaped you, only one that he could hear, and you watched him back up to look at you. The same stupid smirk growing on his face.

Your eyes were locked on his and your whole body seemed to freeze. You didn’t know what to say. Instead, you cleared your throat, turning yourself back towards the counter and grabbing your drink while you walked past him. While you did so, you intentionally bumping into him with your shoulder as you excited.

The rest of the night you tried to distract yourself by talking to friendly faces, but you couldn’t help but ignore the feeling of his presence. You would look over the shoulder of someone you were chatting with and there he was, leaning up against the wall or chatting with someone but his eyes always found yours.

The tension in the room was thick and heavy. You could cut it with a knife. But this time it was a different kind of tension- not the short of tension the two of you were used to. The walls continued to feel as though they were suffocating you, but you knew the real reason you found it hard to breathe was because of the way Jake’s eyes were piercing through you.

The harsh glare that usually overtook Jake’s face was now gone. Instead, his face was softened, and a light shade of pink covered the apples of his cheeks from the alcohol he had been drinking. His eyes that you so often found slitted and harsh you now found round and relaxed but there was something else written in them. It was like he was calling you with them wanting you to notice he was there.

While he leaned against the wall, you could tell that he wasn’t just looking at you…he was studying you. Taking in not only the way you looked but the way you interacted with others. He found himself intrigued at the way you found yourself reaching out to grab hold of someone’s shoulder when they made you laugh or the way your eyes crinkled in the corner as you smiled. However, it wasn’t just him now noticing this sudden change. Whatever energy he was putting out was now influencing you. Your body seemed to buzz with this sort of electricity, feeling the tips of your toes and fingers tingle every time you caught Jake’s eye.

It felt like this was the first time you were truly seeing him. Your eyes wandered all over him, taking him in. You were able to notice how the side up his mouth pulled up in the corner when he was talking to someone and when he smiled or laughed, he almost seemed to glow.

Jake let out a giggle loud enough for you to hear across the room and you watched him rake his hand through his hair, catching its wavey locks between his fingers. Every small detail you noticed made you clench your legs together- from the way his nose came to a perfect point, to the way he would rub his fingers around the sides of his mouth when he was in a deep conversation with someone or the way he would lick over his pillowy soft lip after taking a sip from his drink.

You tried your best to shake off the feeling that had overcome you which ultimately led to you downing a couple drinks to try and suppress the feeling. It helped to a point, and you felt the small buzz creeped into you, making you feel a bit loose and help ease the butterflies in your stomach.

The night continued smoothly with you and Jake exchanging a few more glances at each other. Some of them seemed playful and flirty but sometimes you found him glaring at you with his jaw locked in place tightly making the muscles in his jaw flex. It made you frustrated. How could he look so sweet one time and then the next time look at you like he wanted to rip your head off?

You ended up stopping to chat with someone you recognized from middle school, indulging in the old stories you two were sharing together. You had been so caught up in conversation that you didn’t see Jake start to creep your way. The two of you were so infested in the conversation as you laughing together, reminiscing about younger days when suddenly you felt someone bump into your shoulder, making you spill your drink on your shirt.

“What the fuck!” you said, turning on your heels to try and find the perpetrator. Your eyes landed on Jake who was glancing at you over his shoulder with a smug expression on his face.

You let out a huff and threw your hand down against your thigh in frustration. “I fucking hate you Jacob!” you yelled, turning back to the girl you were chatting with, excusing yourself while you made your way to find a bathroom to clean off.

You started down the small hallway, finding the bathroom and locking yourself in it. You set your cup down on the counter and looked in the mirror seeing a stain covering the front of your shirt. You clenched your jaw and let out a huff through your nose. You were furious. Jake just kept digging deeper and deeper tonight pushing all your buttons to try and strike up your nerves.

Grasping the handle of the sink, you turned on the faucet and started cleaning the stain on your shirt but wiped your head around hearing the doorknob jiggle. “Someone’s in here!” you called over your shoulder.

The jiggling stopped for a second but then the sound of someone’s fists banging on the door made you whip your head around once again. “I said someone’s in here!” you yelled in frustration.

This time the banging on the door was harder and made the entire door shake. You let out a groan, turning off the sink and walked over to the door grasping the handle and pulling it open. “Jesus Christ! I said someone was in-“

The words were caught in your throat seeing Jake standing in front of you, one of his arms propped on the door frame as he leaned against it. You let out a scoff and went to shut the door again, but we’re stopped by Jake’s hand pressing against the door. You shot him a glare which he ignored as he pushed the door open and stepped inside the bathroom.

“I didn’t say you could come in,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Good thing I didn’t ask then,” Jake said shrugging as he closed the bathroom door, leaning himself against it and crossing his own arms over his chest.

“What do you want Jake? you sighed defeatedly. You were over it. The constant bickering was exhausting, and you didn’t have it in you to keep at it. Plus, you now felt a bit nervous in his presence from all the looks he was shooting your way.

You turned back towards the sink, turning the faucet back on and grabbing a towel off the towel rack and wetting it. You started dabbing at your shirt, slowly raising your eyes to look at him in the mirror. One of Jake’s hands was raised to his mouth, a finger rubbing over his bottom lip as he looked back at you in the mirror. You were now the one to cock your head to the side and shoot him a puzzled look.

Jake’s eyes met yours in the mirror and then ripped away as they slowly trailed down your body. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling your whole body freeze and goosebumps form across your skin watching him take in your figure. You quickly looked away, continuing to try and get the stain out of your shirt. “I’m serious Jake, what do you want?”

The sound of the lock clicking made you turn around to face him. You frowned and looked at him, seeing that same stupid smirk on his face. “Jake what are you doing?” you asked, placing the damp towel on the counter and spinning yourself around.

Jake pushed himself off the door and took a few short steps toward you, closing the distance between the two of you. He didn’t stop until you were forced to press the small of your back up against the lip of the counter.

“J-Jake,” you said, raising your hands up to press against his chest to try and stop him from coming closer but failed. As he came closer, you could smell the mixture of alcohol and hos cologne on him. He finally stopped himself, only a few inches away from you, your hands still on his chest, failing to push him back- not really wanting to push him back really.

Jake’s eyes dipped down, and you watched them dance around your face before ultimately landing on your lips. He pulled his own bottom lip between his lip and mumbled something under his breath. You flicked your eyes back up to his own and saw his eyes looking back at you, his lids heavy as they peered down at you.

A gasp escaped you when you felt his leg slide between yours, brushing against the inside of your thigh, feeling the fabric of your skirt ride up. Your hands instinctively gripped the fabric of his shirt, catching some of the chains from his necklaces in your hands. You looked back up and watched the corner of his mouth pull up in a smirk.

“Jake w-what are you doing?” you stuttered, your own eyes starting to dance across his face trying to read him. Jake hummed and leaned further into you, his mouth coming to the side of your face, whispering into your ear.

“I think you know love,” he said, his voice deep and gravely, making you shudder.

“W-what?” you stuttered, taken by surprise by his actions.

“Oh, come on darling, don't play dumb,” Jake said, speaking into your neck. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me all night…you’re driving me fucking crazy.”

You let out a scoff and pushed him back trying to ignore the tingly feeling in the bottom of your stomach. “You must be out of your mind,” you snap, one hand still clutching the fabric of his shirt. Jake took a small step back; his leg still resting between yours while he smirked at you.

“Is that so?” Jake says, cocking his head to the side and then you suddenly feel the top of his leg push forward and brush against your clit. You let out a gasp, biting your bottom lip.

“Sure, you don’t know what you’re talking about?” Jake said, placing both hands next to your hips on the counter, closing the distance between you.

“Jake, d-dont,” you say, turning your head to avoid having to look at him. You knew, one glance and it was all over. You suddenly felt Jake’s breath against your neck, and it took you everything in your power to hold back the moan that threatened to escape you.

“I’ll stop whenever you want me to,” Jake said, brushing his lips against the soft skin of your neck. The moans that were trying to desperately hold back ended up escaping, letting a soft whine fill the room.

“Mmm, see, we both know you don't want me to stop,” Jake said, pressing his lips to your neck. There was no point of holding anything back anymore and you let him draw out a pathetic whimper while you closed your eyes and leaned your head back.

“Is that right? Thought you hated me? Now look at you, practically crumbling to your feet before me…fucking pathetic,” Jake spat, removing his face away from your neck. You opened your eyes, bringing your face down to look at him while you clenched your jaw.

“Oh, trust me, I do fucking hate you,” you said, through gritted teeth. Jake cocked his head to the side, his eyes gleaming in the low lighting from the bathroom. You watched as his tongue poked out of his mouth, grazing over the bottom of his lip while he turned his head to the side.

“Oh yeah? Prove it,” Jake said in a voice that daunted you and left you shuddering before him. He knew he had put you in a position where you so badly want to push him away, but your body was failing you and telling you- pleadingfor you to draw him closer to you.

You stared back at him, your eyes flickering all around his face while he stared back at you. He cocked one of his brows up, challenging you, waiting to see if you would make a move.

You sucked in a hiss and the hands that were pressed to his chest, took hold of the fabric as you yanked him towards you. His mouth instantly collided with yours and you felt a rush throughout your body finally feeling his lips connecting with yours.

Jake’s hands found your waist and gripped your hips harshly as he pinned them back against the counter. You sucked in a breath feeling his hands finally on you. His touch was something you didn’t know you craved and now you had a piece of it, you knew there was no chance of going back.

Both of your kisses were hungry as your mouths attacked each other, fighting for dominance while trying to communicate this ‘hatred’ the two of you had for one another.

Your knees practically buckled when you felt his tongue brush against your lower lip and then slip into your mouth. You let out a small moan into his mouth, removing one of your hands from his chest to grab at the side of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair.

Jake let out a hiss feeling you give a small tug to the hair on the base of his neck. He backed himself away just a few inches so he could get a good look at you. Your lips were swollen, and your cheeks were tinted a light shade of pink, this time not from the alcohol. You gripped harder on the handful of hair at the nape of his neck, trying to pull him back towards you. Jake bit his lip and smirked, leaning back into you.

“That’s it baby, need you to make it hurt,” Jake mumbled against your lips. His mouth returned to your, somehow hungrier than it was before.

Your hands wandered over each other's bodies, pulling, and grabbing at each other not holding back. Your hand bawled the fabric of his shirt up tightly, raking your fingers over the fabric and digging into his skin beneath it.

Jake bit down on your bottom lip, making you let out a hiss, feeling him break through the skin. “Fuck you,” you groaned.

“Oh, trust me, I’m going to,” Jake smirked, placing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth. He took a step back, making you release the hold on his shirt. You were flustered and breathless resulting in your chest rising and falling with each breath you took.

You rested your hands on the counter behind you while Jake studied you. He leaned back against the door, one hand on his face while he stroked his chin. His eyes wandered all over you, stopping occasionally, to soak up the edge of your curves. You felt yourself moving your legs together, trying to relieve the ache that grew between them.

Jake’s stare was heavy and intense, and you found your knuckles starting to turn white as you gripped harder against the counter. His stare was predatory…primal. There was a want- a need. A stare that was luring you in while you stood there helplessly waiting for him to sink his teeth into you. You were his prey, and he was going to devour you from the inside out and you gladly welcomed it.

He had his bottom lip trapped between his two fingers, rolling it around while you watched his eyes narrow. Hiis hand lowered away from his mouth and then signal with his two fingers for you to approach him. You slowly released your grip you had against the counter and straightened yourself up.

“C'mere don’t go shy on me now love,” Jake said, the corner of his mouth twitching, clearly amused by your shudden shyness.

“I’m not fucking shy,” you mumbled, looking down at your shoe.

“What was that?” Jake asked, a crease forming between his eyes.

You cleared your throat and clenched your jaw, slowly bringing your eyes up to meet his. “I’m. Not. Fucking. Shy.”

You immediately regretted your words seeing Jake’s hand shoot out and wrap around your neck. A strangled gasp escaping you, feeling your breath catch in your throat as his hands dug into the sides of your neck. Your hands flew up, clutching his wrist while he peered down at you from the bridge of his nose. His eyes were ice cold, and you could see the muscles in his jaw flex as he clenched down.

Jake moved his face close to yours, the tip of his nose poking against the hollow of your cheek. ‘I’m so sick of your fucking mouth. Knees now.” Jake hissed through gritted teeth. You could feel Jake press into the side of your neck once more, making your head spin from the lack of oxygen.

“I said. Get. On. Your. Fucking. Knees,” Jake spat and in one quick movement had you by the back of your hair, yanking you down before him. You felt the cold tile hit your knees and you let out a hiss feeling the combined pain of the floor against you and the ache of your hair being grasped against the base of your neck.

Jake released his grip on you and moved his hand to cup the bottom of your chin, tilting it up towards him. You slowly looked up to meet his eyes and found yourself practically drooling at the sight of him. His long hair cascaded around his face and his bottom lip was parted and glistened from the thin sheen of saliva that coated it.

His thumb lightly brushed the bottom of your lip, and you watched as he took in a visible breath, his chest rising and falling as he did. The sight of him was enough to make your head spin as you felt your wetness pooling between your legs. He looked completely fucked out with his heavy lids drinking in the sight of you kneeling before him.

Jake pulled his hand away from you and started to quickly undo his belt, not paying much attention as his eyes stayed fixated upon you. You took your eyes off his looking down when you heard the metallic clinking of his belt buckle. You found your hands having a mind of their own as they came up to help him, popping open the button of his jeans.

“Someone’s eager, hm?” Jake taunted while letting out a soft chuckle. You raised your eyes to his, a stern look coming over your face as you began to unzip him.

“Shut up Jake,” you hissed, grabbing the top of his jeans, and sliding them down so they rested at the middle of his thighs. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Jake raise a hand and before you knew it a small smack landed to the side of your cheek.

“Watch your mouth…you’ll be needing it soon,” Jake scolded. You rolled your eyes and moved your eyes back down to his center. Once your eyes landed back on him, you found yourself pulling your bottom lip into your mouth while you tried to hold back a groan.

You could see his hardness straining against his boxers and a small wet spot to the side where his own arousal was having its own effect on him. “Fuck,” you mumbled, running one of your hands up the length of his thigh, squeezing at the muscle.

“Yeah? Want to put your filthy little mouth around my cock?” Jake asked, moving his hips forwards toward your face. You bit your lip, tilting your head to connect with his gaze while you moved your hand to his center, palming at his bulge. You watched his expression change as he furrowed his brows together and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. Jake’s eyes flicked down to your hand, and you felt him push his hips into it.

Jake moved his hands that were hanging down beside him, to sweep some of your hair that hung down in front of your face, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail. “Take them off and wrap that dirty little mouth of yours around me,” Jake growled.

Your eyes flicked back up to him seeing his bottom lip tucked under his teeth. An evil and cruel sight as he peered down at you; his jaw clenched while he tried his best to refrain himself. It was like watching a hawk circling above you, waiting for that perfect moment to strike.

You took your eyes away from Jake’s, landing back on his hardness and moved your hand upward to tuck your fingers under the elastic band. You grabbed hold of the band slowly sliding the fabric down his legs. You had to hold back the gasp that threatened itself when his length revealed itself, coming up to hit against his stomach. You could feel yourself crumbling at the sight. The tip of his cock had a small bead of his arousal glistened in the low light in the bathroom. You found yourself stunned by his length, seeing the tip coming to rest just below his belly button.

“See something you like, doll?” Jake spoke from above you. You quickly nodded, not able to take your eyes off him. “Go on then,” Jake said, guiding your face towards him with your ponytail.

You raised one of your hands and took his length in your hand, feeling just how big he was. His skin was warm and velvety smooth and as you wrapped your fingers around him, found they were barely able to touch.

You moved yourself closer towards him, your hand stroking up his length, circling your thumb over his tip and spreading his arousal. You heard Jake let out a groan, urging you to continue.

You gave him a few long, languid strokes before bringing your face close to his cock and giving his tip a teasing lick. The taste of him on your tongue made you let out a small moan and your eyes practically rolled back in your head. It was like tasting forbidden fruit, you knew you were supposed to but now that you’ve had a taste you knew you weren’t going to be able to stay away.

You could feel Jake tighten his hand around your hair in response making a small whimper escape you. “Ah c’mon baby…I know you like a little pain,” Jake said in a deep, sultry voice.

You continue to teasingly lick around his shaft before bringing your tongue to the underside of his length and licking a long stripe up him until you got to his tip and took him into your mouth. “Fuuuck,” Jake groaned, throwing his head back against the door with a thud.

You eventually sunk down onto him, feeling the tip of his cock nudging the back of your throat and swallowing around him. “Oh god,” Jake moaned, feeling his cock twitch deep inside your mouth.

Jake grabbed harder against your hair and forced you further down until the tip of your nose was pushed against the small dusting of hair. Tears started to spring to your eyes, and you fought your hardest trying not to gag.

“Right there. C’mon now let me see those eyes. Wanna see how- fuck, how good you look with a mouthful of my cock,” Jake stuttered in between moans.

You slowly lifted your gaze upward, watching the muscle on the exposed part of his abdomen twitch and tighten. You continue your stare upwards, seeing how his chest rose and fell as he took in shaky breaths feeling his own pleasure take over.

Creeping higher, you saw the sides of his neck exposed and his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed. The back of Jake’s head was resting on the bathroom door. His eyes were shut, and his brows were furrowed with his mouth hanging open. The sight of him made your core ache and left you clamping your thighs together.

Jake’s hand was still holding you down on him and you found yourself breathing in deeply through your nose trying to force yourself around him. You watched Jake open his eyes and slowly peer down at you, looking at you over the bridge of his nose. You looked up at him with your tear filled eyes, nostril flaring with each breath you took around him. A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth seeing the sight of him buried deep in your mouth.

“Finally got you to shut up huh?” Jake taunted and then finally tugged you back by your ponytail. He watched you come off of him, a string of saliva connected the two of you. You took in a deep audible breath, trying to catch your breath between coughs.

Your hand found the base of his cock, wrapping around it and while you caught your breath. You started to stroke him once again, him now slick in your hand from your saliva.

As you did, you peered up at him to see his response. Jake’s mouth was parted, and you watched him close it, clenching his jaw as you worked your way up to his tip. “Fuck,” he moaned, while his whole body shuddered as you circled his head with your palm.

“Do you still hate me?” you asked, peering up at him through your lashes and rubbing his tip over the flat of your tongue.

“Fucking Christ,” Jake groaned, tightening his hold around your hair, making the back of your head practically scream for some sort of relief.

You were leaning forward to wrap your mouth around him again when he forcefully tugged you back and pulled you to the side of him. He stepped away from the door and yanked you to where he was standing before, with your back facing the door.

You winced, feeling pain course through you as Jake yanked you around handling you like you were nothing. You were something small and weak and he knew you wouldn’t fight him because deep down you were the one who was secretly hungry for him.

“Oh hush, I know you like it,” Jake snapped, positioning himself in front of you and trapping you between the door and his body.

There was barely enough space for you to even look up at him and when you did, you saw him looking down at you, leaning against the door with his hand. His cock was inches away from your face, daring you to reach out and touch him.

Jake let go of your hair and as he did, your head bounced back to hit the door from the sheer force of his hand that was once wrapped around you. You clenched your jaw, trying to push down the pain, taking a deep inhale.

Jake smirked and tilted his chin up towards you. “You’re mean even when you aren’t talking…it’s not nice. Gonna have to teach you some manners,” Jake mumbled, while bringing his hand to your face and brushing his thumb over the top of your cheek.

You rolled your eyes and tried to move your hand away from his palm but was quickly stopped when you felt his hand firmly grasp your face. His grip was tight as he pinched his fingers into the hollows of your cheek.

“See, you could be nice but you’re not and it’s rather dumb of you because I know how badly you want it, so stop fucking fighting me,” Jake hissed and then shoved your head back, so it was now pressed against the door.

“Not gonna let you get away with that thought…gonna have to teach you a lesson, okay?” Jake said in a horse force, letting up in the pressure of his fingers around your face. You quickly nodded, no longer feeling the urge to fight with him.

Jake removed his hand from your face and wrapped it around his dick, giving it a few long strokes. “I’m gonna fuck those filthy words right out of your mouth,” Jake growled, tilting his hips forward so his hand now brushed against your bottom lip with each stroke.

You started back at Jake, blinking a couple times before moving your gaze lower to watch him work himself over. Just the sight of him pleasuring himself would’ve been more than enough to send you over the edge.

Your gaze softened and you felt drunk off him. His words that you often hated hearing now left you crumbling before him. His presence that often made you immediately angered, annoyed and wanting to find a way to escape him now did the opposite by luring you in and enticing you to come back for more.

“Open for me baby,” Jake whispered from above you. You did what he said, slowly unhinged your jaw and as you did you felt his tip brushing over your bottom lip.

“There you go, open a little wider for me, I wanna feel all of you,” Jake said, removing his hand from his cock and slowly started to press into your mouth. You fully released your jaw, allowing for him to slide fully in, resulting in a deep groan from him. You shifted your eyes upward, giving him an obscene sight as he sunk his cock further back, nudging the back of your throat.

Jake’s brows furrowed and he let out a wince which to the blind eye would’ve made someone think he was in pain, but you knew it was pure pleasure. “God, fuck,” Jake groaned, resting his forehead against the inside of his arm. He slowly pulled out of your mouth before delivering a hard thrust to the back of your throat making you sputter and gag around him.

“That’s it, c’mon I know your filthy mouth can take it,” Jake spurred on, pressing further back into your throat, making you gag around him. Your hand immediately came to his thigh, and you pushed him back feeling like your lungs were on fire. Jake took a step back, removing his cock from your mouth and let out a giggle.

“Awe c’mon y/n, I know you can do better than that,” Jake said looking down and giving you a half smile. You looked back up at him, your eyes narrowing as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

Jake’s brows creased and you watched him take in a heavy breath before feeling his palm connect with your cheek. “Be fucking nice, I’m so sick of it,” Jake said scolding you.

You pushed your tongue to the side of your cheek and turned your head to the side, not meeting his gaze. “I am being nice,” you mumbled.

Jake scoffed from above you and you felt his hand grab the bottom of your chin tilting it up towards him. “You know if you’re gonna say something smart, you better speak up so I can hear you. Now open your fucking mouth,” Jake spat.

You knew you were now in for it, seeing his playfulness quickly turn into frustration. You hesitantly opened your mouth knowing this time there was going to be no stopping the havoc he was about to unleash on your throat.

You had barely opened your mouth when Jake forced it open with his cock and quickly showed it down your throat, giving you no time to adjust to him. His hand found the top of your head, grabbing hold of your hair as he started to mercilessly fuck into your mouth, pulling your forward onto him with each thrust.

“Yeah, that’s fucking right, gonna fuck those words right out of you,” Jake grunted in between moans. You felt your whole body struggling against him. The muscles in your stomach tensing as you gagged around him, feeling tears start to fall down the sides of your cheeks.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment trying to fight back against your body, but we’re immediately scolded by Jake. “Open your eyes, wanna see your pretty little face while I fuck it,” Jake said, tugging the top of your hair just enough to make your neck crane upward.

“There we go- God. Fuck!” Jake said, continuing his quick pace in your mouth. You would’ve been afraid at the thought of somebody possibly listening to the explicit sounds leaving your bodies, but you found yourself being able to tune everything out, leaving just you and Jake in the moment.

Jake delivered one final trust into your mouth and instead of pulling out, rested his cock right in the back of your throat. The blow of his thrust, pinning your head back against the door, feeling the walls of your throat swallow around him.

Jake whimpered and turned his head to the side, burying his face into the side of his arm. You could see his mouth open as he tugged his teeth into the side of his arm, pulling in a hiss. He moved his head away from his arm and peered down at you, his pupil blown wide, consuming his iris. “God, how does something so filthy and sinful feel like heaven?”

You held his gaze, watching him stare down lustfully at the sight of his cock hidden deep down inside your throat. He slowly pulled his hips back, removing his cock from your mouth. Once fully out of your mouth, you inhaled deeply trying to take in the air around you to help ease the fire that burned in your lungs.

“Atta girl, see I knew you could do it,” Jake said, releasing the hold from your hair and moving his hand to gently stroke your cheek. His thumb moved down, brushing over your bottom lip, still slick with saliva and spreading the mess across your face. “Pretty,” Jake mumbled.

You were taken back from his comment. You didn’t think in a million years you would ever hear Jake give you a compliment, let alone calling you pretty. Hearing his words of admiration made you suddenly feel shy, feeling blush spread across your cheeks.

Jake moved his hand away from your face, holding it out for you to take. You grabbed hold of it and felt Jake help bring you up, so you were standing in front of him. Your knees and thighs ached from being in such an uncomfortable position for so long that you found yourself grabbing his shoulder as you steadied yourself.

Jake gave a small chuckle, watching you struggle to maintain your balance. He removed his hand from your grasp and brought it up to your face, brushing away the strands of hair that were sticking to the sides of your face from the saliva that coated your mouth.

You stared longingly into his eyes, noticing the small golden flecks in his eyes that you never once had seen before. You watched as Jake leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. This time it wasn’t rushed or hungry, it was surprisingly sweet.

Jake pulled his lips away from you, resting his forehead against yours. He swiped his thumb up and down your cheek and as you stared back at him, feeling like this was the first time you were truly seeing him. He appeared soft before you, something that you hadn’t expected to see on him. But before you knew it, that special moment was gone watching him back his face away from yours, an evil smile forming across his face. “Probably thought I didn’t forget, hm?” Jake cooed, turning his head to the side.

“W-what?” you asked, frowning in confusion. Jake let out a small chuckle and moved his face to the side of yours. You felt his hand grab hold of your waist, pulling them towards him.

“Still gotta teach you some manners” Jake whispered into your ear, giving it a small nip, and making the hair on your neck stand up.

Before you had time to answer, Jake was picking you up and placing you on the edge of the counter. As he walked you over, you could feel his cock brushing against the inside of your leg, and you felt your whole body shudder from the contact.

Jake set you down on the counter, standing in between your legs. His hands still rested on your hips, digging his fingers into the muscle feeling a dull ache start to form. He stared at you intensely and you held your breath waiting to see what his next moves were. A sudden gasp escaped you felt you felt him shift his hips forward, brushing his erection against the front of your panties, ghosting over your clit. Your hands once again found themselves gripping the fabric of his shirt, your mouth hanging loosely as you folded forward into him.

Jake let out a small chuckle grabbing hold of you while your forehead resting against his chest. You were certain that you could feel his body relax into you, but the moment was short lived, feeling his hand come off of your hip and onto your shoulder.

“Awe c’mon now…I haven’t even touched you and you’re quite literally folding in front of me,” Jake said, pushing you back by your shoulder so you were now sitting upright. “Don’t go soft on me now,” Jake whispered, trailing the tip of his finger down your shoulder.

He swept his finger back up the length of your arm and then proceeded to run it over the length of your collar bone. You sat on the edge of the counter watching him intently while you saw his eyes flick down to watch his hands trace over your body.

You felt your breath catch in your chest when you felt the tip of his finger dip under the front of your tank top and teasingly swipe over the swell of your breast. Your mouth parted slightly, and you instinctively arched your back into his touch. Jake’s eyes flicked up to yours and you watched his eyes soften as he took in the sight of you.

Jake’s eyes danced over your face, and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth feeling yourself getting drunk off the way he was staring at you. It seemed like his guard was down and you saw that small, rare glimpse of his soft side.

Jake's other hand came to cup the side of your neck and you watched his eyes flick down to your lips. You watched as Jake’s tongue poked out of his mouth and then swipe over his bottom lip.

You let your free hand that wasn’t grabbing hold of his shirt come up to rest on his abdomen, the palm of your hand brushing against the bare skin of his thigh while you slid your hand upwards. Jake took in a shaky breath feeling your hand rest on his body and you felt his cock twitch against your inner thigh. You watched him slowly lean into you, his eyes never leaving yours before his mouth met your own.

This time when his lips met yours, you found time to start to slow down. While you both wanted each other badly, even if you wouldn’t admit it, this new kiss felt soft…passionate even.

You found your hands traveling up the length of him, exploring his own body and discovering places you didn’t even know about. You were rather surprised, feeling just how warm his body felt under your hand since more times than not, his presence would leave you feeling ice cold.

Jake took his time with you, placing soft kisses to your lips while his hands gently roamed your body, lingering on the tops of your hips while he gave them a good squeeze. He gave a teasing lick to your top lip and just as you started to part it, he pulled away giving you a teasing smirk. You let out a huff, bawling the fabric of his shirt into your hand out of frustration.

Jake let out a laugh and then press his mouth to your cheek, giving it a small kiss. “Hm? Something you want?” Jake asked, beginning to press small kisses under the shell of your ear and down your neck.

You threw your head back, feeling his lips graze over the sensitive skin on your neck and instantly start to feel your wetness pool between your legs. “Fuuuuck Jake,” you moan, clamping your eyes closed and pushing your chest further into him.

“What?” Jake mumbled into your skin while his hand that had a hold on your hip coming off and started to squeeze your thigh. You released the hold on his shirt and snaked your arm behind his head, pulling his head further into your neck as he began to suck on it. “Fuck,” you moaned, sliding your hand down his shirt trying to reach his erection.

Jake took his hand that was resting on the side of your neck and placed it over your free hand and stopped it. You instantly opened your eyes and looked down at his hand and then back up to him with a confused frown on your face.

Jake’s eyes met your and you saw the corner of his mouth turn up into a smile before shooting you a coy looking trying his best to hide the smile on his face. “Still gotta teach you those manners” Jake said in a slightly British accent. You let out a soft giggle and looked down, hiding the blush the was creeping onto your face.

“I think it’s time to change that,” Jake said, leaning his face back towards yours so he could whisper in your ear.

Jake’s hand that was resting on your thigh slowly started to run up and down it and you found your leg slowly starting to close, feeling your arousal spread throughout your body. Jake started to pepper kisses along your neck once more and released his hand on top of yours.

“You don’t get to touch me until I tell you to, now keep that hand right there and don’t you dare move it, do you understand?” Jake growled into your ear. You quickly nodded your head against him, gripping another handful of his shirt, this time to make sure you hung onto him and didn’t dare to move.

Jake’s hand that was rubbing against your thigh came down and gave it a small tap that made your whole body jolt.

“Words. C’mon you know this…and don’t get too smart with them,” Jake said, continuing to press sloppy open mouth kisses down your neck.

“Y-yea-fuck'' you started to say but were cutoff when you felt Jake’s mouth suck on the special space where your shoulder connected to your neck.

“Uh-uh, try it again,” Jake said, giving your thigh another swat before reattaching his mouth to your neck. You took in a deep inhale, leaning your head back and feeling your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Yes Jake,” you moaned, your hand that had been resting on the back of his neck, coming to tangle in his hair. You felt Jake’s hand continue to squeeze harder into your thigh and your whole body shuddered when you felt his thumb come down and swipe the edge of your panties.

“Yeah?” Jake said, pulling his mouth off your neck to look at your face that was tightly knitted together in pleasure. You bit your bottom lip, nodding your head while you gripped on the back of his head harder, trying to draw him back to you,

Jake continued to give you soft kisses along your neck, his hand still resting on your thigh while he continued to give you teasing swipes to the inside of your thigh. You found yourself growing impatient as Jake continued to tease you and you found yourself throwing your head back against the mirror and letting out a loud huff.

Jake sucked rather harshly against your neck, surely leaving a mark as he silently scolded you.

Your face shriveled up from the dull ache Jake was pulling against your skin, a warning to show that he didn’t have to use his words to get to you to behave. He made sure unspoken words were now a part of you. His own scripture now woven into your skin.

You were so caught up in feeling Jake’s mouth wander across your skin that you practically flew across the room feeling his thumb finally come down to swipe over your clit. A whimper escaped which resulted in Jake bucking his own hips against your leg in response to you. Your hand dug harder into his hair as he slowly started working on your bundle of nerves, sending you into a frenzy.

With your head resting against the mirror, you found yourself sitting further back, allowing you to spread your legs even further apart for him. The sound of Jake letting out a low groan of approval is what had you slowly starting to approach your edge. The combination of Jake working steadily over you and the attentiveness he was giving to the sweet spot on your neck, had your body flooding with nothing but pure pleasure.

Jake turned his head, taking his mouth away from your neck and rested his forehead against yours. You started helplessly into his eyes as your free hand gripped hard onto his hair and your other hand came down to latch onto his wrist that was working on you, trying to push him even closer against you as stars began to dance behind your eyes.

Your jaw hung loosely, and you watched his eyes connect with yours to glance down at his hand, his tongue running over the bottom of his lip as he too furrowed his brows together.

Jake’s face was bunched up as he focused hard on watching you unravel beneath his touch, pinpointing each spot that made your head spin.

Your breathing started to become erratic and soon you were gasping for air while your legs slowly started to slide together. “J-Jake I’m gon-fuck. I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, folding yourself forward into him, resting your head against his shoulder.

Jake moved his hand that wasn’t fixated between your legs to gently push you back and brush your hair out of your face. You looked up at him, your eyes barely able to stay open feeling yourself teetering right over the edge.

You were just about to crash over it when Jake smirked and pulled his hand away. You instantly open your eyes and tighten your grip around Jake, frantically darting your eyes around his face to try and find a reason as to why he pulled away.

Jake just stood there with his signature smug expression on his face, his eyes flickering back and forth from your eyes to your face watching as it bunches in confusion.

“Jake what the fuck!” you groaned, hitting his chest, causing him to move back a bit. His head turned to face away from you, and you saw that playful smile on it but he quickly wiped it off as he turned back towards you. This time his eyes were dark and stern and as he came closer to you, your whole body froze. His presence was now the one you had become so familiar with. Cold, daunting, and able to suck up all the energy in the room as the room grew into a hushed silence.

Jake’s hand flew away from your shoulder and wrapped around your neck, cutting into the pressure points. You found yourself gasping, feeling all the air empty from your lungs as he pressed you back to the mirror, pinning you there by your throat. He nudged your leg that had come close together as he wiggled himself between them.

You were gasping for air, but Jake was relentless and only dug his fingers further into your neck. The way he was looking at you made your whole body tingle not only in excitement but also in anticipation as you tried to calculate his next move.

Your hand flew up to his wrist, trying your hardest to signal to him to let up on the death grip he had on your throat. Jake looked at you sternly, his brows knitted together while the muscles in his jaw flexed as he clenched down. He pushed you further up against the mirror while he slowly came closer to your face.

“J-Jake, you gasped, starting to feel dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

“Thought I told to stay still and not move,” Jake said, growling into your ear.

You felt all the color drop from your face knowing you were in deep shit. You wriggled beneath him, trying to find some sort of leeway in his grasp but failed. Your hand gripped harder around his wrist which only made him tighten his hand further. The pressure was now almost unbearable, and it was to the point where you were starting to see stars, sadly this time not from pleasure. You closed your eyes, trying to pull in deep breaths through your nose to steady yourself.

“Like I said, we’re gonna need to work on those manners,” Jake whispered. You opened your eyes as you felt his hips shift forward, the tip of his cock now catching your clit. You tried to gasp but were unable to from the sheer force Jake had around your neck.

You looked up at him, knowingly looking desperate as you pleaded with your eyes from him to make a move and finish what he had started between your legs. Jake smirked at you, rutting his hips forward once again, this time firmly pressing his dick to your core. You let out a stifled moan and bit your lip trying your best to contain yourself.

With his free hand, Jake moved his hand between your legs, grabbing the edge of your panties and pulling them to the side. Jake then reached down and grasped himself firmly, pumping himself slowly while staring longingly in your eyes. His hand that was wrapped around your throat loosened a bit, so you were now able to pull in a deep breath that your lungs were burning for.

Jake licked his bottom lip and pushed his tongue to the inside of his cheek turning his head to the side while he looked you up and down. “You want it?” Jake asked smugly, glancing down between your legs and swiping the tip of his cock over your clit.

“Fuck!” you gasped feeling your whole body jolt from the contact. Your hand instinctively gripped harder around Jake’s wrist, this time digging your nails into his skin. Jake smirked and continued to run himself between your folds watching you completely lose yourself.

“Tell me you want it…I want you begging for it,” Jake growled, running his tip down from your clit so it caught your entrance but before he dipped it in, moved it back up to circle your clit.

“Jake, I need it! Need you to fuck me” you whimpered, bucking your hips up, trying to further chase him. Jake slowly looked up at you, looking completely fucked out under the low lighting of the bathroom. You could see him struggling to maintain his composure, seeing how his own body shuddered while he ran his cock through your wetness.

“Good, but not good enough…use some manners,” Jake mumbled, adjusting his hand around your throat so his thumb grazed over your bottom lip. You let out a frustrated groan, clamping your eyes shut.

“Jake just fucking do it!” you snapped back. You instantly felt Jake’s hand come off your throat to deliver a small tap to the side of your face before quickly wrapping his hand around your throat once more.

“Knock that shit off. I can easily walk away and leave you in here,” Jake spat through gritted teeth.

“You can put you won't,” you quipped, this time your own evil smirk stretching across your face while you sat up, smiling at him from under your lashes. Jake’s hand tightened around your throat and firmly pushed you back against the mirror, far harsher than before leaving the back of your head to hit the mirror causing you to wince.

“Fucking watch me,” Jake growled into your ear, rutting his hips up against your center. You threw your head back, your jaw unhinging while a small moan escaped you.

“See, you think you’re all tough, but your body is failing you little one,” Jake said, slowly dragging the head of his dick through your folds, collecting your wetness over him. You couldn’t even snap back, you knew he was right and as much as you were trying to fight it, you wanted him in every way possible.

“Now use those manners baby…say please,” Jake whispered into your ear, slowly moving down to brush his lips under the shell of your ear. You bit your lip and turned your head away from him letting out a deep sigh.

“C’mon now baby, I know you want it. Just need to hear you say it,” Jake whispered against your skin, pressing light kisses against your neck. You couldn’t take it any longer, as badly as you wanted to fight against him and snap back, your body was failing you to make any rational decisions.

“Jake…please. Please fuck me,” you whispered in a voice that was barely audible. Jake continued to press light kisses to your neck but pulled his mouth away just barely to mumble into your neck.

“M’sorry what was that?” Jake mumbled and you were able to feel the evil smile that spread across his face against your neck.

“I said plea-” You were instantly cut off feeling Jake’s cock dip down and slowly slide into you. You gasped and grabbed ahold of his arms feeling your whole body quiver around him.

“Fuuuck,” you groaned, throwing your head back while you felt him push into the hilt.

Jake sucked against your neck, his own shaky gasp breaking through him. He pulled himself upward, looking longingly at you while slowly tracing his eyes down your body to watch as he buried himself in you.

“Mmm, see I knew that dirty mouth of yours could be sweet,” Jake said, pulling himself back and then pumping back into you slowly, feeling your walls wrap around him. “Fuck,” Jake whispered, his mouth parting slightly while he watched himself.

Jake removed his hand from your throat and fixed both of his hands to rest on your hips, pulling you further towards him. A moan escaped you, feeling him push you further onto him. He slowly started to pump into you, his hands now starting to dig into the muscle of your hips.

Jake removed one of his hands from your hip to grab the edge of his shirt and tuck it under his chin, so he was able to get a better view as he pumped into you. The sight of him looking completely fucked out as he pumped into you made you clench your walls around him. Jake’s eyes quickly flicked up to your face and you watched as he clenched his jaw.

“Don’t fucking do that,” Jake growled, smacking the inside of your thigh.

“Do what?” you asked, batting your lashes while you clenched harder around him.

“Jesus fuck, that…stop it,” Jake moaned.

“Mmm, why? Am I making you feel good?” you asked, removing your hand from his arm to push a strand of hair behind his ear, making the edge of his shirt he was holding fall back down between you. You could tell he was caught off guard by your action by the way his face knitted together but then slowly relaxed under your touch.

“Shut up,” Jake mumbled, slipping his eyes shut while he pumped into you. A soft moan of pleasure escaped him, and he opened his eyes, this time dropping the softer side of him and looking at you with hungry eyes, wanting to devour you from the inside out.

Jake gripped hard on your hips and delivered a hard thrust, his eyes fixated on your face to see your reaction. Your eyes grew wide, and you clung onto him, feeling the wind being knocked out of your chest by the sheer force he put behind him.

Jake studied you for a moment and when he saw the reaction he pulled from you, pulled back and gave you another hard thrust. Your hands clawed onto his forearms, feeling the tip of his cock brush against your cervix.

“Sh-shit Jake,” you moaned, closing your eyes, and letting out a groan deep from within your chest. Jake stood in front of you watching your struggle to take him fully and the sheer sight of you falling apart around him only urged him on further.

You felt one of his hands come off your hip to wrap your throat around, making you open your eyes to see him staring at you with heavy lidded eyes. His fingers gripped hard into your neck as he started to thrust into you hard, building a steady pace.

With each pump, the tip of his cock found the special spot inside of you that made your walls flutter around him and made your head feel like it was floating. You found it hard to believe that the same man you had come to loathe and despise, was now making you completely enamored with him. The person you had come to hate had now given you the stupid mistake of giving a part of himself to you and you knew that this was going to be far deeper than any cut the two of you had made in the past.

The two of you were gripping and pawing at each other trying to fight not only each other but yourselves as you both slowly started to overcome the distaste you had for each other that slowly turned into nothing but lust-filled pleasure. You could hear the music booming from outside the bathroom and you were hoping it was loud enough to mask the animalistic sounds that were coming from the two of you.

Jake was no longer taking his time to try and be gentle, with each thrust he would move your whole body backwards, sliding you back on the top of the counter. The hand he had wrapped around your neck was so tight you knew red marks would be left but you found yourself able to ignore the ache as pleasure swept throughout your body.

Jake slowed his pace down and pulled out of you almost all the way before delivering one final hard thrust into you that made your whole body collapse around him. You rested your head to his chest letting out a shaky groan. As you sat back up, you released one of your hands from his forearms and smacked his chest hard.

“I fucking hate you,” you mumbled.

“Mmm, is that so?” Jake said in a voice that was barely audible. You quickly nodded your head against him and felt him tap your hip. “Bend over for me.”

You nodded your head and watched as Jake took a small step back, sliding out of you making your let out a small whimper. The corner of Jake’s mouth turned up in a small smile hearing the sound of your protest as he pulled away from you.

As you scooted off the counter, you couldn’t help but ignore the dull ache not only between your legs but deep inside of you from where he was brushing against your cervix.

You fully stood yourself up, brushing the hair out of your face and trying to regain what you had left of your composure, but it was short lived feeling Jake’s hand on your hip and instantly spinning you around to face the counter.

Jake stepped up behind you, pressing his erection to your back and placing a hand on the top of your shoulder. His hand rubbed against your shoulder while he pressed your hips into the edge of the counter making you unconsciously start to bend over.

Jake pulled you back up and pulled you against him, so your back was pressed firmly against his chest. His other hand came to the front of your hip, holding you in place while you felt the tip of his nose nuzzle into the side of your head.

“You okay there baby?” Jake asked, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“I’m fine,” you snapped back, clenching your jaw together. You heard Jake hiss and felt his hand leave the front of your hip and come to your backside, pulling up your skirt and delivering a sharp smack to your ass. You jolted forward not expecting the blow and found yourself bending over the counter, catching his eyes in the reflection of the mirror.

His long hair now stuck to the sides of his neck and face as a thin sheen of sweat coated his skin. The eyes you had recently just discovered as being warm and honey colored were now almost completely black as you watched his face turn stern with frustration.

You were able to catch sight of your own reflection to see yourself completely disheveled. Your cheeks were flushed and the mascara you were wearing was now smudged under your eyes. Your hair that you had spent a good time doing was now completely ruined as it stuck to the sides of your face and neck.

Jake’s hand came off of your backside and slid up your back pressing you forward so your chest now rested on top of the cool granite. Once he was satisfied with the way you were bent over in front of him, he slid his hand up further, grabbing a fistful of hair, painfully yanking your neck up.

“I thought I fucking told you to be nice,” Jake growled, pressing his hips harder against you, making the edge of the counter dig into the front of your hips. You let out a hiss and closed your eyes feeling your whole body start to ache.

“That’s what I fucking thought,” Jake said, releasing the strong hold on your hair, making your head fall forward. Jake ran his hand slowly down your back, making your whole body tingle in anticipation before he let it rest on your back side, grabbing a handful of it.

You watched him closely in the mirror, seeing himself completely transfixed on your body, his hands wandering across your skin as he now took the time to familiarize himself with your body. Jake’s hand slid up the back of the leg, pushing up your dress and bunching it at your waist.

Jake’s hand came back down, looping his fingers under the elastic band of your thong and yanking them down your legs. His hand ran up the back of your thigh making goosebumps appear spread across your skin. You felt him grasp his cock in his hand slowly starting to pump himself, feeling his knuckles swipe across your skin as he did so.

Jake let go of himself, resting his cock against the inside of your leg before meeting your eyes in the mirror. You stared back at him, finding your breath catching in your chest. The same daunting presence making your skin crawl. Jake raised his eyes back up to catch your own in the reflection of the mirror and you watched as his whole body seemed to soften.

“This is okay right? Y-you want this?” Jake asked, dipping his head further down to catch your eyes.

You quickly nodded, not tearing your eyes away from his. “Yes Jake, I promise.”

The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile and you watched his eyes light up in the mirror, the golden flecks catching the light while his whole body seemed to glow. “Good,” you heard him whisper.

You soon felt his hand come up to grip the side of your hip and you watched him look down, bringing his other hand up to his mouth and spitting on it before bringing it back down to run over the head of his cock.

Jake looked back up and you watched the corner of his mouth pull in a smirk as you felt the head of his cock slowly start to push its way inside of you. You bit your lip trying your hardest to not make a sound feeling a small sting as you stretched around him.

“Fuck,” Jake moaned, gripping both of your hips, and pushing himself to the hilt inside of you. Your head fell forward, your jaw hanging loosely while your own sounds of pleasure escaped you.

Jake steadied himself inside of you, pausing to get himself refamiliarized with your body before reaching to the front of you and grabbing your arm and pinning it behind you. You lifted your head up slightly to watch him and saw his eyes staring back at yours.

He clenched his jaw and slowly pulled himself out of you and then quickly snapped his hips back, burying himself deep inside of you. You gasped and bawled your hand into a fist behind your back.

Jake did the same thing, slowly pulling out of you to the point you thought he was going to slip out of you and then thrusting hard into you. You let out another deep groan, furrowing your brows together, while you struggled to maintain eye contact with you.

As you watched him in the mirror, you could tell he was growing more and more confident with himself seeing how you reacted to him. His grip tightened around the holds he had on your body, and he slammed into you again, this time not giving you time to get used to him pushing deep inside of you as he started to pick up a brutal pace.

The sounds of pleasure filled the room as the two of you moaned and gasped each other’s names between breath’s. His hands dug into the points of your body, silent reminders for tomorrow of the events that were now taking place.

Jake’s eyes slowly started to close, and you watched him throw his head back, thrusting hard into you while his neck glistened from the small beads of sweat that clung to him. The sight of him alone was enough to make your walls start to flutter around him.

He noticed the way your body reacted to him, and his eyes opened, and you were met with his blown out pupils staring back at you. His jaw clenched and he gritted his teeth tightly together, quickening his pace making you unable to form any words, let alone usher a sound. The only sound that you were able to make was a squeaky groan from the back of your throat that left your mouth hanging loosely.

Jake smiled at you in the mirror and then bent himself over, pressing his chest to his back, halting his movements while his nose brushed against the shell of your ear. “Look at that…finally have you speechless hm?” Jake whispered, followed by a small giggle.

There was no way you could possibly think of any quick comebacks feeling your brain start to turn to mush. All you could do was grab hold of his wrist, that had your own pinned against your back.

Jake pressed a kiss to your temple and straightened himself back up. He let out a grunt before gripping your hip and pushing back towards him, starting his pace back up. You tried your best to watch him in the mirror but found yourself unable to focus on anything, finding yourself in a daze while your body started to turn limp.

You leaned yourself further forward, turning your head to press your cheek to the cool top of the counter, letting it hold your weight as you felt your legs start to shake.

“That’s it baby, let go…I can feel how close you are,” Jake cooed.

You knitted your face tight, feeling your climax quickly approaching. You dug your nails tightly into Jake’s wrist and your whole body began to shake. With one final deep thrust, you let out a deep groan before feeling your walls tighten around him and feeling the sweet wave of bliss wash over your body.

As you were coming undone around him, Jake swept his hands under your stomach, lifting you up so your back was pressed against his now damp shirt. The quick movement had you falling limp into his arm as he held you. Jake rested his cheek against your shoulder and as his own orgasm swept over him, you felt his teeth dig into your flesh, muffling a deep groan from him as he spilled deep inside of you.

The two of you stood there, both of you completely spent while you tried to catch your breath. You could feel the fabric of your clothes clinging to each other’s skin as sweat covered both of your bodies.

Jake held you tightly against him, pulling in deep shaky breaths, trying to maintain his composure. You heard him take one final deep breath and pull his face off of your shoulder. He looked forward and met your reflection in the mirror and you saw the tops of his cheeks grow red.

He cleared his throat, and released his hold on you, taking a step back as he slowly pulled out of you. He reached back, running a hand through his damp hair, sweeping away the strands that clung to his face.

Jake bent down, grabbing his pants, and pulling them up while fastening his belt back into place. You did the same, pulling your panties back up and then moving your skirt back down and running a hand over it to smoothen the fabric.

You turned your body around, resting your back against the counter while you watched him. It was weird now…awkward. You both were usually quick to say something to push each other's buttons to get each other riled up but now it was like the two of you were shy with each other.

You glanced over at him, seeing him smooth out his own shirt that clung to him and grab the elastic band off of his wrist and pull his hair into a bun. His eyes caught yours and you watched him give you a soft smile.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he shook his head and stepped forward. The same devilish smirk spread across his face as he closed the distance between you. He placed his hands on the tops of your hips and looked longingly into your eyes.

“You know for the record…I still hate you,” Jake said, smiling at you. You let out a laugh and wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

“Good, because I hate you too,” you said with a smile and watched as he closed the distance and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. He pulled away and grinned before glancing down to look at the front of your shirt.

“Sorry about your shirt,” Jake mumbled, flicking his eyes back up to yours. You let out a laugh, throwing your head back.

“I’m sure you are,” you said, eyeing him. Jake chuckled and released his hold on you. You watched as he turned to the door, grasping the knob in his hand. He was about to turn it when he stopped and turned back around.

“I’ll see you out there…right?” Jake said, peering over his shoulder.

“Yes, I guess you will,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to put on your most serious face.

“Good but remember to stay mean. Still need to hear that filthy little mouth of yours. Can't let anyone suspect ya know?” Jake said, smirking.

“Don’t worry, I’m rather good with my mouth,” you said, smirking at him.

“Mmm, don’t I know it,” Jake said, giving you a wink before twisting the knob of the door to see himself out. You know this so-called ‘hate’ was just a bullshit excuse for the true feelings the two of you had built. All it took was some digging and a final cut to unleash the true reality of what was hidden just below the surface.

Tag list:

@iliana-gvf @thunderstomp-and-tequila @bathingin-thelight @darianh07 @gretas-sweat @withlovegvf @dannyshair-blog-blog

#greta van fleet #jake kiszka #gretavanfleet #greta van fic #greta van smut #gvf smut #jake x reader #jake gvf #peaceful army

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blchwaaaan · 3 months

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favourite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

Ohhhh, how beautiful it is to receive anon love <3

All of these are bsd dazai x atsushi fics, with ao3 links.

Starting with the fluff, when I first entered the fandom I wrote Emilia (1.3k words); or the one where established dazatsu get a cat, and shenanigans ensue :3

More fluff: Homies (3.8k words); or, the ones where they are not, in fact, homies. They were roommates. Then romance happened! I will write another roommate fic one of these days, I love this trope so much.

Perfect Day (20k words); this one goes off of the idea that Dazai doesn't mind being saved by Atsushi whenever he tries to drown himself or sth. It's named after Perfect Day by Lou Reed, and they do have a perfect day, in every sense of the word. Then the angst begins 😈 but it has a happy ending ofc.

Unearth without a name (14k words): Something, which doesn't have a name, gets unearthed. I wonder what it would be like to go into this fic blind, no summary and no tags! And it's named after a Hozier lyric so it gets extra points ;;

And finally, One day it will all make sense; or the 42k words angst fest I wrote while evil-laughing to myself. If you ask me about my favorite fics there's no way I won't include this. This is a Hades/Persephone AU. The trope is tragic enough by itself but I said to myself I can make it worse. Why wouldn't I. Who will stop me. It has a happy ending with a cute wedding scene and all, as I don't like to have tragedy without relief. If anyone reads this I am sorry. I hope the fluff at the end heals your heart <3

#dazushi #dazatsu #dazai x atsushi #bsd

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uhbasicallyjustmilex · 1 year

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5 fics i've enjoyed this month

stealing this idea from @alexturne because i absolutely love the idea of promoting all the amazing talented authors in this fandom more! 💜

missed your bones on me by @glorious-blackout summary: In the aftermath of their blissful reunion at Emirates Stadium, Miles wakes alone in Alex's bed to the sound of a gentle piano melody. Set following Miles' reunion with Arctic Monkeys on 18th June 2023. notes: this fic is absolutely beautiful. full of sadness for the past and hope for the future and just suffused throughout with the kind of bone-deep love that feels so utterly in character for milex. it tugged on my heartstrings in all the best ways, and has my favourite ever portrayal of alex lost in his creative headspace.

some velvet morning by @musette22/@subtle-as-an-earthquake summary: It happens at the OIympia in Paris, just after the show. Their hundredth show. A memorable one for more than just that reason, as it turns out. (Or, the fic in which Alex's body starts talking before his mind does, forcing him to finally realise a thing or two about his relationship with his best friend Miles). notes: oh my lord, this fic 😍 it's like someone (and by someone i mean @subtle-as-an-earthquake) took all my favourite tropes and poured them into a gorgeously written, tension-laden 14k fic that is so stupidly good i've already read it at least three times already 😅 it captures the dynamic between alex and miles SO well - the sense of contrasting complete ease/simmering tension with each other is one of the best portrayals i've ever read of them, and alex's thought process throughout unfolds in a way that feels so utterly (and infuriatingly) in character. the slow build is absolutely delicious, and the culmination of it delivers above and beyond! ✨

sometime in the future by @blacktrickle summary: In a world quite similar to this one, Miles Kane is an international supermodel and Alex Turner is the rockstar who has broken his heart one too many times. Now, two years after their most vicious break up, Alex is asking for one more shot, but this time, Miles won’t make it easy. notes: oh my goddddd THIS FIC 😭😭 i put off reading it for ages because i had this sneaking little suspicion it was going to destroy me - and i was right. destroy me it has, in the BEST possible way. i literally cannot recommend it enough. the writing and depth of character portrayal is just stunning, and i am completely and utterly hooked. i'm actually only halfway through rn, but already i know that this fic is one that's going to stay with me in my heart for the longest time - and can't wait to see where it's heading.

you've got control of everyone's eyes (including mine) by @alexturne summary: It's 2005 and the Arctic Monkeys are about to set out on their first proper tour. Alex is quite happy with that, until a certain someone gets in the way and spoils it all. A story about facing hardships, insecurities and stage fright, about friendships, dreams, music and smoking too many fucking cigarettes in dark back alleys. About keeping your friends close, and perhaps your enemies even closer. notes: i'm only three chapters in, but already this fic has hooked me in completely. it's beautifully readable, and just feels like such a vivid slice of early era am life. alex and miles are absolutely INSUFFERABLE in the best possible way - clearly obsessed with each other, but hiding behind the idea that they hate each other. the constantly simmering ust is wonderfully written, and the way they relate with each other feels so authentic (even if it also makes me want to knock their heads together). i can't wait to see where this fic goes 😍

ain't got anything to lick without you baby by @elorianna summary: At some point during their usual stage antics, Alex and Miles start playing an innocent game of one-upmanship – but with neither one of them willing to back down, things eventually get a little bit out of hand… notes: listen, i've read this one before. and i'll read it a bunch of times again too because it's just a CLASSIC. one of the first ever milex fics i read and i find myself returning to it over and over because it's just such a fun little read, and of course so well written too because it's elorianna. it captures all the ridiculousness and ust of eycte era milex messing around with each other, and the smut is well - *fans self*

okay, that's all for this month, but i think i'm going to try and do this every month and make it a regular thing! if anyone has any fic recs for me then please feel free to drop them in the comments/my asks/dms - i'm always on the lookout for more milex fics 💗

#these are just the five fics i've enjoyed most recently #it is by no means an exhaustive list of my all time favourites #also i have so many on my to-read list that i'm stupidly excited for too #i notice there's a new @yellowloid one i haven't read yet which ahhhhhhh. YES PLEASE 😍#honestly god bless this fandom for having so many wonderful talented authors who share their work with us #i'm truly so grateful for you 💞#milex #milex fic #milex fic recs #lulu posts

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asterekmess · 1 year

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A Bit of a Conundrum

I've been waffling about this for a long time, and as I've already vented about it to my discord, I wanted to open it up to a possibly larger audience of my readers. And also complain about it more. XD I write. A lot. I have. A LOT of writing. We're talking like more than 2 dozen wips sitting in my google docs, some with 14k, some with 114k words in them. Some with a specific ending in mind, some with no plot beyond what's already written. Fuck dude, some aren't even Sterek/TW! I was fortunate enough to have someone go on my ko-fi and do a monthly donation to me for a few months. They stopped, which I'll never be mad at, but having them there at all, having someone say "I'd like to support your writing just for the sake of supporting it" meant a huge amount to me, and it made me think about all of my wips.

I don't post often, or regularly, or..well at all, for months and months at a time. This is because I almost only ever post fics when they're done. it's a personal rule of mine, and not one I used to follow when i first started writing fic. It's one I came up with shortly after finishing "Wanted" bc I felt terrible and pressured when I had to take breaks during that fic and when I couldn't keep up with a regular schedule for people. And for a long time it was a good rule for me. It helped me not to feel pressured or overwhelmed by the worry of abandoning a project on ao3 and getting bombarded with comments asking where the next chapter is. But as I've continued writing over the years, my wips have gotten more numerous, while my posted work continues to trickle in. I'm a chronic long-fic writer (though my currently posted fics don't reflect that), which means it takes way more time for me to finish a fic than it does for me to get distracted coming up with a NEW idea for a fic. It's hard to finish work. But that doesn't mean I don't love my wips. They're incredible. Some of them contain some of the best stuff I feel I've ever written. Poignant words and phrases and meaningful moments. And looking around at them, I realized that anyone who goes to support me on my ko-fi, or considers following me on Ao3, or even just subscribes to a series, isn't really getting to see what I"m actually doing. They see a fic posted every 9 months, or every year. There's no real indication that anything they do is helping me regularly, that they're even supporting a Current Active writer. In light of that, I've been considering starting to post wips of mine. The problems with that are numerous and a bit overwhelming, hence wanting to hear others' opinions and vent about it ad nauseum. I've got lots of wips, and if I were to start posting them, I wouldn't want to toss the whole wip out at once. But posting a chapter at a time every few days or even once a week, while it would mean a lot of content coming out, it would be a lot of content that I haven't finished. Cliffhanger chapters, and unfinished stories that I can't promise would ever be finished. And I know I don't owe my readers anything, but it's still unsatisfying to post something without an ending. Then there's the absolute overload of possibly too Much content for people. Getting an e-mail every other day about a new chapter for a fic you've no interest in reading isn't fun. And on top of all that, is the editing. Often when I'm struggling with a fic, I find that i need to go back and change the beginning. In honesty, part of why I wait to post until I'm finished with fics is bc semi-regularly I'll get to the end of a fic, go back to the beginning and edit it all over again to make it more cohesive. To me there is no such thing as a 'finished' chapter. only a finished fic. If I posted as I wrote, then I'd either not be able to go back and edit chapters, or if I DID go back and edit my chapters, they would then need updated, and people who'd read the first 4 chapters of something would end up needing to reread the fic to get the full sense of what I'm doing. But at the same time, posting my wips would mean finally getting to share some stuff that's been gathering dust for years in some cases, finally getting to see people's reactions to them. Finally getting to know that even if I don't end up finishing it, at least people can enjoy what's already been written. And of course, finally getting to show people that when they support me through donations or comments or what-have-you, they're supporting an Active writer, supporting work being made every day, even if it's not FINISHED every day. All of these things are stuff I'm trying to take into consideration, and it's been a hell of a struggle. Plus, as I'm unfortunately trying to manage doing a part-time job rn, just getting up the energy for this stuff is a big BIG task.

If you've got any thoughts or strategic ideas, I'd love to hear them. If not, s'all good, I mostly just wanted to vent. XD

#personal #rant #writing talk #fic talk #personal writing promotion

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spurious · 1 year

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once again, mcshep fic recs

(I don't remember which "even more" we're on and am too lazy to check)

I've been doing a lot of rereading stuff from my bookmarks lately, but here are some I've collected in the past month and a half or so!

Cool Hand Luke by fiercelydreamed | ~1.5k, rated E

Excerpt from an IM conversation earlier today: fiercelydreamed: this is the weirdest shit i have ever googled for a pwp fiercelydreamed: only in sga fandom fiercelydreamed: would you ever google "tens unit voltage," "prosthesis," "chemical composition of semen," and "factorial function" all for a fic under 2000 words

Basically: John loses a hand. Rodney builds him a better one. It works for both of them. Ohhhh this is just good. It's hot, yeah, but it's also just so perfectly right in that shivery way that a good idea can be, where you just know that this is how it would go?

How Many by cathalin | ~700, rated T

Rodney actually does know how many times John's almost died.

I don't generally think to rec fics of this length, but this had me wanting to SCREAM with how perfect it was. The amount of FEELINGS that are packed into this small amount of words, just, holy shit. I'm a sucker for stuff about the way their experiences have changed them, hurt them, made them frightened and desperate and clinging to each other, and this does that so wonderfully and satisfyingly, I loved it.

Top of the List by Helenish | ~2.6k, rated E

Rodney tries hard.

"So I like it a little rough," Sheppard said. "Sometimes."

There's, I think, a nice little sub-genre of McShep which is "Rodney Finds Out Something About John" (my own butterfly tattoo fic being a personal entry into that canon) which I think is just wonderful because of who Rodney is, as a character. He's stubborn and obsessive and analytical, and pretty much canonically fascinated by John, so of course Finding Something Out About John will make him spin his mental gears till he goes nuts with it in wonderful, tension-breaking ways. Along with that, the idea of John liking it rough, wanting to be thrown around or smacked around is, like super hot in that way that I think only fanfic can be hot, where the sexiness comes from the verisimilitude; with the accuracy of the characterization layered on top of these appealing textual descriptions of sex acts. Anyway!!! This is just very good.

Entanglements by Barb G | not rated but I’d give it an M, ~8k

John falls down, and gets rescued. One is worse than the other.

This is very untagged, I actually only found it due to clicking into a remix of it (which was also good), but anyway! Let me just state plainly here that I have a real thing for fics about John and Rodney having to survive torture and/or imprisonment together. Call me a romantic! I love beautiful descriptions of suffering and the unspoken comfort that they can give to each other just by being there, just because of that immense amount of trust that they share. I love John surrendering his body to abuse because he secretly thinks he deserves it, and doing it without a second thought because he thinks it will keep Rodney safe.

Ride Into the Sun by Cesare | ~14k, rated E

John's fantasies do a lot for him: they restore his sense of control, express his defiance, celebrate his victories, and connect him with feelings he can't access other ways. He never thought they'd get him what he wants.

God this is just fucking brilliant, masterful characterization for John. The inner voice is absolutely perfect, and the explanation for his fantasies, the way he’s conceptualized his own desires, his own submission, in a way that gives him back control over the horrible things that happen to him is just…oh it’s amazing, I love it so so much. And the resolution with Rodney is so good, so incredibly satisfying after what has gone on before in the story!! Just amazing. I’ve read this many many times before but every time I reread it I’m floored by how good it is.

#mcshep #fic rec

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justagalwhowrites · 8 months

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Bestieeeee! It has gotten to the point that every time I see you've updated, I get so excited! Usually, I have to wait to read the updates due to different time zones, but not this time. As soon as I saw the alert, I stopped what I was doing to read it, lol! I always try to read any chapter with as few preconceived ideas or thoughts of what might happen as possible, as it's how I enjoy reading the most. I had a vague idea of what we might get, but ufff…. when I saw those 14k words, I knew it'd be quite a ride. I loved it!

Obviously, as much as I wanted, like Bambi, that Savvy's return was all happiness and fun, Savvy's time alone was bound to bring obstacles to their reencounter, and if I think objectively and put myself into the mind of a girl her age, her reaction feels so real, and plausible, but not less hurtful to Bambi. At least she has Joel and Ellie to help her navigate this situation and look out for Savvy, and there's also Gattling. There's nothing like cuddling with your dog when you're having a bad day. What about Nike? She might have not returned with Savvy, but can I keep thinking she's alive and happy forever? I hate it when animals die in stories or movies.

I understand Bambi's desire and need to not tell Savvy what she's gone through these past years, but I cannot see how she can make her truly understand without telling her. I guess I'll have to wait and be surprised by how it happens.

Despite how angsty it was, I felt this sense of comfort in the background, like I could feel Joel's care in the distance with his food boxes and how he helps Bambi with her panic attacks, giving her the space to come and go as she needs. It felt natural how seeing and knowing Joel would take care of Savvy as if she were his own would make her take the last step that kept her from trusting Joel again. That final scene was perfect. And don't start me on how Joel and Bambi kept putting Ellie and Savvy in the same box and calling them mine to other people and ours when talking to each other. You had me grinning like a loon at those possessive pronouns.

Am I wrong to agree with Ellie and Joel's perfect idea of how to handle Cody? I cannot stop the little voice in my head telling me the issue is not settled and Cody will bring trouble in some way in the upcoming chapters.

Thanks for the update!♥️♥️♥️

AHHHH HI BESTIE!

Yeah a LOT happened in this chapter lol like at the end when I was editing it I was like "...I should have made this two chapters but OH WELL WE'RE IN IT NOW!" I'm so glad you liked it, though!

The Savvy situation is so hard. I just couldn't see a teenaged girl reacting any other way. Honestly, anyone, I think, would feel immensely betrayed without the proper context but a child who was left to fend for themselves for damn hear 1/3rd of their life because the only human being they had abandoned them? That's going to cut really, really deep. There's a lot to work out and I get why Bambi doesn't want to tell her - she doesn't want to hurt Savvy any more than she's already hurting, she doesn't want her to see her differently, etc. - but working through this without the proper context is a big ask. Unfortunately we know what happened to Nike, she was what Mitchum offered as proof he captured Savvy back in chapter 22. But she had a good, long life - 22 years! - and was well loved and cared for and went quick.

I just LOVE how Joel is at this point in his life. He's healed so much from who he was in the QZ and he loves as fiercely as he ever has. I think that's his defining trait honestly, he's a man who feels deeply and loves very, very hard. He loves Bambi so he'll be whatever she needs him to be, he's not a selfish man, he is the type who will bleed himself dry for his loved ones if they asked. And Joel is just such a father at heart that of course he's going to take care of Savvy. Even if she wasn't Bambi's daughter he'd take care of her but the fact that she's Bambi's baby and the fact that she looks so much like Sarah made any other option an impossibility. So much of this fic is these two being who the other one needs them to be at the time and so often that's the same person. Bambi needed to be Ellie's mom when she was pissed at Joel, Joel needs to be Savvy's dad while Savvy's working through her shit with Bambi. I just love them all!

And yeah, you're fully correct lol Bambi has a problem with what she sees as unnecessary killing, she just doesn't like killing people. She's tough and she's strong and piss her off enough she'll slaughter you but that's never her first choice. She's paid for that in the past - if she'd just killed Mitchum when he showed up at her set up, she'd still be out there with Savvy and their horses and their garden - and we'll see if she pays for it again in the future 👀

Thank you so much for reading, Bestie!!!! Love you!!!!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #send asks #kit answers #yearling

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shivunin · 5 months

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Hullo friend! :3

For the fanfic writer meme… J (Back at you!), R, X and Y!

Thanks for asking, Arja! c:

(Fanfic Writer Asks)

J: What’s your favorite fanfic trope? Have you written it?

Ooh well, I answered this already but another favorite of mine is memory loss. I rarely come across the version I find the most fascinating which is: what makes you who you are if not memory? When that's gone, what remains and how compelling is it? If all that you know is taken from you, how do you make sense of what's left? How do you even begin to understand it without the context that gave it significance?

I've written memory loss more than once, but I honestly already intend to go back for thirds (fourths?) because I'm still turning the idea over in my mind haha

R: Which writers (fanfic or otherwise) do you consider the biggest influence on you and your writing?

Oh man, I'm honestly not sure. I read a lot of Seanan McGuire and find the way she weaves internal and external information really compelling (specifically the way you can see the character's biases and expectations shaping the way they understand the information that's presented to them, even if we, as the reader, can see otherwise).

Also, I think I started becoming more interested in writing close third because of the Downside Ghosts series by Stacia Kane. I do not recommend this series to anyone specifically and highly recommend getting a good idea of what it's about if you decide you're interested, but I found the main character's perspective in that series really well-written despite being very difficult (emotionally) to read.

X: How would you categorize your fanfic reading? Are you a voracious reader? Do you carefully pick and choose? Something in between?

I am very picky. I think this is because I read Shakarian fic first and there's a veritable mountain of it, so when I shifted over to reading DA fic I started out a lot choosier about what I was willing to try. There are certain styles and perspectives I just don't vibe with, but they are frequently very common ideas, perspectives, themes, or approaches to canon.

It's purely personal preference, but I frequently find it hard to track down something to read--which is why I rely on recommendations so much.

Y: What are your thoughts on your personal satisfaction with something you’ve written vs. the popularity of your stories? Do you tend to be most satisfied with your most popular stories?

Quite the opposite! The things I'm proudest of often have fewer notes. The fic that has the most, Your Fate for Mine, is something I would change drastically if I wrote today. I also published chapters for that fic at a breakneck speed--roughly 14k words a week-- and I actually couldn't do that now even if I wanted to.

I do find that the fics I've written with one burning idea do tend to hit a little harder even if I think they're not polished (Search Your Hands, More Than Memory, and Unyielding among them). Oddly enough, other people enjoying them has made me love and appreciate them more.

#something something watching someone love a thing shows you the way to love it something #long post #ask response #ask game response #thank you arja!! this was fun to think about. I still have no idea about writing influences lol

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tasteleeknow · 2 years

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can’t stop thinking about everything and no one!!!!! i shared a lil of my thoughts but lemme share some more: i really enjoyed the bits where you can see just how powerless she is i.e. when they’re having the big dinner to welcome him back and she can’t even be in the same room. which makes me think would min somehow take her with him next time he has to leave or is there no way they can get away with that?

also i like to think that the guards always let her through bc minho told them too. 🥹

and also! if you were to write a part two which i fully support and am sending you snacks to fuel your writing sessions!!!! i would LOVE to see how they interact with each other when other people are around. like does the prince talk to all his staff so it wouldn’t be weird or is it just how he treats her? aaand what would happen if a princess does start courting him again now that the queen knows??? aaaaaand would they risk sleeping in the same bed again now that they’ve had each other or is he fully addicted to her now and won’t bear to be without her again? 😭😭😭

but ofc anything you’d give us would be great so i’ll patiently sit in my prince minho daydream and eat the next part up if that’s the plan! if that’s not the plan i’ll just reread your amazing work and bask in the glory of his highness 😩 -lils

oh im happy to hear that was enjoyable bc yeah i added all these little plot points to really build the image of the powerlessness she has in like every aspect of her life and how the frustration about it builds. yeah 100% the whole like nothing will separate me from you again speech afterwards sets up the idea that he won't leave her behind again! it's very much going to be about like diminishing her sense of powerlessness as much as he can until he can make her queen. his ultimate goal in the end is literally to give her as much power as he can give anyone. BESIDE Him, not behind or beneath. so yeah, he'd take her wherever she wants to go is what im trying to say fhdjs

hfdjks that's very much something he would do

oh yeah for sure! seeing their dynamic outside of their little nest is def something i want to explore. there's so much i like didn't even touch and still it was 14k ghfjdks i really can't express how i could have kept going... and going.... and going..... i was like ok jade END IT

thank you bb :((((( i'm really really happy you liked it ♡

@gimmeurtmi

#answered

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labgrown-diamond-ring · 1 month

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#labgrown #labgrowndiamonds #diamonds #jewelry #diamond #engagementring #diamondring #jewellery #labgrowndiamond #jewelrymaking #finejewelry #shesaidyes #jewelrydesign #labgrowndiamondjewelry #proposal #love #emerald #jewelrydesigner

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alluringjae · 3 years

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until dawn - ljn

part I | part II

⤑ summary: basic number one rule of the museum is not to touch the art. but no one told jeno that falling for one of them isn’t allowed either.

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 14k

⤑ genre: fluff, humor, angst | broke architecture major!jeno, historical figure!reader, college!au

⤑ warnings: jaemin mentions onlyfans as a joke, references to actual historical figures (some try to flirt with jeno lol) and literature, explicit language

⤑ author’s note: wow, i’ve had this idea for almost two years! this one was inspired by one of my favorite childhood movies, night at the museum. it definitely required a lot of research and brainstorming, and finally i brought it to life! it was so fun to play around with the characters, and even if majority of them are real people, this is all still fiction.

i also wanna mention one of my moots, marge for enlightening me about her life as an architecture major.

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome (dm me if you want to be added)

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Dormitory rent was another thing to worry about aside from the inflated university tuition per semester. Although he’s lucky to have his parents backing him up already on it, paying the monthly rent for his dorm was the remaining objective on Jeno’s list.

Plus, money for food. The man was a heavy eater, following the whole “gym is life” mantra.

Splitting it already with two of his dorm mates turned best friends, Renjun and Jaemin, his plate felt lighter. But the question still lies: where on earth was he going to get the money?

He’s practically checked out every available part-timing job in university and anywhere near campus. Barista at the same café Jaemin works at, teaching assistant for an art school for kids, convenience store cashier, library assistant, all taken in a heartbeat. The burden of his friends paying his debt these past months took a toll on him, almost to the point he almost considered making an Onlyfans.

“Yah, just find something else! Part-timers are in demand right now!” Renjun intensely closed his laptop before his older friend gets any suggestive thoughts.

“I mean, you didn’t work out your body to look the way it is for nothing.” Jaemin pitched otherwise, lifting the front back up. “When do you want to start filming? Loads of chicks would dig a piece of you!”

The contradicting opinions of his friends were like the devil and angel debating on his shoulders. Useless, he gave this worry a rest and returned to drawing new plates. A common thing when you’re an architecture major. Those deadlines were nearing. Looks like he’ll pull another all-nighter again.

Good thing most of his classes were late in the morning until 6 pm.

As if someone from above heard his petition, Jeno saw a help wanted sign posted on the bulletin board outside of the university museum. He initially went there to document some artwork and architecture models from Greek and Roman times, further analyzing how they’re still apparent in modern buildings.

The sign explained the need for one part-timer from any college to cover the night shift of the museum due to the current night guard’s full semester absence. He only had to come in 3x a week, choosing his days since he was still a student. Even the pay was above average, considering that most part-timers never go beyond midnight. Jeno would, on the other hand, always staying for his projects or gaming with the boys. Drinking sometimes during late-night Fridays with his entire college crew.

The pay would leave him a load of extra cash for himself, thus he sent an application to the museum office right before he left. A week later, while he was out with the boys, he got a text from the office that they wanted to meet him again for a final interview first thing on Monday.

Perhaps it was having architecture as his course and a healthy physique that landed him the part-timer position. Mainly, the latter because guards required strong endurance and fighting skills when worse comes to worst. It would start at 9 pm until 6 am the following day, and there was a designated uniform of it too. Blue blazer with matching trousers, white dress top, and loafers.

Aside from the typical museum etiquette the head director instructed him about, there was an unofficial list of tips written on paper given from the night guard on leave when the director handed you over his box of office-related things.

Only read at the night guard office once you’re the remaining staff left.

He did as he was told like an obedient son, flipping the succeeding page.

To my temporary replacement,

This part-timing job is nothing regular than the other jobs. You’ll witness things as you’ve never imagined them to be, almost like witchcraft. You’ll be lost and maybe frightened, or that’s how I felt the first time because no one led me through it all those years ago. Lucky for you, I made this small guide on how to properly take care of the place that the other staff doesn’t know about.

Before you proceed, I request you take a 5-minute stroll around the lobby first to understand what I’m talking about. After such, go back to the office or somewhere quiet then browse through the guide as quickly as you could.

Art is timeless here, so they need to be taken care of.

Good luck!

Park Sanghoon

Night Guard on Leave

Nothing could’ve prepared Jeno for what’s to come once he unlocked the office door. They say that art brings so much color to our life, allowing us to feel all sorts of emotions in a glimpse. But no one ever interpreted art to be literally alive and walking in the halls.

Behold, random wax figures and marble sculptures that he’s seen in the past roamed the hallways, as well as the paintings were interacting with each other side by side. Even the standee of a puppy from the entrance played fetch with one of those sculptures. He swore he looked like Hermes the messenger god from his arrow headpiece and sandals.

It made more sense why the guard on leave explained his feelings during the first day because it resembled Jeno’s. But unlike that guard, Jeno sucked it up. No one ever does well on the first day, even if others say otherwise. The first day was a learning experience, so he collected his thoughts even though the goosebumps triggered his body during that one rotation.

There was an indoor garden, already locked by the day guard earlier. The only room without any art piece, where students lounge to study the plants or relax in nature.

The sculptures section ahead, showcasing various fictional figures specifically from Greek mythology, chattered away about family drama and beliefs. The sculptures of Hades and Zeus, according to their title plate, argued relentlessly about power while Athena always intervened by shouting or even throwing arrows or daggers to any of the lightbulbs there.

That was one rule in the guide, but Jeno didn’t know yet until he came inside the room and swerved the attention of the arguing duo.

“Well, what do we have here?” Zeus, in the center, straightened his posture on his throne to present himself in a more regal way. “Are you perhaps the temporary replacement of Sir Sanghoon?”

“Sir Sanghoon’s stand-in is rather good looking, don’t you think?” Hera mused, stepping down from her throne beside Zeus to take a closer look at the taller male. Her cold fingers trailed his jaw until his chest, where his heart was beating intensely. She even pinched his toned bicep, mouthing wow.

“Truly handsome you are, my dear. So full of life, please introduce yourself to us.”

While Jeno introduced himself to everyone in that room, he answered any sorts of questions they had for him too. From his age, educational background, hobbies, Aphrodite just had to ask him if he had a girlfriend because he was that handsome.

“Nope, I’m single. With my degree in architecture, the requirements are so heavy I can’t even try dating.”

Mentioning his degree excited the gods, telling him how their people created and designed all these temples to house them and perform rituals. They loved it so much. This was a copy-paste of what Jeno learned from his history classes, and for a first, he’s hearing the perspective of the Greek gods.

Mind-boggling that he hasn’t fully freaked out yet. That’s what Athena anticipated when Sanghoon told her about his short leave, putting her in charge of everyone for the meantime while the replacement settled down.

The college museum was built during the late 70s as a gift from one of the alumni. It was for the purpose to preserve history and educate college students outside the classroom. The Greek mythology exhibit was the oldest one, making Athena have more seniority. Over her stay, she’s seen every new guard lose their senses during the first night. Some not even returning for a second night. She got used to every outcome, and so far, only 8 people lasted after the first night. A couple of students in the 70s and 80s, Sanghoon in the 90s, and now Jeno was one of them.

“Jeno, aren’t you terrified by us? You just got a job in a museum that comes to life every night, and it’s not a normal thing.”

“Well, I’m still shaken up about it. But it’s my first night, and it’s when I learn everything about the place from head to toe. Plus, I really need the money.”

“Money for what? But you’re young, a student even!”

“Yes, I am. However, I do pay for the rent in my dorm. So, this job is like my first big responsibility, and I want to perform well.”

Athena commended his sense of authority, capable of leading himself. She noticed how well-spoken and poised he is, respecting and listening to everything the gods and goddesses said even if they were nonsense. She never liked to compromise with her power, taking a while to like Sanghoon back in the day. Though Jeno looked like a natural leader on his first night. If he could take care of himself well, he’s skilled to take care of the rest in the museum as well.

Plus she had full control on the nights he won’t be there, especially the weekend.

With his potential, Athena mentored him the entire night about the gist of the entire museum. Every upcoming leader needs an intelligent mentor, right? She was naturally gifted with worthy leadership skills, managing Jeno like her own child.

Athena explained how the museum came to life, which was through a royal golden plate from the Oriental room. It was a gift from a popular sorceress in China to an affluent family from the Han dynasty, who wished them a long life after she was saved from invaders due to them. The plate preserved over time, becoming an artifact. Its power remained immortal, mutating to bring life wherever it goes. In this case, the museum since its arrival in the late 70s as well.

“That’s why the Oriental room must be locked always so no one could touch or break the plate.”

After she ordered Jeno to lock the mentioned room, alongside the Foreign Art Exhibit Room which he checked out for his class, she led him to the best view of the entire museum. Center of the second floor, where stairs were on both sides. Jeno marveled at the vivacious atmosphere, witnessing actual art living, breathing, and enjoying themselves.

“Unreal, right?” She leaned in the railing, scanning through the chatty paintings.

Jeno also leaned down, deep in thought and wonder. “Absolutely, Athena. How come no one knows about this? Art coming to life? It’ll invite more students to the museum.”

“That goes against a golden rule as a night guard in this museum.” She replied bluntly. “The life that goes on inside this museum at night must remain a secret to the public.”

Jeno predicted this kind of response, having watched too many films where anything supernatural mustn’t be revealed. Although he liked the advantage of knowing something this powerful, he’d never abuse it.

Athena’s intellect was beyond the world, seamlessly reading Jeno’s expression and what he was thinking. He had good intentions even if he’s a bit mischievous. She needed to keep a keen eye on him, but for now, he needed to explore on his own.

“Anyways, Sanghoon still left out some other details. So if you have any questions, I’ll be at my exhibit trying to shut my father and my uncle up again.”

“Can you not use any weapons to do so?”

“Can’t make any promises, Jeno.” She slyly cracked her knuckles and neck as if she was fighting another battle.

Jeno was silently left with himself, finally browsing through Sanghoon’s guide while seated in one of the museum benches.

It consisted of 25 rules, wherein the first two rules consisted of locking up. One, for the doors and gates of the museum, so no art piece could escape. If they do, they will turn into dust when the sun is out according to Athena. Two, locking the Oriental and Foreign Art Rooms, which was already done.

Rule #5: Let Mochi the puppy from the lobby tag along with you; feed him treats if you have any.

On cue, the little guy barked from the corridor and raced to his side. Jeno carried him, babying him for a little and letting him lick his face a few times before putting him back down. He’s surely going to the pet store first thing in the morning with the museum allowance the director gave him.

Since he was on the second floor, he read and followed the rules that fit in before returning downstairs. On the other side of the floor were the wax figures exhibitions: one for prominent men in history while the other for prominent women. Well, more people to get acquainted with.

It’s the exchange of gasps and profanities he received when he chose the latter room. Seeing their faces, these were women he’s learned in school and online. Now in the (fake) flesh. Except for one girl he’s never heard of, unbothered in her corner sketching her life away in a sketchpad. But before he could check who she was, a suggestive touch on his arm distracted him.

“My, oh my, Hera wasn’t lying when she said that the new night guard was a fine specimen.” By her dark blue eyeshadow and eyeliner with the snake-like crown, Cleopatra studied him like he was one of the most renowned art pieces. Even patting his chest, abdomen, and arms with both her hand, Jeno caught a suggestive glint in her eyes and a smirk across her red lips.

Rule #13: Reject Cleopatra’s seductive advances at all costs.

“Goodness, Cleopatra. It’s only his first night, and you’re scaring him.” With her accent, round eyes, and a chic formal outfit, she carried a posh aura while unhesitatingly scolding the Queen of the Nile.

“Come on now, Diana. He’s stunning, who wouldn’t go after him?” If no one knew her, you’re not reading up on your world history. She’s said to have been a lovely and intelligent woman, gone so soon. Jeno definitely understood why after she detached Cleopatra’s raging hands off him.

Rule #14: Treat Princess Diana and Hera like your own parent.

“Your highness.” Jeno nodded at her out of respect, only making her chuckle uncontrollably.

“No need to address me like that, love. Now, come here.” She widened her arms for Jeno, hugging him amiably. He sensed her motherly warmth, accepting such a gesture. “You remind me so much of my youngest son, Harry. Welcome to the night shift of the museum, love.”

Similar to the Greek mythology exhibit, he introduced himself and responded to any questions that the women wax figures may have. Good for him, they weren’t crossing any borders and kept him at ease.

“A student like you working at night to pay rent?” Katherine Johnson, an African-American NASA mathematician whose calculations led to the success of a lot of famous spaceflights, cannot believe her ears. Students must only focus on school, nothing else. “What about your studies, boy?”

Rule #15: Engage in academic discussions with Katherine Johnson whenever you can.

“Most of my classes are in the afternoon, Miss Katherine. So I’ll sleep in the entire morning later and study during my breaks.”

“Mr. Jeno, what do you like to do outside of work?” Anne Frank, a German-Dutch teenager whose revolutionary diary that documented her life in hiding from the Nazis gained popularity worldwide after publication dreamily asked from her section of the exhibit. Her life was robbed of greatness merely because of her religion and war.

Rule #16: Bring delicious food or gifts to Anne Frank.

“Well, I like to bike with my friends, exercise, and draw whatever comes into mind!”

Everyone he’s met so far acquired pleasure in knowing about who he was and his passion for architecture, ridding the “freaking out” phase Athena assumed he had. Yet not everyone in this exhibit bothered to give him a shot.

Jeno’s attention from Anne talking about her crush towards Peter van Daan, a teenage boy who lived with her, switched to the section beside her, where an unacquainted figure was zealously sketching as if something was due to the following day. It reflected how he’d look when he’s cramming one of his plates due to first thing in the morning. While he properly excused himself, he quietly gazed at the way this woman scrunched her eyebrows when she erased something then drew it again. She was someone he’s never seen or heard before, reading the information plate in front of him about her.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N), Explorer and Author. (1854-1900)

Wealthy women in the Victorian Era only served one purpose in society: marry a man from a prestigious family, have his children and join whatever interests they have. However, for (Y/N), she wasn’t going to conform to those standards.

Born into the affluent house of (Y/L/N), she was the youngest of 8 children. She was said to be the kindest and sweetest sibling out of everyone, not capable of hurting anyone or anything. She said it herself that she can’t throw away a dying flower because it’s too painful. While 5 of her older brothers were sent to school, she stayed at home with her 2 older sisters Cecilia and Amelia where she learned how to play the piano and take voice lessons from impressive teachers. Due to the huge age gaps between them (12 and 8 respectively), she never felt close with them. She was only closest to the 6th and 7th siblings, her twin brothers Benjamin and Liam whom she only had a 2-year gap. She was also best friends with one of the scullery maids her age, Lily, because she found her amusing that than the boring rich girls her mother forced to interact with.

The moment it bothered her that she wanted to live a more meaningful life was when Amelia got married. She was 12 years old at the time, and it left her as the last unwed daughter in the family. Badly did she want to revolt, which she gradually did. Instead of practicing piano, she’d sneak in to read every book in her father’s office. She secretly studied the notes of her older brothers from school and even dressed as a boy numerously thanks to Benjamin and Liam to join their classes or field trips.

This was her routine up until the age of 18 when she stomped her foot down and expressed to her parents that she wasn’t going to let Victorian society dictate her. The night before her parents were bound to send her to her great aunt’s home down South to sort her out, she successfully snuck out her house thanks to Lily, Benjamin, and Liam. It’s another good thing that she saved a lot of money for that moment.

Off she went across Europe first, then sailed to America and even parts of Asia. Initially under the name Lilibe, coined from picking the first two letters of her brothers and best friend, she documented her days and nights through her journals and sketches. Over time, she sent them to her brothers for publication. It started the franchise, “The Adventures of the Young and Free Lilibe”. There are 10 books under it.

She learned French, Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, and Korean by herself as she made friends from those places. It was rare of someone like her to be fluent in Oriental languages, surprising locals every time she spoke to them. She was the only explorer to vividly describe life in different Asian lands in English, talking about their history and culture. With her accurate drawings of diverse citizens and their daily lives, it educated a lot of those living back home in Europe about them rather than speaking lowly of them.

In Seoul did she stayed the longest until her death from pneumonia at the young age of 46.

In her posthumous work, Finding Me, did she reveal her real identity, dedicating it to her parents whom she apologized and expressed her love for them despite everything that occurred between them. She talked about the last years of her life in Seoul, how locals were so nice and inviting to her, and how she adopted kids instead of having her own through the years.

“It’s not because I never found love in men. It’s more like I found love in doing things I’m passionate about. Traveling, learning new cultures, it outweighed the human need of romance.”

Due to her thrill in taking risks and embarking on wondrous adventures, it brought inspiration to a lot of young girls pressured to marry at that time to pursue what they really want.

A remarkable background you had, Jeno contemplated. How come no one discussed her in his classes?

You kept brushing the bangs of your hair back as it fell repeatedly. But you got irritated instantly because it sabotaged your drive, you brought out a hairpin from her desk and attached it on both sides. But when you shifted your angle of focus, the corner of your eye locked with Jeno’s attentive gaze.

He didn’t flinch, even he should’ve. He wasn’t one to linger his look on anyone’s physical appearances, but your story and the passion on your face as you sketched mesmerized him. He was charmed, to say the least.

“Uhm, hello there?” You broke the silence due to your uneasiness about it. What’s his deal?

Jeno bowed, reintroducing himself to you. As soon as his presence settled in the room when Cleopatra attempted to hit on him, you could’ve cared less. Though this man was a first for you, a first in a long time as all guards would feel intimidated by you during the first night. Even your sharp tongue didn’t faze him. “Staring is rude, sir. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“She did,” He wandered through the exterior of your section, by the fence that separated you and him. Not breaking eye contact, his eyes turned into moon crescents as he smirked with trouble. “Though she also told me to appreciate the art too.”

Snorts noisily exhaled from Cleopatra, who took the center section of the exhibit, succeeded by Princess Diana’s whispered gasps and Katherine’s side-eyeing Anne beside her while she taught her math. That was an odd way a guard conversed with you, but Jeno was merely doing what the rules stated. Partly, he was impressed with his cheesy pick-up line, partly embarrassed because he’s never spoken like this to anyone.

Rule #17: Act playfully around (Y/N) (Y/L/N) to break the tension; she’s a harsh one.

There was irony between the information he read about your life versus the wax model. Even when you faced sexism and ran away according to your history, never were you impolite to anyone in your life. You couldn’t even kill a lurking fly when it roams around your food! It showed Jeno a possibility that as much as you’re just a wax version of someone famous in the past, maybe the external environment around you had a heavy influence too.

“You fool!” His confidence exasperated you, urging you to persistently throw balls of paper with your failed sketches at him. No one dared to talk to you like that, most especially a night guard. “Take that for your comment!”

If you thought he’d scram away and act repentant, you were proven wrong. His reflexes were parallel to a spider, capturing every single paper ball without fail. Up and down his body went, one arm held on to them and no more were left on your part. Never a single defeat during the first meeting in years, but that seemed to alter now.

“Give up already, Ms. (Y/L/N)?” Jeno remarked vibrantly as he discarded your mess in the trash bin behind him. If he managed to get everyone to like him tonight, he wanted to make sure to have you onboard too.

Whatever agenda he had, you weren’t up for it. You’d treat him the same way you usually treated Sanghoon for the past 20 something years: cold and ignorant. From your stool, you left your comfortable position to come face to face with this man. He better be grateful for that barrier in between you, or else you would’ve caused mayhem.

“Never in your wildest dreams, Mr. Lee.” Your mouth gave a half-smile, clenching on the bars to liberate your annoyance. Before you could fend back, that’s when Princess Diana intervened between your heated dialogue.

“Oh heavens, children!” She stood by the barrier, mostly to protect the newbie Jeno with her body. “(Y/N), he just wanted to know you. Must you be so cross?”

This Princess Diana embodied all the traits the real one had: soft-spoken, intelligent, and protective. She’s gotten so used to your gradual temper, staying on standby whenever anyone tried to mess with you. Even if it was harmless, you could get so mean!

“Diana, he was mocking me! Saying such a sleazy phrase as if to amuse me, ha! Not a chance, I hate people like that.”

“Not us women though; you just despise men in general.”

“And you’re absolutely right!” With a smug smile, you greedily rejoiced. “Anyways, escort this disgrace out. I’m not in the mood to get angry when I have a lot of inspiration on mind right now.”

While you resumed your sketching to let go of that extra steam, Jeno was left with Diana who apologized on your behalf. Your pride was too high to do that, and as the motherly figure among them, she always took care of things in your exhibit.

“I’m so sorry for that, Jeno. She’s not really like this, but I know how much you tried your best. It was quite a fresh spectacle honestly.”

Whatever was responsible for your abrasiveness, Jeno yearned to know. He couldn’t understand who you were yet even knowing your life story. All he wanted was to get along with everyone. It was the key to successfully maintain his job for the next 6 months.

“How can I make her come around then?”

A demanding question that no one had a solid answer to. Diana recalled how much Sanghoon didn’t let your dislike for him get to him, maintaining a respectful boundary in between each other after his past attempts. Though with Jeno, observing how he riled you up and your focus entirely on him, she hasn’t seen anything like it since the 80s.

There was something in Jeno that may just get you to warm up and return to your kind nature.

“Aside from acting playful, as Sanghoon recommended, I can think of two ways, love.” By the doors of her exhibit, where Jeno was already waltzing the corridor to visit other rooms, she suggested smartly. “One, argue back to her opinions. She hates whenever anyone tries to get her way, but boy, you’re just as wise as her. No one was brave enough to peeve on her until you came.”

“How about the second way?”

“Do your research, love. Aside from libraries, you have those small technology devices that allow you to search up anything.” She tousled Jeno’s brown locks as if it were her actual son’s. Some habits just don’t die when you do.

“Brush up on your history, Jeno. Not only will it help you with (Y/N), but it’ll serve purposefully with the other art pieces here.”

Boy, he was ready to crash in his bed for a few hours after all those interactions. His introverted nature required to be revitalized.

Towards the last hours of his shift, the art pieces who’ve strolled in the first floor lessened his plate by not leaving any major clutter behind. As if she listened to him, Athena didn’t break any lightbulbs too.

His main highlight would be meeting the men of the historical male section, who flaunted a more humorous ambiance. Freddie Mercury from Queen insisted he drink a glass of his wine and to bring more wine next time, which he denied since it would against Sanghoon’s rules. King Sejong the Great and Martin Luther King Jr. argued back and forth over the most random things (pineapple on pizza specifically), while Steve Jobs mediated whenever one crossed the line. Meanwhile, William Shakespeare was too preoccupied in his writing and speaking to himself about his books, wondering how to improve them.

During one of his breaks today, he multitasked drawing a new plate with his research on every art piece to know them better. He started with the exhibit of sculptures of the Greek gods and goddesses, which were Zeus, Hera, Hades, Athena, Hermes, Aphrodite, Poseidon, Artemis, Dionysus, and Circe. They weren’t the complete roster because the rest were in other museums across the globe, as said by Athena before sunrise. The majority of them he knew what they were in charge of, but the rest were foggy to his knowledge. Typing away and jotting notes down, he started downloading his favorite jazz songs too.

Rule # 4: Play jazz music to the paintings on the first floor so they can relax and dance within their frames.

Circe is a minor goddess, the daughter of the sun god Helios. She’s recognized for her versatility in incantations and herbs, capable of transforming people into animals. From Jeno’s perspective, she’s mostly within her space with her journals and magic wand, trying new spells or combinations of herbs. For the latter, he had to keep a closer eye on.

Rule #9: Don’t let Circe, god of potions, into the Oriental Room to get plants and herbs.

He discovered that Dionysus is the god of wine, happiness, and theatre. That’s why every god in the exhibit had full wine glasses during their gathering. It also added up why Freddie Mercury always comes to him when his bottles run empty, though he mustn’t go overboard.

Rule #18: Make sure Freddie Mercury doesn’t get too drunk from the wine of Dionysus; he might make numerous scenes if he does.

After his lone studying session, he took a short trip to the pet and convenience stores to buy food. He got a dumbfounded look from Jaemin back in the dorm room, who was studying for one of his quizzes in Biology in a couple of hours.

“Woah what’s with this stash? Is it for yourself or something?”

“The museum surprisingly has a lot of tasks needed to be done at night. And no, not from my wallet but the allowance they gave me before you get a heart attack.” Jeno plopped on his solo bed, covering his face with a pillow.

“Thank God.” A relaxed sigh escaped Jaemin’s lips, taking back his balled-up fists meant for his roommate. “I think I would’ve stormed that boring museum if they made your broke ass spend a cent.”

“Boring?” Jeno removed the cushion hastily, eyeing his busy and coffee-high roommate. The scent of black coffee from his mug spread in the room, assuming that this upcoming test was testing his roommate’s patience again.

Not even trying to look at Jeno while reviewing his handwritten notes, Jaemin continued giving his opinion. “Museum culture is dead, Jeno. Not everyone has the time to roam around one, plus people can always look up the artifacts online these days.”

People were entitled to their own opinions on numerous things, though Jeno begged to differ with his roommate’s. Especially after witnessing the magic of the night shift, you shouldn’t merely judge a book by its cover. In this case, you shouldn’t judge an artwork or art piece merely on its history and legacy.

Maybe because his roommate was in the science department, he thought this way. A lot of art students regularly visit the museum both for fun and for their classes, and Jeno was one of them. Though he was too sleepy to explain his side, he let it slide for now and snoozed throughout the late afternoon.

An hour before the start of his shift, Jeno promenaded the emptying museum to inspect anything else he might’ve missed out on from last night. There were two areas according to his rotation, both in the first floor.

One was the Diorama Room. Divided into 4 sections, highlighting some of the well-known ancient civilizations in world history. Ancient Egypt and Ancient China to your left, Ancient Rome and Ancient Maya to your right. They acted as if they were the actual people during those times, giving Jeno a laugh when they cracked jokes in between. Such tiny figures, yet the rule for them said otherwise.

Rule # 7: The small figurines in the Diorama Room are feisty, so make sure they don’t fight with one another again.

The remaining room left was the Theater Room. He’s never been here, though his art friends have for film festivals held by the university.

The interior of it was set to look like an actual cinema place you’d see in a mall. There was a mini lobby with a few posters of iconic films over the years. Singin’ in the Rain, Back to the Future, Titanic, those were some framed and hung on the wall. There were two other doors there: one leading to the chairs and the other where the movie projector was. The latter room was pretty riveting, wherein you can choose to watch old short films through an 88mm film projector or switch to a cd player for the newer releases.

Back to those posters, they weren’t an exception to the magic and a simple rule was left for Jeno to do.

Rule # 10: Chatter with the movie posters in the lobby of the Theater Room; they love meeting new faces.

Since there wasn’t anyone checking out the Art Rooms on the second floor, he closed them. Though as he was about to lock the Oriental Room, the ravishing plants around the royal plant appealed his interest. Said to hold magical properties from his research, Jeno was reminded of another rule to keep in mind for later.

Rule # 3: The fake flowers in the Oriental Room come to life too at night, so when no one is lurking, water it diligently.

Instead of lounging at Sanghoon’s office first, he brought his important items to the front desk of the lobby and continued sketching his plate. He wanted to watch the art come back alive with his two eyes. Usually, he’d have coffee when he does his work, but due to another crucial rule in the guide, he’d rather not take the risk.

Rule # 6: The lobby room can get rowdy, so keep any drinks away from important items.

On the dot, the cries and yawns from the art pieces around him reverberated. Closing his sketchpad, his night guard mode was on. Connecting his laptop on the aux cord of the museum speakers, he tapped play on his playlist of jazz music that’ll last for the entire shift duration. As the first notes flooded the entire vicinity, sounds of joy left the lips of each painting. Some were humming, dancing, and even singing along.

“You can never go wrong with Frank Sinatra!”

“This Jeno lad really did the heavens’ work quick!”

Having the sense of accomplishment on his sleeve, the small barks of his fluffy pal reached closer to him. As he kneeled to find him, he was only taken by surprise as Mochi excitedly jumped on him. Tumbling over, Jeno chuckled innocently as Mochi licked his face numerously. This puppy was friendly, easily liking everyone at first sight. He wasn’t as choosy like Daegal, the puppy of his friend Chenle studying Business Management.

Once he composed himself and cradling the dog like his own, he fed him a dog treat from the desk.

“Good boy, Mochi!” He rubbed his fur while the puppy happily munched on it, ready to fulfill more of his duties.

He skipped the Greek mythology exhibit since Athena was doing a good job not letting anyone go overboard with their powers, though he’ll check in again in a few hours. He met the posters of the theater room, who were celebrities he grew up watching on tv. Sanghoon was right; they were the kinder group in the entire museum because they were more laidback.

On to the second floor, all the female wax figures lounged by the male section due to another lecture from Shakespeare. Although the guide informed him that most of the time it could get boring, this lecture was more stimulating. On his platform, he elaborated with conviction the lines of one of his famous books, Romeo and Juliet. A must-read book back in his high school days, there’s no way Jeno could’ve missed that out.

From the looks of it, Jeno perceived that Shakespeare was performing spoken word poetry due to him reading only Romeo’s lines while Cleopatra read Juliet’s beside him. This kind of show was one of the sources of entertainment to these figures, so Jeno leaned by the side of the door to listen. After all, the famous author of it was a few feet away. Cleopatra channeled such a naïve character to her ability, absentmindedly saying as she clutched her chest.

“O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?”

“'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose-”

The flow of an engaged Cleopatra was abrupted by the loud yell from Shakespeare in front, specifically to an amused Jeno. “Jeno, my boy! Welcome back!”

Such an announcement diverted everyone’s attention to the back, some running to Jeno to give their respective greetings. It’s rare for everyone to feel at ease with a new guard, taking them weeks to approach them due to the intimidation. Though Jeno’s bright presence felt welcoming, so they accepted it. Perhaps it’s because of his youth, it reminded them of theirs too.

Shakespeare highly requested (or forced) Jeno to take his part as Romeo, intrigued to watch someone younger read his lines. Since most of the male wax figures were aged, it never satisfied Shakespeare so he jumped on this opportunity as quickly as he could. With the roaring cheers from the other figures, Jeno might as well give it a try. It wasn’t like his friends were here to clown him like they usually would if he did something humiliating.

Jeno shockingly liked this activity as he wasn’t much of a performer on stage, but someone who does the behind-the-scenes of it. He realized as he read the lines from the book Shakespeare asked him to follow along with why people held university-wide spoken word shows a few times per semester. He was no actor, but it’s delightful to have tried it at least once in his life.

“O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” As if the edge of the platform was the balcony of Juliet (or Cleopatra rather), he knelt as he ardently spoke his lines. He’s emphasizing this rush of uncontrollable desire for her, rambling whatever he would do to get the girl.

“What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?” Cleopatra questioned from her chair, inching closer to the young boy. Even outside character will she attempt to charm Jeno, but Jeno was quick to catch it and kept his distance.

“The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.”

“I gave thee mine before thou didst request it, and yet I would it were to give again.”

“Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?”

“But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

Everyone was condensed by their top-notch acting, as if this was the actual play unfolding before them. Jeno wasn’t so sure how he got himself in character without preparation, yet he felt what his character felt. He comprehended the material a lot better now than when he was still in high school.

However, there was always that one killjoy to ruin the heartfelt mood.

“How dumb is it to say that you’re in love after the first glance?” You opposed, putting the spotlight on you. This book was said to be a classic in literature, but as you matured physically and mentally, you could no longer agree with it. “Isn’t love the same thing that killed Romeo and Juliet in the end?”

Remembering what Princess Diana told him, he wasn’t going to let this pass. He wanted to give a piece of his mind too, caring less if the show must be paused. “Love is an emotion we don’t ask to feel. It’ll come to us when we least expect it, even when the timing of it can be crucial.”

“Of all the people Juliet could’ve gone for, it just had to be the enemy.” In all the years you’ve been brought to life, no one dared to test your opinions because they were aware of your intelligence, from the streets to the books. When someone bark, you’d bite back. Hard. “With all due respect, I love your works, Shakespeare. Yet the fate you’ve given these two at a young age was grave, could’ve you given them a better outcome or another character to love instead?”

“Giving them extra characters to love won’t address the horrific life fact that love can be dangerous. Regardless of what status you’re in, you can’t stop the attraction towards someone. The heart wants what it wants.” Jeno pressed his hand to his chest, pumping it a bit. Unknown to you and him, the audience found more entertainment in your argument. Anne, who was munching on the popcorn Jeno gave her earlier, passed the snack to Katherine who just couldn’t stop watching.

If this man wanted a challenge, you’re all ears. Who was he to compete with you? Was he not intelligent to know who you are?

“So are you insinuating that we just go with the flow? Be a slave to our emotions too and let them dictate our next motives?”

“Slave is such a strong word to use, (Y/N). But it’s not like we can’t choose who want to love because we actually can. In this case, Romeo chose Juliet and vice versa.”

“But what happens if the person you choose doesn’t choose you in return?”

“At least you tried your best, right? It’ll hurt like hell though, but it won’t last forever.” From his kneeling position, Jeno strutted his way with confidence. Trying not to let it mess with you, your extreme stare at him as if they’ll shoot lasers. Inches away from you, Jeno declared. “Love always has risks, that’s a given. Romeo and Juliet still tried and followed their hearts despite the downfall. But it was a needed downfall to get the message across.”

“No one would be that foolish to risk their lives for love though, right? Life is so precious, why would they do such a thing?”

“Even if they knew what their lives were without each other, they still preferred living a life where they were both in the picture. Therefore, they tried all they could that time because the regret of not doing anything at all carries a heavier burden.”

Whenever anyone argued with you, their debating points they spat back would further piss you off because most of the time, it never made sense. Back when this rude man told you to go home and be a wife in your earlier years of exploring, you civilly told him to fuck off, kicking his balls because he cornered you in an alley. For the first time, a man who tried to challenge you actually made sense. Was it because he lived in a modern time, where minds were more open? Because of the amount of sexism you faced in the past, you’ve turned a blind eye to the current period.

But your high pride maintained, not submitting into anything he said. “I still think it’s stupid to risk your life for love. There’s no such thing as having only one true love anyways, and you have to be alive to see it.”

“Fair point, but again, the feeling of regret and carrying it your entire life doesn’t fade easily. It’ll make you reflect on the what-ifs, and it’s heart-wrenching.” Jeno digressed, walking around you in circles. He’s intentionally trying to drive you mad, but he could care less. He wanted someone to put you in your place and open your mindset. “The question stands: would you rather try and go for it even knowing its risks or regret not even trying for the rest of your existence? Quite ironic for me to ask you that, don’t you think?”

Past the information board, Jeno researched more of your life history online. Your whole life was grounded on risks, from breaking the standards of your society, leaving your family and home country, to fending yourself from disrespectful men. Rather than living the original life expected from you, you chose not to because it didn’t make you happy. Such a risktaker he knew you are, but with the topic of love, he wondered why you were on a fence with it. Though some records stated you’ve had rendezvouses with a few men in your journeys, love was never in the equation. The single life was what you chose and you were more than satisfied, plus your adopted kids filled that supposed void anyways.

This man may have studied your history, but so much he still doesn’t know. Information that never made the books because you chose not to write or tell anyone about it. Aside from the discomfort growing in your chest, everyone else felt the awkward tension when you were lost for words.

Never been defeated in an argument, until tonight. Your mind lost its drive and willpower.

“Touché, Lee Jeno.” Indeed, his name you’re acquainted with. Numerously passed around in your exhibit, mostly from the lips of Cleopatra, who’d fantasize all the graphic things she would do to him. Too much information, least of your interest. “Please excuse me. I’d like to work on my sketches to ease my mind.”

As you quietly exited the room, an all too familiar sculpture leaned against the railings overseeing one side of the museum. Just like you, she hated accepting defeat or compromises. She always rooted for you to win. With a faint chuckle, “Facing a loss for the first time, I see.”

“Don’t even lecture me about it, Athena. I’m still fired up, and I need to relax.”

“Jeno is a different breed, isn’t he?” She stuck to your side, strolling wherever your feet led you.

“Different as in he’s a man? Yes. What else is there to it?”

“Men these days aren’t as trashy as those back in the day though. Shouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“Last time I did, it destroyed my heart. I’m not allowing myself to let men in even as a friend, Athena.”

She knew exactly what you were referring to, not touching on it further. No way will you let heartbreak or disappointment from men bother you. Even Sanghoon’s sweet company took a while to tolerate. You really needed to sketch this out on your pad right now, excusing yourself from Athena’s presence. Isolation wasn’t new to you; it’s what’s protecting your entire being. Immortal as you are, you had to recover from the past pain so the next decades won’t feel as brash.

You hoped to return to your old self when you were a fresh new figure in the 70s. So naïve, only proud of your accomplishments, and purely happy.

While Jeno continued to finish his scene in respect to Shakespeare, he received a standing ovation for his mini-show. Cleopatra didn’t expect such talent from him, growing fonder of the younger male. Whether she seduces him or not, he was never afraid to try new things and she liked that about him.

“Bravo, love!” Princess Diana praised, clapping at him.

Although Jeno appreciated all this positive attention, his thoughts bounced back to your and your stance on love. The debate earlier was just out of being playful, interested to hear your opinions. Though, he’s worried that he might’ve offended you. It may have been time to finally witness something like that, but then again, he was sure he touched something personal to you. No matter how you tried to fight it off, your eyes can’t lie. Staring down at him, there was pain beneath it. Your eyebrows scrunched to the center, thinking deeply yet remained utterly speechless.

A win he didn’t feel good about.

“It’s time she encountered something new in the years she’s been here. Give her some space tonight, then try again to reach out to her. Kindly this time; I’m not in the mood for another brawl that could end up like the Greek gods’ past fights downstairs.”

These clever words shared by Katherine loitered his mind for the rest of the night, eventually going back to finishing his current plate since everyone was behaving well. As great it is to get the approval of the majority, he tried brainstorming ways to make you like him too.

He understood the whole “men are trash” concept in today’s modern society, but if he could prove it wrong to at least one person, it would be you. Whatever is holding you back, he only hoped that you’d let it go. Questionably unsure as to why he was so persevering, he concluded that it was so he could perform his job better as the night guard. Set higher standards than Sanghoon even.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Weeks passed, and his attempts continued to be unsuccessful.

The capability for you to ignore his efforts remained strong, whether he was pestering you over small things or debating with you again about anything. Life, books, morals, the two of you always head butt each other. Anything good he did, you searched for a flaw in it. Whatever acts he’s tried and continued trying, not one flinch from you ever.

Even if that’s his state with you, his job no longer felt stressful nor strenuous. He’d try to sleep more on days he was off-duty. Although the fatigue of staying beyond his usual sleeping time was inevitable, he compromised to take a nap lasting an hour or two when the art pieces weren’t acting frisky.

Plus, there have been multiple times they adapted to any alterations so his physical well-being wouldn’t fall sick. Per order of Princess Diana and Hera, who by instinct became his motherly figures here, only wanting what’s best for the kids.

He became accustomed to everything that went on at night, discovering things on his own without Sanghoon’s guide. Anne talked about how much she missed biking in her neighborhood, so one night, Jeno snuck his bike inside and let her use it around the first floor. With proper monitoring so none of the paintings would be unbothered or pieces wouldn’t tumble.

Hermes the messenger god was fluent in every language possible, so every so often, Jeno would freely speak to him in Korean because sometimes he felt he could explode by the amount of English he used every night. Bilingual things, you know. He knew you were multilingual too, but for obvious reasons, he couldn’t converse with you.

Because Jeno was heavily favored, that should’ve been enough to push through his night shifts before the end of the semester. In addition to that, the hourly rate was above the average of whatever Jaemin or Renjun was earning. For the past 2 months, Jeno paid upfront first, even paying back all his debts. It almost made Renjun want to switch jobs with him.

“Trust me, Renjun. You don’t want it, being the lowkey scaredy cat you are.”

Work no longer felt like work, and that’s what everyone aspired to feel. Nevertheless, he tended to worry over you mid-shift, glancing at you from his side view. Sketching, reading, and writing were your default actions. No matter how many times he said to himself not to let your dislike for him affect him, it’d always backfire.

Why were you so cold?

What made you lose your fire from all the research he did about your lively personality?

When morning arrived and he gathered his stuff, you’d be the last thing he’ll check on. Frozen in your standing pose, smiling as you held a book and a pencil, he detected how fake it was. Bystanders would only assume your happiness was from your achievements, though Jeno’s gut firmly pried that something grand overpowered that happiness. And definitely, not in a good way.

Out of all the art pieces, he investigated on you the most. Skimming through every material in the library, endless searching on the net, even asking professors from the History department thanks to Renjun, he did whatever he could. People may already think he was obsessed with who you are, but only little did they know.

Another plate was done and submitted, and he promised himself to look you up one last time before surrendering. For someone who’s rarely given up on a challenge, this one was really out of his control. Maybe he should follow Sanghoon’s footsteps now.

You lived centuries before him, and there’s limited material of you left. Rather than learning of your adventures again, he dug through what things you liked over your life. Maybe by giving one of them, it’ll lessen the tension from a 100 to 99. Maybe you preferred gifts over words, he’ll never know until he tried.

Boom.

According to one of your journal entries, there’s a fond liking you’ve acquired for lavender roses from Benjamin and Liam when they visited you in Paris in secret because of how much you missed them. It went both ways, praying your family ties could be recovered.

It’s a good thing he needed to refill his stock of items for the art pieces so he could pass by the flower store a few blocks away from his dorm. That night, without further words, he graciously offered you a fresh lavender rose in between your new sketching session.

“I may not know exactly why you’re spiritless around me, but with this rose, I hope we could work something out.”

Your frigid face of disdain, keeping your chin high and squinting your eyes with judgment, began to crumble down. Of all things as a peace offering, he gave you that? Then again, it’s not like he knew that an item you liked so much became something you’ve grown to hate and why so. No history books could teach him that.

Vulnerability was a normal thing, yet feared by many. Once one uncovered your weak spot, they could harm you. You still couldn’t trust Jeno fully, not willing to show your helplessness nor were you ever going to tell him. Hidden from his knowledge, everyone else including Sanghoon were familiarized as to why this kind of flower tormented you.

You sprinted like thunder out the exhibit room to wherever it’s private to control your senses. You may not have a physical heart, but your emotions were just as actual as a human’s. You needed to regulate your panting breath. In the past decades, you’ve not shed a singular tear but the cycle broke when they streamed out your miserable eyes like a flowing river. Quiet sobs, an empty corner near the fire exit was where your wobbly legs faltered, the painful memories of the past replayed in your head. Once beautiful, but now an agonizing reminder of what could’ve been.

Katherine, Cleopatra, and Anne were swift on their feet to hunt you down, anxious of what you may do next. Seeing or the mention of these flowers still affected you despairingly. Sanghoon must’ve forgotten to write them down, or perhaps he didn’t know either about this fact during all the years he’s worked there.

It’s one of the biggest secrets of his museum. By the clueless face Jeno had with his eyebrows raised, mouth, and small eyes slightly open, he repeatedly asked what he did wrong and adding that he never meant to harm you. Indeed, they knew that yet what occurred involved a secret in the list of museum secrets. Confidential only between art pieces according to Athena, none of the male wax figures spoke a word, only pitying the boy.

“I wasn’t here yet that time, but they said that it was once beautiful, but now it’s a rough period.” With hesitation, Princess Diana chose to reveal it to rid Jeno’s misery. She didn’t mind having to argue about it with Athena later on, as this may further affect the two of you later on.

“A long time ago in the early ‘80s, there was a night guard around your age named Junmyeon. Also, a college student, trying to make ends meet. He did it for 3 years until he graduated. Though within his stay, not only was he such a delight to everyone, he broke a golden rule in the guide. I believe you do know the guide much more now, Jeno?”

“Yes, I do, Princess Diana. Memorized it even, but which one specifically?” Jeno’s desperate eyes pleaded, only hoping for the best and to fix what he messed up.

“You can form friendships with the art pieces, but nothing more.” Princess Diana replied bitterly. “Junmyeon was an aspiring painter, a different path from his business-oriented family. He was seen as the black sheep. She resonated with him, sharing the burden and lifting it by doing whatever fun they could in the museum. In time, they both fell in love with each other; they were each other’s first loves.”

“Why must something beautiful like love be broken? It’s not like you can control it. That golden rule makes no sense.”

“It does, unfortunately. Wax figures like me cannot age, while humans like you can. None of them could accept the reality, always pushing it away. Until Junmyeon’s last week in university, he broke it off with her unexpectedly. From there, (Y/N) was heartbroken for decades. With heartbreak, giving the cold shoulder and bitterness followed. Then with the lavender rose you gave that she used to love became a flower that she associated with Junmyeon too because he gave her one almost every night for those past 3 years.”

Things finally added up, and the guilt in Jeno’s gut expanded. His major lightbulb moment was a major failure.

“Has Junmyeon ever returned to try and win her back?”

“Well, there was one time he did come back for an art exhibition for his paintings in the 2000s. I was already here, then he had a woman around his shoulder with an adolescent boy holding his hand. He roamed around our exhibit and kept gawking at (Y/N). We may be asleep, but we remember the conversations exchanged in the room. So, his son then asked him if he knew who she was.”

“What did he respond?” Jeno attentively listened, on the edge of such a hurtful tale.

“He knew her name, praising her for historical achievements. However, nothing as a former friend or lover. From what I predict, he ingested one of Circe’s potions.”

“But I thought Circe isn’t allowed to make potions for actual consumption. She’s not even allowed to enter the Oriental Art Room.” Jeno pointed out, overwhelmed at the puzzling past. Princess Diana was mindful that she had to stop spreading too much information, so she had to end her discussion with the lost boy.

“There are a lot of secrets about this museum, Jeno. Unfortunately, I cannot reveal to you to protect our peace.”

With due respect, Jeno quit his follow-up questions and concerns. The only thing he wished to do was mend his relationship with you. As vague as to where you even stood in the first place, he unintentionally crossed a line due to his selfish intention to befriend you.

“What can I do now, Princess Diana? You know I’d never push her buttons like that, even if I’m a whimsical person.”

“Oh, my boy.” Princess Diana soothed, holding both her hand on his sweaty palm and cupping his cheek. “For the meantime, give her space. No taunting for a while, and just observe her from a distance. Though do not fret the slightest; I’m sure she’ll be okay again.”

During that interval, you were hunched on the wall, bawling and weeping like the wound was brand new again. While Katherine and Anne stood by your side, on the lookout for anyone who’d be spying on you, Cleopatra knelt in front of you as your infinite tears gushed down.

“My dear,” She tried to wipe some of them while holding your hand. “It’s been years, and Jeno didn’t know a single thing. He didn’t mean to do it.”

“I don’t care, Cleopatra! He should’ve stopped trying to socialize with me because I won’t ever live down my experience with Junmyeon.”

“As if crying like this will bring Junmyeon back to your life,” Cleopatra exclaimed, holding in her temper. Acquainted with heartbreak, it’s awful that it changed you entirely, but you should’ve found a way to heal. Throughout your attitude change, it’s mostly you in pain, not those you inflict it to. “My dear, I love you a lot. But this Jeno boy is different, and you know it.”

“He’s still a nightguard, for Christ’s sake, Cleopatra.”

“You shouldn’t generalize that all night guards are bad just because of one encounter that occurred at the wrong time.” Brushing some strands stuck by your wet visage, she professed to you bluntly. “You’re never going to know how good Jeno is unless you slowly open up again, (Y/N). Not forcing you the slightest, but healing started once you’ve acknowledged the past and move on from it.”

“But I’m scared, Cleopatra.” You restlessly admitted, hunching even more against the wall. Your poor, metaphorical heart could only take so much. You barely expressed sorrow towards others as you always held a strong exterior, only letting it out alone. Not holding back anymore, Cleopatra brought you in for a hug. The last time she did that was the first night after Junmyeon left, calming your intensified emotions so you wouldn’t do anything dumb that night. No violence, just pure sorrow.

“My dear, it’s alright.” She whispered while stroking your back upwards. “But you’re a risktaker; that’s how people remember you. Now, you must challenge yourself to move on from things that didn’t work out. Because once you do, it’ll put your heart and mind at ease.”

“Do you think I’ll be okay again?”

“Yes, you will be, my dear. You are not alone, and never will be.”

Acting like the dutiful son he always was, Jeno distanced from you.

He still cracked jokes, chatted with the art pieces, and followed the rules, yet never did he utter anything to you. You’ve proudly anticipated it since day one, not wanting him up in your business or teasing you ever. But this time, it felt odd.

On nights he didn’t report, you’ve unconsciously wondered what he may have been up to. A job like this at his age was just as Sanghoon once said: nothing in the regular.

Was he with his friends?

Was he resting well?

From the moment you chose to let go of your limitations and old thoughts, it included your grudge against past guards. Asking for forgiveness to Sanghoon when he returns was on the top of your list, however, that’ll take a while to happen. In the start, you’re baffled as to why he no longer picked on you like every night he’s been present. Somehow, it became a habit you’ve gotten used to, having so many comebacks planned to fend yourself. But you didn’t want to concede to it, maintaining what was left of your pride since that breakdown.

While on the subject, you suspected if anyone told him anything that night because that also indicated the last time he reached out to you. By anything, it would be your unwritten past with Junmyeon. A part of yourself in the museum that you didn’t want to disperse like rapid-fire again. It would be the last thing you wanted Jeno to know.

To your misfortune, Princess Diana came clean due to your growing concern over it. Although your attitude changed and people got used to it, you could only blame yourself that you were responsible for Jeno’s change.

“All he wanted was to understand and enlighten us with his likable presence. Then with you, you were his challenge because of your high walls. Out of everyone, he tried to learn everything about you. From my observation, whenever he has a goal, he’s determined to achieve it.”

“But I’m trying to be better now, Diana. Why did he stop?”

“He may have determination, but he knows where the boundaries lie.” Princess Diana patted the side of your arm, giving you a half-grin. “It hurt him when he hurt you, even if it was accidental. So he opted to give you space; that way, you could catch a breather and he wouldn’t harm you anymore. It was what you wanted from the start anyways, right?”

A hard pill to swallow, though it was a fact. It’s just that now, you’re slowly willing to release yourself from the dark. It’s been decades, and more to come. Nothing can move on unless you do.

“Where is he, Princess Diana?”

Just as she predicted right on the edge, Diana completed the grin on her face and led you to the entrance of your exhibit. She may be younger than you, but you’re reverted in your twenties while she remained in her mid-thirties. Gaping the wide museum from the railing, starting from the painting exhibit in the lobby to across the other side of the museum, Diana spotted the black hair of the boy in the Foreign Art Room.

“Over there.”

Observing where her eyes focused, you caught a glimpse of a recognizable side profile. The owner’s eyes were completely taken by whatever he was drawing on the fold-up desk he brought out from the storage room. By the tedious action of his right hand going up and down, you’ve gotten so used to his part-time identity as the night guard to entirely dismiss his current status as a university student.

Architecture specifically as he first introduced himself to you. The same path your oldest brother, Christopher, worked in. The look of tenacity Jeno presented as his eyebrows continuously scrunched, his crescent orbs hastily spied his work for any unnecessary details and his veiny hands brushed his already messy hair, you were profoundly reminded of Christopher when he was designing his possible future house. You were 8 years old, and he was 22, who just got married. He explained how many floors it’ll have, what rooms to put and what extra furniture he’ll place to make it feel more at home.

Seeing how exceptional his art skills were, you started to sketch like him. With flowers first, it turned into bedrooms and sceneries of your neighborhood. You felt your shoulders rise in accomplishment when you were able to accurately draw people. As much as you credited Benjamin and Liam the most in your works, it’ll only be within yourself to know that you also held a soft spot for Christopher.

Excusing yourself to Princess Diana, you bravely yet quietly ventured into the Foreign Art Room. Hiding first from one of the cement columns, you resumed watching him sketch. Instead of a pencil, he used a black pen with a tip as thin as a pencil. Your assumptions would be it was for a class, basing it on him informing everybody earlier that he’ll be inactive for the remaining hours of his shift to focus on his midterm requirements. That must be difficult to balance, yet he still does everything expected from him. Maybe the second cup of iced coffee beside him stimulated his bones and mind, letting his imagination free.

Through the limited space, you tiptoed whilst holding the side of the column to make up his work. There were 2 and a half rectangular shapes stacked on top of each other, the third one he was still tracing. A sign encrypted with tiny written words you couldn’t decipher, the beauty and modernity of Jeno’s plate cannot go unappreciated.

“That’s absolutely beautiful.”

Sweet words you didn’t think would bounce back in the room, Jeno’s pace ceased whilst you hid again. Art pieces capable of walking weren’t allowed here, he locked the door even beforehand! Or he thought as he was rushing to get his work done because one of his terror professors moved up the deadline to tomorrow morning. Not even 25% finished, he petitioned for everyone’s cooperation just for tonight.

He used up his 2 days of not having the night shift for other projects, and not wanting to ruin his perfect attendance, he proceeded to show up.

The voices from the foreign paintings around him hushed for him out of respect. So possibly someone snuck in, his head looking around for intruders. But only did he quit it when he saw your blurry reflection leaning against the column. The glass windows slightly mirror back what it sees, without you knowing that.

Not to mention, the small bit of your lilac dress was left out. Of all people, it was you?

“Do my eyes deceive me or is Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) inside when she’s not allowed so?”

To break the killing tension, he tested the waves with an innocent taunt. Never did you reach out to him, so least to say he was entertained whilst keeping his distance.

Fixing your proud stance, you responded in a low baritone voice you used to persuade numerous men in her adventures. “Uhm no, I don’t know who she is.”

As intelligent as you were, Jeno was a few steps farther than you this time. Educated about the risky ways you’d get around and one of them was changing the pitch of your voice, he heartily laughed at your unsuccessful attempt.

“Okay don’t lie, (Y/N). I can see a trail of your dress and your cloak. Oh, your reflection too.”

Damn, you peeked a little to realize that he was correct. Hauling your dress back in to readjust your outfit, you pushed your hair back before appearing to him. Though when you did such, you didn’t suppose that he was practically beside you the entire time. Bumping into his towering stance of 5’10 while the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, your proud posture loosened up. He even discarded his blazer. A few more inches, he could’ve cornered you on the column if you didn’t take another step back.

Has he always been this tall or were you so used to your boots having high heels under? Oh wait, maybe because you wore flats this time because it’s making your toes sore. Your head bowed from struggling to maintain eye contact with him, your palms caressing your cheeks that suddenly heated up. Clearing your throat, you straightened your back again like nothing happened.

Jeno thought otherwise, shrugging his shoulders as he chuckled. He’s never seen you get shy, not that it was a bad thing either. The temptation to play around it more was there, but he was running out of time for his assignment.

“Come in. I’ll let you off the hook this time.” His arms opened up, allowing you access to such a wonderful exhibit. Paintings from different European periods, miniature versions of famous infrastructures inside glass containers, and replicas of Greek columns in the front entrance, no wonder it’s important to protect them all.

“Are you sure?” Watching him return to his spot, which was a bench in the center of the exhibit with a table in front, it didn’t process that you were gawking at his toned back. His broad shoulders and the evident muscles in his arms while he stretched, your eyes were speedy to look away when he tried to take a glance at you.

“I don’t think the paintings here and I mind.” Sitting down again, he tapped the vacant space beside him. “Feel free to watch me draw if you want to.”

Settling by his side, he recommenced where he left off. Now with a closer view of his piece, it did look like a building as you thought. He was sketching the remaining outline of the 3rd floor of this hypothetical place, continuously checking his ruler to monitor if the lines were consistent. Able to pick up on the words of the sign beside the building, you wowed with one hand on your lips.

“You’re redrawing Seoul National University Museum of Art?”

“One of my plate assignments was to visualize a renovation of a certain place, so I chose the museum.”

“Why so?”

“Well,” Jeno shook his pen so the ink could come out. “This entire place comes to life with the royal plate, so I think we should expand the space and bring in more art pieces to life if we add another extra floor. A rooftop area for visitors and events would be fun. And definitely, we should modernize the exterior and interior a bit because it looks outdated personally. That’s also what my friends think too.”

Noticing the minor details of his plate whilst removing any unnecessary pens so it wouldn’t smudge, “Huh, I quite agree with you.”

For the first time since his night shift, you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), came into an agreement with him. He became so accustomed to clashing opinions that now, you had no contrasting points to make at all. A good change perhaps was what he’s witnessing.

“Woah, who are you agreeing with me and where’s (Y/N)?” He creased his brows whilst locking eye contact with you. This time, you didn’t wince away and just nudged him on his shoulder to get back to work.

“Hush, Jeno. Isn’t that due later? Get to work, I’ll roam around here for the meantime.”

After decades in this museum, you’re enlightened with the foreign paintings in which some you’ve heard of in your younger years and some that were created beyond your time. The Birth of Venus, Liberty Leading the People, Girl with a Pearl Earring, there’s an advantage of learning about their stories that humans couldn’t interpret. Logical that this section must be off-limits because these pieces were extra special, yet there’s so much more than what meets the eye.

There’s peace in silence while you wandered around, though it doesn’t hinder only at the art. Jeno hasn’t uttered a word since he got back to drawing, and once you asked him what’s doing now, still no answer back. Odd, he’s constantly awa-

Oh, my. You must’ve jinxed it.

Your eyes laid on Jeno leaning forward on his desk with his arms serving as his pillow, resting his head sideways. Soft snores and minimal movement in his upper body to shake the growing cold temperature of the room, he was sleeping like a log.

Putting into perspective, he hasn’t acquired enough rest specifically this past 2 weeks. The endless number of plates due making him work extra during his shift rather than sleeping in the slightest, exhaustion must be an understatement. Coffee no longer pushed him to his maximum for this week even.

But this was the path he chose, and it’ll have its challenges. Still, if you could relieve the stress in any way, you would. This would be one of the ways to repay for all the rudeness you’ve passed on him. Scurrying to his side, placing the plate on the side with his other things. You returned the caps of his open pens so they don’t spill. They must be expensive, recalling how Jeno shared the cons of being an architecture major to Princess Diana. One was the pens needed for sketching, and any tiny damages to them meant buying them again.

With his watch on clear display, he only had 2 hours left until his shift was done. Then, 4 hours until his plate assignment was done, and his current plate was far from done.

The blunt impulse to wake him up slithered your mind, though his calm state deflected your duty. As if you were on board a ship again for your explorations, you paid attention to the view with a relaxed mindset.

Lee Jeno specifically was the view.

His coffee-stained lips were parted and his sharp nose breathing in and out at a relaxing pace, he must be dreaming a happy moment the way half his lips curved into a smile. If he’s resting well, then you too would be calm.

Because of your past disinterest in him, only at this moment did you observe how sharp his jawline was and the cuts on his arms he sought refuge in. No matter how many times you tried to deny Hera’s compliments of him on the side, you couldn’t.

Lee Jeno embodied attractive features; both physical and emotional.

Back to his plate, it’ll put him at a disadvantage if he submitted the way it looked before he passed out. But you remembered all those extra details he mentioned and wanted to add to this project. Being an explorer, you documented all your ventures through words or drawings. You’re fast to adjust to anything new too.

For all the good he’s done for everyone, he only deserved some help in return.

Your version of help was sketching the remaining details of this plate, using other pens for more emphasis. It’s a risk also, but no way could you turn a blind eye on Jeno this time.

Around 5:30 am, Jeno’s eyes blinked open due to a brightening light from the outside. Stretching his limbs, he finds a velvet cloak wrapped around him like a blanket. But before he could question it, he pulled his arm in to see the time on his watch.

“Fuck!” He cursed, realizing that his so-called 10-minute snooze break aborted.

“Oh my, you’re awake!” From his frazzled state, there you were. So put together yet active, some strands of your hair falling down your face even with your hair up in a ponytail. “How was your sleep?”

This whole time he could’ve been woken up, yet you chose not to. You’re aware of his deadline, yet you let him rest entirely. He could’ve burst out in stress, yet he didn’t. You and he may have started on the wrong foot, yet it’s impossible of you to do such an evil thing. He’ll just have to tolerate the outcome later today.

“Refreshing. I really needed it.” Packing his things in his bag and closing the table, you trailed along as he exited with you. Locking up, he has 30 minutes left to accomplish the cleaning. A long good morning indeed.

But his worry of that vanished when you admitted that you had it all covered.

“Everyone helped out in cleaning, plus there are no damages made either.” From your hand, you returned one of his keys that was on his guard blazer. “I double-checked the Oriental Room and locked the doors again.”

“Why are you suddenly so nice to me, (Y/N)?” He questioned with confusion, wearing his blazer again and patting away any creases. He placed your cloak over you again like a true gentleman.

Without a word, you simply invited him to walk you back to your exhibit as parts of the sun began to rise. As you returned to your section, your fellow figures readying themselves to pose again,

“It’s my way to apologize for my very rude first impression and the succeeding moments after. I was too cooped up in my past that I was too afraid to let humans in again, night guards in particular.” You admitted, removing your cloak and placing behind your chair like always. “I’m so sorry, Jeno. Everyone was right about you and your kind heart.”

“About time.” Cleopatra’s sultry voice cut in, laying on her day bed.

Before you had the chance to flip off, Jeno mediated swiftly. With a gentle smile, “No worries about it. I’m just happy you’re okay, after all you’ve been through.”

“Can we start over then?”

“Absolutely.” With his free hand, he brought it out. No matter what kind of introductions, shaking one’s hand was the best way to start a friendship. “Good evening. I’m Lee Jeno, the new museum night guard.”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), explorer and author.” Sighing at his humor, you still replied by shaking his hand. “And I believe you’re mistaken, Lee Jeno. It’s a good morning.”

Seconds after, you imitated your typical pose and smile. Only now, the latter was more genuine. Finally, a fresh start to end your agony.

Once the sun fully revealed itself, every figure including yourself froze back to sleep. Something Jeno wished to catch up on if it weren’t for his damn plate. He was so screwed, already contemplating his next steps if he does fail this class. The possibility of getting delayed in all aspects, he dreaded it already.

Heading back to his dorm, where both his roommates completely passed out from soju on the couch, he sat by his work desk and turned on his night lamp for more light since the sun wasn’t strong enough yet.

With another cup of coffee, he cracked the joints of his knuckles and laid out his pens. He had 2 hours left to submit this plate, and at most he should accomplish 50% of his initial plan. However, he didn’t anticipate such a gorgeous outcome when he brought out his plate.

Picture perfect of every detail he desired, even adding a rooftop area with that he’d love to have if ever the museum does go under renovation one day. Rather than setting the plate during the day, it was at night as the skies were dark and bright specks of yellow inside the building symbolized light.

So much for wasting coffee, he’ll just give it to Jaemin when he wakes up later. Below the final product, a note written in cursive was stuck on it.

I knew you wanted to get this specific plate done, but you mustn’t compromise your sleep for it. It’s your inhumane professor’s fault!

To make up for my faults, I wanted to help you out. I paid extra attention to the details you spoke highly about, so I only hoped that I interpreted it correctly. It’s risky, but as someone who researched so much about me, would you be surprised that I did such a thing?

PS: Get back to sleep. I’m quite sure your desk is laid out the same way in the Foreign Art Room.

Respectfully,

(Y/N)

Turning off his lamp, Jeno jumped the covers of his bed to continue his lost sleep. Without an ounce of care that he hasn’t changed into cleaner clothes, he’s relieved that he won’t flunk his class.

Most of all, he’s relieved that you’ve melted the ice in you and allowed kindness to come in. Jeno may never understand how hard that must’ve been for you, yet he raved you for it.

“Oh, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Surprise is an understatement when it comes to you.”

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